Chap. I.

A short line how to levell your life.

When thou risest, let thy thoughts
ascend, that grace may descend:
and if thou canst not weepe for thy
sinnes, then weepe, because thou
canst not weepe.

Remember that Prayer is the
wing wherewith thy soule flieth to
heaven; and Meditation the eye
wherewith we see God; and Repentance the Supersedeas
that dischargeth all bond of sinne.

Let thy sacrifice be an innocent heart: offer it dayly at
set houres, with that devotion that well it may shew, thou
both knowest and acknowledgest his greatnesse before
whom thou art. So carrie thy selfe as woorthie of his presence.

Where thou owest, pay duetie: where thou findest, returne
curtesie: where thou art knowen, deserve love. Desire
the best: disdaine none, but evill companie. Grieve,
but be not angrie at discourtesies. Redresse, but revenge
no wrongs. Yet so remember pitie, as you forget not decencie.

Let your attire be such, as may satisfie a curious eye; and
yet beare witnesse of a sober minde.

Arme your selfe with that modestie, that may silence B2 that B2v
that untemperate tongue, and controll that unchaste eye,
that shall aime at passion.

Be mindfull of things past; Carefull of things present;
Provident of things to come.

Goe as you would be met.

Sit as you would be found.

Speake as you would be heard: And when you goe to
bed, read over the carriage of your selfe that day. Reforme
that is amisse; and give God thanks for that which is orderly:
and so commit thy selfe to him that keepes thee.

Chap. II.

A mortified mans melancholy expressed in the person
of Heraclitus, who alwaies wept.

Let him that laughes come weepe with me:
for that which mirth neglects, teares doe
learne: It is the afflicted minde that is the
touchstone of faults committed: and the
guilt which securitie overseeth, a troubled
minde doth soone discover. “A dolefull case desires a dolefull song Without vaine Art or curious complement; And squallid fortune into basenesse flung Doth scorne the pride of woonted ornament.”

Be sorie that thou canst not sorrow thou that art begot in
filthinesse, nourished in darknesse, brought foorth in pangs
of death; thou whose infancie is a dreame; whose youth a
frensie; whose manhood a combate; whose age a sicknesse;
whose life miserie; whose death horror.

Thinke, ô thinke, and bethinke thy selfe, from whence
thou camest, where thou art, and whither thou goest, for
thou art here in an obscure land, governed by the prince
of darkenesse, where vice is advaunced, vertue scorned,
where pleasures are few, paines infinite: where want is miserable,
plenty full of perill: in a vale of teares, environed
on all sides with unplacable adversaries: where if thou subdue
lust, covetousnesse assaults thee; if covetousnesse be
vanquished, ambition will second hir; if ambition be surprised,
anger succeeds: in a world of mischiefe, where envy
breaketh peace, jealousie sundreth friendship. “A wretched world, the den of wretchednesse, Deform’d with filth and foule iniquitie, A wretched world, the house of heavinesse, Fild with the wreaks of mortall miserie. O wretched world, and all that is therein, The vassals of Gods wrath, and slaves to sinne.”

Thou hast a silly, poore, yet powerfull soule, a soule of noble
substance, of exceeding beautie, inspired by God the
Father; redeemed by God the Sonne; sanctified by God
the holy Ghost: this is the careful charge committed to thy
charge to keepe hir. Where wilt thou finde security for hir, “Which did in former time Gods image beare? And was at first, faire, good, and spotlesse pure. But since with sinnes her beauties blotted weare, Doth of all sights hir owne sight least indure.”

But now exiled from hir-selfe, and as a widow deprived
of hir espoused fellowship, committed to thy safe conduct,
where wilt thou secure hir? in heaven the angels fell in Gods
presence: in paradice Adam fell from a place of pleasure;
in the world Judas fell in the schoole of Christ: and if thou
sufferest hir to fall, she fals to eternall perdition, for the
sword of Gods justice hangeth alwaies over our soules readie
for our sinnes to divide us from eternall blisse. “Since harvest never failes, but ever must, Be torturd with the racke of his owne frame: B3For B3v For he that holds no faith, shall finde no trust, But sowing wrong, is sure to reape Gods blame.”

