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Who try'd each state, both best and worst, a space,
The spite of Satan, mercies of the Lord,
In body wounded, spoil'd of goods and race,
By Heaven abandon'd, by the world abhorr'd,
By wife and friends accus'd, as falne from grace,
Yet what was lost had (multipli'd) restor❜d:
With many other doubts he this can cleare,
How he (a Gentile) then to God was deare.

If one would know the deeps of naturall things,
How farre that wisedome could her power extend;
What usuall issue every cause forth brings,
The meanes most apt to compasse any end;
The wisest then of men, or yet of kings,
Whose spatious judgement all could comprehend,
Great Solomou such mysteries can teach,
As all philosophers could never reach.

Of these ten tribes that were the Gentiles' prey,
We then may learne the course how good or ill,
If they with them incorporated stay,
Or if that there the Lord their race did kill,
Or else from thence did leade them all away,
By seas and deserts, working wonders still:
As yet reserv'd their ancient lands to gaine,
If he by them would show his power againe.
As from the ancients, that best understood,
We there may learne the grounds whence know-
ledge springs,

So they may know from us (a greater good)
What their beginnings to perfection brings;
Who (babe-like first) were nurs'd with tender food,
By types and figures masking sprituall things,
Whil'st temporall blessings entertain'd their faith,
Who scarcely knew true grace, were fear'd for wrath.

The ancient fathers of her infant state,
For constancy by persecution crown'd,
The churche's progresse chearfully relate,
In spite of tyrants which no power could bound;
Which wax'd in trouble, bath'd by bloud, grew great,
Till all the world behov'd to heare her sound;
And where on Earth long militant before,
She now triumphs in Heaven for evermore.

The greatest comfort that on Earth we finde,
Is to converse with them whose gifts we love,
So variously to recreate the minde,

And that this meanes our judgment may improve,
Loe here are all by sacred pennes design'd,
Whose parts not onely men, but God did move :
Some of each science can all doubts resolve,
Which wits in errour's maze did oft involve.

But what great folly to imagine this?
Since here each man can every thing discerne,
When all perfection full accomplish'd is,
And nothing rests more requisite to learne;
The Lord such qualities, as onely his,
Doth freely give to them whom they concerne:
None needs to borrow, as penurious now,
The Lord to all doth liberally allow.

He earst would have the priests of each degree,
That at his altar were to serve approv'd,
From all deformities by nature free,
With bodies sound, as fit to be belov'd;
Perchance because all else by custome be,
(As obvious to scorne) too quickly mov'd;
Where his should have what others would allure,
A count'nance calme, affections that are pure.

And shall not these appointed to have place,
(Triumphing still) in the eternall towne,
The new Ierusalem, the seate of grace,
Whom Christ with glory doth as conq'rours crowne,
Shall they not have true beauty in the face,
Which never blush shall burne, nor teare shall
drowne?

There every member perfect made at length,
Shall have proportion, comelinesse, and strength.
These eyes that here were lock'd up from the light,
And scarce had beene acquainted with the day,
Then (lightning glory) shall appeare more bright,
Nor is the morning's torch, which rayes array;
They that were deafe shall heare each accent right;
Some who were dumbe shall then God's praise dis-
Who all the bodie doth to strength restore, [play,
That with defects had tainted beene before.

They whom sterne Death when infants did surprise,
And even ere borne abortives did pursue,
What such might be though none can now surmise,
Till demonstration prove conjectures true,
Shall at the last in the same stature rise,
The which to them potentially was due:
(Their litle dust then all extended soone)
A moment doth what yeares should earst have done.
Exhausted age (Time's prey) that hath runne post,
Whose eyes as if asham'd (when fail'd) sinke in,
Which onely serves of what hath beene to boast,
With shaking joynts, and with a withered skin,
All is restor'd that forfeited for sinne;
Shall then revive, recovering what was lost;
And phenix-like new beauties all display,
"They must be perfect that in Heaven can stay."
Babes from the cradle carried to the ground,
Who did not live to get, nor give offence;
The ag'd by weakenesse that to bed were bound,
Of life's three kinds scarce keeping that of sense;
Both rysing now may of these yeares be found,
Which Christ might count when as he parted hence:
Or else they shall all in that state be seene,
For health and beauty, which their best hath beene.
Our bodies shall not then as now grow grosse,
(Exulting humours tending to excesse)
Nor can extenuate, since free from crosse,
They have no excrements, corruption's drosse,
Which might distemper, alter, or make lesse ;
Which doth our vilenesse palpablie expresse:
For in that citty nothing shall be seene,
That either is infirme, or yet uncleane.
What wonder must the shining substance move,
Of sprituall bodies, when divinely borne?
Judge by some parts what all the rest may prove,
This onely uselesse fleece from creatures shorne,
(More bright then are Berinthia's haires above)
As beames the Sunne shall every head adorne;
Then pretious stones for ornament most meete,
More glorious are the nailes of hands and feete.
The face, Heaven's frontispiece, the braine's chiefe
spheares,

