Regale Lectum Miseriae: OR, A KINGLY BED OF MISERY: In which is contained A DREAME: WITH An Elegie upon the Martyr­dome of CHARLS, late King of ENGLAND, of blessed Memory.

AND Another upon the Right Honora­ble the Lord Capel. With a Curse against the Enemies of Peace, and the Authors Farewell to England.

By JOHN QUARLES.

Printed in the Yeere, 1649.

To that Patronesse of Vertue, and most illustrious Princesse, ELIZABETH, The sorrowfull Daughter to our late Martyr'd Soveraign, CHARLS, King of England, &c.

Most vertuous Princesse:

AS this subject, which my zealous presumption presents to your serious view, is a compound of joy and grief; so I hope it will furnish your Royall breast, as well with the raptures of joy, as the principles of sorrow. Madam, I am confident that I may, without adulation say, that your Royall Fathers death, gave a life to Vertue. And as we have a sufficient cause to deplore the absence of his Person, so we have an undeniable reason to rejoyce for the presence of his perfections, which will build everlasting Pyramids in the hearts of those, which were his loyall Subjects. Ma­dam, although Heaven hath been pleased to diminish your joyes in this miserable Kingdome, yet no question but he will hereafter multiply your pleasures in his own. In the mean time, may the Glories of heaven, and the Meditati­ons of your incomparable Fathers vertues, keep a constant correspondency with your Royall heart, as it is the unfain­ed prayers of him, who dedicates himself to your High­nesses perfections, and is

MADAM, A sworn Servant to your Vertues, JO. QUARLES.

To the Reader.

Courteous Reader,

I Have not much to say in my own defence for the weak performance of this work, which I confesse was hammer'd out of a disturbed mind; therefore if there be any thing in it contrary to thy disposition, I shall desire thee to moderate thy passion, and par­don my imbecility; for it is generally known that errours in grief, are incident to all: as for the errours of the Presse, I suppose them pardonable, in respect that it hath received many interruptions, and hast, joyn'd with feare, are conductours to mistakes: Now Reader, my occasions beyond Sea advise me to bid thee adieu; the worst that I can expect to suffer a­broad, is but the extremities of Warre; and the best that I can expect at home, is but the worst of mise­ries: if therefore there be a necessity of suffering, I conceive it to be the best of sufferings to suffer with the best of sufferers, whose faithfull Subject I am, and thy Servant, Reader, (if thou art Loyall)

JOHN QUARLES
A Dreame. …

A Dreame.

