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Laws of religion have at least the same,
For to confirm this just belief, that now Immortal maid, I might invoke thy name.
The last days came, we saw Heav'n did allow, Could any saint provoke that appetite,
That, but from his aspect and exercise, Thou here should'st make me a French convertite. In peaceful times rumours of wars should arise. But thou would'st not; nor would'st thou be content But now this faith is heresy: we must To take this for my second year's true rent, Still stay, and vex our great grandmother, Dust. Did this coin bear any other stamp than his, Oh, is God prodigal: hath he spent his store That gave thee power to do, me to say this: Of plagues on us; and only now, when more Since his will is, that to posterity
Would ease us uch, doth he grudge misery; Thou should'st for life and death a pattern be, And will not let 's enjoy our curse, to die? And that the world should notice have of this, As for the Earth, thrown lowest down of all, The purpose and th' authority is his.
'T were an ambition to desire to fall; Thou art the proclamation; and I am
So God, in our desire to die, doth know
Therefore we live, though such a life we have,
When, what we are, his putrefaction
Sustains in iis, Earth, which griefs animate?
Forgetting this their new joy, would desire
(With grief to see him) he had stay'd below,
Por if our reason be our connection
Of causes, now to us there can be none.
For, as if all the substances were spent,
'T were madness to inquire of accident;
The only subject reason wronght upon. Look on me, Faith, and look to my faith, God; If fate have such a chain, whose divers links For both my centres feel this period.
Industrious man discerneth, as he thinks, Of weight one centre, one of greatness is;
When miracle doth come, and so steal in And reason is that centre, faith is this;
A new link, man knows not where to begin: For into our reason flow, and there do end
At a much deader fault must reason be, All, that this natural world doth comprehend ; Death having broke off such a link as he. Quotidian things, and equidistant hence,
But now, for us with busy proof to come, Sbut in, for man, in one circumference:
That we've no reason, would prove we had some; But for th' enormous greatnesses, which are So would just lamentations : therefore we So disproportion'd, and so angular,
May safelier say, that we are dead, than he. As is God's essence, place, and providence,
So, if our griefs we do not well declare, Where, how, when, what souls do, departed hence; We've double excuse; he's not dead, we are. These things (eccentric else) on faith do strike: Yet would not I die yet; for though I be Yet neither all, nor upon all alike.
Too narrow to think him, as he is he, Por reason, put to her best extension,
(Our souls' best baiting and mid-period, Almost meets faith, and makes both centres one. In her long journey of considering God) And nothing ever came so near to this,
Yet (no dishonour) I can reach him thus, As contemplation of that prince we miss.
As he embrac'd the fires of love, with us. For all that faith might credit, mankind could, Oh, may I (since I live) but see or hear, Reason still seconded, that this prince would. That she-intelligence which mov'd this sphere, Ifthen least moving of the centre make
I pardon Fate, my life ; whoe'er thou be, More, than if whole Hell belch'd, the world to shake, which hast the noble conscience, thou art she: What must this do, centres distracted so,
I conjure thee by all the charms he spoke, That we see not what to believe or know?
By th' oaths, which only you two never broke, Was it not well believ'd till now, that he,
By all the souls ye sigh'd, that if you see Whose reputation was an ecstasy,
These lines, you wish, I knew your history.
an singing what you were.
All the world grows transparent, and I see
Through all, both church and state, in seeing thee;
God is the glass; as thou, when thou dost see
Him, who sees all, seest all concerning thee :
All, since the being of all things is he,
Things in proportion, fit by perspective,
Deeds of good men: for by their being here, I have learned by those laws, wherein I am
Virtues, indeed remote, seem to be near.
But where can I affirm or where arrest little conversant, that he which bestows any My thoughts on his deeds? which shall I call best? cost upon the dead, obliges him which is dead, For fluid virtue cannot be look'd on, but not his heir; I do not therefore send Nor can endure a contemplation.