Where intellectuall powers their course doe sway;
The eyes are starres, externall orbes the eares,
Lips, morning's blushing flames, cheeks, lightning

day;

Legs, not their burden, them their burden beares,
The armes, like angels' wings, through th' ayre doe

stray,

Man skie-like bright, but still from tempest free, (Earst little world) a little heaven may be.

[skinne,

As Adam once (whilst naked) free from sinne,
Was not asham'd to walke before the Lord,
So shall the saints (when glory doth begin)
Be to the same integrity restor❜d;
No barenesse, robes, but brightnesse deckes the
Which no way else could be so much decor'd:
For, nakednesse when shining every where,
Is purenesse, and not impudency there.

The rayments held most rich for silke or gold,
Would but deforme, and no way could adorne,
Nor shall we need a guard against the cold,
Of things too oft superfluously borne;
As simple, sluggish, poore, none can unfold
What scandall can procure, contempt, or scorne:
No weakenesse is that any covering needs,
But all are shown, both bodies, thoughts, and deeds.

The bodie's beauties that are thus expos'd,
Though both the sexes haunt together must,
(Nought can take fire, where fire is not enclos'd)
Shall neither snare, nor tempt the minde with lust;
Since generation's period is impos'd,

We leave such thoughts when rising with the dust:
All carnall fancies quite extinguish'd rest,
And sprituall love doth ravish every brest.

As naked angels innocently live,
With pure affections, quite estrang'd from ill,
And covet nothing, but doe onely give
To God attendance, and obey his will;
So shall we then with mutuall ardour strive,
(All concupiscence past) whom zeale doth fill
To love the Lord, and still his praise to sing,
Not capable of any other thing.

Though beauty thus a blessing doth remain,
And (made immortall) not by time surpris'd,
Yet this even here is but the least we gaine,
A quality, no vertue, meanely priz'd,
We shall more strength and nimblenesse attaine,
Then ever hath been found, or yet devis'd,
Not vex'd to conquer, from invasion free,
We cannot wish but that which straight shall be.

The greatest cause of wearinesse below,
By building Babels of confounding doubt,
(To search out truth still making us too slow)
Is this grosse burden that we beare about;
So that whilst bent what is remote to know,
From this strict jayle, still strugling to be out :
What labour hath the interrupted minde,
Though sleep arrest, which scarce can be confin'd?

But when the Lord doth these defects supply,
By which the bodie's pow'rs are thus impair'd,
As planets keep their course above the sky,
They move, as bright and swift, and when compar'd,
To angels every where like them they flye,
By secret vertue, spritually prepar'd:
No weakenesse then the bodies can controule,
And they in motion second may the soule.

Infirmities abandon'd all with sinnes,
The body as it would past faults defray,
To serve the soule, obsequiously beginnes,
Which us most gorgeously doth then array,
To fowles as feathers, to the fishes finnes,
Affording meanes to further still their way:

The bodies then (as soules direct) doe move, And have no stop below, nor yet above.

No painefull sicknesse, nor consuming sore,
Which now with new alarmes us oft invest,
Shall vexe the soule with anguish any more,
As charging this fraile fort to yeeld her guest.
Nor shall she then, with passions (as before)
Of her deare partner interrupt the rest;
With mutuall pleasures multipli'd in force,
This second marriage nothing can divorce.
Through Heaven and Earth (though travelling ore
all)

In these two volumes, God's great workes to see,
No danger is that can their course appall,
Nor can they faint who still in triumph be,
And may themselves in stately seats enstall,
As kings, or priests, or greater in degree:
Whilst they (all light) see all about them light,
Immortall minions in their maker's sight.

