The first SOLILOQUIE.

IF love bee the Schoole of Arts, the Modell of Vertue, the Glory of Learning, the Pallace of Pleasure, the Whetstone of Memory, the Castle of Delight, the Mappe of Honour, the Wonder of the World, the Mystery of Mortallity, and the Type of Eternity: Then surely Envy must needs bee the Child of Ignorance, the person of idle­nesse, the follower of foolishnesse, the bringer of sadnesse; it is a pit of poyson, a cup of corrupti­on, a part of division, a piece of delusion, a hell of [Page 4]horrour, a sinke of sinne, a sea of shame, a line of absurdity, and a blot of deformity: It is attended with contention, with distraction, with delusion, with peevishnesse, with palenesse, with falsenesse, with faintnesse, with in­constancy, with infidelity; it shuts mans glory up in darkenesse, and makes his memory dye in forgetfulnesse; it doth eclipse the clearest morne, and writes deformity upon the fairest brow: He that is a Childe of envy is a burthen to the earth, and an offence to heaven; hee lives unregarded, and dyes unlamented; hee is borne to extremity, and banisht out of glory.

The second SOLILOQUIE.

VNconstancy of Earth are all extreame in love, orescorcht in Envy, or led by Folly, or invel­loped in Vanity, are drowned in sensuality; the strong man boasts of his strength, the Souldier of his valour, the Schollar of his learning, the Ger­mane gloryes that hee can drinke Wine, the Usu­rer sacrifices to the god of gold, the Prodigall to his pleasure, and the Lover to his Lady, and of all the rest the last is the most deluded, making his life laborious while hee is tyred with such unacquain­ted passions: Her frownes or smiles give him an earnest of life or death; hee spends his yeares in disquietnesse, his moneths in frowardnesse, the day in fancies, the night in dreames; hee tyres his passion, corrupts his invention, deludes his affecti­on, disturbes his rest, cracks his braine, wearies his bed, and breaken his sleepe, hee makes earth his heaven, pleasure his paradise, beauty his felicity, and prosperity his glory: Poore soule hee knows [Page 8]not that bravery is a vanity, that beauty is a vision, and love a delusion; that as Syrens can inchant, so Ladies can allure; that extremity attends pro­digallity, and the greatest temptations the strong­est affections, that the comliest blossome is the soo­nest blasted, and the sweetest Rose the quickliest withered: That poyson lyeth by the sweetest herbe, and death is mingled in the fairest bait.

The deluded Lover stands in his owne light, he puts out his owne eyes, hee stoppes his owne eares, hee is cloathed in darkenesse, hee wanders in blind­nesse, lives in lasciviousnes, and dyes in forgetfull­nesse, while these poore rarities fanne him with silken wings of mildest ayre breathed from a whispering winde.

Looke back fond Lover, thou sure hast dreamed, all past is but delusion, thy sordid affections de­serve not the name of love, 'tis but a morrall blaze, a piece of humane glory, a glaunce of beau­ties bravery, a sparke of Cupids candle, a flame of Vuicans forge, a flash of Natures fire, hot in a minute, and cold in a moment.

But Oh Divine Love! how much art thou abused? How strongly neglected, who art chiefely to bee beloved?

Thou indeed art a bed of Roses, a mountaine of Spices, a Garden of sweetnesse, a Type of blessednesse, a Messenger of fullnesse, a Mirrour [Page 9]of faithfullnesse; with thee there is no respect of persons, nor no regard of places, thou mindest not vanity, nor art deceived by folly: Thou stri­vest not for honour, thou lookest not after gaine, thou thirstest not for revenge, but hopest all things, believeth all things, indureth all things: Thou fillest the soule with vertue, with vallour, humility, fidelity, love, peace, joy, patience, and perseverance; thou art hee that preserveth earth, that guideth the Heavens; and lest the Universe should returne to its first Chaos, thou rulest the unruly Elements, thou turnest the spheres, and commandest the wandring Planets in their several Orbes: And when thou smilest upon the soule, thou makest earth resemble heaven, deformity be­come purity, and dust immortallity; how faire and how lovely art thou, oh Love, for delights?

The third SOLILOQUIE.

YOu trayterous thoughts, assault my sence no more; oh mine eyes; whither doe you wander? to what great steppe of pleasure, to what great pitch of honour, to what illustrate sphere, to what coelestiall orbe are you hurried in a distracted dreame, while all your golden imaginations va­nish into aire.

What is the silver Mine? what is the golden Ore? what is the worlds dignity? what is beau­ties rarity? what is the pride of pleasure? what is a blast of honour; the first is vexation, the se­cond delusion, the third a distraction, the fourth brings the worldling to a fooles paradice, and hee that hath the last is but a glorious slave.

Mee thinkes as when the Gyants warred a­gainst heaven, and with their imperious lookes threatned the Palace of Olimpick Jove, till from his golden sphere hee lasht their folly, and puft out their bravery, by hurling against their moun­taines hasty thunderbolts from his angry arme: even so the worlds Peacocks children of trans­gression, [Page 14]sonnes of Rebellion, the pride of nature, and the scorne of art, befooled in folly, besotted in security, sinne in dispite of heaven, till with his angry breath hee sweepes them from the world, laying their glory groveling in the silent grave.

Poore heaven borne soule, no winde blowes faire for thee, but all thy life is a continued ill: thou art borne in a tempest, and art hurryed through a storme, while thou wandrest through this vale of teares, and while thou saylest through this red sea of sorrow; so have I seene a weather­beaten vessell torne by the fury of the surges, tost from wave to wave, by the confused mellody of threatning scas, roaring windes, fiery flashes, hor­rid thunder, and the darkened ayre, continually in restlesse motion, sometimes by an angry billow flung up to heaven, and in a moment plunging downe againe, seemes to bee swallowed in the furious Ocean; as if nature to set forth the rari­ty of union, who would shew to man the harmo­ny of confused elements.

Art thou a child of heaven? thou shalt bee then a sonne of sorrow, thinke not too much to suffer, if thou makest account to Reigne, if thou wilt have a Crowne of Royalty, be patient in suf­fring adversity. The way to heaven is through a fiery Lake, thy treasure shalbe torment, thy wealth shall be want, thy portion poverty, thy beauty [Page 15]deformity. Thy adoption fore-runs thy extremi­ty, and thy conversion is a Prologue to a following Tragedy.

The World indeed is full of deceit, nor will she favour any but her owne, and on them she confers pleasures, and profits, honour, preferment, beauty, glory, wealth, and case. She sets them on her idle knee, and charmes the Worldling to a glorious slumber.

While the godly sits all day, dispised, disgrac'd, afflicted, tormented; with his watry eyes bent on the Earth, and his silent groanes piercing hea­ven: the unfrequented places are his delight, and the melancholliest passions are his best musique: In which the poore soule mutters to himself these, or the like speeches.

Ah me! how am I hurried to and fro in the valley of this shaddow of death? how am I tossed from misery to adversity, from trouble to torment, from temptation to affliction? my life is almost spent: and what will the Lord do with mee? if hee doe with me what he please, if he throw mee into hell, I will lay my hand upon my mouth, and be silent for ever: for I have been unthankfull, unholy, unfruitfull, unprofitable, dis­courtious, disloyall, ungratious, rebellious.

But will the Lord be angry for ever? and hath [Page 16]hee forgotten to bee gracious, or is his loving kindnesse quite decayed? My Lord Jesus Christ he is gone to Heaven, where he is crowned in Majesty and glory, and every day he takes one or another after him. And heere he leaves me to feede on Wormewood, and drinke the poyson of Aspes. Alas, poor soule, what findest thou? what know­est thou? what seest thou, in this vaine world? is not her beauty momentany, and all her glory transitory? Why was I borne to be an object of cruelty, a Map of misery, the mockery of Art, the scorne of nature? or being borne, why died I not in my sad mothers arms?

Well soule, lament no more, wait but a while and thy sorrow shall be converted into joy, thy mourning into praising, thy emptinesse into full­nesse, thy low poverty into high dignity, thy short suffering of the worlds hate to the embraces of eternall love, thy time to eternity, thy misery into glory. Alas! the joy of the wicked is as the thornes in the fire, the bubble in the water, the flowers in the earth, the Clouds in the Aire: they blaze and consume, they flourish and fade, they vanish and fly away: but thou for a few angry frownes shalt have everlasting joyes, for earths in­dignity, shalt weare the Robes of Royalty, and for a moments heavinesse, shalt be crowned in eternall happinesse: Though here thou walkest [Page 17]sadly, and drivest on heavily, piercing the aire with thy sighes, and watering thy cheeks with thy teares; mourning and weeping for the ab­sence of thy beloved, when he hath withdrawne himselfe and is gone. Yet hold up thy head with joy, for thy redemption draweth neare.