Let the foote of him that sits upon the rainbow be thy
arke of securitie in this deluge of miseries; be not like the
uncleane Crow, that can finde footing on every carion,
with little care to returne againe: but rather imitate the innocent
Dove, that lothing abode without this arke, can
finde no rest; and with the wings of a longing desire and
penitent heart, flicker at the window of this arke, till thy
heavenly Noah put out his mercifull hand to take thee in. “For when the soule findes here no true content, And like Noahs Dove can no sure footing take: She doth returne from whence she first was sent, And flies to him that first hir wings did make.”

Let hir not drinke of the fluds of the vanities of this life,
but as the dogs doe of the river Nilus, that drinke running,
least while they stay to take a full draught, they be stung
with scorpions: for she lives in thy bodie no otherwise than
as a lazar on his death bed, uncertaine of life, but in apparent
danger of endlesse death; within she makes her solace
full of sadnesse: hir hope full of hazard, and all hir waies
strowed with Coccatrice egges, faire without, and foule
within, make hir carefull of hir steps. Thou hast the example
of Christ: which way wilt thou goe? he is the Way:
whither wilt thou goe? he is the Trueth: where wilt thou
stay? he is the Life. If this Way lead thee thorow austere
passages; if this Trueth teach thee true contrition: if
this Life be not atchieved but with a dolefull pilgrimage;
for where doest thou reade that
Christ laughed? then “Woe be to you that
laugh, for you shall mourne: and happy
are you that lament, for you
shall be comforted.”

Chap. III.

A patheticall speech of the person of Dives in the torments
of hell.

O Death, how sudden was thy arrest unto me?
how unexpected? while my bodie was
strong, while my intrals were full of fat,
and my bones were watered with marrow;
while I had rest in my substance, and peace
in my riches; in one night my soule was taken
from me, and all my joy was turned into mourning. “Like as the sacred oxe that carelesse stands, With gilded hornes, and flowrie garlands crownd, Proud of his dying honour and deare bands, Whilst theaters fume with frankensence around: All suddenly with mortall blow astond, Doth groveling fall, and with his steeming gore, Distaine the pillars and the holy ground, And the faire flowers that decked him afore, So downe I fell on wordlesse precious shore.”

I saw my friends forsake me in a moment: I felt how hard
a thing it was to sever two such old acquaintances as my
soule and bodie: I wanted no view of the vanities wherein
I had delighted. On the one side hung a register of my
sinnes committed; on the other side lay a catalogue of
good deeds omitted: within me boiled my conscience confessing
and accusing me: Before me stood the judgements
of God denounced against sinne so mustered in ranke, as
I might well perceive my dangers were certaine, and destruction
imminent. In this extasie while I desired but one
houres delay, I was caried with a motion Torrenti simili,
as swift as the torrent before the tribunall seat of God.

To this tribunall seate attended me my evill works,
where Christ shewing himselfe, laid open unto me the benefits
he had bestowed upon me, the rewards he promised
me, the torments he suffred for me; all which the divell
confessing, concluded me to be his; for that though he
never loved me, yet I served him, though hee never gratified
me, yet I obeied him, without wooing he wan me,
performing what he suggested, embracing what he preferred,
affecting everie thing he cast in my way, all which
my conscience acknowledging, censured me to this bottomlesse
depth, to this profound lake, to this sinke of
the world, whither all the afflictions and unpleasant things
in the world draine and unite themselves to take revenge of
sinne. “A deadly gulfe where nought but rubbish growes, Which up in th’ aire such stinking vapour throwes, That over there may flie no bird but dies, Chok’t with the pestilent favours that arise.”

