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XX.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

THE FAREWELL. GOE, soule, the bodie's guest, Vpon a thanklesse arrant : Feare not to touch the best ; Thy truth shall be thy warrant:

Goe, since I needs must dye,

And giue them all the lye. Say to the court, it glowes And shines like painted wood; Say to the church, it shewes What's good, but does no good:

If court and church reply,

Then giue them both the lye. Tell potentates, they liue Acting, but oh! their actions Not loued vnless they giue; Nor strong but by affection :

If potentates reply,

Giue potentates the lye. Tell men of high condition, That manage the estate, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice onely hate;

And if they once reply,

Then giue them all the lye. Tell those that braue it most, They beg for more by spending,

Who in their greatest cost
Like nothing but commending:

And if they make reply,

Then giue them all the lye.
Tell Zeale it wants deuotion ;
Tell Loue it is but lust;
Tell Time it meets but motion ;
Tell Flesh it is but dust:

And wish them not reply,

For thou must giue the lye.
Tell Age it daily wasteth ;
Tell Honour how it alters;
Tell Beauty how she blasteth;
Tell Fauour how it falters :

And as they shall reply,

Giue euery one the lye.
Tell Wit how much it wrangles
In fickle points of nicenesse :
Tell Wisdome she entangles
Herself in ouerwiseness :

And when they doe reply,

Straight giue them both the lye. Tell Physicke of her boldnesse; Tell Skill it is preuention ; Tell Charity of coldnesse; Tell Law it is contention :

And as they doe reply,

Then giue them still the lye.
Tell Fortune of her blindnesse;
Tell Nature of decay;
Tell Friendship of vnkindnesse ;
Tell Justice of delay :

And if they will reply,
Then giue them all the lye.

Tell Arts they haue no soundnesse,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell Schooles they want profoundnesse,
And stand so much on seeming :

If Arts and Schooles reply,

Giue Arts and Schooles the lye.
Tell Faith it's fled the citie;
Tell how the Countrey erreth;
Tell Manhood shakes off pitie ;
Tell Vertue least preferreth :

And if they doe reply,

Spare not to giue the lye.
So, when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing;
Because to giue the lye
Deserues no lesse than stabbing ;

Stab at thee he that will,
No stab thy soule can kill.

MY PILGRIMAGE.
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staffe of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of ioye, (immortal diet!)
My bottle of saluation,
My gowne of glory, hope's true gage;
And thus I take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body's balmer,
While my soule, like peaceful palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of heauen:
Other balm will not be giuen.
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar-fountains,

There will I kiss
The bowle of bliss,

And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon euery milken hill:
My soule will be adry before,
But after that will thirst no more.

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AN EPITAPH. (Said to have been written the night before his Execution.)

EUEN such is Time, which takes on trust
Our youth, and ioyes, and all we haue,
And payes us but with age and dust,
Which in the dark and silent graue,
When we have wandred all our wayes,
Shuts up the story of our dayes ;
And from which earth, and graue, and dust,
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.

XXI.

ABRAHAM FRAUNCE.

PSALM LXXII.

God, th’ æternal God, noe doubt is good to the

godly, Giuing grace to the pure, and mercy to Israel

holy: And yet, alas! my feete, my faynte feet gan to be

slyding, And I was almost gone and fall'n to a dangerous

error.

For my soul did grudg, my hart consumed in an

ger, And myne eyes disdayng'd, when I saw that such

men abounded With wealth, health, and joy, whose myndes with

myschif abounded, Theyr body stowt and strong, theyr lyms still

lyuely apearing, Neyther feare any panges of death, nor feele any

sicknes: Some still mourne, they laughe: some lyue un

fortunate euer, They for ioy doe triumphe, and taste aduersity

neuer ; Which makes them with pryde, with scornful

pryde to be chayned, And with blood-thirsting disdaigne as a roabe to

be cou'red.

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