Thou shalt meet him in Elisium, and arme in arme walke through the hallowed Courts, and change a thousand kisses: canst thou not tarry a little time? canst thou not persevere a minute? canst thou not suffer a moment? canst thou not watch one houre? would it not bee worth thy paines, if after all thy troubles on earth, to arive at heaven? there the poore Pilgrimme may rest his tyred limbes in the sweet lullabies of ever bles­sed eternity; where there is joy without sorrow, health without sicknesse, wealth without want, fulnesse without famine, love without labour, life without death.

The fourth SOLILOQUIE.

AH! Lord, thou commandest us to seeke thy face, that we may shun death, and yet thou sayest none can see thy face and live: Ah! let me live, that I may know thee; or die, that I may see thee. It is the happinesse of those glorious Angels that they continually behold thee, and therefore they incompasse thine Altar, with sweet Odours, unspeakeable Rhaptures, and high Halle­lujah's; but we, poore mortalls, prest down with sinne, with guilt, with flesh, with feare, cannot worthily praise thee.

Ah me! why doe I seeke thee, If thou beest no where absent? why doe I not finde thee, if thou beest every where present? sure to the eye of dark­nesse, thou wrappest thy selfe in thicke darkenes, [Page 22]and thou art discovered to the eye that is enlight­ned, thou art seene in thy power to sinners, in thy terrour to Sathan, in thy Sonne to thy Saints; thou art seene in thy judgement to them that are against thee, in thy Justice to them that flye from thee, in thy Sacraments to them that seeke thee, in thy Lawes to them that love thee, and in thy Love to them that know thee.

Whence proceedeth this thy condiscention, and thine infinite humiliation, that thou did'st leave thy Throne in Heaven to live in the forme of a ser­vant on earth? Why didst thou change thy Crowne of Royalty, for a Crowne of Indignity? Why should aninfinite Creatour love a finite Creature, and Heaven stoope to Hell?

Alas, oh Lord Jesus, heere was no Royall Throne for thy Majesty, no Glorious Temple to entertaine thee, heere was no winged Cherubins to beare thee, no Armies of Angells to stand be­fore thee, no sweete faced object to delight thine eyes, no musicall Raptures to salute thine eares, no costly odours to annoynt thy feete, nor spangled Canopy to spread over thy head; but sinne and shame, guilt and feare, hell and horrour, blacknesse and darkenesse, extremity, poverty, impurity, de­formity; and canst thou love so poore a thing as man, oh thou that inhabitest in Heaven, in light inaccessible, in glory incomprehensible, who canst [Page 23]with a frowne overturne thine enemies fame, and by their ruine purchase thy selfe glory, and if the World should totally revolt from thee, and set her selfe against thee? Couldst thou not command a suddaine clap of thunder to spurne her from her Poles, shake her from her Center, crack her Ax­eltrees, and breake her Chariot wheeles? Couldst thou not let loose the Elements that the Heavens should bee hid in blacknesse, and the Sunne should bee cloathed in darkenesse, that the Waters should drowne the earth, and the fire should devoure the aire, or with an angry breath couldst thou not puffe them all away, that earth, and ayre, and water, and fire should vanish, and the world should be no more, and in the roome thereof create in a mo­ment to perfect thy praises, ten thousand severall Orbes?

Why then (oh man) art thou so much deluded? Why is Heaven and his sweet invitations so much disregarded? sure there bee foure dayes in which thou wilt call thy selfe foole for neglecting so great salvation: And they be these.

The day of publick calamity.

The day of private extreamity.

The day of death.

The day of doome.

First in the day of publick calamity, if the world should bee governed in blacknesse and darkeneste: [Page 24]If natures fabrick should bee smitten, if the po­wers of the world should bee shaken, if the wa­ters should bee loosed, if the fire should bee kind­led, if the ayre should bee infected, if the earth should bee poysoned, if the sword should begin to range againe, and thou shouldst see thousands of mangled bodies about the streets; if the trumpets should sound the alarum of war againe, and the drums beat dolefull funeralls for the soul­diers, if whisling bullets and fiery granadoes should fall like haile on the earth, and roare like the thunderclaps in heaven, if every mans sword should bee set against his fellow, if the earth should bee paved with dead mens bones, and the channels run downe with blood, if this flourish­ing Kingdome should bee made a burnt offering, & her people lye beeding like a new slain sacrifice; where then couldst thou finde a chamber to hide thee in, but in thy beloveds armes, and under the shaddow of his mighty wings: when the Lord comes to make inquisition for blood, and his fury shall breake out in fiery flames to lick up the sin­ners of the world; then will Jesus Christ bee as a shadowed grove in a thundering storme, as a cooling rock in a scorching day, and a fountaine of water in a weary land, when the worldling shall loose his anchor of hope and suffer shipwrack, thou shalt safely bee set a shoare.

If the famine should run after the sword, & the stoutest heart should grow faint, and the fairest face should begin to wax pale because of pining hunger.

If the pestilence should follow famine, if ter­rour should walke in darkenesse, and the arrowes of the Almighty fly at noone day; if a thousand should fall on thy right hand, and ten thousand on thy left hand, and thou beginnest to feare because of the evill that is come upon the world; who then can protect thee that judgements may not touch thee, but Jesus Christ? Tell mee then, hath hee not cause to bee beloved, would hee not bee worthy to bee desired?

Secondly, in the day of private extremity, when thine eyes shall bee opened, and thy heart shall bee awaked, when thy minde shall bee troubled and thy conscience tormented, when sinne and all its terrour shall come to make thy life intollerable, when the remembrance of thy pollutions shall bee bitter to thy soule; when thine eyes shall bee a flood of teares, thy teares a sea of sorrow, thy sorrow a clog upon thy spirit, thy spirit a trouble to thy minde, thy minde a torment to thy heart, thy heart an enemy to thy life, thy life a burthen to thy dayes, when thy conscience shall gnaw thee like a ravenous Vulture, and guilt and feare shall sting thee worse then an Addar, when thou shalt sit downe in sorrow all the day feeding on worm­wood, [Page 26]and drinking the poyson of Aspes; how wilt thou be ready to teare thy selfe in pieces, when thou shalt feele a little of the weight of sin, which made thy Saviour groane? when thy heart shall be affrighted, and thy minde shall be amazed, when Hell is discovered, and the Heavens are dar­kened: then would not that glorious arme that now invites thee, be welcome to thee? nay, would he not be worth a thousand worlds, that shall ease the anguish of thy soule in such an houre?

Thirdly, at the day of death, thy beloved will be desired, when the Sunne, and the light, and the Moone, and the Stars, shall be darkned; and the clowdes returne after the Raigne; when thy joynts shall tremble, and thy knees knock toge­ther; when thy courage shall be faintnesse, thy beauty shall bee p [...]lenesse, and thy rest shall bee weariness [...], when thy memory shall faile thee, when thine eyes shall deceive thee, when death shall shake th [...]e, thy riches slye from thee, and the Mourners stand about thee; when sin, and feare, and g [...], and horrour, and death, and terrour, shall conduct thee through the gates of morta­lity, and launch thee forth into the Gulph of e­ternity; when all about thee seeme to daunce around thee in the daunce of death: then sinner see in all thy invento [...]y, what wilt thou prize none but Jesus Christ? and welcome Jesus Christ [Page 27]to the sinner in such a day.

Fourthly, at the day of Judgement, thy Saviour will be welcome, when at the sound of the trum­pet, and the shout of the Arch Angell, the sleeper shall be awaked, the world shall bee started, the living shall be changed, the graves shall be opened, the dead shall be raised, when the heaven shall be covered in thicke darknesse, when the Sea shall boyle up in such mighty waves, as shall seeme to drowne the world, when thou shalt see the earth surrounded by fire, and the heavens sweltring in flames; when thou shalt behold the great Judge of the world sitting upon his glorious throne, borne by winged Cherubins, surrounded by Armies of Angells, before whom shall stand millions of naked mortals to receive their eternall doome: then a smile from the Judge on the throne will revive [...]e at the last, and thou wilt hold up thy head with joy; then that arme that now in­vites thee, will be able to crowne thee in immor­tallity. These are the foure dayes in which thou wilt repent thy neglect of the proffers of Love.

And now Reader, mayst thou shut the Booke, and stand amazed, an howres contemplation upon the thoughts of eternity may well take roome. Ah, that Jesus Christ should come from the bosome of his Father, from the company of his Angels, from the pleasure of his Paradice, from [Page 28]his Chaire of dignity, from his Crowne of glory, to put on mortality, to suffer indignity, to live in poverty, to endure extremity, to be a man of sor­row all his dayes, to be buffeted, scourged, perse­cuted, tormented, reviled, reproached, dispised, disgraced, disparaged, and abused from his cradle to his Crosse, and then wander through the shad­dow of death, and hells darke groves, from his Crosse to his Crowne! How soone (when the Heire of heaven was smitten) was natures Fabrick shaken? how soone (when the Sunne of glory was extinguished) was the Sunne of Heaven e­clipsed? What meanes the Heavens to frowne, the Earth to quake, the Souldiers to tremble, the Temple to rend, the Graves to open, the Dead to arise? Why must Heaven bee faine to suffer, and natures Fabrick bee out of order? Was all this for man? Alas! and what is man? A little mouldring dust, a piece of moving earth, a maske of mortallity, an inch of eternity, whose life is but labour, whose wisdome is but folly, whose grace is but impurity, whose comelynesse defor­mity, whose substance is sinne, whose glory is his shame.

