Youths tragedy a poem drawn up by way of dialogue between [brace] Youth, the Devil, Wisdome, the Nuncius, Time, Death, the Soul : for the caution and direction of the younger sort / by T.S.

Youths Tragedie, A POEM Drawn up By way of Dialogue, for the Caution, and Direction of the younger ſort. The Prologue. If thou art ſerious, then attend, and ſee, If not, yet ſtay, that thou may'st ſerious bee. YOƲTH. HOw pleaſant is it, when the Sun diſplayes, From ARIES's Golden Fleece, his Golden Rayes, How do the Creatures triumph for to ſee, Impriſon'd NATƲRE, ſet at libertie. How doth the EARTH rejoyce, that ſhe is ſeen Cloath'd in a rich imbroid'red VEST of Green. FLORA now ſmiles, to ſee her ſelf ſo fair, And comes abroad for to perfume the Air. The Heavens are pleaſant, darkſome Clouds do flie, And give a Proſpect of an Azur'd Skie; The pretty winged Quire, from their ſweet Throats, Fill every place, with their Melodious Notes. And what is YOƲTH? but like another Spring, And therefore Young man, now rejoyce, and ſing, Diſcharge ſad Thoughts, follow thy Recreation, Whil'ſt that thy Blood hath a free circulation. Let Old BARZILLAIES now refuſe the Court, Thy nimble parts, adapted are for ſport, Let thy heart chear thee, and now chuſe delight, According as thine Eye ſhall thee invite. The DEVIL and YOƲTH. Devil. Bravely reſolv'd, give up thy ſtrength, and time, To pleaſe thy ſelf, and all things ſhall be thine. Goe view from SOƲTHERN to the ARCTICK Pole, The glory over which the Heavens do role, And make thy choice, when done, put forth thy hand, And pleaſe thy ſelf, it's all at thy command. RICHES ſhall at thy Feet full Bags fling down, And give a Golden Chain, and Scarlet Gown, HONOUR will quickly court thee, and ſhall ſet Upon thy Head, a Golden Corroner, PLEASURE ſhall ſtrow thy paths with Fragrant Flowers, And Solace thee within her Shady Bowers; Only this word of Counſel, muſt thee guide, Trouble thy Head with nothing elſe beſide, Youth. I'le take thy Counſel, CONSCIENCE now adiew, I ſee I ſhall have little need of you, I am reſolv'd to ſuffer no controul, But to purſue theſe things with all my SOUL. WISDOM and YOƲTH. Wiſdom. Purſue with all thy SOƲL, nay fond YOƲTH ſtand, And view the Lie, that's lodg'd in thy right hand, He that theſe great things to thee doth propoſe, Is free to promiſe what he can't diſpoſe, Neither canſt thou acquire, with all thy haſte, Far leſſer things, if GOD endeavours blaſt. But grant thou had'ſt what's promis'd, yet thy mind Inſtead of JOY, would but VEXATION find, Inlarg'd deſires will keep thee from CONTENT, And what can't ſatisfie, will but TORMENT. But could the WORLD compleat JOY to thee bring, Yet at the beſt, it's but a tranſient thing, Theſe WORLDLY things which thou enjoy'ſt to day, To morrow may make Wings, and fly away. Thy Soul's Immortal, look what doth agree Unto its NATURE, that muſt Satiate thee, There's naught but the great FOƲNTAIN GOOD that will Suit with thy SOƲL, and thy vaſt SPIRIT fill. Come then, and tread thoſe Paths that will thee bring Unto the everlaſting flowing SPRING Of pure, unmixed, intellectual JOYES, Why ſhould'ſt thou cheat thy ſelf with empty TOYES. Youth. The way is Long, and Thornie, that doth lead Unto theſe JOYES, and thoſe that do it tread, Water their Steps with Tears, and break their Reſt With thoſe ſad Sighs and Groans which fill their Breſt. WORMWOOD, and GALL, on each ſide of it grow, CROSSES, and JEARS, this