Sermons (LXXX Sermons etc.); Holy Sonnets

I cannot yet serve you with those books of which your letter spale. In recompense I will tell you a story, which ff I had had leisure to bave told it you when it was fresh, which was upon Thursday last, might have had some grace for the rareness, and would bave tried your love to me, how far you would adventurc to believe an improbable thing for my sale who relates if. That day in the morning, there was some end ruade, by the earl Salisbury and others, who were arbitrators in some differences between Hertford and Mountegle, Hertford was ill satisfied in it, and declared himself so far as fo say, he expected better usage in respect hot only of his cause but of his expense and service in his ambassage: fo whicll Salisbury replied, that considered how things stood between his Majesty and IIertford-house at the king's etrance, the king had done him especial favour in that employment of honour and confidence, by declari»g in so public and great an act and testimony» that he had no ill affections tovard him. Hertford answered, that he was then and ever an honcst man to the king: and Salisbury said, he denied hot that, but yet solcmnly repeated his first words again. So that Hertford seemed not to make answer, but pursuing his own word, said, that whosocvcr denied him to bave been an honest man to the king, lied. Salisbury asl.ed him if he directed that upon him, Hcrtford said, upon any who denied this. The earnestness of both was such, as Salisbury accepted it to himself, and ruade l»rotestation bcfore the lords present, that he would do nothing else, till he had honourably put off that lie. Vithin au hour ai'ter, Salisbury sent him, direct cllallenge, by his servant hlr. Knightley; Hertford required only al hom leisure of coasideration (it is said, it was only to inform himself of the especial danger, in dealing so with a counsellol') but he returned his acceptation: and all circumstances were so clearly handled between them, that St. Jalnes's was agreed for the place, and they were both corne froln their several Iodgings, and upon the way to have met, when they were interrupted by such as from the king were ent to have care of if. So these two bave escaped this great danger; but (by my troth) I fear earncstly that Mrs. Bolstrode will not escape that sickness in which she labours at this thne. I sent this morling fo ask of her passage of this night; and the return is, that she is as I left ber yesterniyht, aud tllen by the strength of ber understanding, and voice, (proportionally to her fashion, which was ever remiss) by the even-

434 LL¢TTKT  SVRAL that I knew her so little: for I would bave no more additons to sorrow: if I should comfort)'ou, it were an altos acceptable in no other title, than when poor give to poor; for I am more needy of it than you. And I know you well provided of Christian, and learned, and brave defences against ail human accidents. I will make by best haste after your messenger: and if myself and the plac e had hot been iii provided of horses, I had been the messenger, for you have taught me by granting more to deny no request. Your honest unprofltable friend, Pyesford, 8 o'clock, just as your's came. J. DoNNe.

I speak to you before God, I ara so much affected with yesterdays accident, that I think I prophane it in that name. As men xvhich judge nativities, eonsider hot single stars, but the aspects, the concurrence and posture of them; so in this, though no partieular past arrest me, or divert me, yet ail seems remarkable and enormous. God, whieh hath done this immediately, without so much as a sickness,,vill also immediately without supplement of friends, infuse his Spirit of eomfort, where it la needed and deserved. I write this to you from the Spring Garden, whither I withdrew myself to think of this; and the intenseness of ny thinki»g ends in this, that by my help God's work should be imperfeeted, ff by any means I resisted the amazement. Your very true friend,