To this Chaos of confusion, to this Well of perdition
wherein I am coarcted, to this burning lake of fire and
brimstone wherein I lie burning, but not consuming; lamenting,
but not pitied; where I vomit out the riches
which I devoured; in paine, without ease; in torture without
intermission; where my lascivious eies are afflicted
with most ugly and fearefull sights of griesely divels; my
eares that once were delicate, are laden now with the hideous
noise of damned spirits; my nose that once was daintie,
is cloied with the stinke of unsupportable filth; my taste
that sometimes was curious, and surfeited with plentie, is
now tormented with want; my imagination is vexed with
apprehension of paines present; my memory grieved with
the losse of pleasures past; my understanding affected with
the consideration of felicitie lost, and miserie found. Thus
comparing senses pleasure with incumbent joy, I finde my
joies abortive, perisht ere they bud, my paines everlasting,
during beyond eternitie. Your C1r “Your fond preferments are but childrens toyes. And as a shadow all your pleasures passe. As yeeres increase, so wauning are your joyes. Your blesse is brittle, like a broken glasse, Or as a tale of that which never was.”

Wherefore as one past cure, dejected beyond hope of
redemption into endlesse perdition, rather condoling my
misfortune, than expostulating my mishap whereof my
selfe was authour, I call to you, the glory of your age, the
meat of time, who proud in your errours, tread the path of
worldly pleasures, wherein I was impathed: Frustra, ô frustra
hæc aliò properanti. “What in this life we have or can desire, Hath time of growth, and moment of retire.” “So feeble is mans state as sure it will not stand, Till it disordered be from earthly band.”

It was a condition annexed to our Creation: Intrasti ut
exires, thou wert borne to die. Nothing more sure than thy
dissolution: no time more uncertaine than thy time of separation.
Be alwaies readie to prevent that enemie, that is alwaies
in readinesse to take advantage. Qui non vult in vita
præuidere mortem, non potest in morte videre vitam. Who
while he lives will not prevent eternall death, shall never
after death inherit eternall life.

Hoc est momentum temporis unde pendet æternitas. The
carriage of thy selfe in this life, is the beame whereof thy
welfare for ever dependeth. Deferre not thy amendment: “God is best when soonest wrought, Lingring thoughts do come to nought. O suffer not delay to steale the treasure of that day, Whose smallest minute lost, no riches render may.”

Turpe est eo statu vivere, in quo non statuas mori. In vaine
thou livest in that estate of life, in which thou meanest not
to die. Make, ô make your salvation sure unto you by good
works. Encline your heart to doe good: for the reward
thereof is infinite: for he is comming and commeth quickly,
and brings his reward with him, to distribute to everie
one as he hath deserved, even according to his workes.
Omission and commission brought my confusion.

Cautior exemplo tu. Let my example provoke you to detest
that wherein I tooke delight, lest you also come hither
to be tormented not onely with oppression of eternall punishment,
but with omission of everlasting joyes, which I
admire now, carendo non fruendo: which if I might redeeme
by suffering all the torments that either tyrants have invented,
or martyrs suffered; if with my tongue I might licke
out the print of my feet out of the way of sinners; if with
teares of blood and water I might purge my uncleannesse to
worke my redemption: Ecce Domine paratum ægrum haberes
in omnem medicinam. Beholde, ô Lord, thou shouldest haue C2r
have a patient fit for any cure. I would wring my drained
eyes, ut facilè sentires paratum ad omne supplicium ipsum habitum
orantis Christiani. But since my glasse is run, and my
sun set; since death hath overshadowed me, and that there
is no pleading after sentence; since that serò ducit suspiria,
qui non expectat remedium: since my affecting what I should
have desired, is turned into a feeling of that I lost; quia ex
inferno nulla redemptio, quia pœnarum nullus finis, suppliciorum
nulla defectio; because there is no end for my hell, nor satisfaction
for my punishment: Therefore to you I call, to
you that carelesse live, that feele not with what sense I
speake. Consider, Whence you came, Where you are, and
Whither you go. You are parts of that God that created
all things for you, and you for himselfe. You live on the
stage of the earth, Ubi spectaculum factiestis Deo, Angelis, &
hominibus, Where you are in the view of God, angels and
men. And you are going, ô looke to your going, Non est vitæ
momentum sine motu ad mortem. There is no moving of life
without a motion to death. You go and are alwaies going
to make your appearance before the tribunall seat of God,
where every man shall receive according to his works. Qualis
vita, finis ita: ut cecideris, ita eris. As you fall, so he findes
you: as he findes you, so he censures you: and as he censures
you, so he leaves you for ever and ever. Wherefore,
quia arbor ad eam partem moriens cadit, ad quam partem viuens
ramos extenderat, because as a tree falles, that way it
swayes while it is in growing: if you desire to fall right,
learne while you are in your growth, to sway the right way.
Judge your selves, that you be not judged, Ut sementum feceris,
ita metes: What you sowe that you reape, either a
crowne of glorie, quam nemo scit nisi qui accepit, or a chaos of
confusion, in qua sempeternus horror habitat, whose
worth can not be expressed, but of him that
enjoyes it, or a masse of confusion in
which eternall horror doth
inhabit.

