Shall all that labour, all that cost Of loue, and eu'n that losse, be lost? And this lou'd soul, iudg'd worth no lesse Then all that way, and wearyness. X. Iust mercy then, Thy reckning be With my Price, and not with me; 'Twas pay'd at first with too much pain, To be pay'd twice; or once, in vain. XI. Mercy (my Iudge), mercy I cry With blushing cheek and bleeding ey: The conscious colors of my sin Are red without and pale within. XII. O let Thine Own soft bowells pay Thy self; and so discharge that day. If Sin can sigh, Loue can forgiue: O say the word, my soul shall liue. XIII. Those mercyes which Thy Mary found, Or who Thy crosse confes't and crown'd; Hope tells my heart, the same loues be Still aliue, and still for me. XIV. Though both my prayres and teares combine, Both worthlesse are; for they are mine. But Thou Thy bounteous Self still be; And show Thou art, by sauing me. XV. O when Thy last frown shall proclaim The flocks of goates to folds of flame, And all Thy lost sheep found shall be; Let 'Come ye blessed,' then call me. XVI. When the dread '_Ite_' shall diuide Those limbs of death, from Thy left side; Let those life-speaking lipps command That I inheritt Thy right hand. XVII. O hear a suppliant heart, all crush't And crumbled into contrite dust. My hope, my fear! my Iudge, my Freind! Take charge of me, and of my end. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. In st. vi. line 4, 'then' is = than, on which cf. our PHINEAS FLETCHER, as before: in st. xvi. line 1, '_Ite_' = 'go ye' of the Vulgate. 1670, st. ii. line 3, misprints 'these' for 'those:' st. viii. line 3, 'And Thou would'st be,' _i.e._ didst will to be,--not merely wished to be, but carried out Thy intent. G. CHARITAS NIMIA, OR THE DEAR BARGAIN.[55] Lord, what is man? why should he coste Thee 1 So dear? what had his ruin lost Thee? Lord, what is man? that thou hast ouerbought So much a thing of nought? Loue is too kind, I see; and can 5 Make but a simple merchant-man. 'Twas for such sorry merchandise, Bold painters haue putt out his eyes. Alas, sweet Lord, what wer't to Thee If there were no such wormes as we? 10 Heau'n ne're the lesse still Heau'n would be, Should mankind dwell In the deep Hell: What haue his woes to doe with Thee? Let him goe weep 15 O're his own wounds; Seraphims will not sleep Nor spheares let fall their faithfull rounds. Still would the youthfull spirits sing; And still Thy spatious palace ring; 20 Still would those beauteous ministers of light Burn all as bright.