I cannot yet serve you with those books of which your letter spake. In reeompense I will tell you a story, which if I had had leisure to have told it you when it was îresh, whieh was upon Thursday last, might have had some groee for the rareness, and would bave tried your love to me, how far you wotdd adventurc to believe an improbable thing for my sake who relates if. That day in the morning, there was some end ruade, by the earl Salisbury and others, who were arbitrators in some differences between Hertford and Mountegle, Hertford was ill satisfied in it, and declared himself so far as to say, he expected better usage in respect hot only of his cause but of his expense and service in his ambassage: to which Salisbury replied, that consi,lered how things stood between his Majesty and Hertford-house at the king's entrance, the king had donc him especial favour in that employnent of honour and confidence, by declaring in so public and great an act and testimony, that he had no ill aflèctions toward him. Hertford answered, that he was then and ever an honest man to the king: and Salisbury said, he denied hot that, but yet solemnly repeated his first words again. So that Hertford seemed hot to make answer, but pursuing his own word, said, that whosoever denied him to bave been an honest man fo the king, lied. Salisbury asked him if he directed that upon him, Hcrtford said, upon any who denied this. The earnestness of both was such, as Salisbury accepted it to himself, and ruade protestation belote the lords present, that he would do nothing else, ti]l he had honourably put off that lie. Within an hour after, Salisbury sent him a direct challenge, by his servant hlr. Knightley; Hertford required only an hours leisure of consideration (if is said, it,vas only to inform himself of the especial danger, in dealing so with a counsellor) but he returned his acceptatiou: and ail circumstances were so clearly handled between them, that St. James's was agreed for the place, and they were both corne from their several lodgings, and upon the way to bave met, when they were interrupted by such as from the king were sent to bave care of it. So these tv;o bave escaped this great danger; but (by my troth) I fear earnestly that Irs. Bolstrode will hot escape that sickness in which she labours at this rime. I sent this morning to ask of ber passage of this night; and the return is, that she is as I left her yesternight, aud then by the strenh of ber understanding, and volte, (lroportionally to ber fashion, which was ever remiss) by the even- 21,2

43 LETTK'II! TO that I knew ber so little: for I would bave no more additons to sorrow: if I should comfort you, it were an altos acceptable in no other title, than when poor give to poor; for I am more needy of it thau you. And I know you well provided of Christian, and learnedl aud brave defences against all human accidents. I will make by best baste after your messenger: and if myself and the place had hot been iii provided of horses, I had been the messenger, for you bave taught me by granting more to deny no request. Your honest unprofitable friend, Pye.sford, 3 oclock, just as your's came. J. Do.rE.

To,'ir tIenry Goodyere*.

I speak to you before God, I ana so mueh affected with yesterdays accident, that I think I prophane it in that name. As meu which judge nativities, eonsider uot single stars, but the aspects, the concurrence and posture of them; so in this, though no partieular past arrest me, or divert me, yet ail seems remarkable and enormous. God, whieh bath doue this immediately, without so much as a sickness, will also immediately without supplement of friends, infuse his Spirit of eomfort, where it is needed and deserved. I write this to you from the Spring Garden, whither I withdrew myself to think of this; and the intenseness of my thinking ends in this, that by my help God's work should ho imperfeeted, if by any meaus I resisted the amazement. Your very true friend, J. DorrE.

