The Second Week, Fourth Day, Book I: The Tropheis

THE ARGUMENT.

Saul's fall from Fauour, into Gods Disgrace.
Dauid design'd Successor in his Place;
Brauing Goliah, and the Philistins
He brauely foyles: He flyes his furious Prince.
Seem-Samuel rais'd: Saul routed; Selfely-slain.
King-Dauids TROPHEIS, and triumphant Raign:
His heauenly Harp- skill (in King IAMES renewd):
His humane frailty, heauily pursewd.
Bersabé batheing: Nathan bold-reprouing:
Dauid repenting (Our REPENTANCE moouing).

HEröike force, and Prince-fit forme withall,
Honor the Scepter of courageous Saul;
Successe confirmes it: for the power Diuine
Tames by his hand th' outrageous Philistine,
Edom, and Moab, and the Ammonite,
And th' euer-wicked, curst Amalekite:
O too-too-happy! if his arrogance
Had not transgrest Heauens sacred Ordinance:
But therefore, God in's secret Counsell (iust)
Him euen alreadie from his Throne hath thrust,
Degraded of his gifts: and in his steed
(Though priuily) anointed Iesse's Seed,
Th' honour of Iacob, yea of th' Vniuerse,
Heav'ns darling DAVID, Subiect of my Verse.

Lord, sith I cannot (nor I may not once)
Aspire to DAVIDS Diadems and Thrones;
Nor lead behind my bright Tryumphal-Car
So many Nations Conquered in War:
Nor (DAVID-like) my trembling Asps adorn
With bloody TROPHEIS of my Foes forlorn:
Vouch safe mee yet his Verse, and (Lord) I craue
Let me his Harp-strings, not his Bowe-strings haue;
His Lute, and not his Launce, to worthy-sing
Thy glorie, and the honour of thy King.
For, none but DAVID can sing DAVID's worth:
Angels in Heav'n thy glory sound; in Earth,
DAVID alone; whom (with Heav'ns loue surpriz'd)
To praise thee there, thou now hast Angeliz'd.
Giue mee the Laurel, not of War, but Peace;
Or rather giue mee (if thy grace so please)
The Ciuik Garland of green Oaken boughes,
Thrice-three times wreath'd about my glorious browes,
To euer-witnes to our after-frends
How I haue reskew'd my con-Citizens,
Whom profane Fames-Thirst day and night did moue
To be be-slav'd to th' yoake of wanton Loue:
For, (not to mee, but to thee, Lord, be prayse)
Now, by th' example of my Sacred Layes,
To Sacred Loues our noblest spirits are bent,
And thy rich Name's their only Argument.

HEE WHOM in priuat wals, with priuie signe,
The great King-maker did for King assigne,
Begins to showe himself: a fier so great
Could not liue flame-les long: nor would God let
So noble a spirits nimble edge to rust
In Sheapheards idle and ignoble dust.

My Son, how certain we that Saying proue,
That doubtfull Fear still wayts on tender Loue?
DAVID (saith Iesse) I am full of fears
For thy deer Brethren: Each Assault, salt tears
Draws from mine eyes; mee thinks each point doth stab
Mine Eliab, Samna, and Aminadab.
Therefore goe visite them, and with this Food
Beare them my Blessing; say I wish them good;
Beseeching God to shield and them sustain,
And send them (soon) victorious home again.

Gladly goes DAVID, and anon doth spie
Two steep high Hils where the two Armies lie,
A Vale diuides them; where, in raging mood
(Colossus-like) an armed Giant stood:
His long black locks hung shagged (slouen-like)
A down his sides: his bush-beard floated thick;
His hands and arms, and bosom bristled were
(Most Hedge-hog-like) with wyer insteed of haire.
His foul blasphemous mouth, a Caues mouth is;
His eyes two Brands, his belly an Abysse:
His legs two Pillers; and to see him go,
Hee seemd some steeple reeling to and fro.
A Cypresse-Tree of fifteen Summers old,
Pyramid-wise waues on his Helm of gold.
Whose glistring brightnes doth (with rayes direct)
Against the Sun, the Sun it self reflect:
Much like a Comet blazing bloodie-bright
Ouer some City, with new threatfull light,
Presaging down-fall, or some dismal fate,
Too-neer approaching to some ancient State.
His Launce a Loom-beam, or a Mast (as big)
Which yet he shaketh as an Osier twig;
Whose harmful point is headed stifly-straight
With burnisht Brasse aboue an Anuils waight:
Vpon whose top (in stead of Bannaret)
A hissing Serpent seems his foes to threat:
His brazen Cuirasse, not a Squire can carrie;
For 'tis the burthen of a Dromedarie:
His Shield (where Cain his brother Abel slaies,
Where Chus his son, Heav'n-climbing Towrs doth raise;
Where th' Ark of God, to th' Heathen captiuate,
To Dagon's House is led with scorne and hate)
Is like a Curtain made of double planks
To saue from shot some hard-besieged Ranks.
His threatfull voice is like the stormefull Thunder
When hot-cold Fumes teare sulphury clowds asunder.

O Fugitiues! this is the fortieth day
(Thus barkes the Dog) that I haue stalked aye
About your fearefull Hoast: that I alone
Against your best and choisest Champion,
In single Combat might our Cause conclude,
To shun the slaughter of the multitude.
Come then, who dares; and to be slaine by mee,
It shall thine honour and high Fortune bee.
Why am I not lesse strong? my common strength
Might find some Braue to cope with at the length.
But, fie for shame, when shall we cease this geare?
I to defie, and you to flie for feare?
If your hearts serue not to defend your Lot,
Why are you arm'd? why rather yeeld you not?
Why rather doe you (sith you dare not fight)
Not proue my mildnesse, than prouoke my might?
What needed Coats of brasse and Caps of steele
For such as (Hare-like) trust but to their heele?
But, sith I see not one of you (alas!)
Alone dares meete, nor looke me in the face,
Come tenne, come twenty, nay come all of you,
And in your ayde let your great God come too:
Let him rake Hell, and shake the Earth in sunder,
Let him be arm'd with Lightning and with Thunder:
Come, let him come and buckle with me heer:
Your goodly God, lesse then your selues, I feare.

Thus hauing spewd, the dreadfull Cyclop stirr'd
His monstrous Limbes; beneath his feet he reard
A Clowd of dust: and, wheresoe're he wend,
Flight, Feare, and Death, his ghastly steps attend.

Euen as a payr of busie chattering Pies,
Seeing some hardie Tercell, from the skies
To stoop with rav'nous seres, feele a chill feare,
From bush to bush, wag-tayling here and there;
So that no noyse, nor stone, nor st••ke can make
The timorous Birds their Couert to forsake:
So th' Hebrew Troopes this brauing Monster shun;
And from his sight, some here, some there, doo run.
In vain the King commands, intreats, and threats;
And hardly three or foure together gets.

What shame (saith he) that our victorious Hoast
Should all be daunted with one Pagans boast?
Braue Ionathan, how is thy courage quaild
Which, yerst at Boses, all alone aslaild
Th' whole Heathen Hoast? O Worthy Abner too,
What chance hath cut thy Nerues of Valour now?
And thou thy self (O Saul) whose Conquering hand
Had yerst with Tropheis filled all the Land,
As far as Tigris, from the Iap•ean Sea:
Where is thy heart? how is it fall'n away?
Saul is not Saul: O • then, what Izraelice
Shall venge God's honor and Our shame acquight?
Who, spurrd with anger, but more stirrd with Zeale,
Shall foile this Pagan, and free Izrael?
O! who shall being me this Wolf's howling head,
That Heav'n and Earth hath so vn-hallowed?
What e're he be, that (lauish of his soule)
Shall with his blood wash-out this blot so foule,
I will innoble him, and all his House;
He shall inioy my Daughter for his Spouse:
And euer shall a Deed so memorable
Be (with the Saints) sacred and honorable.
•• Yet, for the Duel no man dares appeer:
All wish the Prize; but none will win't so deer:
Big-looking Minions, braue in vaunts and vows,
Lions in Court, now in the Camp be Cows:
But, euen the blast that cools their courage so,
That makes my DAVID's valiant rage to glowe.