MOrpheus (thou Turn-key to all humane sense)
Unlock my brain, that I may flie from hence,
Out of this Cage of sleep, let me not lie
And drown my senses in stupidity.
My thoughts surprise my thoughts, I cannot rest,
I have a Civill Warre within my brest;
I'me full of thoughts: what uncontroled streams
Flow from the fancies Ocean? Oh! what dreams
Have sail'd into my stormy mind? And bring
No other burthen with them but a King,
A King! could I but kisse that word, and not be thought
An Idolizer; 'tis too great a fault
To kisse his hand. Nor can I think it strange.
For times, & maners needs must have their change.
'Tis true, I dream'd methoughts my watchful eys
Observ'd a King, and then a sacrifice;
And ravish'd with that majesty and grace
I saw united in his modest face,
I ran to kisse his hand, but with a fall
I wak'd, and lost both King, and kisse, and all.
And thus restored to my former sense,
I thus proceeded in my thoughts; from whence
[Page 2]Arise these fancies, what? did fancie meane
To cause a sudden fall to intervene
Between a kisse and me? 'twas an abuse,
That runs beyond the limits of excuse.
I was enrag'd to think that I should misse
(Being so near his hand) so sweet a kisse.
I check'd my fancy; which was too precise
To make me run so fast, yet lose the prize.
Thoughts, follow thoughts, and when the first is spent
A second rises, which does oft prevent
An inconvenient action, many time
A second thought gains virtue by a crim:
The first being banish'd, reason thought it good
To place a second, where the first thought stood,
And then I found my active fancy play▪d
The Politician, and that thought allay'd
The former flames of passion in my brest.
Then was I pleas'd with what my thought ex­prest
Which was to this effect—
Me thoughts I saw
A grieved King, whose very looks were Law.
He sigh'd as if his tender heart had taken
A farewell of his body, and forsaken
This lower world, his star-like eyes were fixt
Upon the face of Heav'n, his hands commixt.
His tongue was parsimonious, yet my ear
That was attentive) could not prevail to hear
This whis'pring eccho: Oh be pleas'd t' incline
Thy sacred eares; was ever grief life mine?
[Page 3]Was ever heart so sad? was ever any
So destitute of joy, that had so many
As I have had? though all be snatch'd from me,
Yet let me have an intetest in thee.
Oh Heaven! and there he stop'd, as if his breath
Had stept aside to entertain a death.
My soul was ravish'd, and the private dart
Of new-bred love, struck pity in my heart.
I could not hold, but silently bequeath
Some drops unto the ground, my soul did cleave
Unto his lips, for every word he spoke
Was ponderous, and would have easily broke
Th' obdurest heart; I turn'd away my eye,
And suddenly methoughts I did espie
A sacrifice; which when I did behold,
My bloud recoiled, and my heart grew cold:
I was transported, and methoughts the place
Whereon I stood, seem'd bloudy for a space:
I trembling, cast my wearied eyes about,
Thinking to find my former object out,
But he was gone; and in his room was plac'd
A many-headed monster, that disgrac'd
The very place, they vanish'd, then appear'd
A large pretending rout, as well be-ear'd
As Balam's Asse, methoughts they did excell
The Asse in eares, but could not speak so well.
Methoughts they call'd a Counsell to contrive
Their high designs, and zealously dissive
Some great Offenders that they thought too wise
To live amongst such eares, such cast-up eyes.
[Page 4] One I observ'd amongst the studious race
"That had (methoughts) a bone-fire in his face:
"Another I descry'd amongst the pack
"That seem'd to bear a Kingdome on his back:
"Another I beheld which pleas'd me best,
"That could not rule himself, yet rul'd the rest:
"Another I espy'd which seem'd to look
"And read, but at the wrong end of his book:
"Another I observ'd, which seem'd to weep,
"And in conclusion, pray'd himselfe asleep:
"Another I descry'd, among these Brothers,
"That vow'd 'twas right, because he'd please the others:
"Another he stood up, and wisely broke
"His long-kept silent lips, and thus he spoke.
Come! let's no longer now be kept in aw,
I'me sure our welfare is the Supreme Law,
A King, that's nothing but a power that is
Subordinate; the Lawes are ours, not His;
Is't not the People makes a King? well, then
If we let him be King, we're fools, not Men:
For now we have him in his own made snare,
We'l keep him fast, oh that we had his Heire!
Come, let's proceed, and if our plots hit right
You shall be Lords at least, and I, a Knight.
And let Malignants prate, their Purses shall
Pay tribute for their tongues at Gold-smiths-hall:
And if they grumble at what we shall do,
We'l make them pay their lives and money too;
The day is ours, let's not abuse that powre
Which Heav'n hath lent us; for sweet things prove sowre
[Page 5]If not made use of, have we not been poore
And others, rich? Come let's increase our store:
Had we but our deserts, might we not crave
The priviledge of all that others have?
All's ours, and yet our miseries are such
That we are rich in little, poor in much;
Alas! our tender hearts are fill'd with pity
To see so many blind in one poor City;
If they would please in a true zealous fashion
To moderate their long-continued passion,
'Twould much rejoice the Saints, & we will pray
That they may live untill a wiser day;
The' are very pious People, and we could
Both live, and die together, if they would
But furnish our desires with every thing
We want, and dote not too much on a King;
He's but a man at most, and yet they must
Adore his Person, though he be unjust.
I could not chuse but laugh the other day,
I 'spy'd a Cavalier that closely lay
Perdue to kisse his hand, and by and by
He starts away, and when he was as nigh
(That which they call a King) as his own length
His legs (not having that sufficient strength
His hast requir'd) receiv'd a sudden fall
And overturn'd himselfe, his King, and all:
The sight much pleas'd me, being very near,
I never help'd the King, nor Cavalier:
I soon retreated from that happy place,
And left them both in a distracted case;
[Page 6]But as I went, I was so blest to meet
An upright Sister, whose dividing feet
Srept with such innocency, that my heart
Did almost leap upon her to impart
My new-bred joy; her very looks betray'd
Her heart, indeed she was a lovely Maid;
I bow'd my self, and zealously imbrac'd
The small circumf'rence of her bending wast,
I kiss'd her mouth, and having done that duty,
My lips divided, and I prais'd her beauty;
Extremes of joy did almost make me faint:
I thought, oh! here's a Sister for a Saint;
I was amaz'd, my very soul did move
Between the great extremes of fear, and love;
She smil'd upon me, and that very smile
Prov'd a Restorative, and for a while
I mus'd; at last my lips began to break
As that smile had licenced them to speak;
Oh! then my mouth being ram'd with words, let flie
Both wit, and language, and did soar as nigh
As our Remonstrance, oh! how I did heat
Her ears with my discourse, it was so neat
As if my ready mouth had been the Schoole
Of language, yet she pleas'd to call me Foole;
But 'twas in jest I'm sure, or were it not
'Tis nothing, since my good hath forgot
My Sisters weaknesse, and indeed we men
Must bear with Sisters failings, now, and then;
They often trip in zeal, and sometimes take
A fall, and love it for the Givers sake:
[Page 7]Our greatest faults they'l pardon for a buss,
Come, we must bear with them, they bear with us:
But after she had call'd me fool, she checkt
Her self; I wisely own'd it with neglect,
I spread my cloak upon the ground, and there
We cool'd our passions in the open aire:
Sister, said I, you have been pleas'd to spend
The name of Fool upon your faithfull friend,
It was my worth you rashly did eclips,
And I'le have satisfaction from those lips
That gave th' affront, let me no longer stay,
My fury will admit of no delay.
Deare Brother, she reply'd, if it be so
You must have satisfaction, tak't below;
You soare too high at first, I must detest
Your lofty play, the middle way is best;
But if you are resolv'd, you shall not say
I'm obstinate; for if you will, you may:
I soon return'd her thanks, and with my hand
I pull'd her close, and made her understand
What I had seen: but oh how she was pleas'd!
Ah verily (said she) the news has eas'd
My longing heart. But when the King fell down
Thou wert unwise thou hadst not snatch'd His Crown.
'Tis rarely spoken Sister, had I had
The Crown, I should have made a gallant Lad;
Should I but sway the Scepter of this Land,
I'd make my Subjects die at my command;
I'd lop the great ones off, and make the low
Subordinate to me, I'd make them know
[Page 8]The reines were mine; but at the first I'de steal
Into their hearts, and fool them with my zeal.
I would declare unto the world, and take
An Oath, I acted for Religions sake:
I'd fill them full of novelties, and then
Sister thou knowest the common sort of men
(Like flies) will buz about my new-made light;
I'd call them Babes of grace, and make them fight
With Cerberus himself in my defence,
My Soule now tells me, 'tis a rare pretence:
I'd hire some babbling Preachers to infuse
Division; and to flatter them with newes.
I'd plump their soules with promises, that they,
Should never faile to swear; what should I say;
I'd make my Preachers urge them all to joyne
And fight for God; then wil their▪ Plate be mine:
This is an art that lies above the reach
Of every braine: I'd suffer all to preach
And sow sedition, every one should be
At least a Saint, and preach upon a Tree:
And if my great occasions should require
Large sums of money, then would I inspire
A Publike Faith; and if it would not rise
That way, I'd make the bellowes of Excize
To puffe it up; this is a cleanly way
To sweep up money, Souldiers must have pay.
Sister, thou know'st▪ 'tis no disgracing stealth
To make Religion rob the Common-wealth:
What though Malignants raile at our designs,
We can extract our livings from their fines:
[Page 9]I've spoke enough, now Sister, I'le divorce
My nimble tongue from this profound discourse:
Now give me leave to dedicate my heart
To thee (my Patronesse) before I part.
Brother, alas! I am a harmlesse maid,
And we you know, are easily betrai'd
By mens delusion: if your love be true,
The zeal of my affections light on you;