Say Reader, didst thou ever see Royalty wooe Indignity, Honour looke on Lownesse, Highnesse sue to Basenesse? Didst thou ever see a King serve a Slave, Gentility wooe Poverty, and Beauty love [Page 29]Deformity? Then Reader recollect thy wandring thoughts, and before thou passest to the other page pay here the tribute of a teare.

How hath the Prince of darkenesse besotted blinded mortalls? How is man (poore man) be­fooled? How doth hee sell his Corne for Chaffe, his Silver for Drosse, his Treasure for Torment, his Paradice for Pleasure, his Glory for Honour, his Heaven for Earth, his Earth for Hell? How doth hee set his heart on vanity, and slights the richest rarity? God calls once and twice, and the carnall heart heares not: hee comes with all the purest expressions, and sweetest invitations, with all the words of Art, and the allurements of love, yet blinded man regards not, but wallowes in impurity, and slumbers in a lethargy, till hee perishes to eternity.

Ah Lord, thou dwellest in that light inaccessi­ble, and brightnesse incomprehensible, that no eye can see, and not be struck blind; thy glorious Pal­lace stands in eternity, and thy sparkling Throne is scituate in immortallity, in the midst of bright­nesse in such a circle of glory, that no mortall can behold unlesse hee drop downe and dye.

Dominion and feare are with thee, and of thy Government there shall bee no end: What gaine is it to thee if wee bee Righteous, and wherein art thou damaged, if wee bee polluted? [Page 30]If the world should revolt from the Prince of darkenesse, and vaile her Crowne to thy Suprea­macy: If all Nations should bee willing to bee swayed by the Scepter, and bow before thy im­mortall Throne, this cannot adde to the greatnesse of thy Majesty; nor if the disobedience of thy Children, the frownes of thy Foes, the envy of thy Enemies, the subtilty of Sathan, the wicked­nesse of the World, the helpe of Hell, were a­gainst thee set in battle Ray, they could not darken thy Dignity, they could not eclipse thy Glory.

Yet albeit thou couldst gaine honour by our destruction, yet thou delightest in our conversion: and therefore thou offerest thy Word, thy Gospel, thy Sacrament, thy selfe and thy sonne; thou gi­vest us Reprovements, Allurements, Precepts, and Promises, Comfort, and Counsell, Direction, De­hortation: But wee poore mortalls are too un­kinde to reward thy love with disdaine, thy cur­tesie with distoyalty; but what shall wee say? Shall wee that are but dust direct Eternity in his unsearcheable actions? Thou commandest us to seeke thee: Alas, wee cannot finde thee: Thou bidst us apply our selves to know thee; Alas, we never saw thee: Thou bidst us bee fruitfull, and we be unprofitable; thou commandest us to bee cleansed, and wee be polluted; when our eyes should be enlightned, then our hearts are most [Page 31]darkened; when we should be most washed, then are we most defiled; and when thou callest us to thee, even then we fly from thee. Wee lost our dignitie when our Father Adam lest his glory; he breaking his League with Heaven left us (his poore children) nothing but our mother, Earth, who rocks us a while upon her idle knee of igno­rance, and then layes us to lullaby in eternall darkenesse. Yet though wee have lost a Subjects loyalty, thou hast not lost thy kingly dignity; thou still retainest thy prerogative Royall; yea Lord, thou still hast power to command, though we (poore we) have no ability to obey. Oh that thou wouldst, instead of commanding us, compell us! Oh thou that bidst us follow thee, draw us, and we shall run after thee! Oh thou that com­mandest us to seeke thee, shew thy selfe that wee may finde thee: so, though the world lies drow­ned in a sea of vanity, yet we that follow thee shall live holily, and dye happily: forasmuch as our happinesse is wrapt up in heaven, and dwells in the light of thy glory.

The fift SOLILOQUIE.

A Gloomy Cloud may black the fairest Morne, till Phoebus ariseth in his midday Majesty, and with his glory cleares the darkned Aire, when times black Daughter Night have wrapt her man­tle about the virge of day, and drowned the World in a forgotten dreame; all things seeme alike to all, the withered Weede, the purest Herbe, the comliest Blossome, and the fairest flower: But when the day starre appeares, ushering in the morne, and blushing Sol arises as from a bed of [Page 36]Roses, whose burning Horses chafe up the Olym­pick hill, and with their fiery fetlocks draw up the Golden Chariot of the day, the World lyes then discovered.

Even thus the Gospel of our Lord Jesus have­ing unmantled his glory from behinde a darkened cloud, shining in full Majesty, discovers the errours of our lower World; but because time will bee too short to serve our turne, and wee shall tyre the Readers eyes with too large a Soliloquie: wee shall therefore looke upon but the latter part of our subject: And first by the Vine wee can one­ly understand the Church of God, and then our subject will lye as a stumbling block in the Rea­ders way; this seemes to bee strange (say some) that the Church of God should bee a fruitlesse Vine: No, this Vine beares pleasant fruit, yet there are many worthlesse Branches that sprout a­mong them bearing great show, but little sub­stance; but when the wise Husbandman shall loppe them off, the Branches that remaine shall sprout higher, the fruit shall bee the sweeter, and the Vine shall flourish the more.

And first wee shall endeavour to discover eight sorts of Branches that will bee cut from the Vine: And they be these.

• 1. The Adulterer.
• 2. The Drunkard.
• [Page 37]3. The Robber.
• 4. The Lyar.
• 5. The Sabboth-breaker.
• 6. The Swearer.
• 7. The Usurer.
• 8. The Hypocrite.

First the Adulterer is a barren branch and shall bee cut off. Thou Adulterer whose blood boyles in thy vaines, and thy marrow is burnt in thy bones, who art scorched in fire, and sweltred in flames, who swimmest in vanity, and art drowned in a forgotten Dreame; thy Morning is risen, and thy Sunne hath aspired to the top of Noone­day; thou seemest to ride upon the wings of Time, commanding Pleasure as if shee were thy Captive; Come wee will take a short survey of thy life, which if the Scripture deceives us not, is but the way to death.

But what is she end of all this? if we look on the end of the chapter, we shall see the end of the Adulterer: Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death, verse 27. Thou dost not dreame thou shalt be blasted; I tell thee, ere long thou shalt be lopt off, and flung into eternity: I grant thou hast aspired to the top of thy Olympick Palace; but thou shalt shortly fall: thy life hath [Page 39]beene (at best) but a Tragicomedy, and thou hast acted the fools part with pleasure: but I tell thee, death ere long shall strike the Epilogue, and thou shalt goe away.

Secondly, the Drunkard is a barren Branch.

Thou Drunkard that carowsest care away, and on thy Ale-bench, blasphemest the God of Hea­ven, that takest no felicity but in swinish compa­ny, and knowest no other happines, but the colour of the wine; thou burdenest the earth, thou infla­mest the fire, thou infectest the aire, thou art as a flowre drowned with the dew of Hea­ven, and bowest thy glory to the earth: goe drunkard, take thy fill of Wine untill the morning: but I tell thee, the houre is comming, when (it may be) the hand of Heaven shall write thy doom upon the plaister of the wall, Daniell 5.25, 26. ere long thou mayst Read MENE MENE TEKEL UPHARSIN: God hath num­bred thy dayes and finisht them, and being found [Page 40]too light, thy glory is departed from thee: then shall thy loynes be loosed, thy countenance chan­ged, and thy false heart affrighted: thou that drinkest iniquity like water, I tell thee, ere long thou shalt wash thy selfe away; thy fruit is al­ready withered, and thou shalt be lopt from the Vine.

Thirdly, the Robber is a barren Branch, Levi­ticus 19. vers. 11.

Thou that by the Art of Leger-de-maine adop­test every mans goods thine owne, I know thou wouldst have joy without sorrow, wealth with­out want, fruit without faith, and life without death: but remember, the pitcher at last comes broken home. There is a way seemes right in the eyes of man, but the end thereof is the path of death. Proverbs 14. vers. 12.

What though thou hast wheel'd off fairly once, or twice, or thrice? yet thou shalt shortly fall: Agememnon after all his 10 yeares wars at Troy, was slain in one night among his freinds at Greece. The valiant Hector, whose temples were so often archt in a victorious Orbe, while he was quitting his Countrey with gallantry, and affronting his enemies in the height of bravery, received (in a moment) the Embassage of death: and upon the ground measured out his grave. The mighty A­chilles, whose arme seemed a Postilion of death, [Page 41]was slaine at last by a little winged Arrow, and sent to his long home.

