Close now thine eyes and rest secure;
Thy soul is safe enough, thy body sure;
He that loves thee, He that keeps
And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.
The smiling conscience in a sleeping breast
Has only peace, has only rest;
The music and the mirth of kings
Are all but very discords, when she sings;
Then close thine eyes and rest secure;
No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.

Bridegroom.

Now rests my love : till nuw her tender brest,
Wanting her joy, could finde no peace, no rest;
I charge you all, by the true love you beare
To friendship, or what else you count most deare,
Disturbe her not, but let her sleep her fill:
I charge you all upon your lives be still.
O may that labouring soule that lives opprest
For me, in me receive eternall rest.
What curious face is this ? what mortall birth
Can shew a beauty thus unstain'd with earth!
What glorious angell wanders there alone,
From earth's foule dungeon, to my father's throne!
It is my love ; my love that hath deny'd
The world for me, it is my fairest bride ;
How fragrant is her breath ! how heavenly faire
Her angel face ! each glorifying the ayre.

Bride.

O how I'm ravisht with eternall blisse !
Whoe'r thought heaven a joy compar'd to this ?
How doe the pleasures of this glorious face
Adde glory to the glory of his place !
See how kings' courts surmount poore shepheards' cels,
So this the pride of Salomon excels ;
Rich wreathes of glory crowne his royall head,
And troopes of angels waite upon his bed.
The court of princely Salomon was guarded
With able men at armes ; their faith rewarded
With fading honours, subject to the fate
Of fortune, and the jealous frownes of state:
But here the harmonious quire of heaven attend,
Whose prize is glory, glory without end,
Vnmixt with doubtings or denegerous feare—
A greater prince than Salomon is here.
The bridall bed of princely Salomon,
Whose beauty amaz'd the greedy lookers on.
Which all the world admired to behold.
Was but of cedar, and her sted of gold,
Her pillars silver, and her canopie
Of silkes, but richly stain'd with purple die.
Her curtaines wrought in vvorkes, workes rarely led
By th' needles' art : such was the bridall bed.
Such was the bridall bed, which time, or age.
Durst never warrant from th' approbrious rage
Of envious fate, earth's measures but a minute;
Earth fades, all ftides upon it, all within it;
O but the glory of thy divined place
No age can injure, nor yet time deface;
Too weak an object for weake eyes to bide,
Or tongues t' expresse: who ever saw't but dy'd.
Whoe'r beheld the royall crown set on
The nuptiall brovves of princely Salomon ?
His glorious pompe whose honour did display
The noysed triumphs of his marriage-day:
A greater prince than Salomon is here.
The beauty of whose nuptials shall appeare
More glorious, farre transcending his, as farre
As heaven's bright lamp outshines th' obscurest star.

From 'A Feast For Wormes'

The Argument.

The Ninivites beleeve the word,
Their hearts retiu'ne mito the Lord;
In him they put their onely trust;
They niourne in sackcloth and in dust.


SECTION IX.

So said ; the Ninivites beleev'd the word,
Beleeved Jonas, and beleev'd the Lord.
They made no pause, nor jested at the newes,
Nor slighted it because it was a Jew's
Denouncement : no, nor did their gazing eyes
(As taken captive with such novelties)
Admire the stranger's garb, so quaint to theirs;
No idle chat possest their itching eares
The whilst he spake ; nor were their tongues on fier
To raile upon, or interrupt the cryer ;
Nor did they question whether true the message,
Or fals the prophet were that brought th' embassage.
But they gave faith to what he said : relented,
And (changing their miswandred wayes) repented;
Before the searching ayre could coole his word
Their hearts returned and beleev'd the Lord ;
And they, whose dainty lips were cloy'd while-ere
With cates and viands and with wanton cheare.
Doe now enjoyne their palats not to taste
The offal bread (for they proclaim'd a fast):
And they wliose looser bodies once did lie
Wrapt up in robes and silkes of princely dye,
Loe, now instead of robes in rags they mourne.
And all their silks doe into sackcloth turne:
They reade themselves sad lectures on the ground,
Learning to want as well as to abound.
The prince was not exempted, nor the peere,
Nor yet the richest, nor the poorest there ;
The old man was not freed, whose hoary age
Had even almost outronne his pilgrimage;
Nor yet the young, whose glasse (but new begun)
By course of nature had an age to runne:
For when that fatall word came to the king,
(ConvayM with speed, upon the nimble wing
Of flitting fame,) he straight dismounts his throne,
Forsakes his chaire of state he sate upon,
Disrob'd his body, and his head discrown'd,
In dust and ashes grov'ling on the ground ;
And when he rear'd his trembling corps againe,
(His haire all filthy with the dust he lay in)
He, clad in pensive sackcloth, did depose
Himself from state imperiall, and chose
To live a vassall, or a baser thing,
Than to usurpe the scepter of a king :
(Respectlesse of his pompe) he quite forgate
He was a monarch, mindelesse of his state ;
He neither sought to rule or be obay'd,
Nor with the sword nor with the scepter sway'd