You know we ought to love, and none can be
More honest in their harmlesse loves then we,
For we may love each other in the spirit,
And pray, and preach together, and inherit
Our owne desires, whilst others send their cries
To their beloveds, and yet lose the prize.
Sister, thou hast exactly satisfi'd
My large desires: my happinesse bety'd
The thriving Spirit, truly, 'tis a paine
To part, but that I hope to meet againe:
London, (that nest of worth) that yeelding place,
I am resolv'd to view, within the space
Of forty houres, where I intend to spare
Some time, and see some Brethren I have there.
It is a goodly place, as fame relates,
For there the Sisters live, and all the States;
Truly, th' are very godly, and pretend
Just like our selves, to be a faithfull friend
To King, and Monarchy, when as Alas—
And then I wak'd, and let the other passe
Unutter'd, but indeed I do confesse
I wish that I had heard a geat deal lesse,
[Page 10]And yet (to speake the truth) I was perplext
Because I could not hear what follow'd next.
This was a midnights dream, I was in pain
Till night had lull'd me in her armes again,
And for the space of half a tedious houre
I was disturb'd, till sleep had gain'd some power
Over my slumb'ring senses, but at last
Call'd to the bar of sleep, I there was cast:
I had not long in peacefull pleasure slumber'd,
Before an interposing Dream incumber'd
My quiet fancy, suddenly my eare
Was fill'd with such a noise, as none could heare
Without much fear, as if th' incurved back
Of burth'ned Atlas had begun to crack.
Me thoughts I saw the Heav'ns how they begun
(As if th'ad scorn'd the glory of the Sun)
To frown upon the earth, which seem'd to flame
Like sulpherous Etna, from whose bowells came
Whole Regiments of Spirits which disturb'd
The aire, whose fury hated to be curb'd;
Me thoughts they were ambitious to expell
Some Potentate, and make his seat, their Hell:
Me thoughts at last (I slumb'ring) seem'd to hear
A single voice that whisper'd in my ear,
Yet thund'red in my heart, which made me grone
At every word; exprest in such a tone
Which would with great facility have turn'd
A Tyrants heart, or else consum'd and burn'd
His breast to ashes, and if language could
Move pity in a flinty-soule, this would.
[Page 11]He bolted forth his griefs, like claps of thunder,
As if each word should cleave a heart in sunder;
His voice being guarded with a pleasing force,
I sacrific'd my ears to his discourse;
Me thoughts my soul, my very ears were blest
In giving audience, whilest he thus exprest.
Oh Heaven! oh Earth! how can they chuse but frown
To see them make a foot-ball of a Crown?
How long shall I be made an aim'd at mark
Of pointed envy? shall they make me dark
That I made light? and shall that light devoure
The former principle? Unhappy houre
When my abused willingnesse was made
A Stalk-horse unto those, who have betray'd
An Island unto tyranny; whose Lawes
Oppresse true Subjects, and make me the Cause:
Malicious age, and will their fury have
No end, untill it send me to my grve?
A grave most peacefull place, for I'm sure
There's no Rebellion; there I'le rest secure
Where neither grief, nor care, shall dare torment
My sublime soule, there, there lies true content.
There there's the death of sorrow, and the life
Of peace, and there a period to all strife.
There's none can mock my woes, there none can trie
A King, nor make a Garrison, but I,
And what I spake, my soul protests is true,
I am no slave to death, but unto you
My soul's my Gods, and Tyrants do your worst,
Jobs soule was free, when's body was accurst.
[Page 12]But you blood-thirsty Zelots, learne to know
You never can rise high, if I fall low.
I feare no threats, let torments all conjoine
Themselves, at last ye'l find them yours, not mine.
What though I suffer here, my sufferings shall
Advance my soul; May they not make you fall?
Let out my life, go make a streaming floud
And bath your selves in my diffused blood.
Let loose your Furies, give your passions breath,
And let them bait my body unto death.
I am resolv'd, my heart shall flie above
The reach of fear, and view the God of love;
Consider well, what glory can accrew
From my destruction, to such soules as you;
Be not too rash, but know a cause that's dy'd
In guiltlesse blood cannot be justifi'd,
A prosperous vice shall never claim a right
To perpetuity, 'twill but in-right
A totall ruin, 'tis a greater Fame
To die with virtue, then to live with shame.
Yee seek for truth, and yet you go the way
To make the field of truth a Golgatha;
There is a great antipathy between
Faction and Peace, and yet my eyes have seen
How you (whose restlesse spirits still increase
With Faction) seem to study for a Peace;
Do not mistake, for they that will compose
A difference, must never do't by blowes.
The want of apprehensions may discrie
You nourish Spiders, and destroy the Flie.
[Page 13]Who glorious in a crime, will in conclusion
Receive a curse, and with that curse confusion:
I long to be resolv'd, pray tell me why
Ye think ye cannot live, except I die?
Your thoughts are vaine, 'twill be a tainted breath
That had it's derivation from my death.
Am I Basiliske? and can my eyes
Devoure you? for you know my body lies
Subject to be destroy'd, not to destroy
(By taking up of Armes) your Kingly joy:
But you suppose, if I should long survive,
I would become laborious, and contrive
Some new designes, & with my numerous forces
Divert the streame of your unlawfull courses;
Make reason your Companions, walke a while,
Consult together, stride not o're the stile
When as the gap lies open, they're unwise
That will (when they foresee a harme) despise
Preventing meanes; for if you take this life
From my enjoyment, ye'le beget a strife
That will not end, and when that strife is bred,
Then will my wrongs survive, though I am dead,
And you that caus'd my guiltlesse heart to bleed
Will find another to revenge the deed;
Aske Heaven's forgivenesse, for ye cannot crave
Leave to abscond your crimes, within my Grave:
Be well assur'd, that ev'ry drop which parts
Out of my veins, shall cleave unto your hearts
Like tangling bird-lime which will hold you fast,
And vengeance too, shall find you out at last,
[Page 14]Heav'ns all-surveying eye must needs observe
Your late unpolish'd actions, which deserve
As many torments as th' inraged hand
Of veng'ance can impose, or Heav'n command:
Did I not labour with a serious brest
During the Treaty, to restore some rest
To this distemper'd Kingdome; but the gales
Of Malice, were oppugnant to my sailes;
My heart was loaded with the large encrease
Of hopeful thoughts, my soul was fill'd with peace
But at the last my hopes prov'd uselesse drosse,
And then I lost a Crown, and found a Crosse;
Heav'n hear my wish, oh grant I may commence
A Doctor, in the art of Patience!
It matters not how poor my Person be,
If at the last I may be crown'd with thee.
Thou knowst the secret corners of my heart
Which is at they disposing, for thou art
The King of Kings, and unto thee i'le pay
The tribute of my soul, both night, and day.
I am thy Subject, give me grace to stand
Firmly obedient to thy just command.
When for my sins I shall receive thy blowes,
Oh give me power to suffer, not oppose!
Pardon my Enemies which have been strong,
And alwayes studious how to doe me wrong:
And though they 'ave vented that which is un­true,
Father forgive, they know not what they do.
They hate their King, & are not pleas'd with any,
O grant, good God, they may not find too many.
[Page 15]The chiefest of their worke, is to devoure;
(Stones have usurpt their hearts, as they my power)
Against the sound of Peace, their eares are bar'd
Oh never sure, was Pharaohs heart so hard.
They dis-respect their King; it was not so
With Shadrach, Meshach, and Abeduego;
Their tongues have vilifi'd me oftentimes,
These three were never guilty of such Crimes;
Their hearts had vow'd obedience to their King,
And never try'd by force of Armes to bring
Their own Designes to passe; but their submission
Sent comfort to their souls, and much contrition
To him, whose more then seven times heated brest
Did soon regreet what his hot rage exprest.
But well, since thus it is, I'le strive to sway
The Scepter of my miseries, and lay
A good foundation, that my Foes may build
Their torments on my breast, which shall be fill'd
With true content, I'le labour to support,
(But yet must yeeld, when death shal storm the fort)
I cannot start at death, I know it brings
A finis to my ancient griefs, and sings
Anthems of Peace: how happy's he that can
Flie to his God and scorne the rage of Man:
Thunder ye Sons of Tyranny, let rage
Flash from your sulph'rous souls, strive to ingage
The flames of Etna too, and let them dash
Against my breast; I'le own them as a flash;
Flatter your souls, prepare your hands to do
A deed, that Heav'n will not advise you to.
[Page 16]I pitty you, my heart cannot forbeare
To sigh; and Nature too, commands a teare;
Oh that my head (like to a Fountaine) could
Furnish my eyes with teares, oh then I would
Begin the morning, and conclude the day
Whith Drops, and wash the black-brow'd night a­way;
Oh let my language whet your dul belief,
'Twas you that fill'd my flowing heart with grief,
And now my Torments more and more excel,
Heav'n grant me breath enough to bid Farewel,
Farewel; sad word, that like a bolt of thunder
Hath more then cleft my reaving heart in sunder.
Death's nothing like the sorrow which I finde
Raising a towre of woe within my minde.
Thou partner of my soul, how can I die
And leave thee here to weep a Lullaby
To my indulgent babes, how can it be
That I must leave so dear a spouse as thee?
Poor hearts, If I must goe and leave you all
Confus'd together in the common hall
Of this inraged world, what wil ye doe
But mourne for me, as I have mourn'd for you?
Oh where wil you retire your selves, and spend
Your groaning houres, oh what regarding friend
Wil give a minuits audience, or relieve
Your pining wants, or mean to hear you grieve?
What Nation wil regard, or entertaine
(A royal) though a miserable traine?
This is a sorrow that divides my brest;
This is a grief that cannot be exprest
[Page 17]Without a fractur'd heart, this is a wound
That makes confusion active to confound.
Were it a possibility to have