Tell me, thou that canst draw thy sword, and bid defiance (upon the high way) to truth and fi­delity, where lies thy brother Caine, or Akan, or Judas, or Ahab? does not their glory grovill in the ground? or are they not sweltring in eter­nall flames? It may be thou hast endured many a blast: but there may come a blast ere long that may puffe thee quite away. Thou that art ac­quainted with the Law so well, that thou canst sometimes confute the Reverend Judges, and yet performest never a tittle thereof; believe mee, thou canst not plead with death: hee will come with a Habeas corpus, and remove thee to eterni­ty: Forasmuch as thou art found unfruitfull in the Vineyard, thou shalt be cut from the Vine, and have thy portion in that lake of terrour, where time shall be no more.

Fourthly, the lyar is a barren Branch. Leviti­cus 19. vers. 11.

Thou that so oft dost call the God of heaven (who is truth it selfe) to witnesse to a lie: tell me thou sordid peece of earth? canst thou blinde the eies of heaven? or canst thou draw a curtaine before the face of the most high? does not his eie see thee? does not his eare heare thee? does not his heart ponder thy waies? tell me? is he ex­cluded any where, that can be comprehended no where? if thou goest to heaven, he is there; if downe to hell, he is there; if thou take the wings of the morning, and flye to the uttermost parts of the earth, from thence the hand of God shall find thee out. Come thou lyar, Read the story of A­nanias and Sapphira, Acts 5. vers. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10. The tree withers soone away that is perisht at the Root, and thou shalt shortly fall, who art rotten at the heart: Alas, thou art nothing but a walking shaddow, a guilded peece of aire, whose wealth is but poverty, whose bravery but vanity, [Page 43]whose truth infidelity, and thou shalt ere long be [...]hut out of eternity. Revelation 22. vers. 15. thy present tense ere long shalbe made a preterimper­ [...]ectense; and it shall shortly be said of thee, he was, and is not; yet a little while, and thou shalt be no more, but shalt fade as the withering grasse, and wither as the dying flowre.

Fifthly, the Sabbath breaker is a barren Branch.

Come thou prophane Sabbath breaker, thou findest fault of the shortnesse of thy time: I tell thee ere long thy time shall be cut away; the candle thou now dost waste in pleasure, thou wilt hereafter begge to spend in prayer: what (thou wretch) if thy God had required six dayes in the weeke to sanctifie his name, and celebrate his praise? how wouldest thou have done, that if thou canst not give him one in seven? Goe sor­did earth, imbalme thy self in tears; thou knowest not what felicity the godly take in this dayes pro­gresse, while they travell through the coelestiall Groves, and while they wander through the faire Elizium walkes; aspiring beyond the reach of this unworthy earth, to change their hourely en­tercourse of love with Heaven, whose service is perfect freedome, redemption from slavery, and a path way to glory: every dayes progresse sends thee nearer to eternity, and thou makest but a few Sabbath dayes journey towards Heaven: why tell me? whither doest thou wander? Is it be­cause there is no God in Israel, that thou servest the god of Ekron? or because thou hast dined on earth, wilt thou now goe sup in hell? away blind man, thou runnest to thy ruine: retire a while to thy forgotten selfe, and reckon how fast thy win­ged houres flie away.

Ah Lord! thy Sabbaths in former ages have [Page 45]been celebrated to thy praise, when thy people spake often one to another to thy glory, when the morning starres sang together, and all the sonnes of God shouted for joy; thy Saints in for­mer ages (upon thy holy day) have met to offer up their perfumed oblations, and dayly sacrifices to thee who dwellest between the Cherubins: but now the beauty of Israell is gone from the high places; Oh how are the mighty falne! tell mee thou wretch that sayest, when will the Sabbath be over, that we may sell our Corne, and Wine, and Oyle, that we may put on our gallant appar­rell, and heape up bags of gold? what gaine is in riches, what beauty in bravery, what profit in pleasure, what glory in honour? thy riches are but poverty, thy beauty deformity, thy pleasure a penalty, thine honour slavery; therefore foole thy selfe no more, by omitting thy duty, and rob­bing heaven of his glory, lest thou beest strucke with leaprosie like Miriam, lest thou beest swal­lowed up like Corah, Dathan, and Abiram, lest thou art consumed with fire like the sonnes of A­ron, lest thou hast a shower of stones like Akan, or art shot with an arrow from heaven like Julian, lest thou beest lopt from the Vine, and cut from the earth, and shut out of Heaven, and flung into Hell, lest thy possession be made a desolation, and thy memory perish from the earth for want of a memory.

Sixthly, the swearer is a barren Branch.

Thou prophane Wretch, that with thy breath infectest the aire, and with thy body burdenest the earth, and with thy heart dost blaspheme heaven, what became of the prophane Rabshekah, or the blasphemous Senacherib, that with their tongues sounded such thunderclaps in fearefull Israells ears? but when their lips upbraided the God of Heaven, how soon did he bow their proud impe­rious necks, and layd their glory groveling in the ground: thou black mouth'd swearer, that with a flash of Oathes doest exalt thy selfe to Heaven; I tell thee ere long thou shalt be spurned downe to Hell: thy life seemes yet a merry Comedy, but thou knowest not how soone thou shalt speake the last sceane, which being done, thou shalt exit, to the attiring roome of earth, and undresse thee in the silent grave: thou foule mouth'd swearer thou faine wouldst be accounted a Christian, yet livest more deboyster then the Heathen. Come if thou art a Christian, trye thy Copy by thy Savi­ours President, and see how thou obeyest his com­mand.

Poore man, thou art so far from dishonouring thy God by this, that by thy Ruine he will pur­chase himselfe glory: as the Traveller that spits against the winde, hath it blowne in his face; so thou that with thy breath blasphemest heaven, blowest but the fire of Hell, which shall torment thee to eternity: thou that doest waste thy time in trifles, and thy dayes in a dreame, thou art at the best but a piece of perjury, and a flash of vani­ty, that walkest by the light of thine owne fire, and the sparkes thou hast kindled. This is the portion thou shalt have from the hand of Heaven, thou shalt lie downe in sorrow.

Seventhly, the covetous man is a barren Branch, and shall be cut from the Vine.

What's hee that so prophanes all purity, and scornes the power that others doe adore; that curseth his Tapour for burning so fast, his provi­sion for spending too soone, his houres for flying too swift, and his purse for filling too slow? Thou groveling worldling, that Viper-like, doest teare thy Mothers wombe, and off rest sacrifice to the god of gold, that art as pollitick as Achitophell, as proud as painted Jezebell, as churlish as Naball, as swift as Asahell; hadst thou the pollicy of Ʋ ­lysses, the strength of Hercules, the beauty of A­donis, the wealth of great Nilus, or the gold of rich Tagus: thou art but a house of clay, and thy foundation is in the Dust. Neverthelesse man be­ing in honour abideth not: he is like the beasts that perish. Psalme 49. verse 12.

The time is comming when delicates shall not be delightfull, life shall not be desirable, pleasure shall be painefull, Riches unprofitable, death una­voydable, and eternity most terrible: when thou shalt finde evidences enough for earth, but no as­surance for Heaven: then it may be thou wouldst give ten thousand pounds for a share in Jesus Christ, but Jesus Christ makes no such bargaine. Dives had not been in Hell, if his money would have purchast heaven: but then thy Riches shall take to themselves wings and flye away: thou knowest not how soone thou mayest come to thy [Page 49]journeyes end; when thou shalt bee deposed from thy glory like Nebuchadnezar, Dan. 4 30. or slaine in the midst of thy gold and mirth, like drunken Belshazzer, or lye in the cold like poore Lazarus, or bee kickt into Hell like rich Dives; go view the Monuments of thy Fathers: where lyes the Crowne of Shyhon, King of the Amo­rices, and Ogge the King of Bashan? Where bee the Perizites, the Jebusites, or the Children of the East, or Zeba, or Zelmunna? Where is the Tower of Babylon, the (sometimes) glorious Caanan, the wavering Aegyptians, the warlick Philistines? Doe not they sleepe in the dust? Thou knowest not how soone thou mayest bee gathered to thy Fathers.

The Earth in the Spring time puts on her man­tle of greene to entertaine her Lover Phoebus; but when the golden Chariot of the Sunne is fled to the Southerne World, the Earth puts on her mourning withered weede, the Moone shines fairely for some certaine nights; but when time hath turned her from her silver throne; shee re­signes her glory to the following day: The blaz­ing candle for a time shines cleare, but having past the age of a short lived houre, it glimmers a while and dyes; the glorious Lilly that is drest in such bravery, is in a day disroabed of its glory, and tur­ned to withered Hay; there is no such thing as a [Page 50]continuance heere, though thou flour [...] [...] greene Bay-tree, yet thou shalt perish like a wi­thered weede.

Eightly, the hypocrite is a barren branch.

