HOW Zions Psalmist grievously offended,

How Israels Harper did most foulely slide,

Yet how that Psalmist penitent amended,

And how thar Harper patient did abide

Deserved chastisement, (so fitly stil’d,

Which wrath inflicted not, but love most mild,

Not for to hurt, but heale a wanton child.)

How one by her owne Brother was defiled;

And how that Brother by a Brother slaine;

And how a Farher, by his Sonne exiled:

And by a Subject, how a Soveraigne:

How Peace procured after Battels fierce,

As Sol at length doth sullen cloudes dispierce;

My Muse intends the subject of her Verse.

Great God of might, whose power most Soveraigne,

Depends of none, yet all of thee depend,

Time cannot measure, neither place containe,

Nor wit of man thy Being comprehend:

For whil’st I thinke on Three, I am confin’d

To One, and when I One conceive in minde

I am recal’d to Three, in One combin’d.

Thy helpe I crave, thy furtherance I aske,

My head, my heart, my hand direct and guide,

That whilst I undertake this weighty taske,

I from thy written lore start not aside:

Alas, ’tis nothing Lord with thee to breake

The strong, ’tis nothing to support the weake,

To make men dumbe, to make an Infant speake.

EACH one begotten by immortall seed,

Becomes the pitcht feild of two deadly foes,

Spirit and Flesh, these never are agreed,

With trucelesse warre each other doth oppose;

And though the Spirit oft the Flesh doth quell,

It may subdue but can it not expell,

So stoutly doth the Jebusite rebell.

Now David when on Bathsheba loose eyes

He fixt, his heavenly halfe did him disswade;

Turne, turne away thy sight from vanities,

Exchange thy object, else thou wilt be made

Unmindfull of thy Soule, her corps to minde,

Made for to lose the truth, such toyes to finde,

By looking long, made at the last, starke blinde.

What though her face, and body be most faire,

Behold, the Sun her beauty doth surpass;

His golden beames surmount her yellow hayre,

As far as purest Cristall, dyrtie glasse:

Her skinne, as is the skie, not halfe so cleare,

Her curious veines, for colour come not neare

Those azure streaks, that in the Heavens appeare.

There let thy hungry sight her famine feede,

Whereon it cannot surfet with excesse:

Whil’st tongue, heart, harp are tuned up with speed,

The grand-contrivers glory to expresse:

Framing with words, to rayse his mighty name,

That with a mighty word, did rayse this frame,

And by his providence preserves the same.

But let no lustfull thoughts lodge in thy minde,

Before that they be borne, they must be kill’d,

Or else the man is cruell that is kinde,

To spare the foes, wherewith his Soule is spill’d:

And if a wanton motion may request,

Leave for to lodge a limbe, th’ incroaching guest,

Will soone command roome to receive the rest.

Looke towards the midday Sun, and thou shalt see,

A little tower,¹¹The Tower of Eder, nigh Bethlē, 7. miles from Jerusalem. o’re topps of hills to peepe;

That is the birth place of thy pedygree:

Full oft there hast thou fed thy fathers sheepe,

And kept his flockes upon the flowry plaine.

But now the Sheepe-hook of a country swaine

Is turn’d the Scepter of of a Soveraigne.

God made thee great, oh doe not him disgrace,

And by his weighty Statutes lightly set,

Hee honour’d thee, oh doe not him debase,

Hee thee remembred, doe not him forget:

Why should fat Jeshurun so wanton grow,²²Deut. 32. 15.

As at his Maisters head, his heeles to throw?

Maister; that all his feeding did bestow.

Behold high Cedars in the valley set,

They in thy eyes like little shrubbs doe show,

Whil’st little shrubbs upon mount Olivet,

Seeme lofty Cedars; men whose states are low

Their sinnes are not so obvious to sense,

In Princes persons of great eminence,

A smaller fault doth seeme a great offence.

But grant, no man thy wickednes espies,

Surely the Searcher of the reines doth marke

Even infant lust, can figg-leaves bleare his eyes?

Or can thy shame bee shrowded in the darke?

Darknes shall then be turned into light,

Yea Darknes, is no Darknes, in his sight,

But seeme the same to him, both day and night.

The Spirit had resolved more to speake,

But her halfe-spoken words, the Flesh confounds,

Nor wonder is it, she so us’d to breake

Gods Lawes, not passing for to passe their bounds,

Against mans rules of manners should offend,

Which now impatient longer to attend,

Began before her Rivall made an end.

If ever Nature lavishly did throw

Her gifts on one, which might have served more,

Yet make them comely, if shee e’re did show,

The prime, and pride, and plenty of her store.

Loe, there’s the forme wherein she hath exprest

Her utmost power, and done the very best,

Her maister-peece surpassing all the rest.

What if those carelesse tresses were attired?

