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Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Who God doth late and early pray
.—This man is freed from servile bands
Born 1592. Died 1634.
From 'the Church Porch.'
LIE not; but let thy heart be true to God.
Fly idleness, which yet thou canst not fly
By dressing, mistressing and compliment.
If those take up thy day, the sun will cry
Against thee; for his light was only lent.
God gave thy soul brave wings; put not those feathers
Into a bed, to sleep out all ill weathers.
Restore to God his due in tithe and time:
When once thy foot enters the church, be bare;
Resort to sermons, but to prayers most:
Praying's the end of preaching. O be drest;
Stay not for th' other pin: why, thou hast lost
A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest
Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee,
Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee.
In time of service seal up both thine eyes,
Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part:
Though in a bare and rugged way,
THE spacious firmament on high,
Soon as the evening shades prevail
What though in solemn silence all
Born 1573. Died 1637.
IT is not growing like a tree
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Epode From 'the Forest.'
"\TOT to know vice at all, and keep true state,
*.' Is virtue and not fate;
Next to that virtue, is to know vice well,
And her black spite expel.
Which to effect (since no breast is so sure
Or safe, but she 'll procure
Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard
Of thoughts to watch and ward
As the eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,
That no strange or unkind
Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,
Give knowledge instantly
To wakeful reason, our affection's king:
Who, in th' examining,
Will quickly taste the treason, and commit
Close the close cause of it.
"Tis the securest policy we have
To make our sense our slave.
But this true course is not embraced by many—
By many? scarce by any.
For either our affections do rebel,
Or else the sentinel,
That should ring larum to the heart, doth sleep;
Or some great thought doth keep
Back the intelligence, and falsely swears
They are base and idle fears
Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.
Thus, by these subtle trains
Do several passions invade the mind,
And strike our reason blind.
Epitaph On The Countess Of Pembroke.
UNDERNEATH this marble hearse,
Epitaph On A Lady.
UNDERNEATH this stone doth lie