Go march among thy fellowes painted earth, and then sometimes retreate, and yet march on a­gaine, thou lookest indeede to Heaven, but thou travellest to Hell: Go on, yet know false Absolon, 'tis not thy beauty that can save thee; no, Judas, 'tis not a dissembling kisse shall secure thee; no, Simon Magus, 'tis not thy money shall redeeme thee, thou art as various as the windes, as dissem­bling as the seas, as deceitfull as the grave, as darke as hell, as vile as villany, as gracelesse as im­purity, and as black as horrour can see it selfe in the blackest glasse: Thou washest thy hands in­deed, but thy heart is defiled, thou trimmest thy bo­dy, but thy soule is deformed, honey indeede is in thy lips, but thy tongue is poysoned; well, foole thy selfe no more, though thou doest blinde the World, thou canst not hide thy selfe from Heaven. [Page 51]Psalm. 94.8.9.10. Hee that planted the eare, shall hee not heare? Hee that formed the eye, shall hee not see? Oh yee fooles when will yee bee wise? Hee that teacheth man knowledge, shall hee not know? Though thou hast the speech of Jacob, thou hast the hands of Esau, thou hast the devo­tion of Abel, but the dissimulation of Achitophel, the mantle of Elias, but the hypocrisie of Judas, thou hast fidelity in thy wordes, but impurity in thy deeds, a heaven in thy mouth, but a hell in thy heart, and though thou do'st prosper while blin­ded man adores thee, yet thou shalt perish when God shall come to judge thee: It is not thy smooth language, nor thy Syrean tongue can take in Heavens eares; no, 'tis not a painted face, nor a garment of gold that dazeleth Christs eyes, that did delude the yong man, that Solomon entitles foole, Prov. 7 vers. 8. 'Tis thy heart that God pondereth and as the Sunne of Heaven will show, thee the foulenesse of the house; so the Sonne of glory with his all descerning eye, will soone dis­cover the blacknesse of the heart, though to the world thou seemest a piece of purity, a flash of fidelity a gloriou star, a glittring spheare; yet to Heavens eye thou wilt appeare but an Heire of Hell, a childe of darkenesse, a servant of sinne, a sonne of shame; and thou that hast so often de­luded others in thy life, shalt deceive thy self at [Page 52]thy death, and thy departing soule shall but ex­change misery for mortallity, though (by thy actions) the deluded world shall thinke thou art transported into glory.

And shall our story have a period heere? And shall wee vaile our subject with a blanck? Shall wee present to the Reader the black and darke night, and draw a Curtaine before the shining day? Shall wee discover the barren branches that are in the Vineyard, and wrap a black cloud about the lofty flourisht Vine? No, though many have the marke of the Beast, yet some are loyall to the Lambe, though there bee thousands doe bow their knees to Baall: Yet there is a remnant doe hum­ble their hearts to heaven, though there bee a seed of falling Adam, yet there is a generation of faithfull Abraham, though many are not Israelits, yet all are not Sodomites; among the thousands that shall perish, there is a remnant that shall flou­rish, whose united beauty shall make one glorious body: And this is shee that looketh forth as the Morning, faire as the Moone, cleare as the Sunne, terrible as an Army with Banners, Cantie. 6. vers. 10. whose heroicke heads looke higher then this inferior World, who are not drowned in the dirt of earth, but watered with the dew of Hea­ven, who are not branches of infamy, but clusters layd up to inherite glory: And indeed believer [...] [Page 53]you have done well while you have made so faire a choyce, though you suffer here a little paine, hereafter you shall have endlesse pleasure, though ye have had a time of heavinesse, ye shall have heereafter eternall happynesse, though ye have had tokens of infamy, yee shall bee adorned with Robes of glory, though you have beene acquain­ted with the terrour of the Crosse, yee shall bee required with the glory of the Crowne: Alas, how momentany are the pleasures of the World? What is heere to bee desired? Nay, rather what is there not heere that may well be quickly loath­ed? Is it honour? That is but a blast that will deceive thee: Is it dignity? That is but a dreame that will delude thee: Is it beauty? That is but a shaddow that will inslave thee; Is it credit? That is but flattery that will befoole thee: Is it wealth? That will take wings and quickly flye from thee.

I am sure if the hand that planted you did not protect you, your fruit would bee blasted, and [Page 54]your blossome would bee withered: How soone would your honour turne to disgrace, your credit to shame, your beauty into vanity, your affection to delusion, your winde of wealth to a weather­cock of woe, your full sea of plenty to an ebbing tide of poverty? Did not the Vine flourish? How soone would you poore branches perish? Did not the head finde power to stand, how soone would you the weaker members fall?

I thinke the World can better subsist without the Sunne, then you without a Saviour; if the Sunne were gone, would not the forsaken Uni­verse put on a mantle of mourning? Would not the World returne to her first confused Chaos? Would not all our Chariot wheeles drive on hea­vily? Would not our actions prosper slowly? The Philosophers say wee are beholding to the Sunne for all secondary causes: and Divines af­firme wee are ingaged to our Saviour for his se­cret cares, while you bring forth the fruits of the spirit, which is not Rebellion, but Humiliation, not expressions, but Actions, not Chaffe, but Wheate, not Pibbles, but Pearles, not Leaves, but Fruit, not Drosse, but Gold: I meane Unity, Fi­delity, Meekenesse, long suffering, Patience, and Perseverance; ye shall have a shield to save you, a chamber to hide you, an arme to protect you, a Fountaine to coole you, and a Rock to over­shaddow [Page 55]shaddow you, and a Pillar of fire to guide you while you travell through the vally of the shad­dow of death, and while you are sayling through the red sea of sorrow.

Thus were you not protected alas, how soone would you bee destroyed? How weake would bee your strength? How strong your weakenesse? How soone would your persons bee abused, your sence deceived, your wills corrupted, your appre­hensions deluded, your constancy contemned, and your fidelity befooled?

But now had I a quill snatcht from the lofty Eagles wings, or were my inke distilled from Gold; had I the Curiosity of Cleo, the Learning of Plato, the Poetry of Apollo, the Eloquence of Cicero, or the Love of Queene Dido: I should rather darken their Dignity, then illustrate their Royalty.

I thinke Readers I must deceive you all, and [...]hut the Booke, and make an end of my subject; For hee that will speake of the worth of a Picture [Page 56]must himselfe bee a Painter; so hee that will dis­course of the Saints dignity, must himselfe bee wrapt first in the Pallace of high glory; this one­ly may suffice, they shall have wealth without want, pu [...]ity without perjury, health without sicknesse, wisdome without folly, life without mortallity, there shall they have eternity for time, glo [...]y for indignity, a Crowne for a Crosse, and a Kingdome with a Crowne: But since the heart is too narrow to conceive it, it is unlawfull for the tongue to utter it, 2 Cor. 12. ver. 4.

Thus are wee forced to draw a Curtaine about our subject and hide our glorious sceane, and be­cause wee dare not speake of such a price, silence shall now bee the Epilogue of the Play.

How lovely lookt the Sonne of Glory in our terestiall spheare, earth was too unworthy to bee possest of such a glorious guest, how powerfull was that tongue, that with a short command could dis­possesse the divel, & make his enemies in a moment drop downe and dye, that could give feete to the lame, eyes to the blinde, health to the sick, salvati­on to sinners, and life to death? How did his lips out passe the sweete lipt orator, while in sundry places hee poured forth the sweetest words that Art or Love could frame, enough to melt the be­holders hearts and charme the hearers eares? How full of sweetnesse is that bosome that was woun­ded [Page 57]with a speare; I thinke Love lay there in­tomb'd, having power enough to bring the lost soule to seeke for sanctuary in his circled armes: how full of comlinesse was that face that so often was hit with the blowes of scorne, and flurts of disdaine? that head, the fountaine of knowledge, that was crowned with the thornes, had power enough, by wisedome, to controle the world. How full of Majesty were those faire eyes that so often were drowned in silent teares?

Had the ungratefull world no better entertain­ment for so Royall a babe, but must mantle him in a Manger, and from his Cradle hurry him to his Crosse. Ah man! how obdurate was thy heart to him that was as kinde as heaven: well mayest thou cast dust on thy head since thou art so foule in thy heart: goe, weep thy selfe away: goe, goe, be sad all mortalls; let your downe east eyes pre­sent a silent sorrow; let your dayes be as darke as the silent grave, as when the eclipsed Sunne leaves the world in a mist, or the angry aire covers hea­vens glory in a sable Cloud: let every mortall mourn, and be like a monument cut out of marble.

But is it so, that Jesus Christ is the Vine, and that so many of the branches shall be cut off? then our subject sounds an alarum in the eares of all mortals, and bids the Inhabitants of the world looke about them: Is it so that none but the in­grafted [Page 58]Members shall stand, and the others fall? then this tels us that your condition is not so good as you imagine: If those that seeme to be Mem­bers shall be cut away, what shall be done to them that are enemies to the body? if some of the branches shall fall that grow on the Vine, what shall become of them that come not neare the Vineyard?