Chap. IIII.

Who lives most honestly, will die most willingly.

“Sweet” (saith Chrysostome) “is the end to the
labourers:” willingly doth the traveller
question about his Inne: often casteth the
hireling when his yeeres will come out: the
woman great with childe will often muse of
her deliverie: and he that knowes his life is
but a way to death, will sit upon the thresholde with the
poore prisoner, expecting to have the doore open to be let
out of so lothsome a prison, looking for death without feare,
desiring it with delight, and accepting it with devotion. “For what’s the life of man, but even a tragedie, Full of sad sighes, and sore catastrophes? First comming to the world with weeping eye, Where all his dayes like dolorous trophes, Are heapt with spoiles of fortune and of feare.”

For it is onely death that unlooseth the chaines, and sets us
free from our domesticall enemie. It is onely he, that wafts
us forward in this sea of calamities, the danger whereof is
shewen by the multitude of those that perish by the gunshot
of the divels assaults, and by the rarenesse of those that escape
shipwracke. “Our frailties dome, is written in the flowers, Which flourish now, but fade yer many howers. By deaths permission th’ aged linger heere, Straight after death, is due the fatall beere.”

It is onely death that brings us into harbour, where our repose
is without trouble, our comfort without crosses, where
our teares shall be turned into triumph, our sadnesse into
joy, and all our miseries into perfit felicitie. “Death is the salve that ceaseth all annoy. Death is the port by which we passe to joy.”

It is for brutes to feare death, whose end of life is conclusion
of their being. It is for Epicures to feare death,
whose death is the beginning of their damnation. It is
for such as trafficke vanities, to looke to gaine griefe; for
such as have sowen sinne, to looke to reape miserie; for
those of a desperate life, to looke for a damnable decease:
but the good man that did sowe in teares, by death shall
reape in joy; for his judge is he who knowes our weaknesse,
and will acknowledge our infirmities: his accusers are made
dumbe by former repentance; his conscience is cleared by
former confession; hope is his staffe, to keepe him from
sliding; grace is his guide, to keepe him from erring; faith
his assurance, to strengthen his resolution: and what doth
he lose, but fraile and tickle life, a vapour that soone vanisheth,
a drie leafe carried with every winde, a sleepe fed with
imaginarie dreames, a tragedy of transitory things and disguised
persons, that passe away like a poste in the night, like
a ship in the sea, like a bird in the aire, whose tract the aire
closeth? “Life is a bubble blowen up with a breath, Whose wit is weaknesse, and whose wage is death, Whose way is wildnesse, and whose inne is penance, Stooping to crooked age the host of grievance.”

