VII. Sir John Davies

O IGNORANT poore man! what doost thou beare

Lockt vp within the casket of thy breast?

What iewels, and what riches hast thou there?

What heauenly treasure in so weake a chest?

Looke in thy soule, and thou shalt beauties find

Like those which drownd Narcissus in the floud:

Honor and pleasure both are in thy mind,

And all that in the world is counted good.

Thinke of her worth, and thinke that God did meane

This worthy mind should worthy things embrace:

Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts vncleane,

Nor her dishonor with thy passions base.

Kill not her quick’ning power with surfettings;

Mar not her sense with sensualities;

Cast not her serious wit on idle things;

Make not her free will slaue to vanities.

And when thou thinkst of her eternitie,

Thinke not that death against her nature is:

Thinke it a birth; and when thou goest to die,

Sing like a swan, as if thou wentst to blisse.

And thou, my Soule, which turnst thy curious eye

To view the beames of thine owne form diuine,

Know that thou canst know nothing perfectly,

While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine.

Take heed of ouer-weening, and compare

Thy peacock’s feet with thy gay peacock’s traine:

Studie the best and highest things that are,

But of thyselfe an humble thought retaine.

Cast downe thyselfe, and onely striue to raise

The glorie of thy Maker’s sacred Name:

Vse all thy powers that blessed power to praise,

Which giues thee power to be, and vse the same.