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* * * * End, and Beginning of each thing that growes, Whose felfe no end, nor yet beginning knowes,

That hath no eyes to lee, nor ears to heare,

Yet fees and heares, and is all eye, all eare, That no whear is contain’d, atd yet is every whear,

Changer of all things, yet immutable,
Before and after all, the first, and latt,
That mooving all, is yet immoveable,
Great without quantirie, in whose forecast,
Things past are prefent, things to come are past;

Switt without motion, to whole open eye,

The hearts of wicked men unbretted lie,
At once abient, and pretent to them, farre and nigh.

It is no flaming lustre, made of light,
No sweet concent, or well-tim'd harmonie,
Ambrofia, for to feat the appetite,
Or flowrie odour mixt with 1picerie.
No loft embrace, or pleasure bodilily,

And yet it is a kind of inward feast,

A harmony, that founds within the breast,
An odour, light, ex. brace, in which the foule doth rest.

A heav'nly

A heav'nly feast, no hunger can consume,
A light unseene, yet shines in every place,
A found, no time can steale, a sweet perfume
No windes can scatter, an entire embrace,
Thai no satietie can ere unlace,

Ingrac't into so high a favour, thear

The Saints, with their beaw-peers, whole worlds outwear, And things unseene doe fee, and things unheard doe hear.

Chrill's Triumph,
Part II. Stan. 38–41.
Ed. 1610. by G. Fletcher,



TH’Egyptians, amidt their folemne feafis,

Used to welcome, and present their guests
With the sad sight of Man's anatomy,
Serv'd in with this loud motto, “ All muft die.
Fooles often goe about, when as they may
Take better vantage of a neerer way.
Looke well into your bosomes : doe not flatter
Your knowne infirmities : behold, what matter
Your fileshe was made of: Man, cast backe thine суе, ,
Upon the weaknesse of thine infancy;
See how thy lips hang on thy mother's brest
Bawling for helpe, more helpleffe than a beast.

Liv'st thou to Childhood ? then, behold, what toies
Doe mocke the sense, how shallow are thy joyes.


Com'lt thou to downie yeares ? See, how deceits
Gull thee with golden fruit, and with falfe baits
Slily beguile the prime of thine affection.
Art thou attain'd at length to full perfection
Of ripen'd yeares ? Ambition hath now fent
Thee on her frothy errand ; Discontent
Payes thee thy wages. Doe thy grizly haires
Begin to cast account of many cares
Upon thy head? The sacred luft of gold
Now fires thy spirit, for fleshly lust too cold,
Makes thee a fave to thine owne base desire,
Which melts and hardens at the self same fire,
Art thou decrepit? then thy very breath
Is grievous to thee, and each griefe's a death.
Looke where thou lift, thy life is but a span,
Thou art but dust, and, to conclude, a Man.
Thy life's a warfare, thou a fouldier art,
Satan's thy foe-man, and a faithfull heart
Thy two-edg’d weapon, patience thy field,
Heaven is thy Chiefetain, and the world thy field,

To be afraid to die, or wish for death,
Are words and passions of despairing breath :
Wło doth the first, the day doth faintly yeeld,
And who the second, basely flies the field.
Man's not a law full stearsman of his dayes,
His bootlefse wish, nor haltens nor delayes :
We are God's hired workmen ; he discharges
Some late at night, and (when he lift) inlarges
Others at noone, and in the morning, some :
None may relieve himselfe, till he bid come:
If we receive for one halfe day as much
As they that toyle till evening, thall we grutch ?

Job Militant,
Med. 8. by F. Quarles.
Ed. 1630.

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The Immortality of the SOUL, implied from

its Motion.

-The Sout, which in this earthly mould
The spirit of God doth secretly infuse,
Because at first nie doth th' Earth behold,
And only this material world the views :

At first her mother Earth the holdeth dear,
And doth embrace the world, and worldly things ;
She flies close by the ground, and hovers here,
And mounts not up with her celestial winys.

Yet under heav'n fhe cannot light on aught
That with her heavenly nature doth agree;
She cannot reft, the cannot fix her thought,
She cannot in this world contented be.

For who did ever yet, in Honour, Wealth,
Or Pleasure of the sence, contentment find?
Who ever ceas'd to wish when he had Health?
Or having Wisdom was not vext in mind?

With this defire she hath a native might
To find out every truth if she had time;
Th’ innumerable effects to fort aright,
And by degree from cause to cause to clinb.


But since our life so fast away doth slide,
As doth a hungry Eagle through the wind :
Or as a lip transported with the tide,
Which in their passage leave no print behind

Of which swift little time so much we spend
While some few things we through the fence do Itrain,
That our short race of life is at an end,
Ere we the principles of skill attain.

Sir John Davies,

P. 68.

The Instability of HUMAN GREATNESS.

"OND Man, that looks on Earth for happinesse,

And here long seeks what here is never found !
For all our good we hold from heav'n by lease,

forfeits and conditions bound;
Nor can we pay the fine and rentage due ;

Though now but writ, and feal'd, and giv'n anew,
Yet daily we it break, then daily muit renew.

Why should'At thou here look for perpetuall good,
A every lofle against heav'ns face repining?
Do but behold where glorious Cities itood,
With gilded tops, and silver turrets Mining;

There now the Hart fearlelie of grey-hound feeds,

And loving Pelican in safety breeds ; There shrieching Satyres fill the people's emptie steads. 7


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