Seek true religion: O where! Mirreus,
Thinking her unhous'd here, and fled from us,
Seeks her at Rome; there, because he doth know
That she was there a thousand years ago :
He loves the rags fo, as we here obey
The ftate-cloth, where the prince fate yesterday.
Grants to fuch brave loves will not be enthrall'd,
But loves her only, who at Geneva is call'd
Religion; plain, fimple, fullen, young,
Contemptuous, yet unhandfome: As among
Letch'rous humours, there is one that judges
No wenches wholefome, but coarfe country drudges.
Grajus ftays ftill at home here; and because
Some preachers, vile ambitious bawds, and laws
Still new, like fashions, bid him think that she
Which dwells with us, is only perfect; he
Embraceth her, whom his godfather's will
Tenders to him, being tender; as wards still
Take fuch wives as their guardians offer, or
Pay values. Careless Phrygius doth abhor
All, because all cannot be good; as one,
Knowing fome women whores, dares marry none.
Gracchus loves all as one, and thinks that so,
As women do in divers countries go
In divers habits, yet are ftill one kind,
So doth, fo is religion: And this blind,
Nefs too much light breeds. But unmoved thou
Of force must one, and forc'd but one allow,
And the right; ask thy father which is the,
Let him ask his. Though truth and falfhood be
Near twins, yet truth a little elder is:
Be busy to feek her; believe me this,
He's not of none, nor worst, that feeks the best
T'adore, or fcorn an image, or protest,
All may be bad.
Divinity, wrefted by fome factious blood,
Draws fwords, fwells battles, and o'er throws all good.
Religion is the fool's bridle, worn by policy,
As horfe wear trappings, to feem fair in fhew;
And make the world's eye doat on what we feem.
Mafon's Muleafes.
If it be but for three qualities they have,
I'll be none of their fociety; firft,
They fuffer their wives to be their masters; fecondly,
They make men thieves for want of maintenance,
And then hang them up for ftealing: Laftly,
They're mad four times a year, which they call terms;
And then they're fo purg'd by their phyficians,
Which they call lawyers, that fome never are
Their own men after.
Dauborne's Chriftian turned Turk.
'Twere happy for our holy faith to bleed; The blood of martyrs is the churches feed.
Shirley's St. Patrick for Ireland.
As men, for fear the ftars should fleep and nod,
And trip at night, have spheres fupply'd,
As if a ftar were duller than a clod,
Which knows his way without a guide:
Juft fo the other heav'n they alfo ferve,
Divinity's tranfcendent sky :
Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve ;
Reafon triumphs, and faith lies by.
Could not that wisdom which first broach'd the wine,
Have thicken'd it with definitions?
And jagg'd his feamless coat, had that been fine,
With curious queftions and divifions?
But all the doctrine which he taught and gave
Was clear as heav'n, from whence it came :
At least thofe beams of truth, which only fave,
Surpafs in brightness any flame.
Love God, and love your neighbour; watch and pray ; would be done unto :
O dark inftructions, ev'n dark as day!
Who can thefe gordian knots undo?
But he doth bid us take his blood for wine;
Bid what he pleafe; yet I am fure,
To take and tafte what he doth there defign,
Is all that faves, and not obfcure.
Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man ;
Break all thy fpheres, and fave thy head:
Faith needs no ftaff of flesh, but ftoutly can
To heav'n alone both go and lead.
Religion, ere impos'd, fhould firft be taught;
Not feem to dull obedience ready lay'd,
Then swallow'd straight with ease; but long be fought:
And be by reafon counfell'd, though not fway'd.
Sir W. Davenant's Chriftian's Reply to the Philofopher.
Philofophy doth feem to laugh upon
Our hopes; and wife divinity belies
Our knowledge, with our faith: Jealous
Nature hath lock'd her fecrets in a cabinet,
Which time ne'er faw: And he that in it pries,
Unto religion forfeits his bold eyes.
Sir W. Davenant's Just Italian.
True piety, without ceffation, toft
By theories; the practick part is loft:
And like a ball bandy'd 'twixt pride and wit,
Rather than yield, both fides the prize will quit :
Then whilft his foe the gladiator foils,
The atheist looking on, enjoys the fpoils.
Religion's veil'd in types from vulgar eyes;
None e'er return'd to tell celeftial joys:
If heav'n were left for ev'ry one to fee,
Heav'n would be hell, with too much company.
Zeal against policy maintains debate ;
Heav'n gets the better now, and now the state:
The learned do by turns the learn'd confute,
Yet all depart unalter'd by difpute.
The Prieftly office cannot be deny'd;
It wears heav'n's liv'ry, and is made our guide:
But why should we be punish'd if we stray;
When all our guides difpute, which is the way?
1. You with religion still will be fevere;
You would think much, fhould I as harsh appear
To your friend love. 2. would it not pity breed,
To fee thee climbing mountains for a weed?
Chain'd like Prometheus rather to the brow
Of barren rocks, for ever clad in snow;
And there religion gnawing of thee ftill:
Who would not the devouring vulture kill?
1. How poor Cymmerians to the fun unknown,
Think ev'ry land all darkness, like their own!
2. How wretched lands with fables overflown,
From mountains of the moon, and springs unknown,
With mud of falfhood rank their fertile earth,
Give nothing else but priefts and prophets birth!
Crown's Second Part of the Deftruction of Jerufalem.
REPENTANCE.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;
Words, without thoughts, never to Heaven go.
Who by repentance is not fatisfy'd,
Is nor of Heav'n, nor Earth; for these are pleas'd:
By penitence, th' eternal wrath's appeas'd.
Shakespear's Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Up from the chaos of eternal night,
Once more I afcend,
And bide the cold damp of this piercing air;
To urge the justice, whofe almighty word
Measures the bloody acts of impious men
With equal pennance; who in th' act it felf
Includes th' infliction, which, like chain'd fhot,
Batter together ftill: though, (as the thunder
Seems by mens duller hearing than their fight,
To break a great time after light'ning forth,
Yet both at one time tear the lab'ring cloud;
So men think pennance of their ills is flow,
Though th' ill and pennance ftill together go.
Chapman's Revenge of Buffey D'ambois.
The drunkard, after all his lavish cups,
Is dry, and then is fober; fo at length,
When you awake from this lascivious dream,
Repentance then will follow, like the fting
Plac'd in the adder's tail.
Take great delight in a converted finner.
Why fhould you then a fervant and profeffor,
Differ fo much from them? If ev'ry woman
That commits evil, fhould be therefore kept
Back in defires of goodness, how should virtue
Be known and honour'd? From a man that's blind,
To take a burning taper, 'tis no wrong;
He never miffes it: But to take light
From one that fees, that's injury and fpight.
Pray whether is religion better ferv'd,
When lives that are licentious are made honest,
Or when they still run through a finful Blood?
'Tis nothing vertue's temples to deface;
But build the ruins, there's a work of
Middleton's Women beware Women. Man should do nothing that he should repent; But if he have, and fay that he is forry; It is a worse fault, if he be not truly.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Honeft Man's Fortune.
This brittle glass of life, already broken
With mifery, the long and quiet fleep
Of Death would be most welcome: Yet before
We end our pilgrimage, 'tis fit that we
Should leave corruption and foul fins behind us.
But with wash'd feet and hands, the heathens dar'd not Enter their prophane Temples; and for me
To hope my paffage to eternity
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