Ye Flippering Soule, Why dost between the Nippers dwell? Not stay, nor goe. Not yea, nor yet Controle. Doth this doe well? Rise journy'ng when the skies fall weeping Showers. Not o're nor under th'Clouds and Cloudy Powers. Not yea, nor noe: On tiptoes thus? Why sit on thorns? Resolve the matter: Stay thyselfe or goe. Be n't both wayes born. Wager thyselfe against thy surplice, see, And win thy Coate: or let thy Coate Win thee. Is this th'Effect, To leaven thus my Spirits all? To make my heart a Crabtree Cask direct? A Verjuicte Hall? As Bottle Ale, whose Spirits prisond nurst When jog'd, the bung with Violence doth burst? Shall I be made A sparkling Wildfire Shop Where my dull Spirits at the Fireball trade Do frisk and hop? And while the Hammer doth the Anvill pay, The fireball matter sparkles ery way. One sorry fret, An anvill Sparke, rose higher And in thy Temple falling almost set The house on fire. Such fireballs droping in the Temple Flame Burns up the building: Lord forbid the same. |