Who can sit in his studie and looke on his houre-glasse,
and say not to himselfe, Ut hora, sic fugit vita? that thy life
is spent with the houre? Who can walke in the Sunne, and
looke on his shadow, and not say with Pindarus, σκίας ὄναρ ἀνθρωπος,
Umbræ somnium homo, Man is but the dreame of a
shadow? Or who can see the smoake dispersed in the aire,
and not say with the Poet, Sic in non hominem vertitur omnis
homo? Canst thou feele the wind beat on thy face, and canst
thou forget that thou holdest thy tenement by a puffe of
winde? eCanst thou sit by the river side, and not remember
that as the river runneth, and doth not returne, so is the life
of man? Canst thou shoot in the fields, and not call to mind
that as the arrow flieth in the aire, so swiftly doe thy dayes C3 passe? C3v
passe? Or canst thou walke in the fields, and see how some
grasse is comming, some newly withered, and some already
come, and doest not remember that all flesh is grasse? Miser
homo, cur te ad mortem non disponis, cùm fis pro certo moriturus?
Miserable man, why doest thou not dispose thy selfe
to death, since thou art sure thou canst not live? Nostrum
vivere, è vita transire: our best life is to die well: for living
here we enjoy nothing: things past are dead and gone:
things present are alwayes ending: things future alwayes beginning:
while we live we die; and we leave dying, when
we leave living. Our life was a smoake, and is vanished;
was a shadow, and is passed; was a bubble, and is dissolved.
The poore mans life is led in want, & therefore miserable.
The rich mans joy is but vanity: for he is poore in his riches,
abject in his honours, discontented in his delights.
This made Hilarion say, Egredere: quid times, anima? octoginta
annos seruisti domino: Thou hast served thy God fourescore
yeeres, and therefore feare not now to goe take thy
wages. And Ambrose, Non mori timeo, quia bonum habeo dominum,
Who feared not to die, knowing that he that came
hither to buy us an inheritance, is gone before us to prepare
it for us.

Chap. V.

Speculum vitæ.

A sinners glasse.

What is the life of man but a continuall battell,
and defiance with God? what have our
eies and eares beene, but open gates to
send in loades of sinne into our minde?
What have our powers and senses beene,
but tynder to take, and fewell to feed the
flame of concupiscence? What hath thy body beene but a
stewes of an adulteresse, but a forge of Sathan, where the fire
of our affections kindled with wicked suggestions, have enflamed
the passions of our heart, and made it the anvile to
turne us to most ugly shapes of deformed sensualitie? What
hath our soule, which is the receipt of the blessed Trinitie,
betrothed to Christ in Baptisme, beautified with grace, ordeined
with the fellowship of angels to eternall blesse, what
hath it beene, but a most vile broker, presenting to thy
will allurements of sinne? what hath our will beene, but a
common harlot lusting after every delight, wherein she
tooke liking? what is our memorie, but a register of most
detestable and abhominable facts committed by us? what
hath our reason beene, but a captived vagabond, subdued
by everie passion? “The sinne that conquers grace by wicked ure, So soyles our soules as they can have no cure.”

So that by this metamorphosis we are become more odious
to God then the divell himselfe: for the divell by creation
was more beautifull than we: it was sinne that deformedmed C4v
him, and that sinne that made him odious, makes us
detestable: for our sinnes are woorse then his, and we not
so good as he: for his sinne was one, & ours are infinite: he
sinned before the stipend of sinne was knowne, ours after
notice & experience of it: he sinned created in innocencie,
we sin restored unto it: he persisted in malice being of God
rejected, we continue in hatred against him that recalled us:
his heart was hardned against him that punisht him, ours
obdurate against him that allureth us. So that our case is now
such as infinite goodnesse detesteth, and infinite love cannot
condole. The earth was created for a place of pleasure,
the aire was created temperate, creatures were made to be
obedient to man, all things framed to his best content: but
see how sinne hath transformed pleasure into plagues, famine
and murders many in number, grievous in qualitie,
and ordinarie in experience, which indeed are but Initia
doloris, for the damned suffer death without death, decaie
without decay, envie without envie; for their death ever
liveth: their end ever beginneth, and their decay never
ceaseth, but are alwaies healed to be new wounded, dying
but never dead, repaired onely to be anew decaied.

Chap. VI.

The union of Mercy and Justice.