MEDITA IX.

Is fasting then the thing that God requires ?
Can fasting expiate or slake those fires
That sinne hath blowne to such a mightie flame .'
Can sackcloth clothe a fault, or hide a shame ?
Can ashes cleanse thy blot, or purge thy offence .'
Or doe thy hands make heaven a recompence,
By strowing dust upon thy briny face ?
Are these the tricks to purchase heavenly grace ?
No ! though thou pine thyself with willing want,
Or face looke thinne, or carkas nere so gaunt,
Although thou worser weeds than sackcloth weare,
Or naked goe, or sleep in shirts of haire,
Or though thou chuse an ash-tub for thy bed,
Or make a daily dunghill on thy head;
Thy labour is not poys'd with equal gaines,
For thou hast nought but labour for thy paines.
Such holy madnesse God rejects, and loathes
That sinks no deeper than the skin or clothes:
'Tis not thine eyes which (taught to weepe by art)
Look red with teares (not guilty of thy heart):
'Tis not the holding of thy hands so high,
Nor yet the purer squinting of thine eye ;
'Tis not your mimick mouthes, your antick faces,
Your scripture phrases or affected graces.
Nor prodigall upbanding of thine eyes.
Whose gashfuU bals doe seeme to pelt the skies;
'Tis not the strickt reforming of your haire.
So close that all the neighbour skull is bare;
'Tis not the drooping of thy head so low.
Nor yet the low'ring of thy sullen brow.
Nor wolvish howling that disturbs the aire,
Nor repetitions, or your tedious prayer :
No, no, 'tis none of this that God regards ;
Such sort of fooles their owne applause rewards :
Such puppet plaies to heaven are strange and quaint.
Their service is unsweet and foully taint.
Their words fall fruitlesse from their idle braine.
But true repentance runnes in other straine ;
Where sad contrition harbours, there the heart
Is truely acquainted with the secret smart
Of past offences, hates the bosome sin
The most which most the soul took pleasure in ;
No crime unsifted, no sinne unpresented.
Can lurke unseene ; and scene, none unlamented.
The trouble soule's amazed witli dire aspects
Of lesser sinnes committed, and detects
The wounded conscience ; it cries amaine
For mercy, mercy, cries, and cries againe :
It sadly grieves, and soberly laments,
It yernes for grace, reformes, returnes, repents.
I, this is incense, whose accepted favour
Mounts up the heavenly throne and findeth favour:
I, this is it whose valour never failes—
With God it stoutly wrestles and prevailes :
I, this is it that pearces heaven above.
Never returning home (like Noah's dove)
But brings an olive- leafe, or some increase,
That workes salvation and etemall peace.

From 'The History Of Samson'

The Argument.

He goes to Timnah : as he went
He slew a lyon by the way;
He sues, obtaines the maid's consent,
And they appoint tlie marriage-day.


SECTION VIII.

