Without further speculating as to the reasons that induced our poet to fly from the court circles into the quiet retreat of the pastor’s life, most certain it is, about the year 1629, we find him renouncing the pomp and vanities of earthly ambition, and entering into holy orders. Previous to his induction, we find him using the following language in a letter to a friend: “I now look back upon my aspiring thoughts, and think myself more happy than if I had attained what then I so ambitiously thirsted for; and now I can behold the court with an impartial eye, and see plainly that it is made up of graced titles, and flattery, and many other such empty imaginary painted pleasures—pleasures that are so empty as not to satisfy where they are enjoyed. But in God and his service is a fullness of all joy and pleasure, but no satiety.” Of the fervency of his piety we have a most beautiful exemplification in some of his poems published about this time, especially in that styled “The Odor,” in which he seems to rejoice in the thought of the word “Jesus,” and say that the adding of these words “my master,” to it “seemed to perfume his mind, and leave an oriental fragrance in his very breath.” Alluding, in another poem, to his “unforced choice to serve at God’s altar,” he says, I know the ways of Learning; both the head and pipes That feed the press, and make it run; What reason hath from nature borrowed, Or of itself, like Housewife sheen. I know the ways of Honor, what maintains The quick returns of courtesy and wit; The ways of favor, either party gains And the best mode of oft retaining it. I know the ways of pleasure, the sweet strains, The lullings and the relishes of it; The proposition of hot blood and brains; What mirth and musick mean; what love and wit. Yet through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit, But the silk twist let down from heaven to me, Did both conduct and teach me, how by it To climb to thee.