There be two feet whereon God walketh on
the hearts of men; Mercie and Trueth,
which a sinner must fall downe with Marie
and kisse, that in respect of Gods Justice we
may reteine feare, and in regard of his
Mercie conceive hope: for all the waies of
God are Mercie and Truth; Mercie, that we may not despaire,
and Trueth, that we may not presume. O D1r “O who shall shew the countenance and gestures, Of Mercie and Justice, which faire sacred sisters With equall poize doe ever ballance even, Th’ unchaunging projects of the king of heaven! Th’ one sterne of looke, th’ other milde aspecting, Th’ one pleasd with teares, th’ other blood affecting. Th’ one beares the sword of vengeance unrelenting, Th’ other brings pardon for the true repenting.”

Because God is mercifull, wilt thou build a nest of sinne,
as the Psalmist saith, upon his backe? thou canst not sever
his Mercie from his Justice, and then Justice will sentence,
Tarditatem pœnæ, gravitate supplicium. Is God a just God, a
terrible God, into whose hands it is a horrible thing to fall?
Thou canst not separate his Justice from his Mercie: she will
proclaime Misericordiam Dei super omnia opera sua, his
mercy exalteth hirselfe above his judgements, Vult enim
omnes homines saluos fieri. He that can that he will, will not
the death of one sinner, but that he may turne from his wickednesse
and live for ever: he offreth his mercy to all, but
never useth his justice but upon necessitie. I will sing unto
thee, ô Lord, mercy and trueth together, not mercy alone,
as not fearing thy judgements, nor trueth alone, as despairing
in thy mercies: but thy mercies shall breed a love, and
thy judgements shall make me feare to impath my selfe in
the way of sinners.

Chap. VII.

Iugum meum suaue.

It is well observed by one, That the rodde of
the roote of Jesse flowred, that the sweetnesse of
the flower might mittigate the severitie of the
the rodde. The divell is never suffred to punish
us farther then is for our benefit: for either he corrects us D for D1v
for our former offences, or else to prevent our future infirmities.
Neither is every one that spareth, a friend, nor every
one that striketh an enemie: but the words of a friend are
better then the flatterings of a foe, and he that loves with
austeritie, is better then he that killes with delicacie. It is
the divels common course to kill our soule, while he flatters
our fancie. For as the theefe that can not by open violence
catch his bootie, seeketh by shrowding himselfe in valleies
and bushes to take the travellers unprovided: so the divell,
when by open pursuit he can not prevaile, he coutcheth
himselfe in briers and shadowes of worldly vanities, entrapping
us before we prevent his traines. For albeit with a
smooth flight and even wing he lessen himselfe into the
clouds, as an eagle delighted to view the sunne: yet is he
but a ravening kite, soaring in the aire, the better to see
how to seaze upon his pray. God borroweth not the Syrens
voice, when he would sting with a Scorpions taile, and
when he bites with the tooth of a lion, he useth not the
teares of a crocodill, but as the husbandman lops his vine
least the juice should be spent in leaves: so least our mindes
should be imploied in vaine and superfluous pleasures; our
wits which without profit would be diffused, are by him
kept in compasse by tribulation. For where he purposeth to
heale, he spareth not to launce: and if he see thou be fostered
by the world thy naturall nurse, he can annoint hir teate
with the bitternesse of discontent, to weane thee from hir:
for he that bindes the franticke, and awakes the lethargee, is
troublesome, but friendly to both. “If ought can touch us ought, afflictions lookes Makes us to looke into our selves so neere, Teach us to know our selves beyond all bookes, Or all the learned schooles that ever were. This makes our senses quicke, and reason cleare, Resolves our will, and rectifies our thoughts, So doe the windes and thunder clense the aire, So lopt and pruned trees do flourish faire.”