dolorous way do ſtrow, And all along this Path you may eſpie, Here ſcatt'red a right Hand, there a right Eye, Here a dear Luſt, there a dead Comfort lies, By SELF-DENIAL, made a Sacrifice; And on the Hills do fired Beacons flame, Which round about, invading FOES proclaime: To whom I either muſt become a Prey, Or through their Hoſtile Troops muſt fight my way. Pardon me then, if that I doe refuſe, Such DOLEFƲL WAYES of Trouble, for to chuſe. Wiſdom. Though at the firſt, this WAY may ſeem to be A Thornie, Rough, Unpleaſant Path to thee, Yet doe but trie it, what at firſt ſeems hard, Will eaſie prove unto thee afterward. For when thy heart, ſhall be enlarg'd with love, Unto thoſe glorious things which are above; Then wilt thou run theſe Wayes with great delight, For in them, there is ſtrength to the upright. Let not thoſe Tears affright thee, that are ſpent The future FLOODS of ſorrow to prevent, No Wine ſo precious, as what doth ariſe, From the ſweet ſprings, of penetential eyes, No frame like this, where comfort doth ſo thrive, For GOD the contrite ſpirit doth revive. Nor let it daunt thee, that thou muſt denye Thy YOƲTHFƲL LƲSTS, and dear ſelf MORTIFIE, The bleſſed end is, that thou may'ſt DESTROY Thoſe SƲCCORS, that would hinder thy true JOY, And whil'ſt Thou Conflicts thus, and giv'ſt the FOYL Thoul't ſing with thoſe that do divide the SPOYL. Let not the CROSS diſmay thee; God will fit It to thy Back, or thy Back unto it. And what Affliction, he doth to thee meaſure, It's for thy profit, and not for his pleaſure, That with more even ſteps thy SOƲL may preſs, Forward unto its final happineſs. Fear not to Fight, the Conqueſt ſhall be ſure, To him that doth unto the End endure, For by a Hand of Strength, he ſhall be led Ipon the Necks, of all his FOES to tread. And on a THRONE of GLORY ſhall fit down With ſongs of PRAISE, and a triumphant CROWN. Call not theſe Paths then DOLESOM, YOƲNGMAN ceaſe, All WISDOMS WAYS, are PLEASANTNESS & PEACE. Whil'ſt a good CONSCIENCE lodgeth in thy Breſt, Thou need'ſt not doubt of a continual Feaſt. Ask thoſe that follow WISDOM, and they'l ſay, They feed on hidden MANNA in their way, By arts of FAITH, and LOVE, they now poſſeſs, That inward Sweetneſs, which they cann't expreſs. Strong CONSOLATIONS here do fill their CƲP, Whil'ſt with eternal LOVE their Souls do Sup. Youth. I underſtand not how theſe JOYES commence, YOƲTH muſt have ſomething that may pleaſe the ſenſe; Therefore forbear untill thou offer'ſt that, Which may be ſuited to my preſent State. Wiſdom. Fond YOƲTH, thou know'ſt not what is true delight, It's not to pleaſe the ſenſual APPETIT, This will debaſe thy NATƲRE, and the FRƲIT, Will be to lay thee level with the BRƲITE. That which ennobles, and doth truly raiſe, Are VISIONS, of thoſe BEAMS which GOD diſplayes, From his ſweet reconciled FACE, which make The SOƲL of his bleſs'd NATƲRE to partake. Youth. Theſe are but darkſom RIDDLES, canting STREINS, Fitted to ſuit with MELANCHOLY Veins; What canſt thou offer now unto my EYE, That will the GLORY of this WORLD outvie. Wiſdom. Whilſt thou a darkſom RIDDLE this doſt call, Thou ſhow'ſt thy woful Darkneſs ſince the fall, For though an inſtinct ſtill remains to BLISS, Yet wanteſt Light to guide thee where it is. But will the good things of this world content? Then view what WISDOM doth of this preſent: HONOUR and RICHES her left hand enfolds, And in her right hand length of dayes ſhe holds; Which