My Lord (saith He) behold, this hand shall bring
Th' heav'n-scorning head vnto my Lord the King.

Alas, my Lad, sweet Shepheard (answers Saul)
Thy heart is great; although thy limbs be small:
High flie thy thoughts; but wee haue need of more,
More stronger Toyles to take so wilde a Boare:
To tame Goliah, needs som Demi-god,
Some Nimrod, rather then a Shepheard-Lad
Of slender growth, vpon whose tender Chin
The budding doun doth scarcely yet begin.
Keep therefore thine owne Rank, and draw not thus
Death on thy self, dis-honor vpon vs,
With shame and sorrow on all Izrael,
Through end-les Thral dom to a Fo so fel.

The faintest Harts, God turns to Lions fierce,
To Eagles Doues, Vanquisht to Vanquishers:
God, by a Womans feeble hand sub dews
Iabins Lieutenant, and a Iudge of Iews.
God is my strength: therfore (O King) forbear,
For Izrael, for Thee, or Mee, to fear:
No self-presumption makes me rashly braue;
Assured pledge of his prowd head I haue.

Seest thou these arms (my Lord) these very arms
(Steeld with the strength of the great God of Arms)
Haue bath'd Mount Bethlem with a Lions blood:
These very arms, beside a shady Wood,
Haue slain a Bear, which (greedy after prey)
Had torn and born my fattest sheep away.
My God is still the same: this sauage Beast,
Which in his Fold would make a Slaughter-feast,
All-ready feels his furie, and my force;
My foot al-ready tramples on his Corps:
With his owne sword his cursed length I lop,
His head al-ready on the geound doth hop.

The Prince beholds him, as amaz'd and mute,
To see a mind so yong, foresolute:
Then son (saith he) sith so confirmd thou art,
Go, and Gods blessing on thy valiant hart;
God guide thy hand, and speed thy weapon so,
That thou return triumphant of thy Fo.
Hold, take my Corslet, and my Helm, and Launce,
And to the Heav'ns thy happy Prowes aduance.

The faithfull Champion, being furnisht thus,
Is like the Knight, which twixt Eridanus
And th' heav'nly Star-Ship, marching brauely-bright
(Hauing his Club, his Casque, and Belt bedight
With flaming studs of many a twinkling Ray)
Turns Winters night into a Summers day.
But, yer that hee had half a furlong gon,
The massie Launce and Armour hee had on
Did load him so, he could not freely mooue
His legs and arms, as might him best behooue.
Euen so, an Irish Hobby, light and quick
(Which on the spur ouer the bogs they prick
In highest speed) If on his back he feel
Too-sad a Saddle, plated all with steel,
Too-hard a Bit with in his mouth; behind,
Crooper and Trappings him too-close to binde;
He seems as lame, he flings, and will not go;
Or, if he stir, it is but stiff and slowe.
DAVID therefore lays-by his heauie load,
And, on the grace of the great glorious GOD
(Who by the weakest can the strongest stoop)
Hee firmly founding his victorious hope,
No Arrows seeks, nor other Arcenall;
But, by the Brooke that runnes amid the Vale,
Hee takes fiue Pebbles and his Sling, and so,
Courageously incounters with his Foe.

What Combat's this? On the one side, I see
A moouing Rocke, whose looks do terrifie
Euen his owne Hoast; wbose march doth seem to make
The Mountaine tops of Sucoth euen to shake:
On th' other side, a slender tender Boy
Where grace and beautie for the prize doo play:
Shaue but the doun that on his Chin doth peer,
And one would take him for Anchises Pheer:
Or, change but weapons with that wanton E••,
And one would think that it were Cupids self.
Gold on his head, skar•er in either Cheek,
Grace in each part and in each gest, alike;
In all so louely, both to Foe and Friend,
That very Enuy cannot but commend
His match-les beauties: and though ardent zeale
Flush in his face against the Infidel,
Although his Fury fume, though vp and down
He nimblie trauerse, though he fiercely frown,
Though in his breast boyling with manly heat,
His swelling heart do strongly pant and beat;
His Storme is Calm, and from his modest eyes
Euen gratious seems the grimmest flash that flies.

Am I a Dog, thou Dwarf, thou Dandiprat,
To be with stones repell'd and palted at?
Or art thou weary of thy life so soon?
O foolish boy! fantasticall Baboone!
That never saw'st but sheep in all thy life;
Poore sotte, 'tis heer another kind of strife:
We wrastle not (after your Shepheards guise)
For painted Sheep-hooks, or such pettie Prize,
Or for a Cage, a Lamb, or bread and cheese:
The Vanquisht Head must be the Victors Fees.
Where is thy sweatie dust? thy sun-burnt scars,
(The glorious marks of Soldier strain'd in Warres)
That make thee dare so much? O Lady-Cow,
Thou shalt no more be-star thy wanton brow
With thine eyes rayes: Thy Mistress shall no more
Curl the quaint Tresses of thy Golden ore:
I'll trample on that Gold; and Crowes and Pyes
Shall peck the pride of those sweet-smiling eyes:
Yet, no (my guirle-boy) no, I will not file
My feared hands with blood so faintly-vile:
Go seek thy match, thou shalt not dy by me,
Thine honor shall not my dishonor be.
No (silly Lad) no, wert thou of the Gods,
I would not fight at so vn-knightly ods.

Come barking Curre (the Hebrew taunts him thus)
That hast blasphem'd the God of Gods, and vs;
The ods is mine (villain, I scorne thy Boasts)
I haue for Aide th' almighty Lord of Hoasts.

Th' Ethnik's a-fier. and from his goggle eyes.
All drunk with rage and blood, the Lightning flies:
Out of his beuer, like a Boare he foames:
A hellish Fury in his bosom roames:
As mad, he marcheth with a dreadfull pase,
Death and destruction muster in his face;
He would a-fresh blaspheam the Lord of Lords
With new despights; but in the steed of words
He can but gnash his teeth. Then, as an Oxe
Straid twixt the hollow of steep Hils and Rocks,
Through craggie Coombs, through dark & ragged turnings.
Lowes hideously his solitary Moornings:
The Tyrant so from his close helmet blunders
With horrid noise, and this harsh voice he thunders:

Thy God raignes in his Ark, and I on Earth:
I Chalenge Him, Him (if he dare come forth)
Not Thee, base Pigme. Villain (saies the Iew)
That blasphemy thou instantly shalt rue,
If e'r you saw (at Sea) in Summer weather,
A Galley and a Caraque cope togither;
(How th' one steers quick, and th' other veers as slowe.
Lar-boord and star-boord from the poop to prowe;
This, on the winde; that, on her Owres relies;
This daunteth most; and that most damnifies)
You may conceaue this Fight: th' huge Polypheme
Stands stifly shaking his steel-pointed beam:
Dauid dooth trauerse (round about him) light,
Forward and back, to th' left hand, and the right,
Steps in and out; now stoops, anon he stretches;
Then he recoyls, on either hand he reaches;
And stoutly-actiue, watching th' aduerse blowes,
In euery posture dooth himself dispose.

As, when (at Cock-pit) two old Cocks doo fight,
(Bristling their plumes, and (red with rage) do smight
With spurs and beak, bounding at euery blowe,
With fresh assaults freshing their fury so,
That, desperate in their vn yeelding wrath,
Nothing can end their deadly fewd but death)
The Lords about, that on both sides do bet,
Look partially when th' one the Field shall get,
And, trampling on his gaudie plumed pride,
His prostrate Fo with bloody spurs bestride,
With clanging Trumpet and with clapping wing,
Triumphantly his Victory to sing:
So th' Hebrew Hoast, and so the Heathen stranger
(Not free from fear, but from the present danger)
Behold with passion these two Knights, on whom
They both haue wagerd both their Fortunes sum:
And either side, with voice and gesture too,
Hartens and cheers their Champion well to doo;
So earnest all, that almost euery one
Seems euen an Actor, not a looker-on:
All feel the Skirmish twixt their Hope and Fear:
All cast their eyes on this sad Theater:
All on these two depend, as very Founders
Of their good Fortune, or their Fates Confounders.