Ten thousand Lyons lodg'd within this Cave,
(This trunke of mine) they could not more tor­ment
My heart, then this unbounded discontent;
Should all the Tyrants in the world contrive
A way to make a dying soul survive
With living paine, they never could exceed
The Tyrants of these Times in such a deed;
I have been long imprison'd; and at last
Call'd to the bar; how soon I may be cast
Heav'n knows, not I, for they that were so bold
To bring me thither, will, if not controul'd,
Force me to death, their very looks declare
Their resolutions, whilst their hearts prepare
To suck my veins; Ah thus they have betray'd me,
And smile to see how glorious they have made me
They swell'd like mountains, and at last brought forth
The Mouse of Reformation, whose worth
Is seated in all lofty braines, and hurl'd
Through every corner of th' inquiring World.
But why should I insist upon your Crimes?
May heav'n forgive you, and send better times:
I know my dayes are short, 'tis therefore meet
To leave this Crown, and buy a winding- sheet.
Be gone terrestriall pleasures, for ye are
But Goalers to your Keepers, and insnare
Your fond beleevers, goe, my heart's no tombe
To give you buriall, seek some other roome;
[Page 18]Flie then my soul; but stay, what hand is this
That seems to hold me from my long'd-for blisse?
More sorrows yet; will not th' Almighty please
'T afford my soul on earth a minutes ease?
Oh thou that mak'st my harvest ful of paines,
Grant that my working soul may reap the gains;
Grief's grown a Polititian, and it keeps
A strong reserve; what eye is this that weeps
These briny teares into my fluent heart,
As if those flouds should drownd me e're I part?
What voice is this I seem to hear? what tones
Are these that lavish out themselves in groanes?
What ayles my thoughts? what neer related breath
Is this that seems to breath a sudden death
Into my panting breast? methinks I heare
A female voice, cry, must I languish here?
Hard-hearted death, why art thou thus unkinde
To take him hence, and leave me here behinde
To weep his obsequies, draw up thy boe,
And send me whither I desire to goe.
Shoot, shoot, oh Death, thou shalt not be with­stood,
Come, dip thy arrowes in my crimson bloud,
Fear not, let flie, and let thy rovers hide
Their twi-fork'd heads within my wounded side:
Oh Heav'n, since thou wert pleas'd to joyn our hands
And hearts together, let thy strict cōmands
Urge death to strike us both, that we may fly,
And dedicate our souls t' eternity;
Alas, what joy, what comfort can accrew
To me, when he shall bid this world adue.
[Page 19]I liv'd within his heart, but ah, if he
Shall quit this earth, what life remaines in me.
Alas sad heart, what canst thou doe but pine?
Never could grief be parallel'd with mine;
I am the Sea of grief, all streams doe tend
Towards me, for ah my sorrowes know no end:
The sturdy winds of care, and trouble blowes
Into my soul, my Ocean alwayes flowes
And never ebbes; oh miserable age;
How am I made a subject to their rage
Whose pare-boyl'd souls observes no other dyet
But bloud; and seeme to rest in our disquiet;
You all-exceeding Tyrants, if ye thirst
For royall blood, be pleas'd to take mine first,
Mines but a draught, yee'le quickly swil it up,
Alas, it wil not yeeld each soul a sup;
You are the fountains from whose brests do spring
The streames of murder, and your souls can sing
Nothing but bloody notes; you can contract
The body of all mischief, and enact
What pleases you; But will you subjugate
Your legall King, whose patience is your hate;
But if you seek his fatall overthrow,
Ye'le murder more then thousands at one blow;
But why doe I thus languish breath in vaine,
On those whose fury have no ears? refraine
My trembling tongue; Tyrants; Ile leave you here,
And turn my thoughts to Charls, whose lif's as dear
To me, as death is cheap to you; Alas,
My heart is full, I cannot let thee passe
[Page 20]Without a sigh, nor can my eyes forbeare
To wash thy sad remembrance with a teare.
Has Heav'n decreed it? must we be devided
Dear King; and must our sorrowes be derided?
Thou great Recorder of my thoughts, to thee
I will resigne; command, and I will be
A subject to thy wil; Oh let me have
Thy gracious pardon, then a speedy grave,
For ah, what comfort can my wasting breast
Hope to receive, when I am dispossest
Of such a Joy? alas where shall I seate
My heart; tears are my drink, and sighes my meate,
These pallid lippes of mine shall never dare
To own a smile; I'le live with grief and care,
Except my God will please to take me hence,
And make his glorious Kingdome my defence;
Was it not grief enough to be absented
Five yeers from him, whose absence was lamented
With reall drops, yet then I could obtaine
Some hopes to see him in his throne againe.
But hark! methinks my Fancy seems to heare
An aire of comfort breathing in my eare,
It is the voice of Charls, whose pleasing breath
Seemes to advance me from the shades of death,
Methinks I hear his language, which distils
Out from the Limbick of his soul, and fils
My pining heart with a triumphing joy
His voice revives me, but his words destroy.
He thus proceeds;—Oh thou that are the vine
Which twists about this twining heart of mine,
[Page 21]Approach my presence ▪ and I will declare
How great my sufferings, and my comforts are:
First I was tost, and banded to and fro
From place to place, permitted not to goe
Without a guard, a guard that did pretend
Rather to act a murder, then defend:
Then was I hurry'd to that fatall place
Of London, where I know I must uncase
My willing soul, which shall rejoyce, when they
That are my Judges shall presume to lay
Their accusations on me, and dcclare
My new-coyn'd faults, with their pretended care.
And to advance their plots, they first infer
I am a Tyrant, and a Murderer,
Nay, and a Traytor too; if so it be
That I'm a Tyrant, where's my Tyranny?
Or if a Murderer; I here require
To know whose bloud it was that quench'd my fire.
Suppose (but Heav'n forbid) it should be true,
It was against my God I sinn'd, not you.
Oh what an Age is this, where seeming Reason
Pretends to make me Traytor, without Treason!
Death; come, and welcome, to my heart, I know
That my Redeemer lives, and that I owe
A debt to Nature, which cannot be pay'd
Till these condemned corps of mine are lay'd;
Now grief be gon, and let my comforts take
Possession of my soul, awake, awake
My slumbring senses, I'le triumph and sing,
For I have found, that Death hath lost her sting;
[Page 22]My soul informes me, that I must lad downe
This Mortall for a true immortall Crowne.
I'm ravish'd with delight, me thinks I have
A Heav'n within my bosome, to inslave
The Hell of torments; grief must stand aloof,
Not daring to approach within my roof;
The pleasures of this world doe seem to run,
And fly (like mists) before the morning Sun,
They're all but transetory; and can lay
No claime to perpetuity, to day
They seem like messengers of Joy; to morrow
They prove sad Heraulds, & proclaime a sorrow.
As for the Joves of heav'n, they farre sermount
My souls arithmetick, I cannot count
Those numerous, delights, which alwayes be
Attendants to the souls eternity:
Thou great Redeemer, to whose sacred power
I now addresse my selfe, my long'd for houre
Is almost come, there's but a little blase
Remaines behind, and yet methinks my dayes
Seem tedious to my soule; I long to throw
This burden downe, that presses me below.
But since thy pleasure must be done, not mine,
Call when thou pleasest; for my soul is thine;
I'le not resist thy hand, but kisse thy rod,
I am thy Creature, thou my gracious God:
Come my indulgent Ioyes, and let my breath
Inhabbit in your eares before my death.
Thou Consort of my heart, why dost thou wast
Those pearly dropps, why do they make such hast
[Page 23]To leave the sweet possessions of thy eyes?
What? wilt thou make a watry Sacrifice?
Oh do not weep, Heav'n is not pleas'd to see
Those gliding streames, which trickle down for me;
My tender Babes, oh why do you stand by
And imitate your Mothers stormy eye,
Restraine those tears; for every drop you shed
Falls on my moyst'ned heart, and there hath bred
A brim-fill'd fountaine, which at last will dround
My heart, and give your selves the greatest wound.
Let not, oh let not, your sad eyes expresse
So great a sorrow, for my happinesse;
Cheer up; cheer up deare souls, & learne to keep
Those tears, or weep, to see your Mother weep.
Weep not for me, I'm going to receive
A lasting Crowne, oh leave (for heav'ns sake) leave
Those heart-infringing groans, why doe ye vex
My Heav'n-desiring soul, and thus perplex
Your pensive hearts, forbeare, and be appeasd,
Be not displeased, with what Heav'n is pleas'd;
Oh how can ye expect that hee'l fulfill
Your large desires, if thus you thwart his will?
Come smile upon me, and that smile will give
My heart a great incouragement to live,
Death's but a speedy passage from this life,
Unto a better, and concludes all strife
Between this World and us, whilst here we draw
Corrupted aire we're subject to the law
Of grief and care, which daily circumvents
Discordious hearts with griping discontents.
[Page 24]Be not dejected at my death, but rather
Rejoyce, to think that heav'n will be your father,
Comfort your woefull mother, that hath been
A carefull Parent, and my loyall Queen;
Give her that full Obedience which is due,
And Heav'n will be affectionate to you.
Oh let the feare of God be alwaies plac'd
Before your eyes; Let virtus be imbrac'd;
What ere ye doe, be carefull to reserve
A spotlesse minde, which will at last preserve
Your heav'n bred souls, let not your furies rage
Into revenge, but labour to asswage
The flames of anger, let them not aspire
Beyond your reach; Passion's the worst of fire:
Be not too much addicted to the hate
Of any, but be wisely moderate,
And when your hands begin to undertake
A consequentiall worke be sure t' awake
Your slumb'ring reasons, labour to advise
With heav'n and he will crowne your enterprise
With full successe; and if your foes should chance
To gaine the day, permit your thoughts to glance
Upon your private Crimes, and learne to know
Th' effect can never absolutely show
The justnesse of a cause, for oftentimes
Just Heav'n is pleas'd to pardon private Crimes
With publique means; God knows my cause was just
And yet he lay'd my Armies in the dust:
Shall I repine because I dayly see
My foes prevaile, and triumph ouer me?
[Page 25]No, no I will not, they shall live to dye,
When I shall dye, to live and glorifie
The Generall of Heav'n, within whose Tent
I hope to rest, where Time will ne're be spent.
But now, ah now, these lipps must bid farewell,
Methinks I heare (Deaths Orator) the Bell,
Plead for an issue, and I must not stay,
Death comes in haste, and I must post away:
Come then my tender Babes, & dearest Spouse
(Thou that wert alwayes constant to thy vows)
And let those short-liv'd armes of mine inclose
You all together, e're I doe repose
My earth-defatigated limbs: forbeare
To drench my farewell in so large a teare;
My deare Relations, if my wasting glasse
Afford no sand, I must be gone; Alas
Teares cannot hold my soul; and woe may have
More priviledge to take, then he that gave;
My Iourney's almost ended, and I must
Take up an Inn, and lodge my self in dust,
Then shine upon me with the beams of mirth,
That I may say, I saw a heav'n on earth,
A pleasing smile, or two, will make me know
No paine in death, but if in teares you flow,
Oh then—
—But know, my dearest, Heav'n wil be
A fitter husband for thee far than me.
Thou need'st not feare thy foes contriving harmes
They cannot keep thee from his folding armes,
[Page 26]As they have done from mine; oh may wee meet,
I dare not say, within a winding-sheet;
For I am sure those weeping Babes will misse
Th' unwelcome absence of so great a blisse,
But when thy husband, heav'n shall please to bring
Thy soul into his Quire, oh then wee'l sing
Prolonged Anthems, where we shall combine
Our souls together, in a place divine;
Till then—oh why, why does thy trembling hand
Freeze within mine? Ah me, why dost thou stand
And gaze upon me? are thy veins afray'd
To entertaine thy blood? has grief betray'd
Thy fainting heart to death? wilt thou precede
My resolutions, give me leave to lead
The way to heav'n; Alas, and wilt thou die
Because I cannot live? cast back thine eye
Upon thy Royall Issue, doe but see
How fast their sighes doe faile in tears to thee,
Oh let the sight of them revive thy heart,
Cheer up, and give me courage to depart;
For they that dye because another dyes,
Usurpe a Death, and make themselves a prize;
Doe not, oh doe not, thus torment thy soul
For my departure, if you must condole,
Condole my stay, my soule desires to be
Disolv'd (Indulgent God) and rest with thee;
A bed of Roses; that's a fading sweet,
Oh there's no comfort to a winding sheet,
A Grave's the best of Pallaces; for there
Is neither whining grief nor pining care:
[Page 27]Why should we scorne this earth that entertains
Our wearied bones, and hides us from our paines?
Earth is a place of worth, yet would I have
Not any dote upon't but for a grave:
Now death; march bravely on, and let thy dart
Sing as it flies unto my obvious heart,
What? art thou daunted? dost thou feare to kill
Because I am a King; what? daunted still?
Why dost thou look so pale? what, art thou charm'd
By Majesty? or has thy self disarm'd
Thy self, or else art thou asham'd to doe
So foul a deed, or wil't thou not imbrew
Thy shaft in Royall blood? Come, lay aside
Thy feare, and shoot, or else my foes will chide:
But hold a while (nor doe I bid thee stay,
Because my soul's desirous of delay)
Once more thou sole Commandresse of my brest,
Draw nere, before I fall into my rest,
Approach unto me, let these lipps of mine
Intaile a farewell on those cheeks of thine,
Weep not, but let thy tender knees salute
The ground with mine let's labour to confute
Our sorrows with our prayers, and recommend
Our souls to heav'n, whose glory knows no end;
Thou great, thou glorious, thou all-ruling King,
Thou Rocke, thou fountaine, thou eternall spring
Of Grace; we that are cloathed with the night
Of sin, present our selves into thy sight,
And with unfained hearts devoutly pray
That thou wouldst send thy Son to chase away
[Page 28]Our soul-absconding clouds, that thou mayst take
A pleasure to behold us, for his sake
We beg this needfull grace, in whom we know
Thou art well pleased, and to whom we owe
A debt unpayable, oh therefore let
Thy satisfying mercy pay our debt;
Oh hear our prayers, which strongly doe impor­tune
Thy gracious pardon, though it was our fortune
To be unfortunate, yet let us be
Indulgent Father, fortunate with thee,
Forgive our youthfull sins, and speak some peace
Unto our souls, and as our sins encrease,
So let thy mercy, more, and more abound,
That having lost our sins, thou may'st be found;
Heal our back-slidings, guide us in thy way,
That so our feet may never goe astray;
Oh blesse these blessings, which thy blessed hand
Bestow'd upon me, let them fil the Land
With good examples, guard them from their foes
And send them patience, when thou send'st them woes.
Hear me for them, oh God, & them for me
And hear our Saviour for us all, and be
A Father, and a Husband to them all,
And let me rise in mercy when I fall:
Strengthen their soules, and teach them to renew
Their patience, when my soul shall bid adue
To this infatuated world, oh let
Their hearts seclude all grief, for 'tis a debt
That must be pay'd, let thy exchequer take
Such ill-coyn'd treasure, as my soul can make,
[Page 29]Oh grant (dear Father) this my great request,
Then take me when thou pleasest to thy rest.
So, now my joyes, be chearfull, let's create
A heav'nly mirth, and let our sorrows wait
Upon our pleasures; let our watchfull eies
Observe our Makers great Immunities.
Let's first observe how his free hand provided
For us, before we were, how he divided
The water from the land, and made it drie
To entertain our feet, and made the skie
To give us light, and afterwards he made
Poor helpless Man, that suddenly betray'd
Himself to ruine, and by deviation,
Abus'd the glory of his free Creation.
But see the bounty of our God above,
Who quickly turn'd his fury into love,
And sent a speedy balsom to make sound
The deadly anguish of so deep a wound:
And shall we be ungratefull? shall we not
Remember him, that never yet forgot
To pity us? and shall we waste our dayes
In vain contentions, and not give him praise
That gave us his own Son? whose willing breath
Redeem'd our souls from everlasting death.
Alass, how miserable had we been,
Had his spontanious death not stept between
Veng'ance and us, and shall we then deny
What he requires, if he command that I
Retire unto him, shall my soul refuse
To run unto him, and embrace the newes,
[Page 30]Oh no, it must not, hee's accurst that shall
Desire to stay, if Heaven be pleas'd to call.
Death hath no ears to hear complaints, 'tis vain
To weep for that which tears cannot regain.
You my sad standers by, when death shall send
A Message to my heart, forbear to spend
Offensive tears, but rather joy, that I
Am gone before you to Eternitie;
Where now me thinks, I see you all, and hear
The lofty Seraphims salute my ear
With heav'n-bred raptures, which does even woo
My soul out of my ears, I long to go
And fill my self with melody, and sing
Perpetuall Halelujahs to my King:
So, now my wasting lamp begins to blaze,
Come Death, and put a period to my dayes,
Let out my life, that I may flie unto
My God, and bid this loathed world adieu:
Adieu vain pleasures of unconstant earth,
Adieu false joys, and world-derived mirth:
My dear Relations, I must now expresse
A farewell to you all, and then addresse
My self to Heaven, within whose Court I shall
(My soul now tels me) shortly meet you all.
Till then enjoy what heav'n shall please to give,
And rather study how to die then live.
Make use of time, and languish not in vain
Those hours which cannot be recall'd again,
Comfort each other, and if fortune frown,
Smile ye at fortune, lay your sorrows down
[Page 31]Before the face of Heav'n and he'l relieve
Your pining wants: oh let your hearts not grieve
For food and raiment; labour to be true,
And he that feeds the Ravens will feed you.
Oh let your morning thoughts be sure to mount
To Heav'ns high Altar, give him an account
Of all your actions; they which every day
Make their accounts to God, prepare a way
To go to heav'n. But time will give me leave
T' expresse no more; my soul begins to cleave
Unto a blest Eternitie, my heart
Declares unto me, that I must depart;
Time whets his sithe: Oh do not ring my knell,
With sighs and sobs, farewel, my Joys, farewell.
So, now the Load-stone of this world shall have
No art t' attract my soul, I'll not enslave
My self to earth: shall transitory toyes
Surrept my soul from heavens eternall Joys?
Oh no, they shall not. Now I'll dedicate
My self to thee (my God) who didst create
Both soul and body; thou that knowst the thoughts
And hearts of Kings, and numerates their faults,
Pardon what I have done amiss to thee,
Forgive my enemies. Thou knowst I'm free
From what I suffer for; thou knowst my hands
Are cleer from blood, thou knowst that my Com­mands
Were not tyranical, thou knowst my brest
Was never stain'd with Treason; My request
O God is this, that thou wouldst make them know
(And timely feel) what a most wilfull blow
[Page 32]Th'ave given to their Consciences; oh turn
Their flaming hearts to thee, which daily burn
Against thy servants, cause them to relent;
And let their griefs induce them to repent.
Be mercifull to them, as they were cruel
To me, and mine, oh quench the blazing fuel
Of their desires, gives them not their deserts,
But wash my blood from their unfountain'd hearts;
And as for me, presented to thy eyes
Suppos'd (as an attoning Sacrifice)
By them whose seven-years malice have contriv'd
My downfall; when my body is disliv'd.
Receive my soul into thy glorious Tent,
And mak't a member of thy Parliament;
Now farewel world, and dirt-composed Crowns,
Farewel earths smiles, and fortunes surly frowns.
Farewel to you that thus my life expell,
Oh may my farewell, make you all farewell.
Reader; the sound of death hath made me start
Out of my slumbers, and my wak'ned heart
Trembles within me; Oh what shall we doe?
Oh may I never dream, to dream thus true:
But since 'tis so, (kind Reader) let thy eie
Survay the paths of his sad Elegie:
Lavish not out your tears too fast, but keep
A strong reserve, your eyes must bleed, or weep.
Till then adue; and when I meet thee there,
Reader, assure thy self, I'le spend a teare.
AN ELEGY UPON That n …