To,ç.h. H. G. Sr, I cannot yet serve you with those books of which your letter spake. In recompense I 'ill tell you a story, which if I had had leisure to have told it you when it -as fresh, which was upon Thursday last, might bave had some groee for the rareness, and would bave tried your love to me, how far you would adventure to believe an improbable thing for my sake who relates it. That day in the morning, there was some end ruade, by the earl Salisbury and others, who were arbitrators in somo differences between Hertford and Mountegle, Hertford was iii satisfied in if, and declared himself so far as to say, he expected better usage in respect hot on]y of his cause but of his expense and service in his ambassage: to which Salisbury replied, that considered how things stood between his Majesty and Hertford-house at the king's entrance, the king had done him especial favour in that employment of honour and confidence, by declaring in so public and great an act and testimony, that he had no ill affections toward him. Hertford answered, that he was then and ever an honest man to the king: and Salisbury said, he denied hot that, but yet solemnly repeated his first words again. So that Hertford seemed hOt to make answer, but pursuing his own word, said, that whosoever denied him to bave been an honest man to tho king, lied. Salisbury asked him if he directed that uœeon him, Hertford said, upon any who denied this. Tho earnestness of both was such, as Salisbury accepted it to himself, and ruade protestation belote the lords present, that he would do nothing else, till he had honourably put off that lie. Within an hour after, Salisbury sent him, direct challenge, by his servant Mr. Knightley; Hertford required only an hours leisure of consideration (it is said, if was only to inform himself of the especial danger, in dealing so with a counsellor) but he returned his acceptation: and all circumstances were so clearly handled between them, that St. James's was agreed for the place, and they were both corne from their several lodgings, and upon tho way to bave met, when they were interrupted by such as from the king were sent to have care of it. So these two bave escaped this great danger; but (by my troth) I fear earnestly that 1Urs. Bolstrode will not escape that sickness in which she labours at this t]me. I sent this morning fo ask of ber passage of this night; and the return is, that she is as I left ber yesternight, and then by the strength of ber uuderstandiug, and voice, (proportionally to her fashion, which was ever remiss) by the even- 21,2 ness and lire of her puise, and by her temper, I eould allow her long lire, and impute ail ber sickness go her mind. But the history of her sickness, makes me justly leur, that she,viii scarce last so long, as that you when you receive this letter, may do ber any good office, in praying for ber; for she bath hot for many days received so much as a preserved barbery, but it returns, and all accompanied with a lever, the mother, and an extreme iii spleen. VChilst I write this Tuesday moruing, from Bartletbouse one brings me a packet to your toaster: he is gole, and that lady and all the eompany is from town. I thought I might be pardoned, if I thought myself your man for that service go open it, which I did, and for the letters I will deliver them. ,Vhat else you bid Foster do in his letter, bid him doit there, for (so God help me) I know not what it is. I must end now, else the carrier will be gone. God be with you. Yours entirely.

You know me without a naine, and I know not how this letter goes.

I had destined ail this Tuesday, for tige court, because it is both a sermon-day, and the first day of the kings being here. Belote I was to go forth, I had ruade up this enclosed packet for)'ou, and then came this messeggger with your packet, of which if you can remember tige number, you cannot expect any accotmt thereof from me, who have hot half an hour left me belote I go forth, and your messenger speaks of a necessity of returning homeward before my returning home. If upon the delivery of them, or any other occasion, there intervene new suhject of writing, I shall relieve myself upon Tuesday, if Tamworth carrier be in town. To the particulars of the letter to myself, I vill give this paper, and line. Of my Lady Dedford, I must say so much as must importune you to burn the letter; for I wotdd say nothing of her upon record, that should not testif)- my thankfulness îor ail her graces. But upon thi's motion, vhich I ruade to ber by letter, and by Sir Thomas Roe's assistance, iî any scruplo shoald arise in her, she was somewhat more startling, than [ looked îor from her: sho had moro suspicion of my calling,, botter memory of my past liîe, than I had thought her nd»ility cou]d bave adnfitted: of ail which, though [ humbly thank God, I ena make good use, as one that needs as many remembrances in that kind, as not only friends but enemies tan present, yet I ana afraid, they procoed in hcr rather from somo ill impression taken from D. Burges, than that they grow in herself. But whosoever be the colduit, the water is the Holy Ghost, and "in that acceptation I take it. For ber other way of expressing her favour to me, I must say, it is uot with that cheerfiflness, as hcretofore she bath delivered hersclf towards me. I ara almost sorry, that an elegy shou]d havo been able to more her to so much compassion heretofore, as to offer to pay my debts; and my greatcr wants now, and for so good a purpose, as to corne disengaged into that profession, being plainly laid open to ber, should work no farther but that she sent me 01. which in good faith sho excused with that, which is in both parts truc, that her presont debts were burdensome, and that I could hot doubt of hcr inclination, upon ail future emergent occasions, to assist me. I confess to Sou, her former fashion towards me, had given a better confidence; and this dinfinution in her makes me see, that I must use more friends, than I thought I should have needed. I would you could burn this letter, before you read it, at lcast do when you have rend it. For, ] ara afraid out of a contcmplation of mine ossa mworthiness, aml fortune, that the example of this lady, should work upon the lady where you are: for thongh goodness be originally in her, and sho do good, for the deed's sake, yet, perchance, she may thiak it a little g-isdom, to make such measure of nie, as they who know no better, do. Of any new treaty of a match with Spain, I hear nothing. The wars in the low countries, to judge by their present state, are very likely to go forward. No word of a parliament, and I myself bave hcard words of the king, as directly against any such purpose, as any can sound, I noyer heard word, till in your letter, of any stlrs in Scotland, for that of the French king, which you ask, it ness and lire of her pulse, and by her temper, I eould allow her long lire, and impute al] her sickness to her mind. But the history of her sickness, makes me justly fear, that she will scarce last so long, as that)'ou when you receive this letter, may do ber any good office, in praying for her; for she hath not for many days received so much as  preserved barbery, but it returns, and al] aecompanied with a fever, the mother, and an extreme ill spleen. Vhilst I write this Tuesday morning, from Bartlethouse one brings me a packet to your toaster: he is gone, and that lady and al] the company is from town. I thought I might be pardoned, if I thought myself yonr man for that service to open it, which I did, and for the letters I will deliver them. Vhat else you bid Foster do in his letter, bid him do it there, for (so God help me) I know not what it is. I must end now, else the carrier will be gone. God be with you. Yours entirely.

