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| WHAT pensill shall I take or where begin | |
| To paint the vgly face of odious sinne? | |
| Man sinning oft, though pardon’d oft, exceeds | |
| The falling angels in malicious deeds: | |
| When we in words would tell the sinner’s shame, | 5 |
| To call him diuell is too faire a name. | |
| Should we for euer in the chaos dwell, | |
| Or in the lothsome depth of gaping hell, | |
| We there no foule and darksome formes shall find | |
| Sufficient to describe a guilty mind. | 10 |
| Search through the world, we shall not know a thing | |
| Which may to reason’s eye more horrour bring | |
| Then disobedience to the Highest Cause, | |
| And obstinate auersion from his lawes. | |
| The sinner will destroy God if he can— | 15 |
| O what hath God deseru’d of thee, poore man, | |
| That thou shouldst boldly striue to pull him downe | |
| From his high throne, and take away his crowne? | |
| What blindnesse moues thee to vnequall fight? | |
| See how thy fellow-creatures scorne thy might; | 20 |
| Yet thou prouok’st thy Lord, as much too great, | |
| As thou too weake for his imperiall seate. | |
| Behold a silly wretch distracted quite, | |
| Extending towards God his feeble spite, | |
| And by his poys’nous breath his hopes are faire | 25 |
| To blast the skies, as it corrupts the aire. | |
| Vpon the other side thou may’st perceiue | |
| A mild commander, to whose army cleaue | |
| The sparkling starres, and each of them desires | |
| To fall and drowne this rebell in their fires. | 30 |
| The cloudes are ready this proud foe to tame, | |
| Full fraught with thunderbolts and lightning’s flame. | |
| The Earth, his mother, greedy of his doome, | |
| Expects to open her vnhappy wombe, | |
| That this degen’rate sonne may liue no more; | 35 |
| So chang’d from that pure man whom first she bore. | |
| The sauage beasts, whose names his Father gaue, | |
| To quell this pride their Maker’s licence craue. | |
| The fiends his masters in this warlike way, | |
| Make sute to seaze him as their lawfull prey. | 40 |
| No friends are left: then whither shall he flie? | |
| To that offended King who sits on high. | |
| Who hath deferr’d the battell, and restrain’d | |
| His souldiers, like the winds in fetters chain’d: | |
| For let the sinner leaue his hideous maske, | 45 |
| God will as soone forgiue, as he shall aske. | |
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