O! happy soules, who, fil'd with heavenly things,
There for your mates continually shall have
The holy prophets, patriarchs, and kings,
Apostles, martyrs, all whom Christ did save;
This to my minde so great contentment brings,
Words cannot utter what my thoughts conceive:
But what more good can be surmiz'd then this?
The Lord their King, and Heaven their kingdome is.
Nor were it much such happinesse to finde,
But quickly might make all our pleasures vaine,
If to decay at any time design'd,

We possibly were capable of paine,

The feare of that would still torment the minde,
Which true contentment thus could not attaine:
"For the more pretious that a treasure proves,
The greater care the jealous owner moves."
All that could perish, to confusion past,
Extinguish'd time no period can pretend,
No expectation now accounts shall cast,
Whose progresse doth on Nature's course depend:
All then expir'd, or perfected, at last,

We have no ends, nor nothing then can end:
But all things there from bounds and measure free,
Eternall are, and infinite must be.

[still)

We neither then can doe, nor suffer ill,
Nor need wee feare (as earst before) to fall,
The man who first had Paradise at will,
Made all who followed by his forfeit thrall;
The man who first tooke Heaven (there raigning
Our great Redeemer hath secur'd us all :
So that obeying what he doth command,
Though angels fell, wee shall be sure to stand.
The tyrants here that most disturbe our rest,
Are viprous passions, parricides unkinde, [breast,
Though breeding them, who burst out through the
A wretched parent by her off-spring pin'd,
Whilst sometime longings sweetly doe molest,
And sometime feares doe shrewdly vexe the minde,
Which alwaies like a sea some storme must tosse,
Whilst wishing what we want, or fear'd for losse.
But now a never interrupted blisse,
With constant joy doth full contentment give,
While as the minde not bended, nor remisse,
Can neither wish, nor feare, nor doubt, nor strive,
It having all, what had ean never misse,
And (satisfi'd) with confidence doth live:

For (still in peace) we nought save God can love,
And him we have eternally above.

Whilst thus made free from all that can annoy,
To thinke what pleasures soules shall then attaine,
Though all the world their wits in one employ,
Their course would prove ridiculously vaine,
That which was sow'd in teares, is reap'd with joy,
Who here seem'd base, shall then with glory raigne:
This, ravish'd Paul could by no meanes expresse,
Who got a glance of what we shall possesse.
Yet shall not all be in like manner grac'd,
But may for glory differ in degree,
Some, shining brighter, or else higher plac'd,
Then all the rest more eminent may be,
And may by Christ more kindely be embrac'd,
Whose love (not merited) must needs rest free.
By John's example, this on Earth was prov'd,
Who on his bosome slept, as best belov❜d.

The Lord even here doth in this course delight,
All sorts distinguish'd both in church and state,
The angels that, above, their charge acquite,
As is their ranke and turne, in order wait:
The elders (plac'd in chayres) were cloath'd in white,
The holy towne, by tribes, names every gate:
And these are said of all to shine most bright,
Who by their meanes brought others to the light.
Of all that are in Heaven's great booke enrol'd,
The meanest man, though many goe before,
More pleas'd then wretches can be made by gold,
Shall envy none; nor can he covet more:
Small vessels as the big abound in store,
When having all that they are fit to hold,
And every soule that once the Heavens receive,
Hath as much pleasure as it can conceive.
Here with their gifts, none fully pleas'd doth prove,
But seeke that nature may be help'd by art,
Yet, with themselves all are so much in love,
That though in others they may praise some part,
I know not what selfe-flatt'ring thoughts doe move,
There is not one that would exchange his heart:
"Our owne intentions still we perfect finde ;
Their fortunes many, one would change their
minde."

Then, this farre rather may beliefe procure,
That those in Heaven (how ever in degree
Free from defects) still joyfull, and secure,
Can nothing wish, enjoying all they see,
And so for ever certaine to endure,
Then what they are, no other way would be:
They true contentment absolutely gaine,
Which wanting here, is cause of all our paine.
This vaste triangle, this most huge small thing,
Life's quaking center, still first quicke, last kill'd,
Which all the world within it selfe can bring,
Yet like an empty gulfe cannot be fil'd, [spring,
From whence deep flouds of raging thoughts do
By which the peace of man's short space is spill'd:
The ground of courage, all the bodie's strength,
It still is pin'd, till spent by paine at length.
Or else this sparke, though under cloud yet cleare,
(As rayes the Sunne) which doth the deity show,
And to the same still striving to draw neare,,
From whence we are, would gladly make us know,
In Heaven a native, and a stranger here,
As in antipathie with things below,

Till once arriv'd, where it doth alwaies tend; "Care's lingring progresse cannot have an end."