Be not discouraged; thou art a Christian, whose captaine
is a Crucifixe, whose standard the Crosse, whose armour Patience,
whose battell Persecution, whose victorie Death.
Whether God fostreth thee as a weakling, or exercise thee
as one stronger, or checke thee as one unruly; yet he tendreth
all as his owne children. Behold thy Saviour with his
head full of thornes, his eies full of teares, his eares full of
blasphemies, his mouth full of gal, his body full of wounds,
his heart full of sorrow; and blame him not, if ere thou find
him, he give thee a sippe of the chalice whereof be drunke
so full a cuppe. Thy love must be great, when his sorrow is
more at thy ingratitude, then at his owne affliction, when
he lost himselfe to winne thee: a worke without example, a
grace beyond merite, a charitie surpassing measure. Wherefore
whether he set thee to seeke him in the poverty of the
crib and manger, or in the agony of his bloody sweat in
the garden, or in the middest of reproches and false accusations
before the tribunall, or in the torments of a shamefull
death; yet thinke thy selfe as deepe in his favour for
being tried by the torments of his passion, as those that are
called by the testimonie of his glorious transfiguration.

Chap. VIII.

That feare to die is the effect of an evill life.

Johannes Patriarch of Alexandria, whose frequent
deeds of charity gave him this Epithete,
to be called Johannes Eleemosynarius,
having his tombe in building, gave his people
in charge, that it should be left unfinished,
and that everie day one should put
him in minde to perfect it. His meaning was, that by that
meanes having his thoughts fixed of the doore of death, he
might the better prepare himselfe for the passage through
it. The Pope that day he is chosen, hath one comes to him D2 with D2v
with foure marble stones, as patterns to choose of which
his tombe shall be built. He that raketh up vertue in the
ashes of the memorie of death, shall finde hir force so united,
that when they come to be unraked, they shall finde
that hir heate will so encourage us, that when our foule findeth
a vent to mount up to hir naturall Sphere, she will
flame in the firmament, and shine most oriently to our excessive
comfort, and hir Creators inestimable glorie: for he
whose life was a studie to die, well knowes that death hath
lost his tartenesse by passing through the veines of life: he
feares not his cold sweats, nor forgoing gripes, but taketh
them as throwes in childe-bed, by which our soule is
brought out of a lothsome body into eternall felicitie. He
feares not the divels, whose temptations he hath valiantly
resisted: the grave is no horror to him, for he knowes he
sowes the body in corruption to reape it againe in immortalitie.
He that liveth well, shall make a good end, and in
the day of death his decease shall be blessed, for he rest­
from his labours, and his works doe follow him. But to him
that liveth ill, death is an ever dying death: he lies tormented
with the pangues of the dying flesh, amazed with the
corrosive fittes of the minde, frighted with terror of that is
to come, grieved with remorse of that which is past, stung
with the gnawing of a guiltie conscience, terrified with the
rigor of a severe judge, vexed with approch of a lothsome
sepulchre. They made their prison their
paradise, their bellie their God, their appetite
their guide: so sowing sinne,
they reape miserie, traffiking
vanities, they gaine griefe,
detestable was their life,
and damnable is
their decease.

Chap. IX.

That affliction is the coate of a Christian.