How hath the Prince of darknesse besotted all Mortalls? how is poore man befooled? perhaps thou measurest by another man, and thou art high­er by the head and shoulders; and thou thinkest God must love thee, because of thy person: King Saul was higher then all his brethren, yet little David was advanced to the Crowne, and he was flung from the Throne. Perhaps thou art a Scho­lar, and for thy wisedome and learning thou thin­kest God must love thee, and thou must needs be a branch in the Vine: I tell thee thy wit is but like a sharpe Rasor; when God shall come, and set thy wit to gnaw on thy accused Conscience: Oh the anguish of thy soule! in that day there is no such torment as a sharpe with will inflict upon it selfe.

Perhaps thou art a rich man, and thou thinkest God must needs love thee because of thy Riches, and ingraft thee in the Vine: no, I tell thee, Jesus Christ can passe by all the Kings Courts, and the [Page 59]Princes Palaces, and enter in the house of poore Martha, and be a companion for Lazarus that had nothing to entertaine him: If Christ had been taken with gold, he could have planted his Vine­yard among the Indies where his Temple might have been all dawbed with gold.

Perhaps thou art beautifull, and thou thinkest Heaven must love thee because thou art lovely: Beleeve me, that will wither away when sicknesse with her afly hand shall sweep off thy colour, thou shalt resemble earth: though thou art like Jezebell, death will pluck thy feathers, and thou shalt be banisht to the Grave, and call the worme thy sister and thy Brother.

Therefore if thou hast any excellency in thee, or parts, it is but cumbred stuffe, and the harder it is to pull thee into heaven; God must be faine to take more paines with thee, then with a poore creature that hath nothing to boast of: every ex­ternall part thou hast is but a block to lye in thy way, and thou must leave them behinde thee, or thou wilt never crowd through the straight Gate.

Thy table thats a snare to thee, while some­times thou eatest more then does thee good.

Thy gold, thats a snare to thee, while thou set­test thy heart upon it, and forgettest Heaven.

Thy portly body, thou mayst boast of it well [Page 60]enough, it may be it is all thou art like to enjoy; make much of it, and much good may it doe thee. Thy wisedome is but a puffe of pride: and the more learning thou hast, the more mad thou art.

Therefore since there is no ability in man to gaine immortallity; let this summon in the great and mighty men of the world; let them sit under the shaddow of the Vine, and eate his pleasant fruit. Objection. But it may be said, this seemes to be false you talke all this while; we see no glo­ry in the Vineyard, nor taste no sweetnesse in the Vine: wherein is his fruit so pleasant?

Answer, I will tell you in foure particulars.

First, his fruit of humiliation, that is pleasant fruit, this will adorne thee with such amorons graces, that thou shalt passe by the flurts of the World with a gallant scorne, yet knowing sinne to bee the Authour of thy shame, thou shalt of­ten inbalme thy selfe in teares.

Secondly, his fruits of meekenesse, that is plea­sant fruit; thy crooked nature now (it may bee) admits of no second but thy sword, thou art now but a word and a blow, thy heart is like a tinder box, the least sparke of envy will burne to a migh­ty flame; but then thou shalt stand as a marble pillar immovable; the envy of thine enemies shall not trouble thee; the frownes of thy friends shall [Page 61]not startle thee; the principalities of hel shal not have power to shake thee; the worlds disdaine shall be thy dignity, their infamy thy glory, their hate shal inflame thy fire of love, and their re­proaches shal fil thy mouth with praises: nor wilt thou regard the most grievous paine, while thou art running to so glorious a prize.

Thirdly, this fruit of love is very pleasant fruit: all the mountaines of misery thou sufferest when they are drowned in the Sea of love, will appeare but like Attomes in the Aire, when love shal cover thee under the shaddow of his wings, when thou shalt see how deare thou art in heavens eyes, that he did not onely give Ethiopia but his owne life to the Father for thee: what wouldest thou not endure for the love of such a Saviour? does he suffer hell to pursue thee? it is because thou shouldest presse forward to heaven, which is set before thee: is thy journey tedious in the beginning? it is because thou shouldst long to be at thy journeys end: and wilt thou not run when thy Race is onely to life, and thy companion love? and wilt thou not despise any worldly losse, when thou shalt be treble sharer in eternal glory, and in­herit immortall gaine?

Fourthly, his fruits of patience, and perseve­rance are pleasant fruit: now a few discourage­ments will daunt thee, then thou shalt be willing [Page 62]to undergoe a thousand dangers every day: now if thou receivest not what thou didst aske, thou art ready to give over asking: if God openeth not at the first, thou art ready to give over knock­ing: and if thou findest not what thou didst seek, thou art soone perswaded to give over seeking: But then thou shalt wait with as much patience as the poore watchman that stands upon the Tower, expecting the dawning of the day, till the pan­ting horses of time have finisht their journey, and ended their tired task: then shalt thou receive the fruit of thy faith, and Heaven shall crowne thy labours of love with undisturbed rest.

Awake then, Oh North winde, and come thou South: let the Inhabitants draw neare, let them come into our garden, let them taste the fruit of Faith, let them bee drunke with the Wine of love.

Come take his fruit of Justification, that justice may not condemn thee: take his fruit of Redem­ption, that hell may not devoure thee: take his fruit of sanctification, that sinne may not deceive thee: take his fruit of glorification, that happi­nesse may crowne thee.

Art thou hungry? Hee is food to suffice thee: Art thou thirsty? Hee is water to refresh thee: Art thou naked? Hee is a garment to cloath thee: Art thou cold? Hee is a fire to warme thee: Art thou scorched with heate? Hee is a Rock to shel­ter thee, Art thou in sicknesse? Hee is a Doctour to heale thee: Art thou alone? Hee is a friend will not forsake thee: Art thou in danger? His arme shall protect thee: Does the plague walke in darkenesse? Hee is a chamber to hide thee, does the arrowes of the Almighty flye at noone day? his wings shall overshadow thee; Art thou poore? Hee hath layd up treasure to inrich thee: Art thou disgraced? Hee will Crowne thee with a Crowne of Glory.

And now Reader mayest thou imbalme the Booke in teares, if thou considerest the misery of man, and how the World does lye befooled: What horrid Earthquake is this that shakes the foundation of our troubled World? What black cloud hath overspread our Universe, and begins to murmure in our whispering aire, eclipsing the light of Divinity, extinguishing the Lamps of purity, and endeavouring to darken the sonne of glory, making poore ignorant mortalls g [...]ope all their lives time in the darke, and yet shall never finde the doore? How happy are those priety babes (who with a little flood of teares, be waile­ing [Page 64]the misery of mortallity) dye in their slum­bring Nurses armees? Sure it were happy for the wicked, if they measured but a short lived houre betweene the Wombe and the Grave, for not be­ing found in the Vneyard, they shall have no share in the Vine, and bearing no fruit as the Corne, they shall bee burned with the Chaffe: But thou for a few evills on earth shalt bee rewarded in Heaven; thou shalt set thy foot upon the Adder, and tread upon the yong Lyon; for thou shalt bee hid in the secret places of the Almighty, and under the shaddow of the wings of the most high; thou shalt bee free from the dominion of sinne, and thou shalt conquer Sathan, thou shalt over­come Principalities and Powers, and thou shalt gaine by life and death: And hee whose undis­covered actions are too deepe for our dim eyes, shall beare thee on his wings through deaths darke Groves, and lift thee to life eternall, while the wicked that now does flourish like a greene Bay, shall perish ere long like a blowne off blossome, and hee that is a shining flash, shall wither like a dying Flower.

The sixth SOLILOQUIE.

COme huffling gallāts of the times, draw near, lay downe your sallow Garlands by you, and the thing you call honour, and let your eyes be­hold our subject, let it pull downe your imperi­ous necks, and strike your top sailes: let it give to vertue constancy, to prophanesse penitency, to the proud man humility: But gallants you are not sad, me thinks, you looke too well, as if you should live eternally on earth, or had an everlast­ing inheritance in Heaven, as if you could cōmand the horses of Time, or stop the golden Chariot of the day: what comlinesse is in your spots of complexion? what righteousnesse in your choices [...] Recreation? what goodnesse is in the great mans gallantry? what beauty in the proud mans brave­ry? what glory in the Covetous mans gold? o [...] what great ratity in the spend thrifts prodigality how wavering are your words? how deluding are your deeds? how disloyall is your love? how inconstant is your care? how weake are your de­sires to Heaven? how strong doe you doat upon the earth? how poore is your evidence of im­mortality? [Page]yet how richly doe you flourish in the garbe of worlds glory? And yet poore man, what art thou? but a walking shaddow, a piece of movi [...]g earth, a gliding flash, a blasted flower, an inch of mortality that art travelling to eternity, whose wisedome is but folly, whose strength is inability, whose grace is impurity, whose comli­nesse deformity, whose substance is sinne, whose glory is thy shame: take man in his best time, and he is but a piece of vanity: looke on him in a full Sea of plenty, or an ebbing tide of poverty, in the bloome of age, or the blossome of youth, and this piece of earth is but a debter to Heaven, and this handfull of dust hath but a handfull of daies, in which he is as restlesse as the Sunne, as various as the Moone, as wavering as the windes, as unconstant as the Cloudes, as dissembling as the Seas, as foule as earth, as flashy as the fire, and as fickle as the Aire; and having acted his part upon this transitory stage, death strikes the Epilogue, and the play is done; and notwithstanding all his dignity, he must lye downe and dye: For all flesh is grasse, and the glory of man but as the flowre of grasse.

