|
| Eleg. 7.a| |
| Tell I haue peace wt thee, warr other Men; [f. 17v] |
| And when I haue peace, can I leaue thee then? |
| All other warrs are scrupulous; Only thou |
| O fayr free Citty, maist thy selfe allow |
| To any one: In Flanders, who tan tell |
| Whether ye Maister pres or men rebell? |
| Only we know, that wch all Ideots say |
| They beare most blows wch come to part ye fray. |
| France in her Lunatique giddines did hate |
| Euer or men, yea and or God of late. |
| Yet She relyes vpon or Angels well |
| Wch nere returne; No more then they wch fell. |
| Sick Ireland is wt a strange warr possest |
| Like to an Ague; Now raging, now at rest; |
| Wch time will cure: Yet it must do her good |
| If she weare purg'd, and her head vayne let blood. |
| And Midas ioyes or Spanish iourneys giue, |
| We touch all gold, but find no food to liue. |
| And I should be in yt hott parching clime |
| To dust and ashes turnd before my time. |
| To mew me in a Ship, is to enthrall |
| Me in a prison, yt weare like to fall. |
| Or in a Cloyster; save yt ther men dwell |
| In a calme heauen, here in a swaggering hell. |
| Long Voyages are long consumptions |
| And Ships are carts for executions. |
| Yea they are Deaths; ist not all one to fly |
| Into an other World, as t'is to dy? |
| Here let me warr; in these armes let me ly |
| Here let me parle, batter, bleede, & dy. |
| Thy armes imprison me, and myne armes thee, |
| Thy hart thy ransome is, take myne for mee. |
| Other men war that they ther rest may gayne |
| But we will rest yt we may fight agayne. |
| Those warrs the'ignorant, these th'experienc'd love |
| There we are allwayes vnder, here above. |
| There Engines farr of breed a iust trew feare, |
| Neere thrusts, pikes, stabs, yea bullets hurt not here. |
| There-lyes are wrongs; here safe vprightly ly; |
| There men kill men, we'will make one by & by. |