ſhe gives forth to them that do her love, So far as they may real bleſſings prove: If what thou haſt be mixed with a curſe, It will prove to thee VANITY, nay, worſe. That hand of Mercy that gives forth the Treaſure, To make it Mercy, muſt give forth the Meaſure; That hand muſt guide thee how it muſt be us'd, MERCIES prove JVDGMENTS when they are abus'd. Take all thy good things then from WISDOMS hand, And uſe thoſe good things as ſhe doth command. Youth. Lady, excuſe me till another day, There's time enough hereafter for this way; Let me my youthful dayes pleaſe in their choice, And then I'le pomiſe to obey thy VOICE; When AGE hath quencht within, this luſtful fire, And ſhall in private weary limbs retire; This will a ſeaſon be to bend my mind, Unto thoſe wayes where I may WISDOM find. Wiſd. Vain YOVTH, vain YOVTH, hereafter is not thine, He that hath now no heart, may have no time. That Captain which to day doth termes afford, May ſtorm to morrow, and put all to'th' Sword; And he that this day will not ſpread his ſayl, To morrow, if he would, may find no gale: Or he that gives Grace to the penitent, May not REPENTANCE give to'th negligent. But wilt thou in old AGE theſe wayes embrace? Are weary limbs fit for to run a race? And when the day is ready to ſhut in, Is that a time this Great work to begin? Shall SATAN be preſented with the prime, And WISDOM only have the Dregs of Time? In depth of Winter, when the Heavens are ſpred With a black Vail, and all lights darkened; When Clouds do thick return after the rain, And their repeated ſhowers pour down amain; When that Tempeſtuous STORMS beat round about, Is this the only Seaſon to ſet out? Surely, if ſerious, this thou wilt not ſay, Why is it then, vain YOUTH, thou would'ſt delay? Oh that there were within thee once a heart, From all the wayes of FOLLY to depart. Thoſe gaudy things with which ſhe takes thine eye, Thou wilt be ſure to find but VANITY. Youth. The WISE MAN, though he ſaid ſo, yet would try Before he did believe it; ſo will I. Wiſd. But having try'd it, he hath fix'd a Buoy, That others might not here themſelves deſtroy. His own EXPERIENCE he hangs out for light, That thou may'ſt ſee to ſteer thy way aright; He ſets a mark upon this dangerous ſhoal, That upon it thou might'ſt not wrack thy Soul. By Cautions, Warnings, Tears, and ſad Remorſe, He ſhews the Hazard of this woful courſe. If after all this, when that thou haſt ſeen Thoſe tops of MASTS where ſad ſhipwrack hath been, Yet thou wilt venture fooliſhly to ſtray, Though he was ſpar'd, thou may'ſt be caſt away. But ſhould'ſt thou ſpared be, it hard would prove, Faſt rooted habits ever to remove: For like the Leopards ſpots, and NEGRO'S skin, So Cuſtom proveth in a way of ſin. Youth. Well, trouble me no more, I muſt fulfill Thoſe ſtrong propenſions that are in my Will. Wiſdom. And wilt thou ruſh, vain YOƲTH, without all fear, Like to the Horſe, upon the charged Spear? Is Life a Trifle? Is a Future ſtate Not worth the caring for? and wilt thou hate Thy precious, SOVL? wilt thou inhumane be Unto thy ſelf? oh, wretched CRVELTY! Wilt thou the way of FOLLY now purſue, And turn thy back on WISDOM? then adieu. But let me tell thee, that another day Her path thoul't find, like the Strange WOMANS way, Who cometh forth with Smiles, in rich attire, And with her kiſſes YOVTHFVL LVST doth fire, In her curl'd Treſſes LETHAL NETS do lye, And from her Eye-lids killing Darts do