If we be Christians, affliction is our coat, and
the Crosse our cognizance, In hoc signo vinces:
Christs clouts comfort not those that
walke in side robes. The stable and manger
are no refreshings to such as love the highest
roomes in the Synagogue. Our arke lieth
not in papilionibus, but in præsepio. If we be members of that
head which was prickt with thornes, let the rest of the parts
sympathize with it: let the Mount Calvarie be our schoole,
the crosse our pulpit, the crucifixe our meditation, his
wounds our letters, his lashes our commaes, his nailes our
full-points, his open side our booke, and Scire Christum
crucifixum, our whole lesson. By his nakednesse, learne to
clothe thee; by his crowne of thornes, how to adorne thee;
by his vinegre and gall, how to diet thee; by his praying for
his murderers, how to revenge thee; by his hanging on the
crosse, how to repose thee. Heere learne, that death reviveth,
sorow solaceth, an ecclipse enlighteneth; that out of
the devourer there came meat, and out of the stronger issueth
sweetnesse. And since our sinnes (like fierce Samsons)
have murdered the lion of the tribe of Juda, let our repentant
thoughts (like bees) sucke at the flowers of his passion,
and make hony to delight our selves and provoke others.
Let us seeke Christ, not inter cognatos & natos, nor with the
spouse in the Canticles, in lectulo meo quæsivi quem amavi, nor
with them in Osee, that looke him in gregibus & armentis;
but seeke him with Moses in the desert, with Daniel in a firy
throne. His delight is to see Nineve in sackcloth, Job on the D3 dunghill; D3v
dunghill; he expects a perfect demonstration of a serviceable
minde, for an Eamus & nos, ut moriamur cum illo: for
losse of felicitie searcheth the force of affection. It is neither
prosperitie that tries a friend, nor adversitie that concealeth
an enemie. This is that true God that chiefe life, in whom,
by whom, and from whom all things doe flow, from whom
to revolt is to fall, to whom to returne is to rise, in whom to
stay is to stand sure, from whom to depart is to die, to whom
to repaire is to revive, in whom to dwell is to live: that God
whom none loseth but deceived, none seeketh but admonished,
none findeth but are cleansed, what ever is not of God
is not good: give me thy selfe, & take all things els from me.

Chap. X.

A theme to thinke on.

Considera, ô homo, Quides in natura, Quis in
persona, Qualis in vita. Consider, ô man,
what thou art in nature, who thou art in person,
what an one thou art in life: for thou
art not in nature as a stone having onely being,
nor as a plant having onely being and
growing, nor as a brute having onely being, growing, and
sense; but as a man who to these imperfections hath the perfection
of a living soule added. “This soul’s a substance and a reall thing, Which hath it selfe an actuall worke in night, But neither from the senses power doth spring, Nor from the bodies humours tempered right: It God himselfe doth in the bodie make, And man from this the name of man doth take.”

And the same God that created thee of nothing, preserves
thee from all things that might annoy thee; gives
thee health and plentie, and subjecteth all things to thy service,
that thou mightst serve him in holinesse and righteousnesseousnesse D4r
all the dayes of thy life: for if God had not created
thee, thou hadst not beene at all: if Christ had not redeemed
thee, the divell had dejected thee in the fall of Adam:
if the Holy Ghost should not comfort thee, thou couldest
not be preserved as thou art. Since therefore thou art Gods
by creation, redemption, and preservation, looke what time
thou bestowest out of his service, thou stealest it from him
who made it for thee to serve him in it, and art a thiefe. If
thou beest more enamoured of any of these blessings which
he bestowes on thee to win thy love, than of himselfe, who
shewes his love in bestowing them on thee, thou committest
idolatrie, and art an idolater. If thou bestowest good
houres in ill actions, or great blessings to bad purposes,
thou committest treason, and art a traitor. “He that preferres not God fore all his race, Amongst the sonnes of God deserves no place.”

Turpe est benè natis malè vivere, & plantatis benè peiùs fructificare.
Thou art created after his owne image; make no
impression unworthy that character. Pulchra sint oportet quæ
ex eius animo procedunt, qui in Dei habitaculum est præparandus.
Thy soule is the temple of the Holy Ghost, thou must
not pollute it with brutish appetites, but prepare it with gracious
meditations, most fitting food wherewithall to entertaine
so heavenly a ghest. He hath made thee in person erect,
that he might put thee in mind to rectifie thy thoughts
and actions. O levell thy life to the straightnesse of the line
of thine owne portrature. Staine not the beautie of
thy parts, lest thou susteine miserie in this life
with the losse of eternall life: for the
stipend of sinne is death, and the
merit of transgression is
eternall perdition.

Chap. XI.

Morning Meditation, with sixteene sobs of a sorowfull
spirit, which she used for mentall prayer, as also an addition
of sixteene staves of verse taken out of Peters
complaint; which she usually sung and played on the
winde instrument.

Chap. XII.

A Madrigall made by Berny Grymeston upon
the conceit of his mothers play to
the former ditties.

Chap. XIII.

Evening Meditation.