As bodies change, and as I do not wear this paper to your ladyship, that you should
Those spirits, humours, blood, I did last year; thank ane for it, or think that I thank you And as, if on a stream 1 fix mine eye, in it; your favours and benefits to me are so That drop, which I look'd on, is presently much above my merits, that they are even above Push'd with more waters from my sight, and gone:
So in this sea of virtues, can no one my gratitude ; if that were to be judged by words, Be insisted on; virtues as rivers pass, which must express it. But, madam, since your Yet still remains that virtuous man there was. noble brother's fortune being yours, the evi- And as, if man feed on man's flesh, and so dences also concerning it are yours: so his virtues Part of his body to another owe,
Yet at the last two perfect bodies rise, being yours, the evidences concerning that belong Because God knows where every atom lies; also to yon, of wbich by your acceptance this So if one knowledge were made of all those, may be one piece; in which quality I humbly Who knew his minutes well, be might dispose
His virtues into names and ranks; but I present it, and as a testimony how entirely your should injure nature, virtue, and destiny, family possesseth
Should I divide and discontinue so
Virtue, which did in one entireness grow. your ladysbip's
For as he that should say, spirits are fram'd
Of all the purest parts that can be nam'd,
It would have let him live to have been old.
We might have seen, and said, tbat now he is But did'st continue so; and now dost bear
Witty, now wise, pow temperate, now just : A part in God's great organ, this whole sphere; In good short lives, virtues are fain to thrust, If looking up to God, or down to us,
And to be sure betimes to get a place, Thou find that any way is pervious
When they would exercise, lack time, avd space. 'Twixt Heav'n and Earth, and that men's actions do So was it in this person, forc'd to be, Come to your knowledge and affections too, For lack of time, bis own epitome: See, and with joy, me to that good degree
So to exhibit in few years as much, Of goodness grown, that I can study thee; As all the long-breath'd chroniclers can touch. And by these meditations refin'd,
As when an angel down from Heav'n doth fly, Can unapparel and enlarge my mind,
Our quick thought cannot keep him company; And so can make by this soft ecstasy,
We cannot think, now he is at the Sun, [run,
On every syllable, nor stay to spell,
So in short-liv'd good men is not understood Now I am sure that if a man would have
There is the best concourse and confluence,
That at the triumph-day the people may, Thou know'st, that though the tropic circles bave All that they will, 'gainst the triumpher say, (Yea, and those small ones which the poles engrave) Let me here use that freedom, and express All the same roundness, evenness, and all
My grief, though not to make thy triumph less. The endlessness of th' equinoctial;
By law to triumphs none admitted be, Yet when we come to measure distances,
Till they, as magistrates, get victory; How here, how there, the Sun affected is; Though then to thy force all youth's foes did yield, When he doth faintly work, and when prevail ; Yet till fit time had brought thee to that field, Only great circles then can be our scale:
To wbich thy rank in this state destin'd thee, So though thy circle to thyself express
That there thy counsels might get victory, All tending to thy endless happiness;
And so in that capacity remove And we by our good use of it may try
All jealousies 'twixt prince and subject's love, Both how to live weli (young) and how to die. Thou could'st no title to this triumph have, Yet since we must be old, and age endures
Thou didst intrude on Death, usurp a grave, His torrid zone at court, and calentures
Then (though victoriously) thou hadst fought as yet Of bot ambition, irreligion's ice,
But with thine own affections, with the heat Zeal's agues, and hydropic avarice,
Of youth's desires, and colds of ignorance, (Infirmities, which need the scale of truth, But till thou should'st successfully advance As well as lust and ignorance of youth;)
Thine arms 'gainst foreign enemies, which are Why didst thou not for these give medicines too, Both envy, and acclamations popnlar, And by tby doing tell us what to do?
(For both these engines equally defeat, Though as small pocket-clocks, whose every wheel Though by a divers mine, those which are great) Doth each mis-motion and distemper feel; Till then thy war was but a civil war, Whose hands gets shaking palsies; and whose string for which to triumph none admitted are; (His sinews) slackens; and whose soul, the spring, No more are they, who, thougb with good success, Expires or languishes; and whose pulse, the flee, In a defensive war their power express. Either beats not, or beats unevenly ;
Before men triumph, the dominion Whose voice, the bell, doth rattle or grow dumb, Must be enlarg'd, and not preserv'd alone ; Or idle, as men which to their last hour come; Why should'st thou then, whose battles were to win If these clocks be not wound, or be wound still, Thyself from those straits Nature put thee in, Or be not set, or set at every will;
And to deliver up to God that state, So youth is easiest to destruction,
Of which he gave thee the vicariate, If then we follow all, or follow none.