fly, Between her breaſts ſurprizing SNARES abide, Under her Beauty Deadly VIPERS hide. With honey ſtrains her ſubtile lips doth court The SIMPLE one, to her deſtructive ſport; With ſpeeches ſmoother than the fineſt OYL, She doth betray into her fatal TOYL. By wanton, amorous glances, ſhe allures, And with embracing arms her prey ſecures. Thus by her flattering wayes the Captive's led, Without all fear, to her perfumed bed; Not thinking that her woful Gueſts do dwell Within DEATHS chambers, and the vaults of HELL. But when a ſtranger's filled with his wealth, And when he hath conſumed all his health, When that his HONOUR, and his LABOUR lies VVithin her Houſe, a ſlaughtered SACRIFICE, VVhen ROTTENNESS enters into his bones, And fills his fleſh with pain, his breſt with groans; How doth he deeply now reflect upon Thoſe years, he gave unto the cruel one! How doth he find that burning COALS he plac'd VVithin his boſom, whil'ſt he her embrac'd! How doth he now from his EXPERIENCE cry, He like a Bird, unto the SNARE did fly! And whilſt unto her way his ſteps he bent, He, like an OX unto the ſlaughter went; And that ſame pleaſure which he did ſo like, Now, as a dart, doth through his Liver ſtrike. This is the way of FOLLY, this the end, Her Feet to DEATH, her ſteps to HELL do tend. Like to thoſe ſtreams which through green Meadows glide, Till in the Dead Sea they at laſt do ſlide; So runs her Courſe, through PLEASURE though it take, It ends in JUDGMENT, and a fiery LAKE. YOVNG MAN, farewell, oh, mind thy future ſtate, Take Counſel now, before it be too late. Oh now remember thoſe invited GUESTS, That being call'd ſlighted the Marriage Feaſt: But for ſo great contempt did dearly pay, VVhere MERCY could not gain, there WRATH did ſlay. YOƲTH. VVhat ſtrange Impreſſions do my Spirits feel? How do my former Reſolutions reel? VVhat ſtrange CONVƲLSIONS ſeize upon my Mind? VVhat inward quick DISTORTIONS do I find, How do my Thoughts preſs forth on every ſide, And in two great BATTALIAS do divide; Aſſaulting each the other with great Force, Sometimes LVST gaining Ground, ſometimes REMORSE: VVith armed troops, the SENSUAL APPETITE Doth beat down all before it in the Fight, Till CONSCIENCE, with freſh ſuccours doth oppoſe, And, by ſtrong hand, her Forces overthrows. AFFECTIONS ſee it, and do haſte to bring Relief and Succour to the broken WING: And ſo with furious rage, they down do fell All that their fierce Impreſſions would repell; The WILL well backed with the chiefeſt flower Or Veteran Souldiers, with a mighty power Doth on the Groſs of the Battalia fall, And queſtions not but for to carry all. And now the JƲDGMENT with its utmoſt might Makes ſtrong reſiſtance, and prevents a flight; And with brave Courage, and repeated blows, Repreſſeth the great fury of her Foes. And whilſt they thus engage with Warlike hands, VICTORIA now between them doubtful ſtands. This is the War that gives my Mind no reſt, My JƲDGMENT tells me WISDOM'S wayes are beſt: My CONSCIENCE checks me, that I don't obey, And ſhews the danger, if I do delay. My WILL, and my AFFECTIONS do oppoſe, And would with Senſual Pleaſure have me cloſe: Thus in ſad Fears and Cares my thoughts do roul, Whil'ſt that I have theſe workings in my Soul. What I ſhall do, I know not, this I find, That ſtrong CONVICTIONS do aſſault my Mind. The DEVIL, YOƲTH, and the NƲNCIƲS. Devil. YOVTH, What's the matter, wilt thou quit the field, And to a Melancholy