We sullied by our foul offence:
Wherefore that robe we cast away,
Having a new at his expense,
Whose drops of bloud paid the full price,
That was requir’d to make us gay,
And fit for Paradise.
Thou art a day of mirth:
And where the week-dayes trail on ground,
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth:
O let me take thee at the bound,
Leaping with thee from sev’n to sev’n,
Till that we both, being toss’d from earth,
Flie hand in hand to heav’n!
51. AVARICE.
MONEY, thou bane of blisse, and source of wo,
Whence com’st thou, that thou art so fresh and fine?
I know thy parentage is base and low:
Man found thee poore and dirtie in a mine.
Surely thou didst so little contribute
To this great kingdome, which thou now hast got,
That he was fain, when thou wert destitute,
To digge thee out of thy dark cave and grot.
Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright:
Nay, thou hast got the face of man; for we
Have with our stamp and seal transferr’d our right:
Thou art the man, and man but drosse to thee.
Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich;
And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch.
52. ANA-GRAM
How well her name an Army doth present,
In whom the Lord of hosts did pitch his tent!
53. TO ALL ANGELS AND SAINTS.
OH glorious spirits, who after all your bands
See the smooth face of God, without a frown,
Or strict commands;
Where ev’ry one is king, and hath his crown,
If not upon his head, yet in his hands:
Not out of envy or maliciousnesse
Do I forbear to crave your speciall aid.
I would addresse
My vows to thee most gladly, blessed Maid,
And Mother of my God, in my distresse:
Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold,
The great restorative for all decay
In young and old;
Thou art the cabinet where the jewell lay:
Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold.
But now, (alas!) I dare not; for our King,
Whom we do all joyntly adore and praise,
Bids no such thing:
And where his pleasure no injunction layes,
(’Tis your own case) ye never move a wing.
All worship is prerogative, and a flower
Of his rich crown, from whom lyes no appeal
At the last houre:
Therefore we dare not from his garland steal,
To makea posie for inferiour power.
Although then others court you, if ye know
What’s done on earth, we shall not fare the worse,
Who do not so;
Since we are ever ready to disburse,
If any one our Master’s hand can show.
54. EMPLOYMENT.
HE that is weary, let him sit.
My soul would stirre
And tread in courtesies and wit,
Quitting the furre
To cold complexions needing it.
Man is no starre, but a quick coal
Of mortall fire:
Who blows it not, nor doth controll
A faint desire,
Lets his own ashes choke his soul
When th’ elements did for place contest
With him, whose will
Ordain’d the highest to be best:
The earth sat still,
And by the others is opprest.
Life is a businesse, not good cheer;
Ever in warres.
The sunne still shineth there or here,
Whereas the starres
Watch an advantage to appeare.
Oh that I were an orenge-tree,
That busie plant!
Then should I ever laden be,
And never want
Some