You know nie without a name, and I know not how this letter goes.

I had destined ail this Tuesday, for the court, because it is both a sermon-day, and the first da)" of the kings being here. Before ],vas to go forth, I had ruade up this enclosed packet t'or you, and then came this messenger with your packet, of which if you can relnember the number, you cannot expect any account thereof from nie, who bave hOt half an hour left nie before I go forth, and your messenger speaks of a necessity of returning homeward belote my returning home. If upon the delivery of them, or any other occasion, there intervene new subject of writing, I shall relieve myself upon Tuesday, if Tamworth carrier be in town. To the particulars of the letter to myself, I will give this paper, and line. Ol' my Lady Bedford, I must say so much as nm»t importune you to burn the letter; for I would say nothiug of her upon record, that should hot testify my thankfulness for ail her graces. But upon this motion, which I ruade to her by letter, and by Sir Thomas Roe's assistance, if any scruplc should arise in her, shc was somewhat more startling, than I looked for front her: che had more suspicion of my ealling,  better memory of my past lire, than I had thought her nobility eould have admitted: of all s'hich. thongh I humbly thank God, I can make good use, as one that needs as many remembrances in that kind, as hOt only friends but enemies can present, yet I ara afraid, they proeeed in her rather from some ill impression taken from D. Burges, than that they gros,- in herself. But whosoever be the conduit, file water is the Holy Ghost, and in that acceptation I take it. For her other way of expressing her favour to me, I must say, itis not with that cheerfulness, as heretotbre she hath delivered herself towards me. I am almost sorry, that au elegy hould hve beev able to movc her to o nmch compassion heretofore, as to offer fo pay my debts; and my greater wants now, and for so good , pnrpose, as to çom disengaged into that profession, being plainly laid open to her, should work no farther but that she sent me 301. wlfich in good faith she exeused with that, which is in both parts truc, that her present debts were burdensome, and that I could hot doubt of her inclination, upon ail future emergent occasions, to assist me. I eonfess to.vou, her former fashion towards me, had given a better confideuce; and this diminution in ber makes me see, that I must use more friends, than I thought I should have needed. I wou|d yon cou|d burn this letter, before you read it, at least do when you have read it. For, ] ara afraid out of a contemplation of mine own unworthiness, and fortune, that the example of this lady, should work upon the lady where you are: for though goodness be originally in ber, and she do good, for the deed's sake, yet, perehance, she may think it a little wisdom, to make such measure of me, as they who know no better, do. Of any new treaty of a match with Spain, I hear nothing. The wars in the low eountries, to judge by their present state, are very likely to go forward. No word of a parliament, and I myself have heard words of the king, as direetly against any sueh purpose, as any can sound, I never heard word, till in your letter, of any stirs in Scotland, for that of the French king, which you ask, it hath this good ground, that in tho assembly there a proposition bath been ruade, and well entertained, that.the king should bo declared, to have full juridiction in France; and no otlaer person to have any. It hath much the model and frame of out oath of allegiance, but with some modification. Itis truc, it goes farther, than that state bath drovo in any public declarations, but hot further than their schools have drove often and constantly: the easiness that it hath fotmd in passing thus fr without opposition, purs (perchance unnecessarily) in me a doubt, that they are sure fo choke it, at tho royal assent, and therefore oppose it hOt, by tho way, to sweeten the conveyance of their purposes. Sir, if I stay longer, I shall lose the text, at court, therefore I kiss your hand, and test Your very truc servaat, J. Doz. We hear (but without second as yet) that Sir lichard Philip's brother in France, hath taken the habit of a Capuchin.