O Lord, said DAVID (as he whirld his Sling)
Be bowe and Bowe-man of this shaft I fling.

With sudden flerk the fatal hemp lets go
The humming Flint, which with a deadly blowe
Pearç't instantly the Pagans ghastly Front,
As deep as Pistol-shot in boord is wont.
The villain's sped (cries all the Hebrew band)
The Dog, the Atheist feels Gods heauy hand.

Th' Isacian Knight, seeing the blowe, stands still.
Fro th' Tyrants wound his ruddy soule doth trill,
As from a crack in any pipe of Lead
(That conuoyes Water from some Fountaines head)
Hissing in th' Aire, the captiue Stream doth spin.
In siluer threds her crystall humorthin.

The Giant, wiping with his hand his wound,
Cries, tush, 'tis nothing: but eft soones the ground.
Sunk vnder him, his face grew pale and wan,
And all his limbs to faint and fail began:
Thrice heaues he vp his head; it hangs as fast,
And all a-long lies Isaac's dread at last,
Couering a rood of Land; and in his Fall,
Resembles right a lofty Tower or Wall,
Which to lay leuel with the humble soil
A hundred Miners day and night doo toil;
Till at the length rushing with thundrous roar,
It ope a breach to th' hardy Conquerour.

Then, two lowd cries, a glad and sad were heard:
Wherwith reviv'd, the vaunting Tyrant stird,
Re-summoning vnder his weak Controule
The fainting Remnants of his flying Soule;
And (to be once more buckling yer he dies,
With blowe for blowe) he striues in vain to rise.
Such as in life, such in his death he seems;
For euen in death he curses and blasphemes:
And as a Curre, that cannot hurt the flinger,
Flies at the stone and biteth that for anger;
Goliah bites the ground, and his owne hands
As Traytors, false to his fel hearts commands.
Then the Hebrew Champion heads the Infidel
With his own sword, and sends his soule to Hell.

Pagans disperse; and the Philistian swarms
Haue armes for burthen, and haue flight for armes;
Danger behinde, and shame before their face:
Rowting themselues, although none giue them chase.

Armi-potent, Omnipotent, my God,
O let thy Praise fill all the Earth abroad;
Let Izrael (through Thee, victorious now)
Incessant songs vnto thy Glory vow:
And let me Lord (said DAVID) euer chuse
Thee sole, for subiect of my sacred Muse.
O wondrous spectacle! vnheard-of-Sight!
The Monster's beaten-down, before the Fight:
A Dwarf, a Sheepheard, conquers (euen vn-armd)
A Giant fell, a famous Captain, armd.
From a fraile Sling this Battery neuer came,
But 'twas the Breach of a Tower-razing Ram:
This was no cast of an vncertain Slinger,
'T was Crosse-bow-shot: rather it was the finger
Of the All-mightie (not this hand of mine)
That wrought this work so wondrous in our eyne:
This hath Hee done, that by a woman weake
Can likewise stone the stout Abimelech:
Therefore, for euer, singing sacred Layes,
I will record his glorious Power and Praise.

Then, Iacob's Prince him ioyfully imbraces,
Prefers to honours, and with fauours graces,
Imployes him farre and nigh; and farre and neere,
From all sad cares he doth his Soueraigne cleere.
In Camp he curbs the Pagans arrogance:
In Court he cures the Melancholy Trance
That toyls his soule; and, with his tunefull Lyre,
Expels th' ll Spirit which doth the body tyre.
For, with her sheath, the soule commerce frequents,
And acts her office by his instruments;
After his pipe she dances: and (againe)
The body shares her pleasure and her paine;
And by exchange, reciprocally borrowes
Some measure of her solace and her sorrowes.
Th' Eare (doore of knowledge) with sweete warbles pleas'd,
Sends them eft soones vnto the Soule diseas'd,
With darke black rage, our spirits pacifies,
And calmly cools our inward flame that fries.

So, O Tyrtéus, changing Harmonie,
Thy Rowt thou changest into Victorie.
So, O thrice-famous, Princely Pellean,
Holding thy hart's reines in his Tune-full hand.
Thy Timothie with his Melodious skill
Armes and dis-armes thy Worlds-drad arme (at will),
And with his Phrygian Musicke, makes the same
As Lion fierce; with Dorik, milde as Lambe.
So, while in Argos the chaste Violon
For's absent Soueraigne doth graue-sweetly groan,
Queen Clytemnestra doth resist th' alarmes
Of lewd Aegysthus, and his lustfull Charmes.
So, at the sound of the sweet-warbling brasse;
The Prophet rapting his soule's soule a space,
Refines him selfe, and in his fantasie
Graues deep the seal of sacred Prophesie.
For, if our Soule be Number (some so thought)
It must with number be refreshed oft;
Or, made by Number (so I yeeld to sing)
We must the same with some sweet Numbers bring
To some good Tune: euen as a voice (sometime)
That in its Part sings out of tune and time,
Is by another voice (whose measur'd straine
Custome and Arte confirms) brought in again.
It may be too, that DAVIDS sacred Ditty
Quickned with Holy-Writ, and couched witty,
Exorcist-like, chaç't Natures cruel Fo,
Who the Kings soule did tosse and torture so.
How e'r it were, He is (in euery thing)
A profitable seruant to the King:
Who enuious yet of his high Feats and Fame,
His Faith, and Fortitude, distrusts the same:
And, the diuine Torch of his Vertues bright
Brings him but sooner to his latest Night;
Saue that the Lord still shields him from on hy,
And turnes to Triumph all his Tragedy.

O bitter sweet! I burst (thus raues the King)
To hear them all, in Camp and Court to sing,
SAVL he hath slain a thousand, DAVID ten,
Ten thousand DAVID. O faint scorn of men!
Lo, how, with Lustre of his glorious parts,
Hee steals-away the giddy peoples harts;
Makes lying Prophets sooth him at a beck;
Thou art but King in name, Hee in effect:
Yet thou endur'st it; haste thee, haste thee (Sot)
Choak in the Cradle his aspiring Plot;
Preuent his hopes, and wisely-valiant
Off with his head that would thy foot supplant.
Nay, but beware; his death (belov'd so wel)
Will draw thee hatred of all Izrael.
Sith then so high his heady valour flies,
Sith common glory cannot him suffice,
Sith Danger vpon Danger hee pursews,
And Victory on Victory renewes;
Let's put him to 't: Let's make him Generall,
Feed him with winde, and hazard him in all:
So shall his own Ambitious Courage bring
For Crown a Coffin to our Iunior King:
Yea, had hee Sangars strength, and Sampsons too,
Hee should not scape the taske I'll put him to.

But yet, our DAVID more then all archieues,
And more and more his grace and glory thriues:
The more he doos, the more he dares adventure,
His rest-les Valour seeks still new Aduenture.
For, feeling him armd with th' Almighty's Spirit,
He recks no danger (at the least to fear it).
Then, what doos Saul? When as he saw no speed
By sword of Foes so great a Fo to rid,
Hee tries his owne: and one-while throwes his dart,
At vn-awares to thrill him to the hart:
Or treacherously hee layes som subtill train,
At boord, or bed, to haue him (harm-les) slain:
On nothing else dreams the disloyall wretch,
But Dauids death; how Dauid to dispatch.
Which had bin don, but for his Son the Prince,
(Who deerly tenders Dauids Innocence,
And neerly marks and harks the Kings Designes,
And warns the Iessean by suspect-les signes)
But for the kinde Courageous Ionathan,
Who (but attended onely with his man)
Neer Senean Rocks discomfited, alone,
The Philistines victorious Garison.
About his eares a Shower of Shafts, dooth fall;
His Shield's too-narrow to receiue them all:
His sword is duld with slaughter of his Foes,
Wherefore the dead he at the liuing throwes,
Head-lined helmes, heawn from their trunks he takes,
And those his vollies of swift shot he makes.
The Heathen Hoast dares him no more affront,
Late number-les; but easie now to count.

