And as the man loues least at home to bee, That hath a sluttish house, haunted with sprites;

So she, impatient her owne faults to see,

Turnes from herselfe, and in strange things delites.

For this, few know themselues: for merchants broke

View their estate with discontent and paine; And seas are troubled, when they doe reuoke Their flowing waues into themselues againe. And while the face of outward things we find Pleasing and faire, agreeable and sweete, These things transport, and carrie out the mind, That with herselfe herselfe can neuer meete.

Yet if Affliction once her warres begin,

And threat the feeble Sense with sword and fire,

The minde contracts herselfe, and shrinketh in, And to herselfe she gladly doth retire;

As spiders toucht seeke their web's inmost part; As bees in stormes vnto their hiues returne; As bloud in danger gathers to the hart;

As men seek towns, when foes the country burne.

If ought can teach vs ought, Affliction's lookes,
Making vs looke vnto ourselues so neare,
Teach vs to know ourselues beyond all bookes,
Or all the learned schooles that euer were.
This mistresse lately pluckt me by the eare,
And many a golden lesson hath me taught;
Hath made my senses quicke, and reason cleare,
Reformd my will, and rectifide my thought.

So do the winds and thunder cleanse the ayre;
So working leas settle and purge the wine;
So lopt and pruned trees doe florish faire;
So doth the fire the drossie gold refine.
Neither Minerua, nor the learned Muse,

Nor rules of art, nor precepts of the wise, Could in my braine those beames of skill enfuse, As but the glaunce of this dame's angrie eyes. Shee within listes my raunging mind hath brought,

That now beyond myselfe I will not go :
Myselfe am center of my circling thought,
Onely myselfe I studie, learne, and know.
I know my body's of so fraile a kinde,
As force without, feauers within can kill :
I know the heauenly nature of my minde,
But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will.

I know my soule hath power to know all things,
Yet is she blinde and ignorant in all:

I know I am one of Nature's litle kings,
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.
I know my life's a paine, and but a span;
I know my sense is mockt with euery thing;
And, to conclude, I know myselfe a man,

Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.

VIII.

FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE.

SONNETS.
I.

WHEN as man's life, the light of humane lust,
In soacket of his early lanthorne burnes,
That all this glory vnto ashes must,

And generations to corruption turnes;

Then fond desires, that onely feare their end,
Doe vainely wish for life but to amend.

But when this life is from the body fled,
To see itselfe in that eternall glasse,

Where time doth end, and thoughts accuse the dead,

Where all to come is one with all that was;

Then liuing men aske how he left his breath,
That while he liued never thought of death!

II.

Man, dreame no more of curious mysteries, And what was here before the world was made; The first man's life, the state of Paradise, Where heauen is, or hell's eternal shade:

For God's works are, like him, all infinite, And curious search but craftie sinnes delight. The flood that did, and dreadfull fire that shall, Drowne and burne vp the malice of the earth, The diuers tongues and Babylon's downefall, Are nothing to the man's renewed birth:

First, let the Law plough vp thy wicked heart, That Christ may come, and all these types de

part.

When thou hast swept the house that all is cleare ; When thou the dust hast shaken from thy feete; When God's All-might doth in thy flesh appeare, Then seas with streames aboue the skye do meete: For goodnesse onely doth God comprehend, Knowes what was first, and what shall be the end.

III.

The Manicheans did no idolls make

Without themselues, nor worship gods of wood;
Yet idolls did in their ideas take,

And figur❜d Christ as on the cross he stood:
Thus did they when they earnestly did pray,
Till clearer faith this idoll tooke away.
We seeme more inwardly to knowe the Sonne,
And see our owne saluation in his blood:
When this is said, we thinke the worke is done,
And with the Father hold our portion good:
As if true life within these words were laid
For him that in life neuer words obey'd.

If this be safe, it is a pleasant way;
The crosse of Christ is very easily borne:
But sixe dayes' labour makes the Sabboth-day;
The flesh is dead before grace can be borne:

The heart must first beare witnesse with the booke,

The earth must burne, ere we for Christ can looke.

IV.

Eternall Truth, almighty, infinite,

Onely exiled from man's fleshly heart,

Where ignorance and disobedience fight,
In hell and sinne which shall haue greatest part;
When thy sweet mercy opens forth the light
Of grace, which giueth eyes vnto the blinde,
And with the Law euen plowest up our sprite
To faith, wherein flesh may saluation finde,
Thou bidst vs pray; and wee doe pray to thee:
But as to power and God without vs plac❜d,
Thinking a wish may weare out vanity,
Or habits be by miracles defac'd,

One thought to God wee giue, the rest to sinne: Quickly vnbent is all desire of good;

True words passe out, but haue no being within;
Wee pray to Christ, yet helpe to shed his blood:
For while we say beleeve, and feele it not,
Promise amends, and yet despaire in it,
Heare Sodom iudg'd, and goe not out with Lot,
Make Law and Gospell riddles of the wit;
Wee with the Jewes euen Christ still crucifie,
As not yet come to our impiety.

V.

Wrapt vp, O Lord, in man's degeneration,
The glories of thy truth, thy ioyes eternall,
Reflect vpon my soule darke desolation
And vgly prospects ore the sp'rits infernall:
Lord, I haue sinn'd, and mine iniquity
Deserues this hell; yet, Lord, deliuer me.
Thy power and mercy neuer comprehended
Rest, liuely imag'd in my conscience wounded;
Mercy to grace, and power to feare extended,
Both infinite, and I in both confounded:

Lord, I haue sinn'd, and mine iniquity
Deserues this hell; yet, Lord, deliuer me.
If from this depth of sinne, this hellish graue,
And fatall absence from my Sauiour's glory,