(Which is thy soul and body) as entire Yet as in great clocks, which in steeples chime, As he, who takes indentures, doth require ; Plac'd to inform whole towns, t'employ their time, But didst not stay, t' enlarge his kingdom too, And errour doth more harm, being general, By making others, what thou didst, to do; (more When small clock's faults only on th' wearer fall : Why should'st thou triumph vow, when Heav'n no So work the faults of age, on which the eye Hath got, by getting thee, than 't had before? Of children, servants, or the state rely;
For Heav'n and thou, even when thou livedst here, Why would'st not thou then, which hadst such a of one another in possession were. soul,
But this from triumph most disables thee, A clock so true, as might the Sun control,
That that place, which is conquered, must be And daily hadst from him, who gave it thee, Left safe from present war, and likely doubt Instructions, such, as it could never be
Of imminent commotions to break out: Disorder'd, stay here, as a general
And hath he left us so? or can it be And great sud-dial, to have set us all ?
This territory was no more than be?
No, we were all his charge; the diocese
And he was joined in commission
Leave to triumph, before by age he might; Of what small spots pure white complains ! Alas,
She sinn'd, but just enough to let us see
That God's word must be true, all sinners be. Yet I am far from daring to dispate
So much did zeal ber conscience rarify, With that great sovereignty, whose absolute That extreme truth lack'd little of a lie; Prerogative hath thus dispens'd with thee
Making omissions acts; laying the touch 'Gainst Nature's laws, which just impugners be Of sin on things, that sometime may be such. Of early triumph: and I (thougb with pain) As Moses' cherubins, whose natures do Lessen our loss, to magnify thy gain
Surpass all speed, by him are winged too : Of triumph, when I say it was more fit
So would her soul, already in Hear'n, seem then That all men should lack thee, than thou lack it. To climb hy tears, the common stairs of men. Though then in our times be not suffered
How fit she was for God, I am content That testimony of love unto the dead,
To speak, that Death his vain haste may repent: To die with them, and in their graves be hid, How fit for us, how even and how sweet, As Saxon wires, and French soldarii did;
How good in all her titles, and how meet And though in no degree I can express
To have reform'd this forward heresy, Grief in great Alexander's great excess,
That women can no parts of friendship be; Who at his friend's death made whole towns divest How moral, how divine, shall not be told, Their walls and bulwarks, which became them best : Lest they, that hear her virtues, think her old; Do not, fair soul, this sacrifice refuse,
And lest we take Death's part, and make him glad That in thy grave I do inter my Muse;
Of such a prey, and to his triumph add.
THE LADY MARKHAM.
Man is the world, and death the ocean,
DEATH, I recant, and say, unsaid by me To which God gives the lower parts of man. Whate'er bath slipt, that might diminish thee: This sea environs all, and though as yet
Spiritual treason, atheism 't is, to say, God hath set marks and bounds 'twixt us and it, That any can thy summons disobey. Yet doth it roar, and gnaw, and still pretend Th' Earth's face is but thy table ; there are set To break our bank, whene'er it takes a friend : Plants, cattle, men, dishes for Death to eat. Then our land-waters (tears of passion) vent; In a rude hunger now he millions draws Our waters then above our firmament,
Into his bloody, or plaguy, or starv'd jaws: (Tears, which our soul doth for our sins let fall) Now he will seem to spare, and doth more waste, Take all a brackish taste, and funeral.
Eating the best first, well preserv'd to last: And even those tears, which should wash sin, are sin. Now wantonly he spoils, and eats us not, We, after God, new drown our world again. But breaks off friends, and lets us piecemeal rot. Nothing but man, of all envenom'd things, Nor will this earth serve him; he sinks the deep, Doth work upon itself with inborn stings.