Sure then her face for comelines transcends,

What now seemes lovely, then would be admired,

If Art might but begin, where Nature ends.

Alas, ten thousand pitties ’tis indeed,

That Princes, on so common fare should feed,

Whilst Common men, on princely meat exceed.

Alwayes the same doth glut the appetite,

But pleased is our palate, with exchange,

Variety of dishes doth delight,

Then give thy loose affections leave to range.

Forbidden things are best, and when we eate

What we have slily gotten by deceit,

Those morsels onely make the daynty meate.

But oh, reserve thy selfe, my maiden Muse,

For a more modest subject, and forbeare

To tune such wanton toyes, as may abuse,

And give distaste unto a Virgins eare:

Such rotten reasons first from Hell did flow,

And thither let the same in silence goe,

Best knowne of them, that did them never know.

Thus hee that conquer’d men, and beast most cruell,

(Whose greedy pawes, with fellon goods were found)

Answer’d Goliah’s challenge in a duell,

And layd the Giant groveling on the ground:

He, that of Philistims, two hundred flue:

No whit appalled at their grisly hue,

Him one frayle womans beauty did subdue.

Man is a Shippe, affections the Sayle,

The world the Sea, our sinnes the Rocks and Shelves,

God is the Pylot, if hee please to sayle,

And leave the stearing of us, to our selves,

Against the ragged Rocks wee run amaine,

Or else the winding Shelves doe us detaine,

Till God the Palinure, returnes againe.

YET David bold to sinne, did feare the shame,

He shunn’d the sheath, that ran upon the knife,

With a fine fetch, providing for his fame,

Hee fetcheth home Uriah to his wife:

So under his chaste love, to cloake his owne

Unlawfull lust, to fault most carelesse growne,

Most carefull that his fault should not be knowne.

But in their plots, God doth befoole the wise,

By wayes that none can trace, all must admire:

Short of his house that nigh Uriah lyes,

And David so came short of his desire:

The man a nearer lodging place did use,

(Which made the King on further plots to muse)

And sent home, home to goe, did thus refuse.

The pilgrime Arke doth sojourne in a tent,

In open fields, Joab my Lord doth lye,

And all the souldiers of his Regiment,

Have Earth their beds, the Heaven their Canopy:

Where bitter blasts of stormy winds are rife.

Shall I goe feast, drink, dally with my wife?

Not, as I live, and by your Lordships life.

Then by his servants David did conspire,

Uriahs lust so dull, with wine to edge:

(Venus doth freeze, where Bacchus yeelds no fire)

By their constraint, he condescends to pledge

One common cup that was begun to all

Captaines incamped nigh to Rabba wall;

One specially, unto the Generall.

Abishay next is drunke to, Joabs brother,

And this cupp, to a second paves the way,

That orderly doth usher in another;

Thus wine once walking, knowes not where to stay:

Yea such a course methodicall they take,

In ordering of cupps, the same did make

Uriah quite, all order to forsake.

His false supporters soone begin to slipp,

And if his faltring tongue, doth chance to light

On some long word, hee speedily doth clip

The traine therof; yea his deceitfull sight,

All objects paired doth present to him:

As double faces, both obscure and dim,

Seeme in a lying looking-glasse to swim.

My prayers for friends prosperity, and wealth,

Shall ne’re be wanting, but if I refuse;

To hurt my selfe, by drinking others health,

Oh let ingenious natures mee excuse:

If men bad manners this esteeme, then I

Desire to be esteem’d unmannerly,

That to Hue well, will suffer wine to dye.

Well did blind Homer see, for to expresse

This vice, that spawnes all other; when he faines,

Dame Circe, an inchanting Sorceresse,

Whose cupps, made many men forgoe their braines,

Whilst with the witlesse Ass, one purely doats,

Others mishaped are, like lustfull Goates,

Or swil-ingrossing Swine, with greedy throats.

Though bad, yet better was Uriah left,

Not quite a beast, though scarse a man, disturb’d

In minde, but not distracted, nor bereft

Of witt, though drunk, yet soberly hee curb’d

His lust, being wise, though ignorant, to crosse

The Kings designes, who now new thoughts doth tosse,

Finding his former project at a losse.

The Night with mourning weeds, the world becladd,

When restlesse David, for to mend his matter,

Did make it worse; his naked sinne was bad,

More Monstrous being maskt; they oft doe scatter

The chayne, that of Gods lawes unloose a linke:

Hee swam before in sinne, nigh to the brinke,

But now he meanes in midst thereof to sinke.

Then for a light, hee speedily did call,

(Thou Darknes with his project best agree’d)

For paper, pen, and inke, to write withall,

Though sure a poniard, might have done the deed,

Better if hee in blood had dipped it,

And on a sheet of paper what he writ,

A winding sheet far better did befit.

