A sweet and Pleasant Sonnet, Entituled,
My Mind to me a Kingdom is.
The Tune is, In Creet, etc.
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MY mind to me a Kingdom is,
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such perfect joys therein I find,
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It far exceeds all earthly bliss,
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the world affords, or grows by kind,
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Though much I want that most men have,
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Yet doth my mind forbid me crave.
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Content I live this is my stay,
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I seek no more then may suffice,
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I press to bear no haughty sway,
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look what I lack, my mind supplys,
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Loe thus I triumph like a King,
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Content with that my mind do bring.
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I see how plenty surfeits oft,
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and hasty climbers oft do fall,
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I see how those that sit aloft,
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mishap doth threaten most of all:
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They get, they toil, they spend with care,
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Such cares my mind could never bear.
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I laugh not at a anothers loss,
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I grudge not at anothers gain,
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No worldly wave my mind can toss,
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I brook that is anothers bane,
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I fear no foe, I scorn no friend,
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[I] dread no death, I fear no end.
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Some have too much, yet still they crave,
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I little have, yet seek no more,
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They are but poor, though much they have
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and I am rich with little store:
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They poor, I rich, they beg, I give,
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They lack, I lend, they pine, I live.
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My Wealth is health and perfect ease,
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my Conscience clear, my chief defence,
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I never seek by bribes to please,
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nor by desert to give offence,
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Loe thus I Live, thus will I dye,
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Would all did so as well as I.
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No Princely Pomp, no wealthy store,
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no force to get the victory,
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No wily wit to salve a sore,
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no shape to win a Lovers eye,
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To none of these I yield as thrall,
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For why my mind despised all.
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I joy not at an earthly bliss,
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I weigh not Craesus wealth a straw,
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For care, I care not what it is,
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I fear no Fortunes fatal Law,
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My mind is such as may not move,
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For beauty bright, or force of Love.
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I wish not what have at will,
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I wander not to seek for more,
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I like the plain, I climb no hill,
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in greatest storm I sit on Shore,
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And laugh at those that toyl in vain,
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To get that must be lost again.
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I kiss not where I wish to kill,
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I feign no love where I most hate,
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I break no sleep to win my I will,
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I wait not at the mighties Gate,
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I scorn no poor, I fear no rich,
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I feel no want, nor have too much.
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The Court ne Cart, I like, ne loath,
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extreams are counted worst of all,
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The Golden mean betwixt them both,
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doth surest sit, and fears no fall;
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This is my choice for why I find,
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No wealth is like a quiet mind.
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FINIS.
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A proper new Ballad of a Dream of a Sinner, being very sore troubled
with the Assaults of Satan. To the Tune of, Rogero.
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IN slumbring sleep I lay,
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all night alone in bed,
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A Vision very strange
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there came into my head,
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Methought the day of Doom,
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undoubtedly was come,
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And Christ himself was there,
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to judge both all and some.
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My self was sent for there,
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with sound of Trumpet shril,
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Which said, All souls come hear,
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your Sentence good or ill.
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I sat in mind amaz'd,
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at that same sudden voice,
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For in my own good life,
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no whit I could rejoyce.
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With panting breasts I paus'd
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at that same sudden sight,
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Not trusting to my self,
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but to Christs mercies great.
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I was no sooner nam'd,
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but Satan came methought
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With him a Rowl full large,
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of all my life he brought.
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And said before the Lord,
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how that I was his own,
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And would have had me then,
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my sins so great were grown,
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I quaking lay with fear,
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and wist not what to do,
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But in the blood of Christ
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I trusted still unto.
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Then said our Saviour Christ,
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foul Satan end thy strife,
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Look if the Sinners name,
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be in the Book of Life.
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If he be entred there,
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then he must needs be blest,
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His sins are washt away;
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his soul with me shall rest.
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Then Satan took the Book,
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did leaf by leaf unfold,
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And there he found my name
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in Letters Limb'd in Gold.
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Then Satan sorrowed much,
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at that same sudden sight,
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And said unto the Lord,
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thy judgements are not right.
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And thus our Saviour sweet,
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said to him by and by,
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Thou Satan know full well,
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that I for Sin did dye.
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Redeeming all the world,
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once overthrown by thee,
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And so will save all such
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as truly trust in me.
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My mortal Foe was wrath,
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that he had lost his prey,
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Extreamly vext he was,
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and vanisht quite away.
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But that I thus was Bill'd,
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within that blessed Book,
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Out of my slumbring sleep
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most joyfully awoke:
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Still praying unto the Lord,
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that always sinners may,
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From Satan be set free,
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of the last dreadful day.
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That after earthly toyl,
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we may heavens joys attain
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Here learn to live, to dye,
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that we may live again,
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Our Noble Royal King,
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God grant him long to reign,
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To live in joy and Peace,
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the Gospel to maintain.
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