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“ All selfe-accusing soules no rest can finde, CHORUSES

What greater torment then a troubled minde?”

IN JULIUS CÆSAR.

Let us adore th' immortall powers,
On whose decree, of all that ends,
The state depends,

That (farre from barbarous broiles)
CHORUS FIRST.

We of our life this little space “ We should be loath to grieve the gods,

May spend in peace, Who hold us in a ballance still;

Free from affliction's showres; And as they will

Or at the least from guilty toyles; May weigh us up, or downe;

“ Let us of rest the treasure strive to gaine, Those who by folly foster pride,

Without the which nought can be had but paine.” And do deride The terrour of the thunderer's rods, In seas of sinne their soules do drowne,

CHORUS SECOND. And others them abhorre as most unjust,

“ This life of ours is like a rose, Who want religion do deserve no trust :",

Which whilst rare beauties it array, How dare fraile flesh presume to rise

Doth then enjoy the least repose ; (Whil'st it deserves Heaven's wrath to prove)

When virgin-like made blush (we see) On th’ Earth to move,

Of every hand it is the prey, Lest that it opening straight,

And by each winde is blowne away; Give death and buriall both at once ?

Yea, though from violence scap'd free, How dare such ones

(Thus time triumphs, and leades all thrals) Look up unto the skies,

Yet doth it languish and decay : For feare to feele the thunderer's weight ? 0! whilst the courage hottest boiles, “ All th' elements their Maker's will attend,

And that our life seemes best to be, As prompt to plague, as men are to offend.” It is with dangers compast still;

Whilst it each little change appalles, All must be plagu'd who God displease,

The body, force without oft foiles, Then whil'st he Bacchus rites did scorne,

It th' owne distemp'rature oft spoiles, Was Pentheus torne;

And even, though none it chance to kill, The Delian's high disdaine

As nature failes, the body falles, Made Niobe (though turu'd a stone)

Of which save death, nought bounds the toy les : With teares still mone,

What is this moving tow'r in which we trust? And (Pallas to appease)

A little winde clos'd in a cloud of dust."
Arachne weaves loath'd webbes in vaine:
Heaven hath prepar'd ere ever they begin,

And yet some sprites though being pent
A fall for pride, a punishment for sinne.

In this fraile prison's narrow bounds,

(Whilst what might serve, doth not content) Loe, Iuno yet doth still retaine

Doe alwaies bend their thoughts too high, That indignation once conceiv'd,

And ayme at all the peopled grounds; For wrong receiv'd

Then whilst their brests ambition wounds, From Paris as we finde;

They feed as fearing straight to dye, And for his cause (bent to disgrace

Yet build as if they still might live, The Trojan race)

Whilst famish'd for fame's empty sounds : Doth hold a high disdaine,

Of such no end the travell ends, Long layd up in a loftie minde:

But a beginning gives, whereby “We should abstaine from irritating those They may be vex'd worse then before ; Whose thoughts (if wrong'd)not till reveng'd repose." For, whilst they still new hopes contrive,

“ The hoped good more anguish sends, Thus, thus for Paris' fond desire,

Then the possess'd contentment lends;" Who of his pleasures had no part,

As beasts not taste, but doe devoure, For them must smart:

They swallow much, and for more strive, Such be the fruits of lust;

Whilst still their hope some change attends : Can heavenly breasts so long time lodge

“ And how can such but still themselves annoy, A secret grudge ?

Who can acquire, but know not how t' enjoy do Like mortals thrall to yre, Till justice sometime seemes unjust ?

Since as a ship amidst the deepes, « Of all the furies which afflict the soule,

Or as an eagle through the ayre, Lust and revenge are hardest to controull :"

Of which no way th' impression keepes,

Most swift when seeming least to move: The gods give them but rarely rest,

This breath of which we take such care, Who do against their will contend,

Doth tosse the body every where,' And plagues do spend,

That it may hence with haste remove : That fortunate in nought,

“ Life slips and sleepes alwayes away, Their sprits (quite parted from repose)

Then hence, and as it came, goes bare,” May still expose

Whose steppes behinde no trace doe leave: The stormy troubled brest

Why should Heaven-banish'd soules thus love A prey to each tyrannicke thought:

The cause, and bounds of their exile,

As restlesse strangers where they stray?