Whilst they on th' Earth, as worms, were earst deBut when the Lord, his (farre from what before, spis'd)

From forfeiture entirely shall restore,
Amongst the blessed bands to be compris'd,
Then they themselves could wish, they shall have

more,

Or yet then could by mankinde be devis'd:
Imagination's reach this farre exceeds,
And with contentment an amazement breeds.

There pleasure's height no words can serve to tell,
Since for their measure infinitely great,
Whose qualities (as quint-essenc'd) excell,
For time, eternall, which no bounds can date,
The place is Heaven, where they with God doe dwell,
And are advanc'd to a most glorious state :
Like man and angels earst, to sinne not thrall,
And certifi'd that they shall never fall.

These mysteries no mortal's wit can try,
Nor could corruption with their light comport:
Which, though like Paul admitted them to spy,
None could conceive, farre lesse could them re-
port: .

The ancients all were straight afraid to dye,
When having seene the Lord in any sort:
And of such things who capable would prove,
Must first be glorified, as guests above.

This is the joy that every soule doth fill,
That they the Lord continually shall see,
With humble reverence waiting on his will,
To minister, as marshal'd in degree;
And, there contemplating his glory still,
All zeale and love, as cloath'd with flames, shall be:
And him who did them thus so highly raise,
Celestiall quiristers, not pray, but praise.

Where we were earst a prey to cold and heat,
Mechanickly engag'd to abject toyles,
Whose bread behov'd to have a sawce of sweat,
Who for apparell rob'd each creature's spoyles,
Whilst compassing the Lamb's majesticke seat,
That every breast with sacred ardour boyles,
As needlesse then this week for worke removes,
And all for God an endlesse sabbath proves.

We shall God's people be, and he our Lord,
Who comes with us continually to stay,
(Death, griefe, nor paine, no more) with goodnesse
stor'd,

He from our eyes shall wipe all teares away,
And of life's water freely shall afford
To them who thirst, that they no more decay:
Whom (all accomplish'd) we may justly call
The first, the last, the three, the one, the all.

Thou that didst guide me through such divers grounds,

Imparting strength to reach my wished port,
Here make me rest amid'st this heavenly bounds,
With saints and angels freely to resort,
That (these my notes accorded with their sounds)
I by experience clearely may report
The state of Heaven, to magnifie thy name,
And there thy praise eternally proclame.

PARENESIS

TO PRINCE HENRY.

TO

PRINCE CHARLES.

THAT which I first for Henrie's life did sound,
Shall, spite of death, which did high hopes betray,
A speaking pledge, a living token stay,

Which with his name shall make my love renown'd;
His successor, thou may'st make use of this,
Which freely showes what princes doe deserve;
It both him dead, and thee alive may serve,
Thy fame's presage, a monument of his.
That Charles of France, admir'd so much for worth,
Religious, valiant, was call'd justly great;
Thou hast his name, strive for his worth and state,
Great in Great Britaine, to adorne the north:
That all the world with wondring eyes may see,
What was from Henry hop'd, perform'd by thee.

Loe here (brave youth) as zeale and duty move,
I labour (though in vaine) to finde some gift,
Both worthy of thy place, and of my loue,
But whilst my selfe above my selfe I lift,
And would the best of my inventions prove,
I stand to study what should be my drift;
Yet this the greatest approbation brings,
Still to a prince to speake of princely things.

When those of the first age that earst did live
In shadowie woods, or in a humid cave,
And taking that which th' earth not forc'd did give,
Would onely pay what nature's need did crave;
Then beasts of breath such numbers did deprive,
That (following Amphion) they did deserts leave:
Who with sweet sounds did leade them by the eares,
Where mutuall force might banish common feares.

Then building walles, they barbarous rites disdain'd,
The sweetnesse of society to finde ;
And to attayne what unity maintain'd,
As peace, religion, and a vertuous minde;
That so they might have restlesse humours rayn'd,
They straight with lawes their liberty confin'd:
And of the better sort the best preferr'd,
To chastise them against the lawes that err'd.

