XI.

EPHES. ii. 2.

Ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the air.

Whither will this mad brain world, at last,

Be driv'n? Where will her restless wheels arrive? Why hurries on her ill match'd pair so fast?" O whither means her furious groom to drive? What, will her rambling fits be never past? For ever ranging Never once retrieve?

Will earth's perpetual progress ne'er expire? Her team continuing in their fresh career : And yet they never rest, and yet they never tire.

2

Sol's hot-mouth'd steeds, whose nostrils vomit flame,
And brasen lungs belch forth quotidian fire;
Their twelve hours task perform'd, grow stiff and lame,
And their immortal spirits faint and tire:
At th'azure mountain's foot their labours claim
The privilege of rest, where they retire

To quench their burning fetlocks, and go steep
Their flaming nostrils in the western deep,

And 'fresh their tir'd souls with strength restoring sleep..

3%.

But these prodigious hackneys, basely got

'Twixt men and devils, made for race or flight,

Can drag the idle world, expecting not

The bed of rest, but travel with delight;

Who, never weighing way nor weather, trot

Thro' dust and dirt, and droil both night and day; Thus droil these fiends incarnate, whose free pains Are fed with dropsies and veneral blains :

No need to use the whip; but strength to rule the reins.

Poor

4.

Poor captive world! how has thy lightness giv'n
A just occasion to thy foes' illusion!
O, how art thou betray'd; thus fairly driv'n,
In seeming triumph, to thy own confusion!
How is the empty universe bereav'n

Of all true joys, by one false joy's delusion!
So I have seen an unblown virgin fed

With sugar'd word so full, that she is led
A fair attended bride to a false bankrupt's bed.

5.

Pull, gracious Lord! Let not thine arm forsake
The world impounded in her own devices :
Think of that pleasure that thou once did'st take
Amongst the lilies and sweet beds of spices.
Hale strongly, thou whose hand has pow'r to slack
The swift-foot fury of ten thousand vices:
Let not that dust-devouring dragon boast,
His craft has won what Judah's Lion lost?
Remember what is crav'd; recount the price it cost.
ISIDOR, Lib. i. de Summo Bono.

By how much the nearer Satan perceiveth the world to an end, by so much the more fiercely he troubleth it with persecution; that, knowing himself to le damned, he may get company in his damnation.

CYPRIAN. in Ep.

Broad and spacious is the road to infernal life; there are inticements and death-bringing pleasures. There the devil flattereth, that he may deceive; smileth, that he may endamage allureth, that he may destroy.

EPIG. 11.

Nay, soft and fair good world; post not too fast;
Thy journey's end requires not half this haste.
Unless that arm thou so disdain'st, reprives * thee,
Alas, thou needs must go; the devil: drives thee.

Reprizes, i. e. curbs, restrains; from the French, reprimer.

ISAIAH

XII.

ISALAH lxvi. 11.

Yemay suck, but not be satisfied with the breast of her

W

consolation.

1.

HAT, never fill'd; Be thy lips screw'd so fast To th'earth's full breast? for shame, for shame [unseize thee; Thou tak'st a surfeit where thou should'st but taste, And mak'st too much not half enough to please thee.

2.

Ah, fool, forbear; thou swallowest at one breath Both food and poison down; thou draw'st both milk [and death. The ub'rous breasts, when fairly drawn, repast The thriving infant with her milky flood; But, being overstrain'd, return at last

Unwholesome gulps compos'd of wind and blood. A mod'rate use doth both repast and please : Who strains beyond a mean, draws in and gulps dis

[ease.

But,

3.

that mean, whose good the least abuse Makes bad, is too, too hard to be directed : Can thorns bring grapes, or crabs a pleasing juice? There's nothing wholesome,where the whole's infected. Unseize thy lips: earth's milk's a ripend core, That drops from her disease, that matters from her

4.

[sore. Think'st thou that paunch, that burlies out thy coat, Is thriving fat; or flesh that seems so brawny ; Thy paunch is dropsy'd, and thy cheeks are bloat; Thy lips are white, and thy complexion tawny;

Thy skin's a bladder blown with watry tumours: Thy flesh a trembling bog, a quagmire full of humours.

A