Fancy yield? Wilt thou expoſe thy ſelf to taunting JEARS, Whil'ſt thus thou load'ſt thy breſt with needleſs fears? Go fill thy hand, and head with thoſe affairs, That this WORLD calls for, and ſo choak theſe cares: Or take thy Paſtime at ſome pleaſant Play, And with thoſe ſtreins of Wit drive FEAR away: With Scenes and Objects go and feaſt thine EYES, And feed thy LƲSTS with great Varieties. Or, to thy old Companions ſtraight reſort, And ſo divert thy ſelf with YOƲTHFƲL SPORT. Go pierce the choiceſt Liquors, and drink down Full draughts thereof, till thou theſe TROƲBLES drown: Or joyn thy ſelf unto the Jovial Blades, Who hunt forth Pleaſure, in their Maskarades. Let thoſe Croſs-workings that thy Soul doth meet, Be proſtrate laid at ſome fair LADIES feet. Why ſhould thy Day be ſtained with a Cloud, And all thy Comforts under Darkneſs ſhroud? Nunc. The YOƲNG MAN yields, this Counſel he obeys And in the paths of FOLLY now he ſtrayes, And whil'ſt in PLEASƲRE he his SOƲL doth drench, All his CONVICTIONS he at laſt doth quench: And ſo his Heart grows hard, his CONSCIENCE ſear'd, And now he mocks at that which once he fear'd; From frequent ACTS, he comes for to Deviſe That againſt which, at firſt, his heart did riſe. (He that will venture on a way of ſin, Many a dreadful ſtep may take therein,) His Time it is but ſhort, for you may ſee In the next Scene his ſad CATASTROPHE. YOVTH. Youth. How do I now in Pleaſures boſom reſt, Whil'ſt Checks and Fears are baniſht from my breſt! Thoſe MENACES that on my THOVGHTS did throng, I have repuls'd, the threatned man lives long; Is not this better than to whine away, With penſive, pewling MOPES, my pleaſant day? How joyful is it now unto my ſight, To ſee my ſelf adrift in all delight? And as this is a day of mirth to me, So ſhall to morrow more abundant be. NVNCIVS. Nun. Like to the Poſte that ſwiftly paſſeth by, Or like the SLAVE that doth from bondage fly, Or like a nimble Ship, that with full ſayl Doth run her courſe before a proſperous gale: Or as the Eagle that her Prey eſpies, Like Lightning, with ſwift wings unto it flyes; So TIME now ſpeeds, to let the YOVNG MAN know That all his way and walks are a vain ſhow. TIME and YOVTH. Time. With winged ſwiftneſs I do hither flye, To let thee know thy fatal end draws nigh. Like to the Graſs, or like the fading Flower, So withereth all thy Glory in an hour; Too late EXPERIENCE now muſt teach thee this, Thy life a SHADOW, and a VAPOƲR is. I ſhall no more turn thy neglected Glaſs, A few ſands only now remain to paſs; My vvhetted Sythe comes next for to be us'd, To let thee know, TIME vvill not be abus'd. Youth. My aged Father, turn thy Sythe avvay, Cut dovvn the ripened Ears, let green ones ſtay; Go vvhere the Fields are vvhite, vvhoſe ſtalks do bend, Under their burden, and there put an end Unto thoſe preſſures, but vvith-hold thy hand From the green Blades, let immature ones ſtand. I am too young yet for the Sythe of TIME, Come vvhen my Locks ſhall be as white as thine. Time. Forbear, fond YOVTH, TIME's not at thy command, The tender bud oft feeels my cropping hand; Haſt thou not often read Elegiack Verſe, Compos'd to celebrate a VIRGIN Herſe? Haſt thou not ſeen the Mother, with wet eyes, Sprinkle the duſt wherein her Young Son lies; How oft hath DEATH white Trophies, to declare, Thoſe he leads captive forth, they young ones are? I know where lies my Work, advice pray ſpare, Where I ſhould reap, and