I tan scarce do any more this week than send you word why I wrote not last. I had then seposed a few days for my preparation to the communion of out bhssed Saviou£s body; and in that solitariness and arraignment of myself, digested some naeditations of mine, and apparelled them (as I use) in thc form of a sermon: for sinee I have hot yet utterly delivered myself from this intemperance of scribbling (though I thank God my aecesses are less and less vehement) I make accourir that to spend ail my little stock of knowledge upon mtter of delight, were the saine error, as fo spend a fortune upon masks and banquetting bouses: I ehoose rather to build in this poor fashion, some spitals, and hospitals, where the poor and impotent sinner may final some relief, or at least nnderstanding of his infirmity. And if they be too weak to serve posterity, yet for the prescrit by contemplation of them, &c.

I shou]d not only send you an account by my servant, but bring you an account often myself, (for out letters are ourselves) and in them absent friends meet, how, I do, but that two things make me forbear that writing: first, because it is not for my gravity, to write of feathers, and straws, and in good faith, I am no more, considered in my body, or fortune. And then because whensoever I tell you how I do, by a letter, belote that letter cornes to you, I shall be otherwise, than when it left me. At this time, I humbly thank God, I ara only not worse; for, I should as soon look for roses at this time of the year, as look for increase of strength. And if I be no worse ail spring, than now, I am much better, for, I make account that those church services, which I would be very loth to decline, will spend somewhat; and, if I can gather so much as will bear my charges, recover so much strength at London, as I shall spend at London, I shall hOt be loth to be left in that state wherein I am now, after that is done; but I do but discourse, I do hOt wish; lire, or health, or strength, (I thank God) enter not into my prayers for myself: for others they do; and amongst others, for your sick servant, for such a servant takcn so young, and healed so long, is hall a child to a toaster, and so truly I haro observed that you bave bred him, with the care of a father. Out blessed Saviour look graciously upon him, and glorify himself in him, by his way of restitution to health; and by his way of peace of conscience in Your very true friend and servant in Christ Jesus, J. DO.'N -.

I make account that it is a day of great distribution of honours &t court: Iwould hot therefore Iose my part, and increase therein; since every letter admitted by you ri'oto me, is & new

Dm at my hands this crown of prayer and praise, Veaved in my low devout lnelancholy, Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury, All changing unchanged Ancient of days, But do hot, with a vile crown of frail bays, Reward my nmses with sincerity, But what thy thorny crown gained, that give me A crown of glory, which doth flower always; The ends crown out works, but thou crown'st out ends, For at our ends begins our endless rest, The first last end, now zealously possest, Vitll a strong sober thirst, my soul attends. It is time that heart and voice be lifted high, Salvation to ail that will is nigh.