When the next day had with his morning light
Redeem'd the East from the dark shades of night,
And with his golden rayes had overspred
The neighb'ring moimtaines, from his loathed bed
Sick-tholighted Samson rose, whose watchfull eyes
Morpheus that night had with his leaden keyes
Not power to close : his thoughts did so incumber
His restlesse soule, his eyes could never slumber;
Whose softer language by degrees did wake
His father's sleep-bedeafned eares, and spake ;
' Sir, let your early blessings light upon
The tender bosome of your prosprous sonne.
And let the God of Israel repay
Those blessings, double, on your head this day:
The long since banisht shadowes make me bold
To let you know the morning waxes old;
The sun-beames are growne strong, their brighter hiew
Have broke the mists and dride the morning dew;
The sweetness of the season does invite
Your steps to visit Timnah, and acquite
Your last night's promise.'
With that the Danite and his wife arose,
Scarce yet resolved ; at last they did dispose
Their doubtfull paces to behold the prize
Of Samson's heart, and pleasure of his eyes.
Tliey went, and when their travell had attain'd
Those fruitfuU hils whose clusters entertain'd
Their thirsty palats with their swelling pride,
The musing lover being stept aside
To gaine the pleasure of a lonely thought,
Appear d a full-ag'd lyon, who had sought
(But could not find) his long-desired prey.
Soone as his eye had given him hopes to pay
His debt to nature, and to mend that fault
His empty stomack found, he made assault
Vpon th' unarm'd lover's breast, whose hand
Had neither staffe nor weapon to withstand
His greedy rage ; but he whose mighty strength
Or sudden death must now appeare, at length
Strecht forth his brawny arme, (his arme supplide
With power from heaven,) and did with ease divide
His body limme from limme, and did betray
His flesh to foules that lately sought his prey.
This done, his quick redoubled paces make
His stay amends ; his nimble steps o'rtake
His leading parents, who by this discover
The smoake of Timnah : now the greedy lover
Thinkes every step a mile, and every pace
A measured league, untill he see that face.
And finde the treasure of his heart that lies
In the fair casket of his mistresse' eyes.
But all this while close Samson made not knowne
Vnto his parents what his hands had done.
By this the gate of Timnah entertaines
The welcome travellers ; the parents' paines
Are now rewarded with their Sonne's best pleasure:
The virgin comes ; his eyes can finde no leisure
To owne another object. O the greeting
Th' impatient lovers had at their first meeting!
The lover speakes ; she answers ; he replies;
She blushes ; he demandeth ; she denies ;
He pleades affection ; she doubts ; hee sues
For nuptiall love ; she questions ; he renewes
His earnest suit: importunes; she relents;
He must have no deniall ; she consents :
They passe their mutuall loves ; their joyned hands
Are equall earnests of the nuptiall bands.
The parents are agreed ; all parties pleas'd;
The daye's set downe ; the lovers hearts are eas'd ;
Nothing displeases now but the long stay
Betwixt th' appointment and the mariage-day.

MEDITA VIII.

'Tis too severe a censure : if the sonne
Take him a wife ; the marriage fairely done,
Without consent of parents (who perchance
Had rais'd his higher price, knew where t' advance
His better'd fortunes to one hundred more,)
He lives a fornicator, she, a whore :
Too hard a censure ! and it seems to me
The parent 's most delinquent of the three.
What if the better minded sonne doe aime
At worth ? what if rare vertues doe inflame
His rapt affection ? what if the condition
Of an admired and dainty disposition
Hath won his soule ? whereas the covetous father
Findes her gold light, and recommends him rather
T' an old worne widow, whose more weighty purse
Is filled with gold, and with the orphan's curse;
The sweet exuberance of whose full-mouth'd portion
Is but the cursed issue of extortion;
Whose worth, perchance, lies onely in her weight,
Or in tlie bosome of her great estate.
Wliat if the sonne (that does not care to buy
Abundance at so deare a rate,) deny
The soule-detesting profer of his father,
And, in his better judgement, chooses rather
To match with meaner fortunes and desert ?
I thinke that Mary cliose the better part.
What noble families (that have outgrowne
The best records) have quite bin overthrowne
By wilfuU parents, that will either force
Their sonnes to match, or haunt them with a curse!
That can adapt their humors to rejoyce
And fcincy all things, but their children's choyce!
Which makes them often timorous to reveale
The close desiers of their hearts, and steale
Such matches as perchance their faire advice
Might in the bud have hindred in a trice ;
Which done, and past, then their hasty spirit
Can thinke of nothing under disinherit:
He must be quite discarded and exiled ;
The furious father must renounce his childe;
Nor pray'r nor blessing must he have ; bereiven
Of all ; nor must he live, nor die, forgiven;
When as the father's rashnesse oftentimes
Was the first causer of the children's crimes.
Parents, be not too cruel! ; children doe
Things oft too deepe for us t' inquire into.
What father would not storme if his wilde sonne
Should doe the deed that Samson here had done ?
Nor doe I make it an exemplar act,
Onely let parents not be too exact.
To curse their children, or to dispossesse Qblesse.
Them of their blessings. Heaven may chance to
Be not too strict ; faire language may recure
A fault of youth, whilst rougher words obdure.