Dauid therefore, flying his Princes Furie,
From end to end flies all the land of •urie:
But now to Nob; t' Adullam then, anon
To Desart Zif, to Ke•lah, M•aor,
Hauing for roof heav'ns arches starry-seeld,
And, for repast what wauing woods doe yeeld.
The Tyrant (so) frustrate of his intent,
Wreakes his fell rage vpon the innocent;
If any winke, as willing t' haue not seen-him,
Or if (vnweeting what's the oddes between-him
And th' angry king) if any had but hid-him,
He dies for it (if any haue but spid him):
Yea the High-Priest, that in Gods presence stands,
Escapeth not his paricidiall hands;
Nor doth he spare, in his vnbounded rage,
Cattle, nor Curre, nor state, nor sexe, nor age.

Contrariwise, Dauid doth good for ill,
He hates the haters of his Soueraigne still.
And though he oft incounter Saul lesse strong
Than his owne side; forgetting all his wrong,
He shewes him, aye, loyall in deede and word
Vnto his Liege, th' Anointed of the Lord;
Respects and honors him, and mindes no more
The Kings vnkindnesse that had past before.

One day as Saul (to ease him) went aside
Into a Caue, where Dauid wont to hide,
Dauid (vn-seen) seeing his Foe so neer
And all alone, was strooke with suddaine feare,
As much amaz'd and musing there-vpon;
When whispering thus his Consorts egge him on:

Who sought thy life is fall'n into thy lap;
Doo'st thou not see the Tyrant in thy Trap?
Now therefore pull this Thorne out of thy foote:
Now is the Time if euer thou wilt doo't:
Now by his death establish thine estate:
Now hugge thy Fortune, yer it be too-late:
For, he (my Lord) that will not, when he may,
Perhaps he shall not, when he would (they say).
Why tarriest thou? what doost thou trifle thus?
Wilt thou, for Saul, betray thy self and vs?

Wonne with their words, to kill him he resolues:
But, by the way thus with himself revolues.
He is a Tyrant; true: But now long since,
And still, he bears the mark of lawfull Prince:
And th' Ever-King (to whom all Kings doe bow)
On no pretext, did ever yet allow
That any Subiest should his hand distain
In sacred blood of his owne Soveraign.
He hunts me cause-les; true: but yet, Gods word
Bids me defend, but not offend my Lord.
I am anointed King; but (at Gods pleasure)
Not publikely: therfore I waite thy leasure.
For, thou (O Lord) regardest Thine, and then
Reward'st, in fine, Tyrants and wicked men.

Thus having sayd, he stalkes with noise-les foot
Behind the King, and softly off doth cut
A skirt or lap of his then-vpper clothing;
Then quick avoydes: and, Saul, suspecting nothing,
Comes forth anon: and Dauid afterward
From a high Rock (to be the better heard)
Cries to the King (vpon his humble knee)
Come neer (my Liege) com neer, and fear not me,
Fear not thy seruant Dauid. Well I knowe,
Thy Flatterers, that miss-inform thee so,
With thousand slanders dayly thee incense
Against thy Seruants spot-les innocence:
Those smooth-sly Aspicks, with their poysony sting
Murder mine honour, me in hatred bring
With thee and with thy Court (against all reason)
As if Convicted of the Highest-Treason:
But, my notorious Loyalty (I hope)
The venom of their viperous tongues shall stop;
And, with the splendor of mine actions bright,
Disperse the Mists of Malice and Despight.
Behold, my Lord, (Trueth needeth no excuse)
What better witnesse can my soule produce
Of faithfull Loue, and Loyall Vassalage,
To thee, my Liege, than this most certain gage:
When I cut-off this lappet from thy Coat,
Could I not then as well haue cut thy throat?
But rather (Soveraign) thorow all my veins
Shall burning Gangrens (spreading deadly pains)
Benum my hand, then it shall lift a sword
Against my Liege, th' anointed of the Lord;
Or violate with any insolence,
Gods sacred Image, in my Soveraign Prince.
And yet (O King) thy wrath pursews me still;
Like silly-Kid, I hop from hill to hill;
Like hated Wolues I and my Souldiers starue:
But, iudge thy self, if I thy wrath deserue.

No (my Sonne Dauid) I haue don thee wrong:
Good God requight thy good: there doth belong
A great Reward vnto so gratious deed.
Ah, well I see it is aboue decreed
That thou shalt sit vpon my Seat supream,
And on thy head shalt wear my Diadem:
Then, ô thou sacred and most noble Head,
Remember Mee, and mine (when I am dead)
Be gratious to my Blood, and raze not fell
My Name and Issue out of Israel.

Thus sayd the King; and tears out-went his words:
A pale despair his heavy hart still-girds:
His feeble spirit praesaging his Miss-fortune,
Doth every-kinde of Oracles importune;
Suspicious, seeks how Clotho's Clew doth swell;
And, cast of Heav'n, wil needs consult with Hell.

In Endor dwelt a Beldam in those dayes;
Deep-skild in Charms (for, this weak sex always.
Hath in all Times ben taxt for Magik Tricks,
As pronest Agents, for the Prince of Styx:
Whether, because their soft, moist, supple brain,
Doth easie print of every seal retain:
Or, whether wanting Force and Fames desert,
Those Wyzards ween to winn it by Black-Art.)
This Stygian scum, the Furies fury fell,
This Shop of Poysons, hideous Type of Hell,
This sad Erinnys, Milcom's Fauourite,
Chamosh his Ioye, and Belzebubs delight,
Delights alonely for her exercise
In secret Murders, soudain Tragoedies;
Her drink, the blood of Babes; her dainty Feast
Mens Marrow, Brains, Guts, Livers (late deceast).
At Weddings aye (for Lamps) she lights debates;
And quiet Loue much more then Death she hates:
Or if she reak of Love, 'tis but to trap
Som severe Cato in incestuous Lap:
Somtimes (they say) she dims the Heav'nly Lamps,
She haunts the Graues, she talks with Ghosts, she stamps
And Cals-vp Spirits, and with a wink controules
Th' infernal Tyrant, and the tortur'd Soules.

Arts admiration, Izraels Ornament,
That (as a Queen) Command'st each Element,
And from the Toomb deceased Trunks canst raise,
(Th' vnfaithfull King thus flatters her with prayse)
On steepest Mountains stop the swiftest Currents,
From driest Rocks draw rapid-rowling Torrents,
And fitly hasten Amphitrites Flood,
Or stay her Eb (as to thy self seems good):
Turn day to night: hold Windes within thy hand,
Make the Sphears moue, and the Sun still to stand:
Enforce the Moon so with thy Charms som-times,
That for a stound in a deep Swoun she seems:
O thou al-knowing Spirit! daign with thy spell
To raise-vp heer renowned Samuel,
To satisfie my doubtfull soule, in sum,
The issue of my Fortunes yet to com.

Importun'd twice or thrice, she, that before
Resembled one of those grim Ghosts (of yore)
Which she was was wont with her vn-holsom breath
To re-bring-back from the black gates of death,
Growes now more gastly, and more Ghost-like grim,
Right like to Satan in his Rage-full Trim.
The place about darker then Night she darkes,
Shee yelles, she roars, she houles, she brayes, she barkes,
And, in vn-heard, horrid, Barbarian tearms,
She mutters strange and execrable Charmes;
Of whose Hell-raking, Nature-shaking Spell,
These odious words could scarce be hearkned well:

Eternall Shades, infernall Dëities,
Death, Horrors, Terrors, Silence, Obsequies,
Demons, dispatch: If this dim stinking Taper
Be of mine owne Sons fat; if heer, for paper,
I write (detested) on the tender skins
Of time-les Infants, and abortiue Twins
(Torn from the wombe) these Figures figure-les:
If this black Sprinkle, tuft with Virgins tress,
Dipt, at your Altar, in my kinsmans blood;
If well I smell of humane flesh (my food):
Haste, haste, you Fiends, you subterranean Pow'rs:
If impiously (as fits these Rites of yours)
I haue invok't your grizly Maiesties,
Harken (O Furies) to my Blasphemies,
Regard my Charms and mine inchanting Spell,
Reward my Sins, and send vp Samuel
From dismall darknes of your deep Abysse,
To answer me in what my pleasure is:
Dispatch, I say, (black Princes) quick, why when?
Haue I not Art, for one, to send you ten?