SALVATION' to ail that will is nigh, That Ail, which ahvays is Ail everywhere, V'hich cannot sin, and yet al] sins must bear, XVhich cannot die, vet cannot chose but die, Lo, faithful Virgin, yields himself tolie In prison, iii thy womb. nd though he there Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he will wear Taken from theace, flesh, which deaths force may try. Ere by the spheres time was created, thou XVast in his mind, who is thy Son, and Brother, V(hom thou conceives, conceived; yea thou art now Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother, Thou hast light in dark, and shut in littlo room. Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.

DË[s at my hands this crom of prayer and praise, Veaved in my low devout melancholy, Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury, All changing unchanged Ancient of days, But do hot, with a vile crown of frail bays, Reward my muses with sincerity, But what thy thorny crown gained, that give me A crown of glory, which doth flower ahvays; The ends crown our works, but thou crown'st out ends, For af our ends begins out endless test, The first last end, now zealously possest, Vith a strong sober thirst, my soul attends. It is rime that heart aud voice be lifted high, Salvation to ail that will is nigh.

SALVATION to all that vill is nigh, That Ail, which always is Ail everywhere, Which cannot sin, and yet ail sins must bear, XVhich cannot die, yet cannot chose but die, Lo, faithful Virgin, yields himself to lic In prisou, in thv womb, and though he there Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he will wear Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may try. Ere by the spheres time was created, thou Vast in his mind, who is thy Son, and Brother, Whom thou conceives, conceived; yea thou art now Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother, Thou hast light in dark, and shut in little room. Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.

Dm" at my hands this croa of prayer and praise, 3Veaved in my low dêvout mêlancholy, Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury, All changing unchanged Aneient of days, But do hot, with a vile crown of frail bays, Reward my muses with sincerityi But what thy thorny crown gained, that give me A crown of glory, which doth flower always; The ends crowa out works, but thou crowa'st out ends, For af out ends begins our endless rest, The first last end, now zealously possest, SVith a strong sober thirst, my soul attends. If is time that heart and voice be lifted higb, Salvation to all that will is nigh.

I I. AI'Nt'.'CIATION. SALVATION to ail that will is nlgh, That Ail, which ahvays is Ail everywhere, 3Vhich cannot shh and yet ail sins nmst bear, 3Vhich cannot die, yet cannot chose but die, Lo, faitllful Virgh, yields himself to lie In prison, in thv womb, nd though he there Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he will wear Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may try. Ere by the spheres time was created, thou 3Vast in his mind, who is thy Son, and Brother, 3Vhom thou conceives, conceived; yea thou art now Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother, Thou hast light in dark, and shut in little roim. Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.

!II. TWT. I»«.f.st cloistered in thy dear womb, New leaves his well beloved ilnprisonment, There he bath made himselï te his intent ,Veak enough, new into our wofld te corne; Bnt Oh, for thee, for him, hath the inn no room S'et lay him in this stall, and frein the Orient, Stars, and wise nen will travel te prevent The effects of Herod's jealous general doom; Seest thon, my seul, with thy ïaith's eyes, how he ,Vhieh fills ail place, yet none holds him, doth lie "¢¢as **et his pity towards thee wondrons high, That would have need te be pitied by thce. Kiss him, and with him into E'pt go, ,Vith his kind mother, who partakes thy woe.

Vmt his kind mother who partakes thy woe, Joseph tnrn back; sec xvhere your ehild doth sit, Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit, Which himself on the doctor's did bestow; The ,Vord but lately could net speak, and lo It suddenly speaks wonders, whence cornes it, That all whieh was, and ail which shonld be writ, A shallow seemiug child, should deeply lmow . His Godhead was net seul te his manhood, h'or had time mellow'd him te this ripeness, But as for one which bath a long task, it is good, ,Vith the snn te begin his business, He in his ages morning thus began By miracles exceeding power of man.