I wot not if proud mindes who first aspir'd
Ore many realmes to make themselves a right;
Or if the world's disorders so requir'd,
That then had put Astræa to the flight;
Or else if some whose vertues were admir'd,
And eminent in all the people's sight,
Did move peace-lovers first to reare a throne,
And give the keyes of life and death to one.

That dignity, when first it did begin,

Did grace each province and each little towne ;
Forth, when she first doth from Benlowmond rinne,
Is poore of waters, naked of renowne,

But Carron, Allon, Teath, and Doven in,
Doth grow the greater still, the further downe:
Till that, abounding both in power and fame,
She long doth strive to give the sea her name.
Even so those soveraignties which once were small,
Still swallowing up the nearest neighbouring state,
With a deluge of men did realmes appall,
And thus th' Egyptian Pharoes first grew great;
Thus did th' Assyrians make so many thrall,
Thus rear'd the Romans their imperiall seat:
And thus all those great states to worke have gone,

Whose limits and the worlds were all but one.

But I'le not plunge in such a stormy deepe,

Which hath no bottome, nor can have no shore,
But in the dust will let those ashes sleepe,
Which (cloath'd with purple) once th' Earth did
adore;

Of them scarce now a monument wee keepe,
Who (thund'ring terrour) curb'd the world before;
Their states which by a number's ruine stood,
Were founded, and confounded, both with bloud.
If I would call antiquity to minde,

I, for an endlesse taske might then prepare,
But what? ambition that was ever blinde,
Did get with toyle that which was kept with care,
And those great states 'gainst which the world re-
Had falls, as famous, as their risings rare: [pin'd,
And in all ages it was ever seene,

What vertue rais'd, by vice hath ruin'd been.

Yet registers of memorable things
[sound,
Would helpe (great prince) to make thy judgement
Which to the eye a perfect mirrour brings,
Where all should glasse themselves who would be
crown'd,

Reade these rare parts that acted were by kings,
The straines heroicke, and the end renown'd:
Which (whilst thou in thy cabinet do'st sit)
Are worthy to bewitch thy growing wit.
And doe not, doe not (thou) the meanes omit,
Times match'd with times, what they beget to spy,
Since history may leade thee unto it,
A pillar whereupon good sprites rely,
Of time the table, and the nurse of wit,
The square of reason, and the minde's cleare eye:
Which leads the curious reader through huge harms,
Who stands secure whilst looking on alarmes.
Nor is it good ore brave men's lives to wander,
As one who at each corner stands amaz'd,
No, study like some one thy selfe to render,
Who to the height of glory hath been rais'd;
So Scipio, Cyrus, Cæsar, Alexander, [prais'd,
And that great prince chos'd him whom Homer
Or make (as which is recent, and best knowne)
Thy father's life a patterne for thine owne.
Yet marking great men's lives, this much impaires
The profit which that benefit imparts,
While as transported with preposterous cares,
To imitate but superficiall parts,

Some for themselves frame of their fancies snares,
And show what folly doth ore-sway their hearts:
"For counterfeited things doe staines embrace,
"And all that is affected, hath no grace."

Of outward things who (shallow wits) take hold,
Doe show by that they can no higher winne,
So, to resemble Hercules of old,

Mark Antony would beare the lyon's skinne;
A brave Athenian's sonne (as some have told)
Would such a course (though to his scorne) begin:
And bent to seem look like his father dead,
Would make himselfe to lispe, and bow his head.
They who would rightly follow such as those,
Must of the better parts apply the pow'rs,
As the industrious bee advis'dly goes,
To seize upon the best, shunne baser flowres;
So, where thou do'st the greatest worth disclose,
To compasse that, be prodigall of houres:
Seeke not to seeme, but be; who be, seeme too,
Doe carelesly, and yet have care to doe.

Thou to resemble thy renowned syre,

And this, a way to what they would, prepares,
Not onely as thought good, but as known theirs.
Seek not due reverence onely to procure,
With shows of soveraignty, and guards oft lewd,
So Nero did, yet could not so assure
The hated diademe with bloud imbru'd ;
Nor as the Persian kings, who liv'd obscure,
And of their subjects rarely would be view'd;
So one of them was secretly ore-thrown,

And in his place the murtherer raign'd unknown.