Ladies (for in your Ivory hands my Booke may sometimes be:) here's a glasse for you, not to represent your beauty, but to discover your frail­ty, [Page]not to shew you how to deck your heads, but to tell you how to adorne your hearts, not to learne ye how in curiosity to set your imbroydred haires, but in true penitency how to drown your wanton eyes: What mean's your cloathes per­fumed with so many savours, your Apothecaries shop of sundry salves, your new sangled brave­ries you boxes of beauties, your wavering affe­ctions, your wanton Recreations? look in your glasse, see if pride be not inthroned on your ma­jestick browes, and if your bravery be set off with any thing else but vanity: tis only vanity and no­thing else but vanity which dances upon your plumes, as your feathers fanne the aire: What will you doe when death shall summon you to e­ternity, when sicknesse with her ashy hand shall sweep the colour from your cheeks? when your stript off bravery shall discover your deformity, and you shall resemble earth; when you shall lay downe your ornaments of beauty by you, when the dismall Ew, and the flattring Ivy shall grow about your graves, and Time shall pusse away the remembrance of your glory.

Ladies, did I but know the scope of your desire, as your singing Master knowes your skill in an aire; I could teach your eyes to weepe faster then hee your fingers to play, and fit you as well with [Page]a sight, as the Musition with a Song; but being a stranger to your Sex, I forbeare, onely thus much, bee as vertuous as faire, that you may bee the glo­ry of our dayes, and that your names may flourish in after Ages. Instead of love and loves delusi­on, go spend some houres in divine contemplati­on; instead of the Poetry of Ovid, read the Piety of David; instead of the falsenesse of beautious Absolon, follow the faithfullnesse of blessed A­braham; instead of the love of Philasten, read the life of Francis Spira; behold the ruines of E­donezedick King of Jerusalem, of Korah, Dathan, and Ahiram, of Nadab and Abihu, the sonnes of Aaron, of Hoham King of Hebron, of acursed Miriam, and Apostate Julian; these had all the glory of nature, and were famous in the World, yet were they lost in a confused Chaos; shunne therefore their pride, that yee bee not ruined with their plague; let your love bee without disloyal­ty, your faithfullnesse without formallity, your fashions without foolery, and your beauty with­out bravery; so shall your names flourish by the Poets pen, and live till time shall bee no more; so shall yee bee adored for your goodnesse, more then honoured for your greatnesse, and famed for your grace, more then feared for your glory; so shall your inward excellency exceede your out­ward [Page]bravery, and your perfumed rarities smell sweeter then your Conserves of Roses.

Come hither deluded Lover, that findest no fe­licity but in thy Mistresse company; and hast placed thy joyes in thy faire Mistrefle eyes; that like foolish Paris, bowest to the Shrine of Ve­nus, whose happynesse and life lyes in thy Ladyes love; remember the Peacock hath faire Feathers, but foule feete, the Bee hath Honey by her toyle, but a sting in her tayle; the finest Rose may have pricks at the stalke, and the fairest Apple may bee rotten at the Core: Nay, though thy Lady may bee civill, worthy, and vertuous; yet time may make her lascivious, wanton, and various; the fairest Blossome may bee the soonest blasted, and the sweetest Flower the quickliest withered; the blustring Windes may swell the mightiest waves, and a glorious Morne may turne a gloomy day.

The Philosophers say the life of man is nothing but opinion: Alas, thou doest but dreame fond Lover: heere are no hallowed Groves, no faire Elizium walkes, no Palaces of pleasure, no high borne Imps of honour, no heads archt in Royalty, no beauties deckt in glory: But wanton Cupids morall blaze, which is as a shining flash, or a seeming fire, hot in a minute, and cold in a mo­ment, which will blast thee if thou behold it, and [Page]burne thee if thou come too neare [...] will come when thou shall dread that which thou dost now adore, and loath the thing thou now dost love; e're long the stoutest heart shall bee faint, and the fairest face begin to waxe pale; then plea­santnesse shall turne peevishnesse, and kindnesse to coldnesse; plenty shall bee poverty, and beauty deformity: then shalt thou behold the rottennesse of youth when thou commest to the ripenesse of age, and see the uncertainty of life, when thou re­ceivest the summons of death: For all flesh is grasse, and the glory of man but as the flower of grasse.

And thou fond muckworme, that servest the gods of gold, what needest thou labour for an In­heritance in earth? Thou hast too surely earth al­ready, go labour for an Inheritance foole that will not faile thee, lest either thy Riches flye from thee, or thy Money perish with thee, lest the rot take thy heart as the rust may eate thy gold, lest thy possession bee made a desolation, and instead of having a Treasure in Heaven, thou purchase with thy Coyne an eternall Tombe in Hell.

And likewise thou yong man, thy morning is but now risen (and it promises to bee a Sunne­shine day) and thou doest not dreame, that all flesh is grasse, and the glory of man but as the flower of [Page]grasse; yet flatter not thy selfe too fairely, though thou were not strangled in thy Nativity, yet thou mayest bee cut off in thy maturity, though thou wert not blowne away in the fondnesse of thy youth, yet thou mayest bee cut off in the fullnesse of thine age; therefore let this rectifie thy reason, and purge thy pollution; let it raise thy love, and humble thy heart; thou knowest thou shalt dye, but thou canst not tell when, thou art sure thou shalt fall, but thou doest not know where: Well, walke so on earth that death may conduct thee in­to Heaven; expect Death every where, but feare it no where, for when thy present tense shall bee made a preterimperfect tense, as thou hast lived holily, so shalt thou dye happily, and raigne in immortall blessednesse in the Pallace of high glo­ry.

Tell mee, thou old man (I thinke thou art ac­quainted well with our subject, that all flesh is grasse, and the glory of man but as the flower of grasse) what pleasure hadst thou in those things whereof thou art now ashamed? With much paine thou hast past thy pilgrimage, and worne thy wearied dayes: thy life has beene but a longer prologue to an eternall Tragedy.

Go look on the Monuments of the old World, old man, and see how those mighty sonnes of An­nak [Page]sleepe in earth? How death has given them their qu [...]cus est: In the house of darkenesse there is no striving for dignities, nor purchasing of places: An Army of Souldiers that are there cannot march in Battle Ray not in their Warlick Triumphs thunder about their Tombes: The greatest Merchant when hee takes that house hee loses all; the richest Usurer that was worth thousands heere, if you go to him there hee has not a penny in his pocket; but is as poore as hee was sometimes proud: The wisest Lawyer, and the eloquentest Oratour, when they come there give over their practise, and will plead no more; the Lord is there but a Companion for his Lacky, and the Judge on the Bench sleepes safe with the Prisoner at the Barre.

How dolefull (mee thinkes) is the alarum of yonder passing Bell, ushering Deaths Language in every eare: If it goes for an unprepared sinner, the sound thereof strikes terrour, the night grows horrible, and every object showes his blacke acti­ons.

Oh the Conscience of the lost sinner, now how is hee hurryed? Now for an houre of life, but it will not bee: Let the sinner see in all his Inven­tory what will hee prize, or what can give one houre of ease? None but Jesus Christ; Alas, [Page]but hee hath no share in him: Unhappy soule, how hast thou spent thy time, and worne out thy pretious dayes?

Was it in love, thou hast spent thy life? Oh hadst thou beene acquainted with Heaven, how mightest thou have beene swallowed in the Sea of love? Tell mee who made the earth so full of variety, the Sunne so glorious, the Moone so beau­tious? Who made the glittering Starres that aspire the Olympick Hill, that the lower Orbes might bee relieved by the spangled spheres, when the Sunne has done the day? Say sinner must not hee that gives beauty to deformity, bee himselfe much more lovely?

Or what? was it profit thou hast laboured for? what greater profit then to be a Prince? or what higher happinesse then holinesse? what greater riches then righteousnesse? or what higher gaine then to weare an immortall Crowne?

Or was it pleasure thou hast sought after? I thinke the pleasure of the world is paine: remem­ber how often thou hast called thy selfe Foole, when thou hast been retired alone; when thy fan­cy hath been wearied in folly, and thy Recreation hath gone beyond thy Reason? deluded soule! what pleasure is like that which dwells in Para­dice? in those blest Groves which cannot bee [Page 77]described by the pen of the Writer, nor exprest by the tongue of an Orator; whose glory (had any but the Art to paint forth in the language of love) twould leave the writer in a Maze, or strike the Reader dead!