When? stubborn Ghost! The Palfraies of the Sun
Doo fear my Spells; and, when I spur, they run:
The Planets bow, the Plants giue ear to me,
The Forrests stoop, and even the strongest Tree,
At driery sound of my sad whisperings,
Doth Prophecie, fore telling future things:
Yea (maugre Ioue) by mine almighty Charms,
Through Heav'n I thunder with imperious Arms:
And comst not thou? O, so: I see the Sage,
I see th' ascent of som great man: his age,
His sacred habite, and sweet-graue aspect
Som God-like raies about him round reflect:
Hee's ready now to speak, and plyant too
To cleer thy doubtings, without more a doo.
Saul flat adores; and wickedly-devout,
The fained-Prophets least word leaues not out.

What dost thou Saul? ô Izraels Soveraign,
Witches, of late, feard only thy disdain:
Now th' are thy stay. O wretch doost thou not knowe
One cannot vse th' ayde of the Powers belowe
Without som Pact of Counter-Seruices,
By Prayers, Perfumes, Homage, and Sacrifice?
And that this Art (meer Diabolicall)
It hurteth all, but th' Author most of all?
And also, that the impious Atheïst,
The Infidel, and damned Exorcist,
Differ not much. Th' one, Godhead quight denies:
Th' other, for God, foul Satan magnifies:
Th' other, Satan (by Inchantment strange)
Into an Angell of the Light doth change.
When as God would, his voyce thou wouldst not hear,
Now he forbids thee, thou consult'st els-where:
Whom (living Prophet) thou neglect'st, abhorr'st,
Him (dead) thou seek'st, and his dead Trunk ador'st:
And yet, not him, nor his; forth' ougly Fiend
Hath no such power vpon a Saint t' extend,
Who fears no force of the blasphemous Charms
Of mumbling Beldams, or Hels damned Arms:
From all the Poysons that those powers contriue,
Charm-charming Faith's a full Preservatiue.
In Soule and Body both, He cannot come;
For, they re-ioyne not till the day of doom:
His Soule alone cannot appeer; for why,
Soules are invisible to mortall eye:
His Body only, neither can it be;
For (dust to dust) that soon corrupts (we see).
Besides all this, if 'twere true Samuel,
Should not (alas) thine eye-sight serue as well
To see and knowe him, as this Sorceresse,
This hatefull Hag, this old Enchanteresse,
This Divell incarnate, whose drad Spell commands
The rebell-Fury of th' Infernall Bands?
Hath Lucifer not Art enough to fain
A Body fitting for his turn and train?
And (as the rigor of long Cold congeals
To harsh hard Wooll the running Water-Rils)
Cannot he thicken thinnest parts of Air,
Commixing Vapours? glew-them? hue them fair?
Even as the Rain-Bowe, by the Suns reflection
Is painted fair in manifold complection:
A Body, which we see all-ready formd,
But yet perceiue not how it is performd:
A Body, perfect in apparant showe;
But in effect and substance nothing so:
A Body, hart-les, lung-les, tongue-les too,
Where Satan lurks, not to giue life ther-to,
But to the end that from this Counter-mure,
More covertly he may discharge more sure
A hundred dangerous Engins, which he darts
Against the Bulwarks of the bravest harts:
That, in the Sugar (even) of sacred Writ,
He may em-pill vs with som Banefull bit:
And, that his counterfait and fained lips,
Laying before vs all our hainous slips,
And Gods drad Iudgements and iust Indignation,
May vnder-mine our surest Faiths Foundation.

But, let vs hear now what he saith. O Saul,
What frantick fury art thou moov'd with-all,
To now re-knit my broken thred of life?
To interrupt my rest? And 'mid the strife
Of struggling Mortals, in the Worlds affairs
(By power-full Charms) to re-entoyl my Cares?
Inquir'st thou what's to-come? O wretched Prince!
Too much, too-soon (what I fore-told long since):
Death's at thy door: to morrow Thou and Thine
Even all shal fall before the Philistine:
And great-good Dauid shal possesse thy Throne,
As God hath sayd, tō be gain-sayd by none.

Th' Author of Lies (against his guise) tels true:
Not that at-once he Selfly all fore-knew,
Or had revolv'd the Leaues of destiny
(The Childe alonly of Eternity):
But rather through his busie observation
Of circumstance, and often iteration
Of reading of our Fortunes and our Fals,
In the close Book of clear Coniecturals,
With a far-seeing Spirit; hits often right:
Not much vnlike a skilfull Galenite,
Who (when the Crisis comes) dares even foretell
Whether the Patient shall doo ill or well:
Or, as the Star-wise somtimes calculates
(By an Eclipse) the death of Potentates;
And (by the stern aspects of greatest Stars)
Prognosticates of Famine, Plague, and Wars.

As he foretold (in brief) so fell it out:
Braue Ionathan and his Two Brethren stout
Are slain in Fight; and Saul himself forlorn,
Lest (Captiue) he be made the Pagans scorn,
He kils him-Self; and, of his Fortune froward
To seem not conquer'd, shewes him Self a Coward.

For, 'tis not Courage (whatsoe'r men say)
But Cowardize, to make ones Self away.
'Tis even to turn our back at Fears alarms:
'Tis (basely-faint) to yeeld vp all our Arms.
O extream Rage! O barbarous Cruelty •
All at one Blowe, t' offend Gods Maiesty,
The State, the Magistrate, Thy Self (in fine):
Th' one, in destroying the deer work divine
Of his almighty Hands; the next, in reaving
Thy needfull Service, it should be receiuing;
The third, in rash vsurping his Commission.
And last, Thy Self, in thine owne Selfs-Perdition,
When (by two Deaths) one voluntary Wound
Doth both thy body and thy soule confound.

But Isbosheth (his deer Son) yet retains
His Place a space: and Dauid only Raigns
In happy Iuda. Yet, yerlong (discreet)
He makes th' whole Kingdoms wracked ribs to meet:
And so He rules on th' holy Mount (a mirror)
His Peoples Ioy, the Pagans only Terror.

If ever, standing on the sandy shoar,
Y' haue thought to count the rowling waues that roar
Each after other on the British Coast,
When Aeolus sends forth his Northern Poast;
Waue vpon Waue, Surge vpon Surge doth fold,
Sea swallowes Sea, so thickly-quickly roul'd,
That (number-les) their number so doth mount,
That it confounds th' Accompter and th' Accompt:
So Dauid's Vertues when I think to number,
Their multitude doth all my Wits incumber;
That Ocean swallowes me: and mazed so,
In the vast Forest where his Prayses growe,
I knowe not what high Fir, Oak, Chest-nut-Tree,
(Rather) what Brasil, Cedar, Ebonie,
My Muse may chuse (Amphion-like) to build
With curious touch of Fingers Quauer-skild
(Durst she presume to take so much vpon-her)
A Temple sacred vnto Dauids honour.

Others shall sing his mindes true Constancie,
In oftlong exiles try'd so thorowly:
His Life compos'd after the life and likenes
Of sacred Patterns: his milde gracious meeknes
Towards railing Shime•, and the Churlish Gull:
His louely Eyes and Face so bewtifull.
Som other shall his Equity record,
And how the edge of his impartiall sword
Is euer ready for the Reprobate,
To hewe them down; and help the Desolate:
How He, no Law, but Gods drad Law enacts:
How Hee respects not persons, but their Facts:
How braue a Triumph of Selfs-wrath he showes,
Killing the Killers of his deadly Foes.
Som other shall vnto th' Empyreall Pole
The holy fervor of his Zeal extoll:
How for the wandring Ark he doth prouide
A certain place for euer to abide:
And how for euer euery his designe
Is ordered all by th' Oracle Diuine.