No onely goodnesse doth beget regard,
And equity doth greatest glory winne,
To plague for vice, and vertue to reward,
What they intend, that, bravely to begin;
This is to soveraigntie a powerfull guard,
And makes a prince's praise ore all come in:
Whose life (his subjects' law) clear'd by his deeds,

Must not (though some there were) mark triviall More then Iustinian's toyls, good order breeds.

things,

But matchlesse vertues which all mindes admire,
Whose treasure to his realmes great comfort brings;
That to attaine (thou race of kings) aspire,
Which for thy fame may furnish ayery wings:
And like to eaglets thus thou prov'st thy kinde,
When both like him, in body, and in minde.

Ah, be not those most miserable soules,
Their judgements to refine who never strive!
Nor will not looke upon the learned scroules,
Which without practise doe experience give;
But (whilst base sloth each better care controules)
Are dead in ignorance, entomb'd' alive.

'Twixt beasts and such the difference is but small,
They use not reason, beasts have none at all.

O! heavenly treasure which the best sort loves,
Life of the soule, reformer of the will,

Cleare light, which from the mind each cloud re

moves,

Pure spring of vertue, physicke for each ill,
Which in prosperity a bridle proves,
And in adversity a pillar still;

Of thee the more men get, the more they crave,
And thinke, the more they get, the lesse they have.
But if that knowledge be requir'd of all,
What should they doe this treasure to obtaine,
Whom in a throne, time travels to enstall,
Where they by it of all things must ordaine?
If it make them who by their birth were thrall,
As little kings, whilst ore themselves they raigne,
Then it must make, when it hath throughly grac'd
them,
[them.
Kings more then kings, and like to him who plac'd

This is a griefe which all the world bemones,
When those lack judgement who are borne to judge,
And like to painted tombes, or guilded stones,
To troubled soules cannot afford refuge; [once,
Kings are their kingdomes' hearts, which, tainted
The bodies straight corrupt in which they lodge:
And those, by whose example many fall,
Are guilty of the murther of them all.

The meanes which best make majestie to stand,
Are laws observ'd, whil'st practise doth direct
The crowne, the head, the scepter decks the hand,
But onely knowledge doth the thoughts erect;
Kings should excell all them whom they command,
In all the parts which do procure respect :

|

All those who ore unbaptiz'd nations raign'd,
By barbarous customes sought to foster feare,
And with a thousand tyrannies constrain'd
All them whom they subdu'd their yoke to beare,
But those whom great Iehovah hath ordain'd,
Above the Christians, lawfull thrones to reare:
Must seek by worth, to be obey'd for love,
So having raign'd below, to raigne above.

O happy Henrie, who art highly borne,
Yet beautifi'st thy birth with signes of worth,
And (though a childe) all childish toyes do'st scorne,
To show the world thy vertues budding forth,
Which may by time this glorious isle adorne,
And bring eternall trophees to the north,
While as thou do'st thy father's forces leade,
And art the hand, whileas he is the head.

Thou, like that gallant thunder-bolt of warre,
Third Edward's sonne, who was so much renown'd,
Shalt shine in valour as the morning starre,
And plenish with thy praise the peopled round;
But like to his, let nought thy fortune marre,
Who, in his father's time, did dye uncrown'd:
Long live thy syre, so all the world desires,
But longer thou, so Nature's course requires.

And, though time once thee, by thy birth-right, owes
Those sacred honours which men most esteeme,
Yet flatter not thy selfe with those faire showes,
Which often-times are not such as they seeme,
Whose burd'nous weight, the bearer but ore-throws,
That could before of no such danger deeme:
Then if not, arm'd in time, thou make thee strong,
Thou dost thy selfe, and many a thousand wrong.
Since thou must manage such a mighty state,
Which hath no borders but the seas and skies,
Then even as he who justly was call'd great,
Did (prodigall of paines where fame might rise)
With both the parts of worth in worth grow great,
As learn'd, as valiant, and as stout as wise:
So now let Aristotle lay the ground,
Whereon thou after may thy greatnesse found.

For if transported with a base repose,
Thou did'st (as thou dost not) mispend thy prime,
O what a faire occasion would'st thou lose,
Which after would thee grieve, though out of time!
To vertuous courses now thy thoughts dispose,
While fancies are not glu'd with pleasure's lyme,

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