This certs I know, as Sepian juice did sinke

Into his spongy paper, sabling o’re

The same, with various-formed specks of inke,

Which was so pure and lilly-white before:

So spots of sinne the writers soule did staine,

Whose soylie tincture did therein remaine

Till brinish teares had washt it out againe.

Next day, when day was scarce an infant growne,

Uriah, (that no mischiefe did mistrust,

As none hee did deserve, but by his owne

Did measure all mens dealings to bee just)

Bearing this letter, on his journey past

With speed, who needed not to make such hast

Whose death, had he gone slow, did come too fast.

Thus crafty Maisters, when they minde to beate

A carelesse boy, to gather birch they send him;

The little lad, doth make the rod compleat,

Thinking his Maister therefore will commend him:

But busily imploy’d, he little thought,

Hee made the net, wherein himselfe was caught

And must be beaten, with the birch hee brought

His journey came well to the welcome end,

Safe to the Towne of Waters hee attaines,³³Rabba, 2 Sam. 12. & 27.

Towne which to force, Joab his force did bend,

(Nought is so hard, but vincible by paines)

Some with their heads did plot, some with their hand

Did practise, yea as ready was the band

To serve, as was the Captaine to command.

So busie Bees, some fly abroad at large,

Of flowry Nectar for to fetch their fill,

Some stay at home, for to receive their charge,

And trustily, the liquor doe distill:

Or bottle it in waxe, whilst others strive,

Like sturdy Martialls, far away to drive

The drowsy Droanes, that harbour in the hive.

The strong-arm’d Archer, from his crooked Bow,

Made a strait shaft, with dismall newes to speed

Into the towne which ne’re return’d to show,

The sender, how his message did succeed:

Yea heavie bodies, mounted were on high,

Dull stones, to which Dame Nature did deny

Feete for to goe, Art made them wings to fly.

Whilst in the towne, one with his friend did talk,

A sudden stroake did take his tongue away,

Some had their leggs arrested, as they walke,

By Martiall law, commanding them to stay:

Here falls a massy beame, a mighty wall

Comes tumbling there, and many men doth maule,

Who were both slaine, and buried by the fall.

Were there not used in the dayes of yore,

Enough men-murdering Engines? But our age.

Witty in wickednes, must make them more,

By newfound plotts, mens malice to inrage:

So that fire-spitting Canons, to the cost

Of Christian blood, all valour have ingrost.

Whose finding, makes that many a life is lost.

Whilst thus the well appointed army sought,

Winding in worm-like trenches neare the wall,

To humble the proud towers, Uriah brought

The speaking paper to the Generall,

Who when such language hee therein did finde,

Hee thought himselfe, or els the king was blinde,

Himselfe in body, or the king in minde.

Then hee the letter did peruse againe,

The words, the words of David could not bee,

And yet the hand, for Davids hand was plaine,

Hee thought it was, and thought it was not hee:

Each little line, he thorowly did view,

Till at the length, more credulous he grew,

And what he thought was false, he found too true.

Now Joab let thy valour be display’d,

Act not a midwife, to a deed unjust,

By feare or favour, be not oversway’d,

To prove a Pandar, to a Princes lust;

Returne a humble answer back againe,

Let each word breath submission, to obtaine

By prayers, a conquest of thy Soveraigne.

Shew how when God and countries good requires,

Then substance, soule and body to ingage,

Is the ambition of thy best desires,

Foes forraine to resist, to quell their rage,

How willingly would’st thou thy selfe despise,

Count losing of thy goods, a gainfull prize,

Lavish thy blood, and thy life sacrifice?

But when Gods lore, directly doth withstand,

And where his lawes, the contrary convince,

Wee must not breake the heavenly kings command,

Whilst we do seeke to please an earthly Prince:

The burdens they impose on us to beare,

Our dutie is to suffer them; but where

Kings bid, and God forbids, we must forbeare.

Behold the man, whose valour once surmounted,

In sacking Zions mount, (mount not so high

As men therein were haughty) and accounted,

Of Worthies chiefe, doth most unworthily:

Hee that to summe the people of the land

Withstood the King, now with the King doth stand

Too buxome for to finish his command.

Next morne, when early Phoebus first arose,

(Which then arose last in Uriah’s sight)

Him Joab in the forfront did dispose,

From whom, the rest recoyled in the fight:

Thus of his friends, betray’d by subtill traine,

Assaulted of his foes, with might and maine,

He lost his life, not conquered, but slaine.

His mangled body, they expose to scorne,

And now each cravin coward dare defie him,

Outstaring his pale visage, which beforne

Were palsy-strook, with trembling to come nigh him:

Thus heartlesse hares, with purblind eyes do peere

In the dead Lyons pawes, yea dastard Deere,

Over his breathlesse corps dare domineere.