Yet should we not mispending houres,
And with such paine why should they reave A freedome seeke, as oft it falls,
That which they have no right to have,

With an intent
Whiclı with them in a little while,

But to content As summer's beauties, must decay,

These vaine delights, and appetites of ours; And can give yought except the grave ? [can, For, then but made farre greater thralls, “ Though all things doe to harme him what they we might repent No greater enemie then himselfe to man."

As not still pent

In stricter bounds by others' pow'rs, Whilst oft environ'd with his foes,

Whilst feare licentious thoughts appalls : Which threatned death on every side,

“Of all the tyrants that the world affords, Great Cæsar parted from repose

One's owne affections are the fiercest lords." (As Atlas holding up the starres) Did of a world the weight abide;

As libertines those onely live, But since a prey to foolish pride,

Who (from the bands of vice set free) More then by all the former warres,

Vile thoughts cancell, He now by it doth harm'd remaine,

And would excell And of his fortune doth diffide:

In all that doth true glory give, Made rich by many nations' wreake,

From which when as no tyrants be He (breaking through the liquid barres)

Them to repell, In Neptune's armes his minion forc'd ;

And to compell Yet still pursu'd new hopes in vaine:

Their deeds against their thoughts to strive, “ Would the ambitious looking backe

They blest are in a high degree: Of their inferiours knowledge take,

“ For, such of fame the scrouls can hardly fill, They from huge cares might be divorc'd,

Whose wit is bounded by another's will."
Whilst viewing few, more pow'r attaine,
And many more then they to lacke:

Our ancestors of old such prov'd,
The onely plague from men that rest doth rčave,

(Who Rome from Tarquine's yoke redeem'd) Is that they weigh their wants, not what they have." They first obtain'd,

And then maintain'd Since thus the great themselves involve

Their liberty so dearly lov'd; In such a labyrinth of cares,

They from all things which odious seem'd Whence vone to scape can well resolve,

(Though not constrain'd) But by degrees are forward led,

Themselves restrain'd, Through wares of hopes, rockes of despaires :

And willingly all good approv'd, Let us avoyd ambitioa's snares,

Bent to be much, yet well esteem'd ; And farre from stormes by envy bred,

“ And how could such but ayme at some great end, Still seeke (though low) a quiet rest,

Whon liberty did leade, glory attend ?”
With mindes where no proud thought repaires,
That in vaine shadowes doth delight ;

They leading valorous legions forth,
Thus may our fancies still be fed

(Though wanting kings) triumph'd ore kings,

And still aşpird,
With that wbích Nature freely gives ;
Let us iniquity detest,

By Mars inspird,
And hold but what we owe of right;

To conquer all from south to north;

Then lending fame their eagle's wings,
Th' eye's treasure is th' all-circling light,

They all acquird
Not that vaine pompe for which pride strives,
Whose glory (but a poysnous pest)

That was requir'd,

To make them rare for rarest things, To plague the soule, delights the sight :

The world made witnesse of their worth: “ Ease comes with ease, where all by paine buy | Thus those great mindes who domineerd ore all. paine,

Did make themselves first free, then others thrall, Rest we in peace, by warre let others raigne."

But we who hold nought but their name,
From that to which they in times gone
Did high ascend,

Must low descend,
CHORUS THIRD.

And bound their glory with our shame,

Whil'st on an abject tyrant's throne, Then liberty, of earthly things

We (base) attend, What more delights a generous brest?

