THE

CHURCH PORCH.

Perirhanterium.

THOU, whofe fweet youth and early hopes enhance

Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure;
Hearken unto a Verfer, who may chance
Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure :
A Verfe may find him who a Sermon flies,
And turn delight into a facrifice.

Beware of luft, it doth pollute and foul

Whom God in baptifm wash'd with his own blood; It blots the leffon written in thy foul:

The holy lines cannot be understood.

How dare thofe eyes upon a Bible look,
Much less towards God, whofe luft is all their book?

Wholly abftain, or wed. Thy bounteous Lord
Allows thee choice of paths: take no bye-ways,
But gladly welcome what he doth afford;
Not grudging that thy luft hath bounds and stays.
Continence hath his joy: weigh both, and fo
If rottenness have more, let Heaven go.

If God had laid all common, certainly
Man would have been th' enclofer: but fince now
God hath impal'd us, on the contrary

Man breaks the fence, and every ground will plow.
O what were man, might he himself mifplace!
Sure to be cross, he would shift feet and face.
B

Drink not the third glass, which thou can'st not tame,
When once it is within thee; but before,

May't rule it, as thou lift; and pour the shame,
Which it would pour on thee, upon the floor.
It is moft just to throw that on the ground,
Which would throw me there, if I keep the round.

He that is drunken, may his mother kill,
Big with his fifter: He hath loft the reins,
Is out-law'd by himself: All kind of ill
Did with his liquor flide into his veins.

The drunkard forfeits man, and doth devest
All worldly right, fave what he hath by beaft.

Shall I, to please another's wine-sprung mind,
Lofe all mine own? God hath giv❜n me a measure
Short of his Can and Body: must I find

A pain in that, wherein he finds a pleasure ?

Stay at the third glass: If thou lose thy hold,
Then thou art modeft, and the wine grows bold.

If reafon move not gallants, quit the room;
All in a shipwreck shift their several way:
Let not a coinmon ruin thee intomb :
Be not a beast in courtesy; but stay,

Stay at the third cup, or forego the place.
Wine above all things doth God's stamp deface.

Yet, if thou fin in wine or wantonness,
Boaft not thereof, nor make thy fhame thy glory,
Frailty gets pardon by fubmiffivenefs.
But he that boafts, fhuts that out of his story:
He makes flat war with God, and doth defy,
With his poor clod of earth the spacious fky.