135. DOTAGE.

FALSE glozing pleasures, casks of happinesse,
Foolish night-fires, womens' and childrens' wishes,
Chases in arras, guilded emptinesse,

Shadows well mounted, dreams in a career,
Embroider'd lyes, nothing between two dishes;
These are the pleasures here.

True earnest sorrows, rooted miseries,
Anguish in grain, vexations ripe and blown,
Sure-footed griefs, solid calamities,

Plain demonstrations, evident and cleare,
Fetching their proofs ev'n from the very bone;
These are the sorrows here.

But oh the folly of distracted men,

Who griefs in earnest, joyes in jest pursue;
Preferring, like brute beasts, a loathsome den
Before a court, ev'n that above so cleare,
Where are no sorrows, but delights more true
Then miseries are here!

136. THE SONNE.

LET forrain nations of their language boast,
What fine varietie each tongue affords :
I like our language, as our men and coast ;
Who cannot dresse it well, want wit, not words.
How neatly do we give one onely name

To parents' issue and the sunne's bright starre !
A sonne is light and fruit; a fruitfull flame

M

Chasing the father's dimnesse, carried far

From the first man in th' East, to fresh and new Western discov'ries of posteritie.

So in one word our Lord's humilitie

We turn upon him in a sense most true :
For what Christ once in humblenesse began,
We him in glorie call, The Sonne of Man.

My joy, my life, my crown!

My heart was meaning all the day,
Somewhat it fain would say:

And still it runneth mutt'ring up and down
With only this, My joy, my life, my crown.

Yet slight not these few words;

If truly said, they may take part
Among the best in art.

The finenesse which a hymne or psalme affords,
Is, when the soul unto the line accords.

He who craves all the minde,
And all the soul, and strength, and time,
If the words onely ryme,

Justly complains, that somewhat is behinde
To make his verse, or write a hymne in kinde.

Whereas if th' heart be moved,
Although the verse be somewhat scant,
God doth supplie the want.

As when th' heart sayes (sighing to be approved)
O, could I love! and stops; God writeth, Loved.

138. THE ANSWER.

My comforts drop and melt away like snow :
I shake my head, and all the thoughts and ends,
Which my fierce youth did bandie, fall and flow
Like leaves about me, or like summer friends,
Flyes of estates and sunne-shine. But to all,
Who think me eager, hot, and undertaking,
But in my prosecutions slack and small;
As a young exhalation, newly waking,

Scorns his first bed of dirt, and means the sky;
But cooling by the way, grows pursie and slow,
And settling to a cloud, doth live and die
In that dark state of tears: to all, that so

Show me, and set me, I have one reply,
Which they that know the rest, know more then I.

139. A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM.

Christian, Death.

Chr. ALAS, poore death! where is thy glorie? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting? Dea. Alas, poore mortall, void of storie,

Go spell and reade how I have kill'd thy King. Chr. Poore death! and who was hurt thereby?

Thy curse being laid on him makes thee accurst. Dea. Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die ;

These arms shall crush thee. Chr. Spare not, do thy worst.

I shall be one day better then before:

Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

140. THE WATER-COURSE.

THOU who dost dwell and linger here below,
Since the condition of this world is frail,
Where of all plants afflictions soonest grow;
If troubles overtake thee, do not wail :

For who canlook for lesse, that loveth

Life.

Strife.

But rather turn the pipe, and waters course
To serve thy sinnes, and furnish thee with store
Of sov'raigne tears, springing from true remorse:
That so in purenesse thou mayst him adore

Who gives to man, as he sees fit,

Salvation.
Damnation.

141. SELF-CONDEMNATION.

THOU who condemnest Jewish hate,

For choosing Barabbas a murderer

Before the Lord of glorie; Look back upon thine own estate, Call home thine eye (that busie wanderer) That choice may be thy storie.

He that doth love, and love amisse This world's delights before true Christian joy, Hath made a Jewish choice:

The world an ancient murderer is; Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy With her enchanting voice.

He that hath made a sorrie wedding
Between his soul and gold, and hath preferr'd
False gain before the true,

Hath done what he condemnes in reading:
For he hath sold for money his deare Lord,
And is a Judas-Jew.

Thus we prevent the last great day, And judge our selves. That light which sin and Did before dimme and choke, [passion

When once those snuffes are ta'en away,

Shines bright and cleare, ev'n unto condemnation,
Without excuse or cloak.

142. BITTER-SWEET.

Аí, my deare angrie Lord,
Since thou dost love, yet strike;
Cast down, yet help afford;

Sure I will do the like.

I will complain, yet praise;
I will bewail, approve :
And all my sowre-sweet dayes
I will lament, and love.

143. THE GLANCE.

WHEN first thy sweet and gracious eye Vouchsaf'd ev'n in the midst of youth and night

To look upon me, who before did lie

Weltring in sinne ;