Vpon the wings of mine (els-tasked) Rime,
Through the cleer Welkin of our Western Clime,
I'll only bear his Musike and his Mars
(His holy Songs, and his triumphant Wars):
Lothere the sacred mark wherat I aim;
And yet this Theam I shall but mince and maim,
So many Yarnes I still am fain to strike
Into this Web of mine intended WEEK.

The Twelue stout Labours of th' Amphitryonide
(Strongest of Men) are iustly magnifi'd:
Yet, what were They but a rude Massacre
Of Birds and Beasts, and Monsters here and there?
Not Hoasts of Men and Armies ouer throw'n;
But idle Conquests; Combats One to One:
Where boist'rous Limbs, and Sinnews strongly knit,
Did much auaile with little ayde of Wit.
Bears, Lions, Giants, foild in single fight,
Are but th' Essayes of our redoubted Knight:
Vnder his Armes sick Aram deadly droops:
Vnto his power the strength of Edom stoops:
Stout Amalek euen trembles at his name:
Prowd Ammons skorn he doth return with shame:
Subdueth Soba: foyls the Moabite:
Wholly extirps the down-trod Iebusite:
And (still victorious) euery month almost
Combats and Conquers the Philistian Hoast.
So that, Alcides massie Club scarce raught
So many Blowes, as Dauid Battails fought.

Th' expert Great Captain, who the Pontiks quaild,
Wun in strange Wars; in ciuill Fights he faild:
But, Dauid thriues in all: and fortunate,
Triumphs no lesse of Sauls intestine hate,
Of Isbosheth's and Absalo• 's designes,
Then of strong Aram, and stout Philistines.
Good-Fortune alwayes blowes not in the Poop
Of valiant Caesar, she defeats his Troop,
Slayes his Lieutenants; and (among his Friends)
Stabb'd full of Wounds, at length his Life she ends:
But Dauid alwayes feels Heav'ns gratious hand;
Whether in person He himself command
His royall Hoast: or whether (in his sted)
By valiant Ioab his braue Troops be led:
And Happinesse, closing his aged eye,
Even to his Toomb consorts him constantly.
Fair Victory, with Him (even from the first)
Did pitch her Tent: his Infancy she nurst
With noble Hopes, his stronger years she fed
With stately Tropheis, and his hoary head
She Crowns and Comforts with (her cheerful Balms)
Triumphant Laurels and victorious Palmes.
The Mountains stoop to make Him easieway;
And Euphrates, before Him, dryesaway;
To Him great Iordan a small leap doth seem;
Without assault, strong Cities yeeld to Him:
Th' Engine alone of His far-feard Renown
Beats (Thunder-like) Gates, Bars, & Bulwarks down:
Gads goodly Vales, in a gore Pond he drenches;
Philistian Fiers, with their owne Blood he quenches;
And then, in Gob (pursewing still his Foes)
His wrath's iust Tempest on fell Giants throwes.

O strong, great, Worthies (will sōm one-day lay,
When your huge Bones they plough-vp in the Clay)
But, stronger, greater, and more WORTHIE He,
Whose Heav'n-lent Force and Fortune made you be
(Maugre your might, your masly Spears and Shields)
The fatt'ning dung-hill of those fruitfull Fields.
His Enimies, scarcely so soon he threats
As overthrowes, and vtterly defeats.
On Dauids head, God doth not spin good-hap;
But pours it down abundant in his Lap:
And He (good Subiect) with his Kingdom, ever
T' increase th' Immortall Kingdom doth indevour.
His swelling Standards never stir abroad,
Till he haue Cald vpon th' Almighty God:
He never Conquers but (in heav'nly Songs)
He yeelds the Honor where it right belongs:
And evermore th' Eternals sacred Prayse
(With Harp and Voice) to the bright Stars doth raise.

Scarce was he born, when in his Cradle prest
The Nightingale to build her tender nest:
The Bee within his sacred mouth seeks room
To arch the Chambers of her Hony-comb:
And th' Heav'nly Muse, vnder his roof descending
(As in the Summer, with a train down-bending,
We see som Meteor, winged brightly-fair
With twinkling rayes, glide through the crystal Aier,
And soudainly, after long-feeming Flight,
To seem amid the new-shav'n Fields to light)
Him softly in her Iuory arms she folds,
His smiling Face she smylingly beholds,
She kisses him, and with her Nectar kisses
Into his Soule she breathes a Heav'n of Blisses:
Then layes him in her lap, and while she brings
Her Babe a-sleep, this Lullabie she sings.

Liue, liue (sweet Babe) the Miracle of Mine,
Liue euer Saint, and growe thou all Divine:
With this Celestiall Winde, where-with I fill
Thy blessed Boosom, all the World ful-fill:
May thy sweet Voice, in Peace, resound as far
And speed as fair as thy drad Arm in War:
Bottom nor bank, thy Fames-Sea never bound:
With double Laurels be thy Temples Crownd.
See (Heav'n-sprung Spirit) see how th' allured North,
Of thy Childs-Cry (shril-sweetly warbling forth)
Al-ready tastes the learned, dainty pleasures.
See, see (yong Father of all sacred Measures)
See how, to hear thy sweet harmonious sound,
About thy Cradle here are thronging (round)
Woods, but with ears: floods, but their fury stopping:
Tigres, but tame: Mountains, but alwayes hopping:
See how the Heav'ns, rapt with so sweet a tongue,
To list to thine, leaue their owne Dance and Song.

O Idiot's shame, and Envy of the Learned!
O Verse right-worthy to be ay eterned!
O richest Arras, artificial wrought
With liueliest Colours of Conceipt-full Thought!
O royal Garden of the rarest Flowers
Sprung from an Aprill of spiritual Showers!
O Miracle! whose star-bright beaming Head
When I behold, even mine owne Crown I dread.

Never els-where did plentious Eloquence,
In every part with such magnificence
Set-forth her Beauties, in so sundry Fashions
Of Robes and Iewels (suting sundry Passions)
As in thy Songs: Now, like a Queen (for Cost)
In swelling Tissues, rarely-rich imbost
With Pretious Stones: neat, Citty-like, anon,
Fine Cloth, or Silke, or Chamlet puts she on:
Anon, more like som handsom Shepheardesse,
In courser Cloaths she doth her cleanly dresse:
What e're she wear, Wooll, Silk, or Gold, or Gems,
Or Course or Fine; still like her Self she seems;
Fair, Modest, Cheerfull, fitting time and place,
Illustring all even with a Heav'n-like grace.
Like prowd lowd Tigris (ever swiftly roul'd)
Now, through the Plains thou powr'st a Flood of gold:
Now, like thy Iordan, (or Meander-like)
Round-wyndingnimbly with a many-Creek,
Thou runn'st to meet thy Self's pure streams behind thee,
Mazing the Meads where thou dost turn and winde-thee.
Anon, like Cedron, through a straighter Quill,
Thou strainest out a little Brook or Rill;
But yet, so sweet, that it shall ever be
Th' immortall Nectar to Posterity:
So cleer, that Poésie (whose pleasure is
To bathe in Seas of Heav'nly Mysteries)
Her chastest feathers in the same shal dip,
And deaw with-all her choicest wormanship:
And so deuout, that with no other Water
Deuoutest Soules shal quench their Thirst heer-after.
Of sacred Bards Thou art the double Mount:
Of faith-full Spirits th' Interpreter profound:
Of contrite Harts the cleer Anatomy:
Of euery Sore the Shop for Remedy:
Zeal's Tinder-box: a Learned Table, giving
To spirituall eyes, not painted Christ, but living.
O divine Volume, Sion's cleer deer Voice,
Saints rich Exchecker, full of comforts choice:
O, sooner shal sad Boreas take his e wing
At Nilus head, and boist'rous Aust r spring
From th' icie floods of Izeland, than thy Fame
Shall be forgot, or Honour fail thy Name:
Thou shalt surviue through-out all Generations,
And (plyant) learn the Language of all Nations:
Nought but Thine Aiers through Air & Seas shall sound,
In high-built Temples shall thy Songs resound,
Thy sacred Verse shall cleer Gods clowdy face,
And, in thy steps the noblest Wits shall trace.
Grose Vulgar, hence; with hands profanely-vile,
So holy things presume not to defile,
Touch not these sacred stops, these silver strings:
This Kingly Harp is only meet for Kings.