where I ſhould forbear, I count thy SANDS, and when the laſt I ſee Fly to it's heap, thou'rt ripe enough for me: TIME vvill not ſtay, look here, thy Glaſs is broke, And novv comes Death to give the Fatal ſtroke. DEATH, NƲNCIƲS, and YOƲTH. Death. YOVTH, come away, for thou muſt with me go To the dark REGIONS that do lye below; Come, this ſame hand muſt ſeize upon thy breath, And lead thee dovvn into the ſhades of DEATH. Here is no dvvelling for thee, but thou muſt Take up thy lodging vvith me in the Duſt; And in thick Darkneſs make thy diſmal bed, Whil'ſt cravvling WORMS under thy head are ſpread; The pleaſant light no more thine Eyes ſhall ſee, But vvith CORRVPTION thou muſt cover'd be. Thoſe thoughts that are gone forth for to purvey To Feaſt thy LVSTS, in this thy yonthful day; And all thoſe pleaſing Hopes thou didſt ſo cheriſh, Of long continued Bliſs, muſt this day periſh. Nun. Whil'ſt that the YOVTH the King of TERROURS views His trembling limbs a cold ſweat all bedevvs, His Pulſe beats quick, his gaſhly Face looks pale, His ſpirits ſink, and his ſtout heart doth fail; As vvhen Defendants from out vvorks are beat, They to their main ſtrength make a ſwift retreat, That, by united Force, they may oppoſe The fierce attempts of their approaching Foes; So to the Heart, his ſcattered Forces flow, That there they may keep off the fatal blow; But when this will not do, a parley's beat, And now his Enemy he begins to treat. Youth. Oh DEATH, forbear me, but a little while, Until my Veſſel I provide with Oyl, I am not yet prepared with a Light To comfort me in this ſame diſmal Night. Let not my Feet on the dark MOƲNTAINS fall For lack of Light to guide my ſteps withall. Oh, let my naked SOVL put on her VEST, Why ſhould I fare like the unwelcome Gueſt, In ſtormy weather, pull not down my Tent Before I have a better Tenement? Oh let me ſtay, that I may make a FRIEND, For to receive me, at my JOVRNEYS end. Oh let me truly LIVE, before I DYE, I want Proviſion for ETERNITY. Devil. Vain YOƲTH, already thou haſt had thy Day, But GRACE was ſlighted, TIME was ſinn'd away. Could nothing waken but the MID-NIGHT Cry For to provide, when 'tis too late to buy? Is it a time thy NAKED SOƲL to dreſs, When that the KING is come to view his GƲESS? Haſt thou a Habitation ſtill neglected, Until the hour thou com'ſt to be ejected? When thou art Harbourleſs, and Storms begin, Haſt thou a Friend to ſeek to take thee in? Ah, careleſs SOƲL! how woful is thy ſtate, That know'ſt not how to want, or I to wait! Come, come away, I am not ſent to treat, But for to bring thee to the JVDGMENT SEAT. Youth. How ſhall I now appear be ore that FACE That rends the ROCKS, and MOVNTAINS doth diſplace; That melts the HILLS, and makes the EARTH to quake; That flings down STARS, and doth the HEAVENS ſhake; That makes thoſe vaſt EXPANSIONS for to roul, And ſhrink themſelves together, like a ſcroul? How ſhall I ſtand before that dreadful THRONE, From whence bright Lightnings & great Thundrings come? Who can abide the Fierceneſs of his Ire, Whoſe Indignation's poured out like Fire? Nun. But go he muſt; Death pierc'd his tender ſide, And in his Heart bloud his bright Dart he dy'd. Out flies the trembling SOƲL, a Guard doth hale It to that Court admitteth of no Bayle. Her Mittimus is drawn, ſhe's ſent away, To lye in Priſon till the JƲDGMENT Day. Let's lay our ears unto the Doleful Pit, And hearken there what doth become of it. THe