AN ELEGY UPON That never to be forgotten CHARLS THE FIRST; Late (but too soon Martyr'd) KING of England, Scotland, France and Ireland.

Who with unmoved Constancy, laid down
His Life, t' exchange it for a heav'nly Crown.

January 30. 1648.

—In adibus Regum Mors venit—

Printed in the Year, 1649.

AN ELEGIE UPON That never to be forgotten CHARLES THE FIRST.

WHat? do I dream? or does my fancy scatter
Into my various mind a reall matter?
What ails my thoughts? what uncorrected passion
Is this, that puts my Senses out of fashion?
Where am I hurri'd? what sanguinious place
Is this I breathe in, garnish'd with disgrace?
Why? what's the reason that my eys behold
These waves of blood? Does the Red sea infold
My shivering body? Oh what stormy weather
Was that which violently tost me hither?
Where am I now? what rubicundious light
Is this, that bloudies my amazed sight?
What Reformation's this that's newly bred,
And turns my white into so deep a red?
[Page 35]Awake my fancy, come delude no more,
Say; are my feet upon the English shore?
Sure not; these are usurping thoughts that raine
Within the Kingdom of a troubl'd braine:
If this be England, oh what alteration
Is lately bred within so blest a Nation;
My soul is now assured; for I see
Those lofty Structures where mild Majesty
Did once recide; abounding with a flood
That swells (and almost moates them round) with blood,
England, sad object, that wer' [...] lately crown'd
With a most glorious prince; how art 'thou drownd
In Royall bloud? was not thy master-veine
Open'd of late; ah, who can stop't againe?
Look round about thee, and thou shalt descry
How every face imports an Elegy.
Review thy self, see how thou art ingrain'd
With guiltlesse blood? was ever Land so stain'd?
Needs must your hearts expect a cloudy night
Now Sol is set, and Cynthia wants her light:
And dost thou think, O England to immure
Thy self in bloud, and alwayes rest secure?
Oh no, assure thy self there is a hand
That rules above, which will correct thy land:
Be well advis'd, oh Nation; learn to know
That language cannot ebb, when bloud shal flow
All hearts all eyes, all hands, all tongues, all Quillt
Will think, wil weep, wil write, & speak their wills
I'le not invoke; this Subject will invite
Th' obdurest hearts, and teach that pen to write
[Page 36]Which never fram'd a Letter, and infuse
The seed of Life, into a barren Muse▪
Thou gre [...] Instructer, teach me to distil
An Eagles Uertues, with an Eagles quil:
Rais'd by a f [...]ll, my Muse begins to sing
The melancholy farewels of a KING.
And is he gone I did not the dolefull Bells
Dissolve, when as they t [...]ld his sad Farewills.
If he be gone? what language can there be
Remaining in this Land, except, Ah me.
Ah me, Ah lass, how is this Realm unblest
In such a loss?—I cannot speak the rest:
My Heart is full of Arrows shot of late
From the stiff Bow of a commanding STATE,
Each wound is mortall yet in spight of pain
Ile pluck them out, and shoot them back again;
And when my tongue shall empty out my heart,
Let Death surprize me with a single Dart▪
Ile strive t' outface Rebellion, and my eyes
Shall s [...]n all new invented Tyrannies;
Sorrow will not be tongue ty'd, tides must run
Their usuall courses, till their strength is don ▪
I have a stream of grief within my brest,
That tumbles up and down, and cannot rest:
I am resolv'd let death distwade) to speak
What Reason dictate▪ or my heart must break▪
I'le mount the Stage let standers by behold
My Actions, for my sorrows must be bold;
I fear not those, whose powers may controll
The language of my tongue, but not my soul.
[Page 37]Advance dejected souls, hear reason call,
Let not the truth be passive, though we fall.
Blush not to own those tears, which you have spent
In private, for a Publick discontent;
Let not your tongues be (Pris'ners to your lips
When Justice cals, oh let not fear ecclipse
The light of truth, rouse up your selves draw neer
When Justice finds a Tongue finde you an eare.
The day's expir'd, bright Sal hath drawn his head
Within the curtaines of his Tethean bed,
Where shall we hide our slumbring souls, and lay
Our wearied limbes, till he renews the day?
A day! Alasse, have not our wretched eyes
Seen a great fall? can we expect a Rise?
Should Heav'n (who justly may) command his powres
T' expel this light, as we have lately ones,
What should we do? where should we finde a sun,
That have by too much doing quite undone
Our wilfull selves? by snuffing out that light
Which he inspir'd, to guard us from the night
Of sad confusion, ah, how could we spoile
So pure a lampe, and so usurpe that oyle
Which was ordain'd to nourish us? We run
To light a Candle, and put out the Sun;
In vain we waste our times, and range about
To look for new lights, now the old Light's out,
We seek; and we may finde; but heav'n knowes when
Old lights were made by God, & new by men.
Shake England for thy Grand Ʋpholders down,
Thy feet have lately spurn'd against thy Crown,
[Page 38]Thy hands are daub'd with bloud, one ruine calls
An other, to the others funeralls;
Destruction thunders, and the earth is fill'd
With doleful ecchoes; bloud that hath been spill'd
By unjust hands (like seas) begin to roare,
As if 'twould take revenge upon the shore:
The whistling woods and their subjected springs
Sends forth Elegious blasts, each corner rings
With unaccustom'd sounds; All things expresse
(By thir prognosticating looks) unhappinesse;
Deploring Philomel does now repeare
Contristed notes, upon her Thorny seat;
She has forgot those sweet no turnall notes.
Which lately charm'd all sorrow, now she dotes
Upon her woefull, he prolixed tones,
And findes no sweetnesse in her bitter groanes:
The Commons of the aire conspire to throw
Their Soveraign down, and will not fly so low
As formerly; but are resolv'd to be
Oppugnant to the Eagles Majesty.
How pregnant is Rebellion every where,
Not onely here on earth, but in the aire?
Can thunder roare, and not the lofty sound
Be heard? can Cedar. fall unto the ground,
And not be seen? can Mountaines shrinke away
And not observ'd? nor can there be a day
Without a Sun? nor can there be a night
Without some darknesie? can there be a light
Put our unwanted? or can murther be
Committed upon sacred Majestie,
[Page 39]And not lamented? sure no humane heart
Can be so brazen, as not to impart
Some sorrow to the world, for such a losse,
When gold is gone, how uselesse is the drosse:
Now mournfull Muses, light your Torches all,
T' attend your glory to his Funerall;
Shal, our Mecaenas dye, and you stand still,
And not appeare upon Parnassus bill?
Away, away, invoke Apolloes aide,
Tell him that your Mecaenas was betray'd
To an unlawfull death, and you desire
To sacrifice a verse; and then retire:
Could I translate my heart into a verse,
I'de pinne it with my soul upon his herse.
Could I command the world, I'de make it burne
Like a pure lampe upon his sacred Ʋrne:
Could I command all eyes, I'de have them make
(As a memoriall for great Charles his sake)
A sea of teares, that after ages, may
Lament to see, but not lament to say
He dy'd without a teare; and it should be
Call'd the salt sea of flowing Loyaltie:
Could I command all hearts, I'de make them spend
Some drops of bloud upon his tombe, and send
Millions of sighes to Heav'n, that may expresse
His death was Englands great unhappinesse;
Could I command all tongues, I'de make them run
Divisions on his praise, till time were done;
Could I command all hands, I'de strike them dead
Because they should not rise against their head.
Could I command all feet, I'de make them goe
[Page 40]And give the Son that duty which they owe
To his deserts—.
I'm in a desert, and I know not where
To guide my steps, that path which seemes most faire,
Broves most pernicious to me, and will lend
My feet a good beginning, but no end.
Great Charl's, oh happy word, but what's the next
(Bad's th' application of so good a Text)
Is dead; most killing word; what is he dead?
Nay more (if more may be) hee's murthered:
Ah then my thoughts are murther'd; my sad eyes
Shall never cease to weep his Obsequies:
I'le turn this place into a bubling spring
Of briny teares; and then I'le freely bring
A Sacrifice to sorrow, which shall be
A flaming heart that's crown'd with Loyaltie:
Now could I spend an age in thoughts, and tyre
The night with sighes, methinks I could inspire
Sorrow it self, and teach it to proclaime
What ruine waites upon our new-bred flame:
But 'tis in vaine, perswasions have no powre
On them, whose resolutions can devoure
Both Law and Reason, two most horrid crimes
In these pernicious, these contentious times:
Come then my thoughts, and let us ruminate
Upon our sorrows; oh unhappy Fate,
Why didst thou snuffle out Charles his royal blaze
In the Aurora of his well-spent days?
[Page 41]But 'tis in vaine to blame thee, for thy hand
Cannot refraine to strike, if God command;
Heav'n saw he was too good to be enjoy'd
By us; but not too good to be destroy'd
For his owne glory; let's rejoyce, we had
So good a King; but grieve to think how bad
We us'd his goodness; we may justly say,
He gave in mercy, what he took away
In Iudgment, for his own commands appointed
We should not touch, (much more slay) his anoin­ted
And yet we have, (as if our hearts had sworn
To contradict his will) abus'd and torn
His own Vicegerent, to whose thriving hand
He gave the Scepter of a glorious Land:
But now (unhappy land) thy glories fled,
Thy Crown is fallen, and thy Charles is dead;
Goe then, deplore thy self, whilst others sing
The living vertues of thy martyr'd King;
His glory shall survive with Fame, when they
Shall lye forgotten in a heape of Clay
That were the Authors of his death, their bones
Shall turne to ashes, as their hearts are stones:
But did my tongue expresse that they should be
Forgot; oh no, their long-liv'd Tyranny
Shall be perpetuall; harke, misfortune sings
The worst of Tyrants, kill'd the best of Kings
He was the best; what impious tongue shall dare
To contradict my language, or impare
His living worth, and they that goe about
To blast his Fame, oh may their tongues drop out.
[Page 42]Pardon oh Heav'ns, if passion make me breake
Into extremes, who can forbeare to speake
In such a lawfull cause? may we not claime
A Priviledge to speak in Charles his name.
Is any timerous? then let them keep
Their language, and reserve themselves to weep;
Is any Joyful? let them keep their mirth
To please the Tyrants of this groaning earth.
Is any sorry? let them keep their grief
Til Heav'n shall please to send their souls reliefe;
Did ever Iland find so great a losse?
Was ever Nation crownd with such a crosse?
Could ever Kingdom boast they had a Prince
That could be more laborious to convince
The errours of his times, or contradict
The dictates of his rage, or be more strict
In his Devotions; ne're did Prince inherit
So rich a Crowne, with so inrich'd a Spirit.
He was the best of Conquerors; he made
Conquests of hearts, although he was betray'd
By some inferiour spirits, which he found
Had lately started from the lowely ground,
And were not worth a Conquest; yet he gave
Them more respect then their deserts could crave.
None could observe during the time he stood
Before his Pilates: that his royal blood
