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CHARITAS NIMIA; OR THE DEAR BARGAIN, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lord, what is man? Why should he coste thee
Last Line: As then in death, so now in love.
Subject(s): Humility

Lord, what is man? why should he coste thee
So dear? what had his ruin lost thee?
Lord what is man? that thou hast overbought
So much a thing of nought?
Love is too kind, I see; and can
Make but a simple merchant man.
'Twas for such sorry merchandise
Bold Painters have putt out his Eyes.

Alas, sweet lord, what wer't to thee
If there were no such wormes as we?
Heav'n ne're the lesse still heavn would be,
Should Mankind dwell
In the deep hell.
What have his woes to doe with thee?

Let him goe weep
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.
Still would those beauteous ministers of light
Burn all as bright,

And bow their flaming heads before thee;
Still thrones and Dominations would adore thee;
Still would those ever-wakefull sons of fire
Keep warm thy prayse
Both nights and dayes,
And teach thy lov'd name to their noble lyre.

Let froward Dust then doe it's kind;
And give it self for sport to the proud wind.
Why should a peice of peevish clay plead shares
In the AEternity of thy old cares?
Why shouldst thou bow thy awfull Brest to see
What mine own madnesses have done with me?

Should not the king still keepe his throne
Because some desperate Fool's undone?
Or will the world's Illustrious eyes
Weep for every worm that dyes?

Will the gallant sun
E're the lesse glorious run?
Will he hang down his golden head
Or e're the sooner seek his western bed,
Because some foolish fly
Growes wanton, and will dy?

If I were lost in misery,
What was it to thy heavn and thee?
What was it to thy pretious blood
If my foul Heart call'd for a floud?

What if my faithlesse soul and I
Would needs fall in
With guilt and sin?
What did the Lamb, that he should dy?
What did the lamb, that he should need,
When the wolf sins, himself to bleed?

If my base lust
Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming dust,
Why should the white
Lamb's bosom write
The purple name
Of my sin's shame?

Why should his unstaind brest make good
My blushes with his own heart-blood?

O my SAVIOUR, make me see
How dearly thou hast payd for me;

That lost again my LIFE may prove
As then in DEATH, so now in love.

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