Good Men ye be, to leave me my beft Room,
Ev'n all my Heart, and what is lodged there:
I pass not, I, what of the reft become,
So, Thou art ftill my God, be out of fear.
He will be pleased with that ditty;
And if I please him, I write fine and witty.

Farewel sweet Phrases, lovely Metaphors:
But will you leave me thus? when ye before
Of Stews and Brothels only knew the Doors,
Then did I wash you with my Tears, and more,
Brought you to Church well dreft, and clad:
My God must have my beft, ev'n all I had.

Lovely enchanting Language, Sugar-cane,
Honey of Rofes, whither wilt thou fly?
Hath fome fond Lover tic'd thee to thy bane ?
And wilt thou leave the Church, and love a Sty?
Fy, thou wilt foil thy broider'd Coat,

And hurt thy felf, and him that fings the Note.

Let foolish Lovers, if they will love Dung,
With Canvas, not with Arras, clothe their Shame :
Let Folly speak in her own native Tongue.
True Beauty dwells on high: Ours is a Flame
But borrow'd thence to light us thither..
Beauty and beauteous Words fhould go together.

Yet, if you go, I país not; take your way:
For, thou art ftill my God, is all that ye
Perhaps with more Imbellishment can say.
Go Birds of Spring: Let Winter have his Fee;
Let a bleak Paleness chalk the Door,

So all within be livelier than before.

T The

The Rofe.

PRes

Refs me not to take more Pleasure In this World of fugar'd lies, And to use a larger Measure

Than my ftrict, yet welcome Size.

Firft, there is no Pleafure here:

Colour'd Griefs indeed there are,
Blufhing Woes, that look as clear,
As if they could Beauty fpare.

Or if fuch Deceits there be,

Such Delights I meant to fay;
There are no fuch things to me,
Who have pass'd my right away.

But I will not much oppose

Unto what you now advise:

Only take this gentle Rofe,

And therein my Answer lies.'

What is fairer than a Rofe?

What is fweeter; yet it purgeth.

Purgings enmity disclose,

Enmity forbearance urgeth.

If then all that Worldlings prize
Be contracted to a Rofe ;

Sweetly there indeed it lies,

But it biteth in the Close.

So this Flower doth judge and fentence
Worldly Joys to be a scourge:

For they all produce Repentance,
And Repentance is a Purge.

But

I afpire

To a full Consent.

Not a Word or Look

I affect to own,
But by Book,

And thy Book alone.

Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep

To the Throne of Grace.

Then let Wrath remove,
Love will do the Deed:
For with Love
Stony Hearts will bleed.
Love is swift of Foot;
Love's a Man of War,

And can fhoot,
And can hit from far.

Who

Who can 'cape his Bow?

That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,

Needs must work on me :

Throw away thy Rod;
Though Man Frailties hath,
Thou art God :

Throw away thy wrath...

T The Invitation.

Ome ye hither, all whofe tafte'
Is your wafte;

Save your Coft and mend your Fare.
God is here prepar'd and dreft,
And the Feast,

God, in whom all Dainties are.
Come ye hither all whom Wine...
Doth define,
Naming you not to your good:
Weep what ye have drunk amifs,
And drink this,

Which before you drink is Blood.
Come ye thither all whom Pain
Doth arraign,

Bringing all your Sins to fight:
Taite and fear not : God is here.
In this Cheer,

And on Sin doth caft the fright.

Come ye hither all whom Joy
Doth destroy,

While ye graze without your Bounds:
Here is Joy that drowneth quite

Your Delight,

As a Flood the lower Grounds.

い

Come

Come ye hither all whofe Love
Is your Dove,

And exalts you to the Sky:

Here is Love, which having Breath,
Ev'n in Death,

After Death can never die.

Lord, I have invited all,
And I fhall

Still invite, ftill call to thee:
For it seems but juft and right
In my fight,
Where is all, there all fhould be.

T The Banquet.

Elcome sweet and sacred Cheer,

WELCOM Welcome dear;

With

me, in me, live and dwell: For thy Neatness paffeth fight, Thy Delight

Paffeth Tongue to taste or tell,

O what sweetness from the Bowl

Fills my Soul,
Such as is, and makes Divine !
Is fome Star (fled from the Sphere)
Melted there,
As we Sugar melt in Wine?

Or hath sweetness in the Bread
Made a Head

To fubdue the smell of Sin,

Flow'rs, and Gums, and Powders giving

All their Living,

Left the Enemy fhould win?

Doubt