SOƲL and the DEVIL. Soul. Deceitful Devil, Wilt thou now torment That SOƲL, thou lately flatt'redſt with Content? Are all thoſe Promiſes thou mad'ſt of Bliſs, And future Glory; are they come to this? Devil. My Promiſes, vain SOƲL, they were miſtook, I us'd them but as Baits to hide my Hook; My end's accompliſh'd, I the prey have caught, And now I'le uſe thee as my CAPTIVES ought; With Chains of Darkneſs I muſt bind thee faſt, And in theſe FLAMES of WRATH I muſt thee caſt. Soul. O wretched SOƲL! how haſt thou loſt that place Where SAINTS and ANGELS do behold the FACE Of Everlaſting GLORY, and do ſing Eternal HALLELƲIAHS to their KING. Upon whoſe Heads are Crowns of GLORY worne, And by whoſe hands Triumphant PALMES are borne: Who in the Boſom of dear LOVE do reſt, And on the pureſt JOYES for ever feaſt; Whil'ſt with the DAMNED SPIRITS I do make My habitation in this FIRY LAKE; The Flaming PILE whereof is kindled by The Breath of that incenſed MAJESTY, Which like a ſtream of Brimſtone, where it runs, All things before it into FIRE turns. Oh diſmal place! where Vollies of Outcries, And hideous Howlings like to Thunder flies: The horrid noiſe, and dreadful ſhrieks that came From the PHILISTINES, when that maſſy Frame, Bereft of both its Pillars, down did fall, And into Death and Ruin cruſht them all; The frightful Rorings, and the woful Cryes, Which SODOM ſent unto the Angry Skies, Whil'ſt on their wicked heads they forth did pour (Of Fire and Brimſtone) a conſuming ſhowes; Are inſtances too ſhort for to declare Thoſe Wailings that among the DAMNED are. Oh Woful State! their TORMENTS who can tell, That with Devouring Fire for ever dwell? The Wracking Wheel, on which the Bones are broke, By a moſt gradual and deliberate ſtroke; The Firy Pinchers, which deep Wounds do tear, That ſcalding SULPHUR may be poured there; The Stripes of SCORPIONS, that long Furrows make, With cutting SAWS that through the MARROW rake: The Stings of DRAGONS, and the rending Claws Of rav'nous LYONS, for their hungry Jaws; The CAULDRONS that with Plumbean liquor boyl, The GRIDIR'NS whereon living Fleſh doth broyl; With thouſands of like TORTURES, do not bear Proportion to the TORMENTS that are here: And yet this is the Portion of my Soul, Which now is like that dreadful, bitter Roul, Fill'd full with Lamentations, Mournings, Woes, And flouds of Wrath, which from Dire Vengeance flows. Horrid reflections likewiſe do I find, Adding great Anguiſh to my Tortur'd Mind, Whil'ſt I conſider, that for empty Toyes, I have for ever loſt ſubſtantial JOYS; And whil'ſt I think how oft I have rejected That Counſel which to Peace my ſteps directed; How oft I have extinguiſh'd that ſame light Which CONSCIENCE brought to guide my feet aright; How all my precious TIME I vainly ſpent, And now no TIME is left for to Repent: This like a dreadful WORM doth ever gnaw Upon my VITALS with inſatiate MAW. Oh now that Death, which late my heart-ſtrings broke, Would come and eaſe me by a deeper ſtroke! Oh, how I would as a ſweet Cordial, rate That blow which ſhould this SOUL Annihilate! If ſuch a wiſh but granted I might have, I would account that hand that killd, did ſave. Oh, this vvould Mercy prove, but none remains, Not the leaſt drop to cool me in theſe FLAMES. I novv muſt Dying live, and Living dye, Scorcht in theſe FLAMES to all Eternity. The EPILOGUE. The end is Endleſs, he that will not take Example now, ſhall an Example make. FINIS.