Where harmless fish monastic silence keep; Tears are false spectacles; we cannot see
Who (were Death dead) the rows of living sand Through passion's mist, what we are, or what she. Might spunge that element, and make it land. In her this sea of death hath made no breach; He rounds the air, and breaks the hymnic potes But as the tide doth wash the slimy beach, In birds’, Heav'n's choristers, organic throats; And leaves embroider'd works upon the sand, Which (if they did not die) might seem to be Bo is her flesh refin'd by Death's cold hand. A tenth rank in the Heavenly hierarchy. As men of China, after an age's stay
O strong and long-liv'd Death, how cam'st thou in? Do take up porcelain, where they buried clay; And how without creation didst begin ? So at this grave, her limbec (which refines Thou hast, and shalt see dead, before thou dy'st, The diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, and mines, All the four monarchies, and antichrist. Of which this flesh was) her soul shall inspire How could I think thee nothing, that see now Flesh of such stuff, as God, when his last fire In all this all, nothing else is, but thou ? Annuls this world, to recompense, it shall
Our births and lives, vices and virtues, be Make and name them th'elixir of this all.
Wasteful consumptions, and degrees of thee. They say, the sea, when it gains, loseth too; For we to live our bellows wear, and breath, If carnal Death (the younger brother) do
Nor are we mortal, dying, dead, but death. Usurp the body; our soul, which subject is And though thou beest (O mighty bird of prey) To th' elder Death by sin, is freed by this; So much reclaim'd by God, that thou must lay They perish both, when they attempt the just; All, that thou kill'st, at his feet; yet doth be Por graves our trophies are, and both Death's dust. Reserve but few, and leaves the most for thee. So, unobnoxious now, she bath buried both; And of those few, now thou hast overthrown For none to death sins, that to sin is loath.
One, whom thy blow makes not ours, nor thine own; Nor do they die, which are not loath to die ; She was more stories high: hopeless to come So bath she this and that virginity.
To her soul, thou hast offer'd at ber lower room. Grace was in her extremely diligent,
Her soul and body was a king and court : That kept her from sin, yet made her repeat. But thou hast both of captain miss'd and fort.
As houses fall not, though the kings remove; To thyself only. All will spy in thy face
A blushing womanly discovering grace.
Men of France, changeable chameleons, Her soul is gone to usher up her corse,
Spittles of diseases, shops of fashions, Which shall be almost another soul, for there Love's fuellers, and th' rightest company Bodies are purer than hest souls are here.
Of players, which upon the world's stage be, Because in her her virtues did outgo
Will too too quickly know thee; and alas, Her years, would'st thou, O emulous Death, do so, Th’indifferent Italian, as we pass And kill her young to thy loss? must the cost His warm land, well content to think thee page, Of beauty and wit, apt to do harm, be lost? Will hunt thee with such lust and hideous rage, What though thou found'st her proof 'gainst sins of As Lot's fair guests were vex'd. But none of these, youth?
Nor spongy hydroptic Dutch, shall thee displease, Oh, every age a diverse sin pursu’th.
If thou stay here. O, stay here ; for, for thee
To walk in expectation, till from thence
When I am gone, dream me some happiness,
O’er the white Alps alone; I saw him, I, Or sin by tempting, or, not daring that,
Assail'd, taken, fight, stabb'd, bleed, fall, and die. By wishing, though they never told her what. Augure me better chance, except dread Jove Thus might'st thou 've slain more souls, had'st thou Think it enough for me have had thy love.
Though no stone tell tbee what I was, yet thou
To ripe and mellow here we 're stubborn clay.
Parents make us earth, and souls dignify
Us to be glass; here to grow gold we lie. By our first strange and fatal interview,
Whilst in our souls sin bred and pamper'd is, . By all desires, which thereof did ensue,
Our souls become worm-eaten carcasses ;
Such privileges, enabled here to scale
Heav'n, when the trumpet's air shall them exhale. I calmly beg. But by thy father's wrath, Hear this, and mend thyself, and thou mend'st me, By all pains, which want and divorcement hath, By making me, being dead, do good for thee; I conjure thee; and all the oaths, which I
And think me well compos'd, that I could now
And for my fame, which I love next my soul,
Others by wills give legacies, but I
Dying of you do beg a legacy.
My fortune and my will this custom break,
When we are senseless grown, to make stones speak : Dissemble nuthing, not a boy, nor change Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou Thy body's habit, nor mind; be not strange In my grave's inside see, what thou art now :