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| Satyra .3a. |
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| Kinde Pittie choakes my spleene: Brave skorne forbides [f. 12] |
| Theis Teares to issue, wch swell my Eie-lidds. |
| I must not laughe, nor weepe; Sinne, and bee wise |
| Maie rayling then cure these worne Maladies. |
| Is not our Mistris faire Religion |
| As worthie of all our Soules deuotion |
| As vertue was to the first blind Age? |
| Are not Heavens ioyes as valiant to asswage |
| Lustes, as Earthes honours were to them? Alas! |
| As wee doe them in Meanes shall they surpas |
| Vs in the End? And shall thy fathers Spiritt |
| Meete blind Philosophers in Heauen, whose Meritt |
| Of strict life may bee imputed faith, and heere |
| Thee, whome hee taught waies easie, and neare |
| To followe damn'd? Oh, if thou darest feare this, |
| This feare great Courage, and highe Valour is: |
| Darest thou aid mutinous Dutche? Darest thou laye |
| Thee in Shippes, woodden Sepulchers, a Pray |
| To leaders rage, to stormes, to shott, to dearth? |
| Dar'st thou dive Seas, and dangers of the Earth? |
| Hadst thou couragious fire to thawe the Ice |
| Of frozen Northes discoueries, and thrice |
| Colder than Salamanders, like devyne |
| Children in the Oven, fires of Spaine, and the line |
| Whose Countries, limbeckes to our bodies bee; |
| Can'st thou for Gaine beare? And must everie Hee
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[CW: wch] |