And do intend Which doth receive,

Us for our fortuné still to frame, And can conceive

Not it for us, and all for one: The matchlesse treasure that it brings;

“ As liberty a courage doth impart, It making men securely rest,

So bondage doth disbend, else breake the heart," As all perceive, Doth none deceive,

Yet, O! who knows but Rome to grace Whilst from the same true courage springs, Another Brutus may arise ? But fear'd for nought, doth what seemes best : Who may effect “ Then men are men, when they are all their What we affect, owne,

And Tarquine's steps make Cæsar trace; Not, but by others' badges when made knowne:" Though seeming dangers to despise

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He doth suspect

“Are not those wretch'd, who, ore a dangerous snare What we expect

Do hang by hopes, whilst ballanc'd in the ayre ;" Which from his breast hath banish'd peace, Though fairely he his feares disguise:

Then when they have the port attain'd, “ Of tyrants even the wrong, revenge affords,

Which was through seas of dangers sought,
All feare but theirs, and they feare all men's swords.” They (loe) at last but losse have gain'd,

And by great trouble, trouble bought :
Their mindes are married still with feares,

To bring forth many a jealous thought;
CHORUS FOURTH.

With searching eyes, and watching eares,
What fury thus doth fill the brest

To learne that which it grieves to know :

The brest that such a burden beares,
With a prodigious rash desire,

What huge afflictions doe orethrow ?
Which banishing their soules from rest,
Doth make them live who high aspire,

Thus, each prinee is (as all perceive) (Whilst it within their bosome boyles)

No more exalted then brought low, As salamanders in the fire;

“ Of many, lord, of many, slave; Or like to serpents changing spoyles,

That idoll greatnesse which th' Eartb doth a lore, Their wither'd beauties to renew?

Is gotten with great paine, and kept with more;": Like vipers with unnaturall toyles,

He who to this imagin’d good, Of such the thoughts themselves pursue,

Did through his countrie's bowels tend, Who for all lines their lives doe square,

Neglecting friendship, duty, bloud, Whilst like camelions changing hue,

And all on which trust can depend, They onely feed on empty ayre:

Or by which lore could be conceiv'd, “ To passe ambition greatest matters brings, Doth finde of what he did attend, And (save contentment) can attaine all things." His expectations farre deceiv'd ;

Por, since suspecting secret snares,
This active passion doth disdaine
To match with any vulgar minde,

His soule hath still of rest beene reav'd,
As in base breasts where terrours raigne,

Whilst squadrons of tumultuous cares,

Forth from his brest extort deep grones :
Too great a guest to be confin'd;
It doth but lofty thoughts frequent,

Thus Cæsar now of life despaires,
Where it a spatious field may finde,

Whose lot his hope exceeded once; It selfe with honour to content,

And who can long well keep an ill wonne state? Where reverenc'd fame doth lowdest sound;

“ Those perish must by some whom ali men hate." Those for great things by courage bent, (Farre lifted from this lumpish round) Would in the sphere of glory move,

CHORUS FIFTH.
Whilst lofty thoughts which nought can binde,
All rivals live in vertue's love;

What fools are those who do repose their trust " On abject preyes as th' eagles never light, On what this masse of misery affords? Ambition poysons but the greatest sprite.” And (bragging but of th' excrements of dust)

Of life-lesse treasures labour to be lords: And of this restlesse vulture's brood,

Which like the Sirens' songs, or Circe's charmes, (If not become too great a fame)

With shadows of delights hide certaine barmes A little sparke doth sometime good, Which makes great mindes (affecting fame)

Ah! whilst they sport on pleasure's ycie grounds, To suffer still all kinde of paine :

Oft poyson'd by prosperitie with pride, Their fortune at the bloudy game,

A sudden storme their foting joyes confounds, Who hazard would for hope of gaine,

Whose course is ordred by the eye-lesse guide, Vnlesse first burn'd by thirst of praise ?

Who so inconstantly her selfe doth btare The learned to a higher straine,

Th’ unhappie men may bope, the happy feare, Their wits by emulation raise, As those who hold applauses deare;

The fortunate who bathe in flouds of joyes, And what great minde at which men gaze,

To perish oft amidst their pleasures chance, It selfe can of ambition cleare,

And mirthlesse wretches wallowing in annoyes, Which is when valu'd at the highest price,

Oft by adversitie themselves advance; A generous errour, an heroicke vice?