But now poore soule, in seeking the things that are but momentany, thou hast lost thy selfe eter­nally: who now can intercede before the im­mortall throne, that the sinner may be saved? none but Jesus Christ, and alas, the soule is not acquainted with him: unhappy soule! thou art now struck silent, goe, drowne thy closed eyes in Teares; lye downe in dust, forgotten earth, for thou shalt rise no more, till the Axeltrees of the world shall begin to flame, and time shall breake his Charriot wheeles, till the Heavens shall passe away with a great noyse, and the world shal swel­ter in flames; then thou among the rest of those dreadfull Comets appointed for horrour, shalt fry for ever in this unquenchable fiery Chaos.

But here's good newes now for thee that art prepared to dye; thou poore soule, that standest upon thy watch tower, expecting the dawning of the day; thou sayest my Love, he dwells in Heaven, that hath Captivated my heart with the glory of his Graces, before whom I offer up my hourly oblations, with silent teares from these my [Page 78]weeping eyes: but sure he regards me not, but leaves me here as a monument of misery, or an ob­ject of the worlds soorne: remember poore soule, All flesh is grasse, and grasse you know hath no long continuance on the ground; believe me thou shalt shortly goe: thou mayst heare thy beloved almost every day, telling thee thy time is but short, and thou shalt ere long be transpo [...]ted to e­ternity: thou mayest heare his sweet voice to charme thine eares, though thou canst not see his face to wound thy heart: thou receivest love-Letters from him, but yet thou canst not see him; for this wall of flesh doth stand between, but ere long it shall be taken downe, that you may enter together in Communion, and talke of the time of trouble, that you may inherit eternall joyes, while your eyes shoot equall flames that you may ravish in the sweetest embraces, and lose your selves in love.

The last SOLILOQUIE, Or, The Authours Farewell.

THE day breakes glorious in our darkened Orbe, tis an illustrious morne, cleare up my glimmering eyes; Ah me! now I see how much I was abused: I wondred (indeed) the way to Heaven should be so hard, and that such extre­mity should lye in the path to immortality: alas, I was befool'd; it is not care can conquer a king­dome, [Page 83]nor industry winne the Crowne of glory; it is not heavinesse that workes holinesse, nor ho­linesse that merits happinesse; nor can the price of labour purchase the Palace of Love. I wonder not now why the skilfull Astronomer has beene misguided by his star, and why the fancies of the Learned Poets have been befool'd: alas, can in­genuity merit eternity? no, tis love, tis love, that unlocks the gate of glory!

Poore man, where is thy power now, that with thy triangle heart invelopest the water, buildest Castles in the aire, backest the windes, devourest the earth, and sometimes darest Heaven; yet when thou commest to trye thy force, a feather will scarce wag at thy fury? alas, though thou crawlest, thou canst not climbe, though by thy feare thou mayest rule on earth, yet without Faith thou shalt not Raigne in Heaven; though by thy policy thou mayest comprehend all things, yet by thy power thou canst command nothing.

Hence let your wing'd battlements grapple, goe vaile your transitory glory, let your dignity lye downe and dye, let him that has the most ra­rity study humility, and be like a monument cut out of marble; let the Astrologer put no confi­dence in Astronomy, nor the Naturalist study cu­riosity; let the learning of the Law be turned to [Page 84]the language of love; and yet let the sweet lipt Orator lay downe his Rhetorick and plead no more: it is not the language of learning, nor a life of labour, nor ingenuity, nor sidelity, nor greatnesse, nor gallantry, nor profit, nor pleasure, nor glory, nor honour; it is not a garment of gold, nor a lofty looke, nor the charming tongue, nor the inchanting eye, nor the fairest face, nor the heroick heart, nor the conquering arme, that can win heaven; no, these doe but chaine thee to the world, and hinders the soule from climbing up the Ladded to his Joy.

I should rather looke for heat in painted fire, then think to finde ability in the creature: I should rather believe the winde comes but to fanne us with a gentle gale, when Eolus unlocks his blu­stering Gates, and rocks the world in a tempestu­ous storme; or that the Cloudes doe but shade us from the flaming Chariot of the Sunne, when by their thundering noises they seeme to crack the Axeltrees of the World, and by their dismall darknesse banish out the day; or that the Sea (when he furrows up his brow, and calls the dan­cing billowes up aloft) does weep to heare the ruined Mariner complaine.

Hence let the tongues of prophane Papists be silent, and sing no more their idle Layes, lest while [Page 85]they trust to the memory of their Saints they lose the merit of their Saviour, and seeking Saint Pe­ters Key to open the gate, they stand with the foo­lish Virgins knocking at the doore. It is not pen­ning many bookes, it is not praying with many beades, it is not a new slaine Sacrifice, nor the bloud of Bulls, nor the fat of Rams, nor a thousand Rivers of Oyle, nor the Hypocrites humility, nor the worldlings beauty deckt in glory, that can save from the day of wrath: (Reader) Ile tell you why, because they are nothing; all the Conso­nants in the Alphabet can spell nothing without a Vowell: ten thousand Cyphers stand for nothing without a Figure: all the Nations of the earth are but as the drop of the Bucket, and the small dust of the Ballance, (not only vanity) but lighter then vanitie; till God unite the sinner to his Son, and makes him something, he is nothing, but then God the Father calls him something, and by cal­ling him so, he makes him so: But before the po­wer of the Prince, the pen of the Poet, the valour of the Souldier, the skill of an Orator is nothing, they themselves are nothing, the best of them are but Cyphers, and though one Cypher is bigger then another, yet they all stand for nothing.

Much study indeed is a wearinesse to the flesh: but to keep thy Commands, that is impossible for flesh and spirit. (Ah Lord!) the glory of nature [Page 86]may worke the one, but the gifts of Grace must doe the other; the power of earth may practice the first, but the Prince of heaven must performe the last.

Keepe thy Commands! There is not a sentence so hard among all the learned Synods of the world: it strikes dead at once all the faculties of the soule; the poore creature here does stand a­mazed! Alas, it is as hard for the poore soule to doe this as for the earth to ascend to the stars, and wander with the Spheres; and therefore like St. John, the soule weepes sore when he sees there is none found worthy in the world. But soule re­tire thy selfe from teares, advance thy slumbring eyes; though thou art not worthy that dwellest on earth, yet there is a Lambe found worthy that does inherit Heaven: nay, he is not onely worthy, but willing; hee every day approacheth the Al­tars, and mingles his blood with thy sacrifices, and sweetens thy prayers with his perfumes, when they ascend before the immortall Throne. Sin­ner, thou hast a Saviour who is able to doe the worke, if thou canst but finde a will.

Oh Love! how transcendent are thy Lawes! I faine would pry into thy glorious precepts, yet dare not, lest I am too soone lost, and drowne my selfe in pleasure, and never heard of ravishings; least a glance of immortality do strike me blinde, [Page]and I surfet with excesse of joy, and die.

With showers of tears O drowne my wanton eyes: thou sayst I am nothing, (Ah Lord) and now I see I am nothing: let my down-cast eyes pre­sent a silent sorrow; and let my heart resemble the dusky evening aire, when the Sunne has done the day: or as poore Luna, in her eclipsed hower, descends her silver throne, and having lost bright Sol, resignes her glory to the spangled traine of wandring stars, mourning for the absence of his Chariot wheeles. And since I am nothing, hum­ble this heart that would too soone be high, and like the wavering Plumes, swell with every breath of praise.

It is not reading the Bible will save me from Hell; nor writing a Booke will send me to Hea­ven: as some gifts of Grace cannot secure me, so all the gifts of nature will not have power to save me; I may die for all the first, and be damned notwithstanding the last. Then if love be better then labour, and utility goes before ingenuity; if the lowest faith be better then the highest fan­cy, and a dram of grace be heavier then a tun of gold; what need I goe round about to Heaven, when there is a nearer way? no, I have done, this is the last of my labours; now I will trouble the world no more with a Poem from my Pen; the way to Heaven is by low contrition, not high [Page]speculation; by private prayers, not by publique praises, and by the truth of fear, not by the trump of fame.

Feet, finde me out the way; I have none to di­rect me now but the Counsell of a troubled heart: yet I will try: Shine faire some glittering star, you that enlighten your darkned journey with your borrowed glory, and in your blessed Orbes, con­tinually behold the day: say gentle guides, how lies my journey to the immortall hill? lead me and I will follow you. And O God hide all my faults in thy love, and shew me how to creepe through the straite gate, upon my tender joints and bended knees in this my youthfull age: shew me my inability, that I may admire thy Majesty, and though by others I should be thought some­thing, yet to my selfe let me appeare nothing, that thou mayest be all in all.