JUDGE BARKELY
HIS
PENITENTIALL COMPLAIN
Wherein he laments the Condition of his present Imprisonment, and
the late Corruptions of violated and inforced
JUSTICE.
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WHat wonder's this, to heare a Terme should be
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Gone off, and yet Vacation still with me?
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That I should owne the leasure to rehearse
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My Cause to'th Stones, and plead my Griefes in Verse:
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That I who ballanc'd Right, and in her Scale
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Did raise or sinke her to make Wrong prevaile,
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Should now lye lost to Justice, and inferre
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My selfe an Exile to her Hall and her;
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Should feare her sentence, and should hide my face
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(Where once I sate) from her Tribunall place.
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Judgement proves then most happy, when the Law
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Of Truth and Goodnesse doth the Conscience awe.
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Nor can he quickly into danger fall,
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Who to himselfe lives a law rationall.
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But when the showes of Honour or of Gaine
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Grow on the heart, and doe corrupt the braine,
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Reason doth startle, and th'affections straight
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Prove conquer'd Captives to that golden bair.
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Why should those thicke and glittering spangles, that
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Doe dance in glory on the robes of State,
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Trouble the knowing minde to gaze upon
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Their flattering splendors, or to put them on?
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But that's not all; for when that fatall Vice
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(That Turke 'mongst Christians) sordid Avarice,
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Leads her blacke Army up, and doth begin
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To make the heart an Usurer to Sin;
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Then Peace, Religion, Safety, Justice, all
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Who owne to Grace or Honour, humbled fall
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Before that tyrant Fiend whose irefull doome
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Breathes nought but ruine, rage, and martyrdome,
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Who bribes the Law, and what was made so strong
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To speake our Right, makes Law to speake it Wrong.
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These were my faults, made happy did they guest
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But in one Inne, or lodg'd but in my Brest:
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But when that Justice on her knees shall fall
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To beg the Judge to doe her right, and call
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Her spotlesse Ermines to his eye, and wrong'd,
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Desire that grace to have her Cause prolong'd
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Untill some happy Parliament should raise
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New strength to her unnerved hand, and praise
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Her faint and labouring pulses, make her know
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Holds she the Ballance in her hand, or no,
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To lend her eyes, and from their gracious tongues
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Infuse new breath to her despairing lungs,
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When Life and Honour lay upon the stake,
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And Justice dumbe, while Falshoods tongue did ake,
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My sadded bloud sickens to whay, and while
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That Right now laughes, I gratulate her smile.
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That Hand of Justice which I downe did beare,
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Strikes now repentance through me, which no eare
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Can heare and spare no griefes, nor passing by
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Can any see but with a bleeding eye.
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Let all my Lawes be broken, let the wheele
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Of Fortune split, and her Atturneyes reele.
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It is a glad and happy sinne would prove
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It selfe reform'd to every good mans love:
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Thus much my penitence can doe, but this
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Is good begotten from too much amisse.
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Though cold my hopes, and my more sad affaires
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Doe pull more winter on my snow-touch'd haires,
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I now learne Justice, patient I learne more
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Then ere her Agent I perform'd before:
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And shall decree what ever way she's bent,
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Just is my fate, as just the Parliament.
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