Wbil'st Fortune bent to mock vaine worldlings cares,

Doth change despaires in hopes, hopes in despaires. But when this frenzie, flaming bright, Doth so the soules of some surprise,

That gallant Grecian whose great wit so soone,

Whom others could not number, did ore-come, That they can taste of no delight, But what from soveraignty doth rise,

Had he not beene undone, had beene undone,

And if not banish'd, had not had a home;
Then, huge affliction it affords;
Such must (themselves so to disguise)

To him fearecourage gave (what wondrous change!)

And many doubts a resolution strange.
Prove prodigall of courteous words,
Give much to some, and promise all,

He who told one who then was Fortune's childe, Then humble seeme to be made lords,

As if with horrour to congeale bis bloud : Yea, being thus to many thrall,

That Caius Marius farre from Rome exil'd, Must words impart, if not support;

Wretch'd on the ruines of great Carthage stood; To those why crush'd by fortune fall;

Though long both plagu’dby griefe, and by disgrace, And grieve themselves to please each sort: The consul-ship regain'd, and dy'd in peace.

And that great Pompey (all the world's delight)
Whom of his theater then th' applauses pleas'd,

SOME VERSES
Whilst praise-transported eyes endeer'd his sight,
Who by youth's toyles should have his age then WRITTEN TO HIS MAJESTIE BY THE AUTHOUR AT THE TIME
eas'd,

OF HIS MAIESTILS FIRST ENTRIE INTO ENGLAND. He by one blow of Fortune lost farre more Then many battels gayned had before.

STAY, tragick Muse, with those yntimely verses,

With raging accents and with dreadfull sounds, Such sudden changes so disturbe the soule, To draw dead monarkes out of ruin'd berses,

That still the judgement ballanc'd is by doubt; T'affright th' applauding world with bloudie But, on a round, what wonder though things roule?

wounds: And since within a circle, turne about?

Raze all the monuments of horrours past, Whilst Heaven on Earth strange alterations brings, T'aduance the publike mirth our treasures wast. To scorne our confidence in worldly things.

And pardon (olde heroes) for 0 I finde, And chanc'd there ever accidents more strange, I had no reason to admire your fates :

Then in these stormy bounds where we remaine? And with rare guiftes of body and of minde, One did a sheep-hooke to a scepter change,

Th’ynbounded greatnesse of euill-conquerd states. The nurceling of a wolfe ore men did raigne;' More glorious actes then were achieu'd by you, A little village grew a mighty towne,

Do make your wonders thought no wonders now. Which whil'st it had no king, held many a crowne.

For yee the potentates of former times, Then by how many suadry sorts of men,

Making your will a right, your force a law: Hath this great state beene ruld? though now by

Staining your conquest with a thousand crimes,

Still raign'd like tyrants, but obey'd for awe: none, Which first obey'd but one, then two, then ten,

And whilst your yoake none willingly would beare, Then by degrees return'd to two, and one;

Dyed oft the sacrifice of wrath and feare.
Of which three states, their ruine did abide,
Two by two's lusts, and one by two men's pride.

But this age great with glorie hath brought forth

A matchlesse monarke whom peace highlie raises,

Who as th' yntainted ocean of all worth What revolations huge have hapned thus,

As due to him hath swallow'd all your praises. By secret fates all violently led,

Whose cleere excellencies long knowne for such, Though seeming but by accident to us,

Yet in the depths of heavenly breasts first bred, All men must praise, and none can praise too much. As arguments demonstrative to prove

For that which others hardly could acquire, That weaknesse dwels below, and pow'r above.

With-losse of thousands liues and endlesse paine,

Is beapt on him euen by their owne desire, Loe, prosprous Cæsar charged for a space,

That thrist ťenioy the fruites of his blest raigne: Both with strange nations, and his countrey's And neuer conquerour gain'd so great a thing, spoyls,

As those wise subiects gaining such a king. Even when he seem'd by warre to purchase peace,

And roses of sweet rest, from thornes of toils; But what a mightie state is this I see? Then whilst his minde and fortune swell’d most high, A little world that all true worth inherites, Hath beene constrain'd the last distresse to trie.