And so behold, towards the farthest North,
Ah see, I see vpon the banks of FORTH
(Whose force-full stream runs smoothly serpenting)
A valiant, learned, and religious King,
Whose sacred Art retuneth excellent
This rarely-sweet, celestiall Instrument:
And Dauid's Truchman, rightly doth refound
(At the Worlds end) his eloquence renown'd.
Dombertans Clyde stands still to hear his voyce.
Stone-rowling Tay seems the rat to reioyce:
The trembling Cyclads, in great Loumond-Lake,
After his sound their lusty gambols shake:
The (Trees-brood) Bar-geese, mid th' Hebridian wave,
Vnto his Tune their far-flow'n wings doo wave:
And I my Self in my pyde Pleid a-slope,
With Tune-skild foot after his Harp doo hop.

Thus, full of God, th' Heav'n-Sirene (Prophet-wise)
Powres-forth a Torrent of mel-Melodies,
In DAVIDS praise. But DAVIDS foule defect
Was yet vn-seen, vncensur'd, vn-suspect:
Oft in fair Flowers the bane-full Serpent sleeps:
Somtimes (we see) the bravest Courser trips:
And som-times Dauid's Deaf vnto the Word
Of the Worlds Ruler, th' everlasting Lord;
His Songs sweet fervor slakes, his Soules pure Fire
Is dampt and dimm'd with smoak of foul desire:
His Harp is layd a-side, he leaves his Layes,
And after his fair Neighbors Wife he neighs.
Fair Bersabé's his Flame, even Bersabé,
In whose Chaste bosom (to that very day)
Honor and Loue had happy dwelt together,
In quiet life, without offence of either:
But, her proud Bewty now, and her Eyes force,
Began to draw the Bill of their Diuorce:
Honor giues place to Loue: and by degrees
Fear from her hart, Shame from her forehead flies.
The Presence-Chamber, the High street, the Temple,
These Theaters are not sufficient ample
To shew her Bewties, if but Silke them hide:
Shee must haue windowes each-where open wide
About her Garden-Baths, the while therin
She basks and bathes her smooth Snow-whiter skin;
And one-while set in a black Iet-like Chair,
Perfumes, and combes, and curls her golden hair;
Another-while vnder the Crystall brinks,
Her Alabastrine well-shap't Limbs she shrinks
(Like to a Lilly sunk into a glasse:
Like soft loose Venus (as they paint the Lasse)
Born in the Seas, when with her eyes sweet-flames,
Tonnies and Tritons she at-once inflames:
Or like an Iuory Image of a Grace,
Neatly inclos'd in a thin Crystall Case):
Another-while, vnto the bottom diues,
And want only with th' vnder-Fishes striues:
For, in the bottom of this liquid Ice,
Made of Musaïck work, with quaint device
The cunning workman had contrived trim
Carpes, Pikes; and Dolphins seeming even to swim.

Ishai's great son, too-idlely, walking hie
Vpon a Tarras, this bright star doth spy:
And sudden dazled with the splendor bright,
Fares like a Prisoner, who new brought to light
From a Cimmerian, dark, deep dungeon,
Feels his sight smitten with a radiant Sun.
But too-too-soon re-cleer'd, he sees (alas)
Th' admired Tracts of a bewitching Face.
Her sparkling Eye is like the Morning Star,
Her lips two snips of crimsin Sattin are,
Her Teeth as white as burnisht Silver seem
(Or Orient Pearls, the rarest in esteem):
Her Cheeks and Chin, and all her flesh like Snowes
Sweet intermixed with Vermillion Rose,
And all her sundry Treasures selfly swel,
Prowd, so to see their naked selues excel.

What living Rance, what rapting Iuory
Swims in these streams? O what new Victory
Triumphs of all my TROPHEIS? O cleer Therms,
If so your Waues be cold; what is it warms,
Nay, burns my hart? If hot I (pray) whence comes
This shivering winter that my soule benums,
Freezes my Senses, and dis-selfs me so
With drousie Poppy, not my self to knowe?
O peer-les Bewty, meerly Bewtifull;
(Vnknow'n) to me th'art most vn-mercifull:
Alas! I dy, I dy, (O dismall lot)
Both for I see thee, and I see thee not,
But a-far-off, and vnder water too:
O feeble Power, and O (what shall I doo?)
Weak Kingly-State! sith that a silly Woman
Stooping my Crown, can my soul's Homage summon.
But, ô Imperiall power! Imperiall State!
Could (happy) I giue Bewties Check the Mate.

Thus spake the King, and like as parkle small
That by mischance doth into powder fall,
Hee's alla-fire; and pensiue, studies nought,
But how t' accomplish his lasciuious thought:
Which soon he compast: sinks himself therin;
Forgetteth Dauid; addeth Sin to Sin:
And lustfull, playes like a yong lusty Rider
(A wilfull Gallant, not a skilfull guider)
Who, proud of his Horse pride, still puts him to't:
With wand and spur, layes on (with hand and foot)
The too-free Beast; which, but too-fast before
Ran to his Ruine, stumbling evermore
At every stone, till at the last he break
Against som Rock his and his Riders neck.
For, fearing, not Adulteries fact, but fame:
A iealous Husbands Fury for the same:
And, lessening of a Pleasure shar'd to twain:
He (treach'rous) makes her valiant Spouse be slain.

The Lord is moov'd: and iust, begins to stretch
His Wraths keen dart at this disloyal wretch.
When Nathan (then bright Brand of Zeal and Faith)
Comes to the King, and modest-boldly sayth.

Vouchsafe my Liege (that our Chief Iustice art)
To list a-while to a most hainous part;
First to the fault giue ear, then giue Consent
To giue the Faulty his due Punishment.
Of late, a Subiect of thine owne, whose flocks
Powl'd all Mount Liban's pleasant plentious locks;
And to whose Heards could hardly full suffice
The flowry Verge that longst all Iordan lies;
Making a Feast vnto a stranger-Guest,
None of his owne abundant Fatlings drest;
But (privy Thief) from a poor Neighbour by
(His Faithfull Friend) Hee takes feloniously
A goodly Lamb; although he had no more
But even that one; wherby he set such store,
That every day of his owne hand it fed,
And every night it coucht vpon his Bed,
Supt of his Cup, his pleasant morsels pickt,
And even the moisture from his lips it lickt.
Nay, more my Lord. No more (replies the King,
Deeply incenst) 'Tis more than time this thing
Were seen into, and so outrageous Crimes,
So insolent, had need be curbd be times:
What-ever Wretch hath done this Villany
Shall Die the Death; and not alonely Die,
But let the horror of so foul a Fact
A more then common punishment exact.

O painted Toomb (then answerd sacred Nathan)
That hast God in thy Mouth, in thy Minde Sathan,
Thou blam'st in other thine owne Fault denounç't,
And vn-awares hast gainst thy self pronounç't
Sentence of Death. O King, no King (as than)
Of thy desires: Thou art the very man:
Yea, Thou art hee, that with a wanton Theft
Hast iust Vriah's only Lamb bereft:
And him, ô horror! (Sin with Sin is further'd)
Him with the sword of Ammon hast Thou murther'd.
Bright Beauties Eye, like to a glorious Sun,
Hurts the sore eye that looks too-much ther-on:
Thy want on Eye, gazing vpon that Eye,
Hath given an Entrance too-too-foolishly
Vnto that Dwarf, that Divel (is it not?)
Which out of Sloath, within vs is begot:
Who entring first but Guest-wise in a room,
Doth shortly Master of the house become:
And makes a Saint (a sweet, myld-minded Man)
That 'gainst his Life's Fo would not lift his hand,
To plot the death of his deer faith-full Friend,
That for his Loue a thousand liues would spend.