B miracles exceeding power of man, He faith in seine, env), in seine begat, For, what weak spirits admire, ambitious hate; In both affections many te him tan, But Oh! the worst are most, they will and can, Alas, and de, unto the immaculate, ,Vhose creature Fate is, new prescribe a Fate, 5Ieasuring self-life's infinity te span, lay to an inch, 1o, where condemned he Bears his own cross, which yet by and bye When if bears him, he must bear more and die; Now thou art lifted up, draw me to thee, Aud at thy death giving such liberal dole, Moist, with o'ne drop of thy blood, my dry soul.

]IosT, with one drop ofthy blood, my dry soul, Shall (though she now be in extreme degree Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly,) be Freed by that drop, from being starved, hard, or foui, And life, by this death able, shall controul I)eath, whom thy death slew; nor shall to me Fear of first or last death, bring misery, If in thy little book my naine thou enroll, Flesh in that long sleep is hot putrefied, But ruade that there, of which, and for which it was; or can by other means be glorified. May then sins sleep, and death soon from me pass, That waked from both, I agin risen may Salute the last, and everlasting day.

SALUTE the last, and everlasting day, Joy at the uprising of this Sun, and Son, $e whose just tears, or tribulation Have purely washed, or burnt your drossy clay; Bchold the Highest, parting hence away, Lightens the dark clouds, which he treads upon, lgor doth he by ascending, show alone, But first he, and he first enters the way, O strong Rare, which bath batter'd heaven for me, ]lild Lamb, whiih with thy blood, bas mark'd the path; Bright torch, which shin'st that I the way may sec, Oh, with thy own blood quench thy own just wrath, And if thy holy Spirit, my muse did raise, Deign af my hands this crown of prayer and praise.

VIII. As due by many titles I resigu Myself te thee, 0 God; first I was made By thee, and for thee, and when I was deeayed Thy blood bought that, the which before was thine, I ara thy son, ruade with thyself te shine, Thy servant, whose pains thou hast still repaid, Thy sheep, thine Image, and till I betrayed Myself, a temple of thy Spirit divine; XVhy doth the devil then usurp on nie! XVhv doth he steal, nay ravish, that's thy right. Exeept thou fise and for thlne own work fight, Oh I shall soon despair, whon I de sec That thou for'st mankind well, yet wilt net chose me. And Satan hates nie, yet is loth te Ioose nie.

On my black soul! now thou art summon'd By sickness, death's herald, and champion; Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath donc Treason, and durst hot turn fo whence he is fled, Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read, V(isheth himself deliver'd ïrom prisou; But danm'd and haled to execution, V, ïsheth that still he might be imprisoned; Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst hOt lack; But who shall give thee that grace to begin. Oh make thyself with holy mourning black, Aud red with blushing, as thou art with sin; Or wash thee in Christ's blood, which hath this might, That being red, it dyes red souls to white.

Tins is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint My pilgritnages last toile; and my race Idly, yet quickly run, bath this last pace, My spans last inch, my minutes latest point, And gluttonous death, will instantly un joint My body, and my soul, and I shall sleep a space, But my ever-waking part shall sec that face, Vhose fear already shak¢s my every joint:

Then, as my soul, fo heaven ber first seat, takes flight, And earth born body, in the earth shall dwell, So, fMI my sins, that all may have their right, To where they are hred, 3nd would press me to hell. Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil, For thus I leave the worli, thi flish, the devil.

flkT the round earth's imagined corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, your numberless infinities Oî souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go, Ail whom the flood did, and tire shall o'erthrow, Ail whom war, death, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes, Shall behold God, and never taste deaths woe::But let tlem sleep, Lord, and me motrn  space, For, iî abovc ail these, my sins abound, It is late to ask abundance of thy grace, SVhen we are there; here on this lowly ground, Teach me how to repent; for that's as good As iî thou hadst seal'd my pardon, with thy blood.