Mov'd into fury, but his heart was prone
To hear their speeches, and retort his own;
But when they found his language did increase
With sense, he was desir'd to hold his peace,
[Page 43]And some related that their furies bred,
Because his at inclos'd his royal head.
Good God, what times are these, when subjects dare
Presume to make their Soveraign stand bare;
And when they sent him from their new made place
Of Justice, basely spit upon his face,
But he whose patience could admit no date,
Conquer'd their envies and subdu'd their hate
Ah who could blame our Soveraign to decline
Their ways, and say, were ever grief like mine?
First when his feet approach'd into the Hall,
The ill-tun'd tongues of sycophants would call
Aloud for Justice, though they never knew
What Justice was, yet still they would renew
Their most confounding, and discordious noates,
And baul for Justice with their sluce-like throats;
But he, that Lambe of Patience, never vented
A word of anger, but with speed prevented
Their louder cryes, and with a pleasing breath
Reply'd; If Justice can be gain'd by death,
Yea shall not want it, only be content,
Yea may as soon endeavour to repent,
As now ye doe to spil my blood; advise,
Your souls will suffer for your forward cryes;
Having thus spoke, immediately he stept
Unto the barre, where for a time he kept
Himself in silence; like a sun he shin'd
Amongst those gloomy clowds which had com­bin'd
Themselves together, plotting to disgrace
His orient luster, and impul'd his face:
[Page 44]And with a thundring voice, they first salute
His ears with Tyrant, Traytor, and impute
Murder unto him: With a pleasing smile
He look'd upon them, and a little while
He made a pause; but by and by, he broke
His silent lips, and moderatly spoke
To this effect: May I desire to know
From whence this great Authority doth flow
That you pretend to act by? If it bee
Derivative; I shall desire to see,
And know from whom; till then I shall deny
To give my tongue a licence to reply.
You are our Pris'ner Sir, you ought not to
Demand what your appointed Judges do,
For our Authority 'tis known at large
Unto our selves; pray answer to your Charge,
Or els we shall proceed. I thought t' have seen
My Lords and Peers together, that had been
A means to make my fading hopes renew,
For most of them I know, but none of you.
As for my Charge, I own i [...] as a thing
Of small concernment, as I am a King
You cannot try me: what your new made laws
May do, I know not, have a care and pause
Before you act in Blood, strive to convince
Your stubborn hearts, & know, I am your Prince;
Y' are but abortive Judges, have a care,
Ye may be tangled in your own made snare;
Proceed: ye can but throw me to the earth,
They which p [...], needs must own the birth;
[Page 45]God knows my heart; 'tis not my life that I
Account of, but my Subjects Liberty,
That's all that I desire. —Sir, now we must
A little interrupt You: 'Tis unjust
A Prisoner (as you are) should be allow'd
So great a Priviledge: Y'ave disavow'd
Our known Authoritie, and make a sport
Of reall Justice, and affront the Court;
Feed not your guilty heart with such delay.
Waste no more time, for Justice will not stay.
Pray give me leave to speak, great Charls reply'd.
You ought not, Sir, to speak: w' are satisfi'd
Already of your guilt, you must prepare
To hear your Sentence, and you must forbear
Your vain and weak discourses. Is it so,
He then reply'd, that I am forc'd to go
Away unheard (Alas, 'tis not the voice
Of Death can daunt my brest, ye may rejoyce
At my destruction, though you have no ear
To entertain my language, Heaven will hear.
Take notice People, that you King's deny'd
To speak: Was ever Justice rul'd by pride?
Thus having laid the burthen of their spight
Upon his head, they sent him from their [...]ight.
But he (that was inspir'd by Heaven) did show
A countenance that did import their woe,
More then a sorrow for his death, his face
Was dy'd with honour, theirs with foul disgrace;
His patience was their passions, and they found
His mind a kingdom, where his heart was crown'd
[Page 46]With constant love: Oh that I could rehearse
His living Vertues with a living Verse!
But now my Pen must leave Him for a time,
And dwell upon the mountains of that crime
Which they committed: Put a King to death!
Oh horrid action! what venomous breath
Pronounc'd that fatall Sentence? May it live
To poyson Scorpions, and not dare to give
The least of sounds to any humane ear.
Sure he was deaf himself, and could not hear
The cadence of his language: for the sound
Had been sufficient to inflict a wound
Within his marble heart: Oh such a deed
Stabs Kingdoms to the hearts, and makes them bleed
Themselves to death; to lose so good a King,
By such base means, will prove a viperous sting
To this detested Land.—
—If Kings transgresse,
And prove Tyrannicall, we must addresse
Our selves to Heaven, and by our Prayers desire
Th' assistance of his mercy to inspire
Our souls with true obedience, that we may
Strengthen our selves, and passively obey
What actively we cannot; for Kings reign
By God, we therefore ought not to maintain
Our rage against them: He that shall controul
The actions of a King, burthens his Soul
With a most ponderous crime: If to suppose
But ill of Kings be sin; oh how have those
[Page 47]Transgress'd that have destroyd their King, and made
Him subject to bad Subjects, that betraid
Their souls to Tyranny! Oh Heaven forgive
What they have done, and let their sorrows live
Within their Souls; Oh make them to behold
Their errours; Let not Conquest make them bold.
Here stop my Muse, lets labour to accost
Our former Glory, Charles, though we have lost
His sacred Person, yet we must not lose
His happy memory: Ah, who can chuse
But sigh, when as they seat his glorious name
Within their serious thoughts! If ever Fame
Receiv'd a Crown, it was from Him, whose worth
My wearied Quil's too weak to blazon forth:
And when the best of my endeavour's done
I shall but light a Candle to the Sun.
Yet will I spend my strength; a feeble light
Plac'd by a greater, makes it shine more bright.
He was ('tis not unknown to all the earth)
A Prince by vertue, and a Prince by birth.
In the exordium of his Reign he swaid
The Scepter of this Land (till time betraid
Cupid and Mars) with a Majestick brow,
And made his chearfull subjects hearts to bo [...]
In honor, and it could not be exprest
Whether he rul'd himself or Subjects best.
He was a Prince, whose life and conversation
Impoverish'd vices, and enrich'd his Nation
With good examples; Honor never found
So sweet an harbour, Vertue never crown'd
[Page 48]So rare a heart; Love reign'd within his eye,
And there was clothed with Divinitie:
Vertue and Majestie did seem to strive
Within his Royall brest, which should survive
In greatest Glory: but 'twas soon decided,
Martha and Mary would not be divided:
No more would they, there was a sympathie
Between them both; for if the one should die,
The other could not live, they were combin'd
Within his brest, and could not be disjoynd.
O happy is that Land, where Vertue shall
Meet Majestie within a Princes Hall.
He was a King not onely over Land,
But over Passion, for he could command
His Royall Self, and when approaching trouble
Assaild his mind, his wisdome would redouble
His present patience, and he would allow
The worst of sorrows, a contented brow;
His undivided soul was alwaies free
To propagate the works of Pietie
His heart was still attracted to good motions,
By the true Loadstone of his firm devotions.
He alwaies studied how to recompence
Good deeds with full rewards: as for offence,
He sooner would forgive it, then impose
A punishment; his meekness made his foes
Grow supercilious, and at last they made
A private snare, and zealously betraid
The Lord of Englands life, whose free consent
Granted them a Triennial Parliament
[Page 49]To salve the Kingdoms grievances: but they
Took not the grievances, but Him away.
It could not be distinguish'd which did reign
Mars or Apollo most, within his brain:
He was a Cesar, and the equall fame
Of War and Wisdom dwelt upon his Name:
As for his Martiall parts, Edge-hill will bear
An everlasting record, how his care
And resolution did maintain that Fight,
Till day submitted to th' incroaching night.
Although Heavens General was pleas'd to bring
Such small conditions to so great a King,
We must not judge, that 'tis success that can
Procure the title of a valiant man;
For that will but instruct him how to fly
Upon the wings of popularity.
As for his Theologick parts, I may
Without presumption absolute say,
He was a second David, and could raise
A lofty strain, to sing his Makers praise:
Read but his Meditations, and you'l finde
His brest attain'd an heav'n-enameld minde.
Now Reader, close thine eys, and do not read
My following lines, except thy heart can bleed,
And thou not die. Ah, here's a mournfull text,
Imports a death: Suppose what follows next,
And 'tis enough. Oh that I could ingrosse
The Language of the world, t' expresse this losse!
Break hearts, weep eys, lament your Soveraign's
And let Him swim unto his Funerall
[Page 50]In Subjects teares; oh had you seen his feet
Mounted the stage of blood, and run to meet
The fury of his foes, and how his breath
Proclaim'd a correspondency with death;
Oh then thy diving heart must needs have found
The depth of sorrow, and receiv'd a wound
That Time could not recure, oh such a sight
Had been sufficient to have made a night
Within this little world, hadst thou but seen
What soule-defending patience stood between
Passion and him: with what a pleasing grace,
(As if that death had blush'd within his face)
He look'd upon his people, which surrounded
His mourning Scaffold, whilst his thoughts aboun­ded
With heav'nly ruptures; his Angellike voice
Taught Ioy to weep and sorrow to rejoyce;
Teares blinded many, that they could not see
So bloody, so abhorr'd a Tragedy,
He look'd as if he rather came to view
His Subjects, then to bid them all adue;
Feare had no habitation in his breast,
And what he spoke, was readily exprest:
Heav'ns sacred Orator divinely typp'd
His tongue with golden languages, and dipp'd
His soul in Loves sweet fountaine, so that all
That lov'd, admir'd and griev'd to see him fall.
Whil or he (submitting Prince) devoutly pray'd
That Heav'n would pardon those that had betraid
His body to the grave; as from his soul
He had forgave them all, and did condole
[Page 51]Their sad conditions; having spent his breath,
He yeelded (like a Lamb) unto his death.
Much more he utterd; but my burthen'd Quill
Recoils, and will not prosecute my will:
My Pen and I must now abrubtly part,
Pardon (oh Reader) for love bindes my heart
With chains of sorrow: let me crave, what I
Shall want in Language, that thou wilt supply
In Meditation; But before I let
My Quill desert my hand, I'le make it set
This Tragi▪ comick period to my story,
Charles liv'd in trouble, and he dy'd in glory.
FINIS.
Habakkuk chap.1.ver.13.‘Thou art of purer eys (O God) then to behold evil, and canst not look on iniquity: Where­fore lookest thou upon them that deal trea­cherously, and holdest thy tongue when the wicked devoureth the man that is more righteous then they?’