Ah! shak'st thou not? is not thy Soule in trouble
(O brittle dust, vain shadow, empty bubble!)
At Gods drad wrath, which quick doth calcinize
The marble Mountains and the Ocean dries?
No, thou shalt knowe the waight of Gods right hand;
Thou, for example t'other Kings shalt stand.
Death, speedy Death, of that adulterous Fruit,
Which even al-ready makes his Mother rue't,
Shall vex thy soule, and make thee feel (in deed)
Forbidden Pleasure doth Repenrance breed.

Ah shame-les beast. Sith thy brute Lust (forlorn)
Hath not the Wife of thy best Friend forborn,
Thy Sons (dis-natur'd) shall defile thy bed
Incestuously; thy fair Wiues (rauished)
Shall doublely thy lust-full seed receaue:
Thy Concubines (which thou behinde shalt leaue)
The wanton Rapes of thine owne Race shal be:
It shall befall that in thy Family,
With an vn-kins-mans kisse (vn-louing Lover)
The Brother shal his Sisters shame discouer:
Thou shalt be both Father and Father-in-law
To thine owne Blood. Thy Children (past all aw
Of God or Man) shall by their insolence
Eyen iustifie thy bloody foul offence.
Thou sinn'dst in secret: but Sol's blushing Eye
Shall be eye-witnesse of their villany:
All Izrael shall see the same: and then,
The Heav'n-sunk Cities in Asphaltis Fen,
Out of the stinking Lake their heads shall showe,
Glad, by thy Sons, to be out-sinned so.
Thou, thou (inhumane) didst the Death conspire
Of good Uriah (worthy better Hire):
Thou cruell didst it: therfore, Homicide,
Cowardly treason, cursed Paricide,
Vn-kinde Rebellion, ever shall remain
Thy house-hold Guests, thy House with blood to stain.
Thine owne against thine owne shal thril their darts:
Thy Son from thee shal steal thy peoples harts:
Against thy Self he shal thy Subiects arm,
And giue thine age many a fierce Alarm:
Till hanged by the hair 'twixt Earth and sky,
(His Gallow's pride, shame of the Worlds bright Eye)
Thine owne Lieutenant, at a crimsin spout,
His guilty Soule shall with his Lance let-out.
And (if I fail not) O what Tempest fel
Beats on the Head of harm-les Izrael!
Alas! how many a guilt-les Abramide
Diesin Three dayes, through thy too-curious Pride?
In hate of thee, th' Air (thick and sloathful) breeds
No •lowe Disease; both yong and old itspeeds;
All are indifferent: For through all the Land
It spreads, almost in turning of a hand:
To the so-sick, hard seems the softest plumes;
Flames from his eys, from's mouth come Iakes-like fumes:
His head, his neck; his bulk, his legs doth tire;
Outward, all water; inward, all a-fire:
With a deep Cough his spungy Lungs he wastes,
Black Blood and Choler both at-once he casts:
His voices passage is with Biles be-layd,
His Soul's Interpreter, rough, foul, and flayd:
Thought of the Grief it's rigor oft augments:
'Twixt Hope and fear it hath no long suspence:
With the Disease Death ioyntly traverseth:
Th' Infections stroak is even the stroak of Death.
Art yeelds to th' anguish, Reason stoops to rage:
Physicians skill, himself doth ill engage.
The streets too still; the Town all out of Town:
All Dead, or Fled: vnto the halowed ground
The howling Widow (though she lov'd him deer)
Yet dares not follow her dead husbands Beer.
Each mourns his Losse, each his owne Case complains,
Pel-mel the liuing with the dead remains.

As a good-natur'd and wel-nurtur'd Chyld,
Found in a fault (by's Master sharply myld)
Blushing and bleaking, betwixtshame and fear,
With down-cast eyes laden with many a tear,
More with sad gesture, than with words, doth craue
An humble Pardon, of his Censor graue:
So Dauid, hearing th' holy Prophets Threat,
He apprehends Gods Iudgements dradly-great,
And (thrill'd with fear) flies for his sole defence
To pearly Tears, Mournings and sad Laments:
Off-goes his Gold; his Glory treads he down,
His Sword, his Scepter, and his pretious Crown:
He fasts, he prayes, he weeps, he grieues, he grones,
His hamous Sins he bitterly be-mones:
And, in a Cauehard-by; he roareth out
A sigh-full Song, so dolefully devout,
That even the Stone doth groan, and pearç't withall,
Lets it's salt tears with his sad tears to fall.
Ay-gracious Lord (thus Sings he night and day)
Wash, wash, my Soule in thy deep Mercies sea:
O Mercy, Mercy Lord, alowd he Cries;
(And Mercy, Mercy, still the Rock replyes).

O God, my God, sith for our grievous Sin,
(Which will-full we so long haue weltred in)
Thou powr'st the Torrents of thy Vengeance down
On th' azure Field with Golden Lillies sow'n:
Sith every moment thy iust Angerdrad
Roars, thunders, lightens on our guilty head:
Sith Famine, Plague, and War (with bloody hand)
Doo all at once make havock of this Land:
Make vs make vse of all these Rods aright;
That we may quench with our Tears-water quight
Thine Ire-full Fier: our former Vices spurn:
And, true-reform'd, Iustice to Mercy turn.

And so, O Father, (fountain of all Good,
Ocean of Iustice, Mercie's bound-les Flood)
Since, for Our Sins, exceeding all the rest,
As most ingrate-ful, though most rarely blest
(After so long Long-Sufferance of Thine:
So-many Warnings of thy Word diuine:
So-many Threatnings of thy dread-full Hand:
So-many Dangers seap't by Sea and Land:
So-many Blessings in so good a King:
So-many Blossoms of that fruit-ful Spring:
So-many Foes abroad; and False at home:
So-many Reskue• from the rage of Rome:
So-many Shields against so many Shot:
So-many Mercies in that Powder-Plot
(So light regarded and so soon forgot).

Since, for Our Sins, so many and so great,
So little mov'd with Promise or with Threat,
Thou, now at last (as a iust ielouze God)
Strik'st vs thy Self with thine immediate Rod,
Thy Rod of PESTILENCE: whose rage-full smart,
With deadly pangs pearcing the strongest.hart,
Tokens of Terror leaues vs where it lights:
And so infects (or so at least affrights)
That Neighbour Neighbour, Brother Brother shuns;
The tendrest Mother dares not see her Sons;
The neerest Friend his deerest Friend doth flye;
Yea, scarce the Wife dares close her Husbands eye.
For, through th' Example of our Vicious life,
As Sin breeds Sin; and Husband marr's the Wife,
Sister prowdes Sister, Brother hardens Brother,
Andone Companion doth corrupt another:
So, through Contagion of this dire Disease,
It (iustly) doth thy heav'nly Iustice please,
To cause vs thus each other to infect:
Though This we flye, and That too-nigh affect.

Since, for our Sins, which hang so fast vpon-vs;
So dreadfully thy Fury frowneth on-vs;
Sith still thou Strikest, and still Threat'nest more
More grieuous Wounds then we haue felt before:
O gratious Father, giue vs grace (in fine)
To make our Profit of these Rods of thine:
That, true-Converted by thy milde Correction,
We may abandon euery foule Affection:
That Humblenes may flaring Pride dis-plume:
That Temperance may Surfaiting consume:
That Chastity may chase our wanton Lust:
That Diligence may wear-off Slothfull rust:
That Loue may liue, in Wrath and Envies place:
That Bounties hand may Auarice deface:
That Truth may put Lying and Fraud to flight:
That Faith and Zeal may keep thy Sabbaths right:
That Reverence of thy drad Name may banish
Blasphemous Oaths: and all Profanenesse vanish.

Since, for our Sins (aswell in Court as Cottage)
Of all Degrees, all Sexes, Youth and Dotage,
Of Clarks and Clownes; Rich, Poore; and Great and Small,
Thy fear-ful Vengeance, hangeth ouer all;
O Touch vs all with Horror of our Crimes:
O Teach vs all to turn to thee be-times:
O Turn vs (Lord) and we shall turned be:
Giue what thou bidst, and bid what pleaseth thee:
Giue vs REPENTANCE; that thou mayst repent
Our present PLAGVE, and future Punishment.