Strong without art, entrench'd within the sea,

Abounding in braae men full of great spirits : What warnings large were in a time so short, It seemes this ile would boast, and so she may, Of thát darke course which by bis death now To be the soueraigne of the world some day,

shines ? It, speechlesse wonders plainly did report, O generous lames, the glorie of their parts,

It, men reveal'd by words, and gods by signes, In large dominions equall with the best: Yet by the chaynes of destinies whilst bound, But the most mightie monarke of men's harts, He saw the sword, but could not scape the wound. That euer yet a diadem possest:

Long maist thou live, well lou'd and free from dangers, What curtaine ore our knowledge errour brings, The comfort of thine owne, the terrour of strangers

Now drawn, now open'd, by the heavenly host, Which makes us sometime sharpe to see small things,

And yet quite blinde when as we should see most, That curious braines may rest amaz'd at it, Whose ignorance makes them presume of wit.

SOME VERSES

WRITTEN SHORTLY THEREAFTER BY REASON OF AN INUNThen let us live, since all things change below,

DATION OP DOUEN, A WATER NEERE VNTO THE AUTHOR'S When rais'd most high, as those who once may

HOUSE, WHEREVPON HIS MAIESTIE WAS SOMETIMES WONT fall, And hold when by disasters brought more low,

The minde still free, what ever else be thrall : “ Those (lords of fortune) sweeten every state,

What wonder though my melancholious Muse, Who can command themselves, though not their Her bold attempts to prosecute refuse, (troales:

Whose generous course some lucklesse starre confate."

And would faine burie my abortiue scroules.

TO HAWKE.

To what perfection can my lines be rais’d, [fires : | And since our sunne shines in another part,

Whilst many a crosse would quench my kindling Liue like th' antipodes depriu'd of light: Lo for Parnassus by the poets prais'd,

Whilst those to whom his beames he doth impart, Some sauage mountaines shadow my retires. Begin their day whilst we begin our night. No Helicon her treasure here vnlockes,

This hath discourag'd my high-bended minde, Of all the sacred band the chiefe refuge:

And still in doale my drouping Muse arrayes : But dangerous Donen rumbling through the rockes, Which if my Phæbus once vpon me shin'd,

Would scorne the raine.bowe with a new deluge. Might raise her flight to build amidst his rayes. As Tiber, mindefull of his olde renowne, (place:

Augments his floodes to waile the faire chang'd And greeu'd to glide through that degener'd towne, Toyles with his depthes to couer their disgrace.

VERSES So doth my Douen rage, greeu'd in like sort,

PRETIXED TO BISHOP ABERNETHY'S CHRISTIAN AND HEAWhile as his wonted honour comes to minde: VENLY TREATISE, CONTAINING PHYSICKE FOR THB SOUL."

1622. To that great prince whilst he afforded sport, To whom his trident Neptune hath resign’d.

Op known effects, grounds too precisely sought, And as the want of waters and of swaines, Young naturalists oft atheists old doe prove.

Had but begotten to his bankes neglect: And some who uaught, save who first moves, can He striues t encroch vpon the bordering plaines,

move, Againe by greatnesse to procure respect. Scorn mediate means, as wonders still were wrought:

But tempting both, thou dost this difference even, Thus all the creatures of this orphand boundes, Divine physician, physical divine: In their own kindes moou'd with the common Who souls and bodies help’st, dost here design crosse :

From Earth by reason, and by faith from Heaven, With many a monstrous forme all forme confoundes, With mysteries, which few can reach aright: To make vs mourne more feelingly our losse. How Heaven and Earth are match't, and work in

man; We must our breastes to baser thoughts inure, Who wise and holy ends, and causes scan.

Since we want all that did aduaunce our name: Loe true philosophy, perfection's height, For in a corner of the world obscure,

For this is all, which we would wish to gaine: We rest vngrac'd without the boundes of farae. In bodies sound, that minds may sound remaine.

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