AN EPITAPH.

Ʋpon
Caines, having kill'd their Abel, lay'd
Him underneath, whom they betray'd
And forc'd to death (Kind Reader) know
Religion was his overthrow.
Lament, lament, this fatall losse,
England never had a Crosse
So Great as This; Let every Eye
Keep teares to weep his Elegie.
I may presume to say, a Tombe
Never had a richer wombe.
Goe not till your sorrowes have
Offered teares unto his grave;
Faile not to spend some reall groanes,
Except your hearts are turn'd to stones
Now methinkes his ashes cryes
Guiltlesse blood's a Sacrifice,
London lately lost her heart,
And is sicke in every part,
Nothing could appease but bloud,
Death took her King, and left a flood.
FINIS.
AN ELEGY UPON The Ri …

AN ELEGY UPON The Right Honorable, the LORD CAPELL, Baron of Had­ham; Who was beheaded at Westminster, for maintaining the ancient and fundamen­tall Lawes of the Kingdome of ENGLAND.

March the 9. 1648.

Heu [...]jrc [...]t, aut fuctis vivat ubique suis.
DIsturbe me not, my thoughts are mounting high
To build a Nest for Capells memory.
Fool that I am, I doe not meane, a Nest,
No, nor a Kingdome neither that's the least
[Page 54]Of all my thoughts, It is a world, that shall
Be rul'd by Capells eccho; hollow all
Ye sacred Muses, and conspire to bring
Matterialls to this worke, and learne to sing;
For should ye weep, your eyes might undertake
To drown that world, which I intend to make.
Forbeare; your teares are uselesse, you must now
Gaze upon death with an undaunted brow,
Capell has taught us how to entertaine
The palled looks of Mars, by him we gaine
The art of dying, and from him we have
The diffinition of a Noble Grave;
Rare soul, I say, thy ever active Fame
Shall build a world upon thy pregnant name,
And every Letter of thy Name shall raise
A spacious kingdom, where thy ample praise
Shall be recorded, every hearkning eare
Shall prove Ambitious, and admire to heare:
'Twill be a glory, when the world shall say
'Twas bravely done, his Soveraigne lead the way,
And he (as valiant Souldiers ought to doe)
March'd boldly after, and was alwayes true
To sacred Majesty; his Noble breath
Disdain'd the fear of a Tyrannick death;
Death added life unto his thoughts, for he
Contemn'd a life, if bought with infamy.
The very birds shall learne to prate, and sing,
How Capell suffered for his Royall King.
Rouze then ye stupid sons of Morpheus; Let
This shining Sun of English valour set
[Page 55]And rise within your horizons, your hearts
I mean, and teach you how to sing in parts
The Anthems of his worth; Oh understand
That this was he, whose death hath fill'd the land
With living sorrow; this was he, whose glory
Shall lend the world an everlasting story.
You lust-obeying Tarquins, that permit
And tolerate your pleasures, to commit
Adulterated actions, and command
England, our poor Lucretia, to stand
Subject to our libidinous desires,
And cannot help her self, heav'n grant your fires
May soone expire, that at the last we may
(Like Tarquins) see you banish'd quite away,
Say, will your hung'ry appetites receive
No satisfaction? have you vow'd to leave
No Noble blood? Alasse how can your meek
And tender consciences; thus roar. and seek
Like greedy Lyons, senting up and downe
To find your prey in every Royall Towne.
Where is that zeale which was in former times
A golden pretext, to your drossy crimes?
Doe you not thinke of heav'n? have ye forgot▪
There is a God? or will ye own him not;
Where is Religion (your upholder) fled?
What? is that murther'd too; or have ye spread
A vaile upon her, that she may not be
Observ'd, or own'd, but in necessitie,
Has not Religion all this while maintain'd
Your unjust cause? what mony's ye have gain'd
[Page 41]Was for Religions sake, which still supplyd
Your wants, but now ye're full, that's lay'd.
Ʋnhappy is that land, whose people braggs,
That they have put Religion up in baggs.
Money precedes Religion now; but stay
Precipitating quil, I've lost my way,
Nay, and my subject too, how came my minde
Thus much to deviate; oh where shall I finde
My former subject? shall my thoughts object
His memory, and own him with Neglect:
No, no, they shall not come my Muse, repose
Let's think upon your Friend and let our foes
Remember us, Capell, thy worth shall fill
The black mouth'd concave of my mourning quil.
He was a Pompie, but receiv'd his harme
From Tyrants, not from Caesars noble arme.
He had an Army in his minde, could call
Vertue to be their bold fac'd General;
He had no Pride, no Faction to create
Or nurse division in his peacefull State;
He had a Court of Justice in his breast,
But not to tyrannize to make inquest
After the sons of Loyalty, or bring
Illegall Judgements: to their legal King;
He had a heart that never us'd to hide
The heate of envie, or the flames of Pride,
He had a Conscience never us'd t' exact
Upon a widdowed Kingdome, or extract
The treasures of a Nation, to defray
His own desires, he never us'd to play
[Page 55]The Devil in the habit of a Saint,
Or teach his Agitators how to paint
A vice with pleasing colours, or prepare
His ready eyes to shed a zealous teare
With a false heart, he never striv'd to please,
And turn the Peoples hearts with Peters-Keyes;
And to conclude, he never would desire
Other mens fuels to maintain his fire;
Now Reader, thou hast heard he had a minde
Not morgag'd unto basenesse, but inclin'd
To honorable actions; It was he
That was the Embleme of true Charitie,
Yet some unworthy Spirit have exprest
He was a son of Rome, because his breast
Was fill'd with pitty, and would still relieve
The Poor, whose wants, instructed him to grieve.
False are those base reports, he was a man
Always reputed a great Puritan,
And not a Papist, and he had a care
To have that hated Book of Common prayer
Read to his Family, himself would joyn
His aid to any thing that was Divine;
The Church did seldom fail to entertain
His Hoble self, and his domestique traine,
Until this blessed Reformation spread
It self abroad and struck Religion dead;
And then indeed his Conscience would refuse
To let him hear some Rabshekah abuse
His Gods Anointed, and his reall heart
Could not endure to hear time-servers dart
[Page 58]Arrows of envie at his King, and raile
Aginst his Consort, lab'ring to intaile
Disgrace upon their names, and fill the earth
With heapes of errours, and rebellious mirth;
These things▪ his heart abhorr'd, he could not hear
His King abused with a patient ear:
He was the soul of Loyalty, his minde
Was alwayes active: for he still inclin'd
His thoughts to goodnesse, striving how to bring
Peace to his Country, honour to his King?
He was a man that always us'd to fly
Upon the wings of true sollidity;
He was compleat, and rich in every part,
His tongue was never traytor to his heart;
But now, ah now (I shall make death too proud
To speak it he hath lately left this cloud,
This world of envy, and is gon t' inherit
Those joyes which wait upon a noble Spirit:
Now, now hee's gon to heav'ns sublimer court,
Where Justice lives, a place were false report,
Shall find no eare; a place where none shall dye
For being rich, or wise; their Loyalty
Shall be respected; there, the weeping eyes.
Of Orphans shall be pitied; there, the cries
Of Ladies pleading for their Lords, shall finde
A full respect; where Vertue is refinde,
There must be happinesse, oh think but where
It is, (kinde Reader) and brave Capels there:
There, there, he rests who stoutly trode the stage
Of blood, whose life, whose death no age
[Page 59]Will ever paralel his courage gave
A life to death, and pleasure to a grave;
He had a pleasing countenance, his face
Did seem to blush, but 'twas for their disgrace,
And not his guilt, he hever seem'd t' expresse
The least of fear, but hasted to addresse
Himself to heav'n, and like a Stagge, he bay'd
At his unsatisfied hounds and lay'd
His use before them, and contemn'd their power
Because he knew they only could devour
His little world; but for his soul, that went
Before a more consciencious Paliament,
Where now he rests in peacefulness, and doubles
His pleasures, whilest his foes survive in troubles,
There rest heroick Capell, and enjoy
Those rich delights which time cannot destroy;
Rest thou, whilst those are restlesse which deny'd
To let thee rest on earth, whose hearts are ty'd
In bloody fetters, which conglutinates
Their souls, and leads them to the worst of Fates.
But now my Quil grows weak, I must forsake
These sable pathes, I dare not undertake
So great a journey, for my feeble Pen
Begins to stagger, grief can teach me when
I shall begin, but will not prove my friend,
And lead my sorrows to a peacefull end:
My thoughts increase, this subject would infuse
A youthfull life, into an ancient Muse.
My heart's compos'd of raptures, and my hand
Receivs new strength; methinks I could command
[Page 60]The spacious world, and teach it to expresse
His praise on earth, though not his happinesse
In Heav'n, where now I'le leave him, and retire;
I'le cease to write, and practise to admire.
‘Ye have killed, and condemned the Just, and he doth not resist you. Jam. 5.6.

AN EPITAPH.

UPON

The Right Honorable.
A towre is fallen, and it lyes
Represented to thy eyes:
Therefore, Reader, if thy breath
Had an interest in his death,
Ʋnfix thy thoughts, and post away,
Reason forbids a Tyrants stay:
Lavish out your hearty cryes,
Open wide your flowing eyes,
Record his worth, and let all hearts
Doate upon his living parts:
Can any thinke upon his Name,
And not labour to proclaime
Perpetuall praises to his worth,
Engaging hearts to set him forth:
Let all men say, and not repent,
Loe here lyes Murthers complement
Dignum laude virum musa vetat mori.—
A CURSE AGAINST The …

A CURSE AGAINST The Enemies of PEACE.

PEace, peace, Rebellious Vipers; you that cry▪
Advance Mechanicks, downe with Majesty,
Cease your vain wishes, may ye never rest,
That love no Peace; nay, may ye ne're be blest
That envy Sion; ah I shall Sions glory
Be thus abstracted, and thus made a story
To after-ages; hath your hungry zeal
Devoured all your senses at one meal?
[Page 63]What do ye mean? do ye intend to try
A Reformation with Phlebotomy?
Or has your hell-bred thoughts found out a way
To turn a Canaan, to a Golgotha?
Hath the Tartarian Counsellor invented
Such thriving plots that cannot be prevented.
Leave off base acts Mechanicks, and begin
To deal uprightly, and reform within:
Bury your aged crimes, and then go call
Your stragling senses to the funerall.
Thus I advise you, if this will not do,
Assure your selves Ile learn to curse you too.
May heav'n whose frowning countenance doth show
An angry resolution, overthrow
You, and your prick-ear'd Progeny, and make
Your children suffer for their parents sake;
May ye all beg, and wander up and down
Like vagabonds, be lash'd from Town to Town;
And may the Loadstones of your crimes attract
Ten thousand plagues, and may those plagues exact
Upon your lavish souls, let impious Fate
Blush, if she chance to make you fortunate.
May torments pursue torments, and still grow.
Till Rithmatick be non-plust, and o'rethrow
Your treason-loaded hearts: And if this Curse
Will not succeed, may't yeeld unto a worse
For you, that this declining age may see
The just rewards of your impietie.
Let basenesse be entayl'd unto your names,
Too strong for all recovery; Let shames
[Page 64]And lasting infamies remain
In deeper Characters then that of Cain.
May your souls burn, till heav'n shall think it good
To quench them in your generations blood,
That all the world may hear you hisse, and cry
Who lov'd no Peace, in Peace shall never dye.
THE AUTHORS FAREWELL …

THE AUTHORS FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.

ENgland, farewell; th' affections that I bear
To thee, I cannot name without a teare;
I must be gon' my troubled Conscience loathes
To staine it's welfare with thy new-made oathes,
Heav'n knowes my heart, I truly hate disorders,
And pity them that live within thy borders.
As for my self, I cannot stoope so low,
To be subordinate to them I know
[Page 66]Are but inferiors, though they have of late
Converted Monarch [...] into a State;
Though heav'n conce [...]ls his anger for a time,
Giving them leave to doate upon a crime;
A day will come to plague their souls, and then
They'le prove but devills in the shapes of men.
And so farewell, poor England, quite farewell
Where Furies reign, there needs must be a hell.
Anglia, jam quantum, quantum mutata vetustas,
Nunt caput as sceleris, qui caput orbis erat.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.