_3 Kinge._ Nor with peruerse loues and religious rapes Reuenge Thy bountyes in their beauteous shapes; And punish best things worst; because they stood Guilty of being much for them too good. _1 Kinge._ Proud sons of Death! that durst compell 110 Heau'n it self to find them Hell: _2 Kinge._ And by strange witt of madnes wrest From this World's East the other's West. _3 Kinge._ All-idolizing wormes! that thus could crowd And vrge their sun into Thy cloud; 115 Forcing His sometimes eclips'd face to be A long deliquium to the light of Thee. _Chorus._ Alas! with how much heauyer shade The shamefac't lamp hung down his head For that one eclipse he made, 120 Then all those he suffered! _1 Kinge._ For this he look't so bigg; and euery morn With a red face confes't his scorn. Or hiding his vex't cheeks in a hir'd mist Kept them from being so vnkindly kis't. 125 _2 Kinge._ It was for this the Day did rise So oft with blubber'd eyes: For this the Evening wept; and we ne're knew But call'd it deaw. _3 Kinge._ This dayly wrong 130 Silenc't the morning-sons, and damp't their song: _Chorus._ Nor was't our deafnes, but our sins, that thus Long made th' harmonious orbes all mute to vs. _1 Kinge._ Time has a day in store When this so proudly poor 135 And self-oppressèd spark, that has so long By the loue-sick World bin made Not so much their sun as shade: Weary of this glorious wrong From them and from himself shall flee 140 For shelter to the shadow of Thy tree: _Chorus._ Proud to haue gain'd this pretious losse And chang'd his false crown for Thy crosse. _2 Kinge._ That dark Day's clear doom shall define Whose is the master Fire, which sun should shine: 145 That sable judgment-seat shall by new lawes Decide and settle the great cause Of controuerted light: _Chorus._ And Natur's wrongs rejoyce to doe Thee right. _3 Kinge._ That forfeiture of Noon to Night shall pay 150 All the idolatrous thefts done by this Night of Day; And the great Penitent presse his own pale lipps With an elaborate loue-eclipse: To which the low World's lawes Shall lend no cause, 155 _Chorus._ Saue those domestick which He borrowes From our sins and His Own sorrowes. _1 Kinge._ Three sad hours' sackcloth then shall show to vs His penance, as our fault, conspicuous: _2 Kinge._ And He more needfully and nobly proue 160 The Nations' terror now then erst their loue. _3 Kinge._ Their hated loues changd into wholsom feares: _Chorus._ The shutting of His eye shall open their's.