Fond men! If we beleeue that men doe liue
Vnder the Zenith of both frozen Poles,
Though none come thence aduertisement to giue;
Why beare we not the like faith of our soules?
The soule hath here on Earth no more to doe,
Then we haue businesse in our mother's wombe;
What child doth couet to returne thereto?
Although all children first from thence do come?
But as Noah's pidgeon, which return'd no more,
Did shew, she footing found, for all the Flood;
So when good soules, departed through Death's dore,
Come not againe, it shewes their dwelling good.
And doubtlesse, such a soule as vp doth mount,
And doth appeare before her Maker's Face;
Holds this vile world in such a base account,
As she looks down, and scorns this wretched place.
But such as are detruded downe to Hell,
Either for shame, they still themselues retire;
Or tyed in chaines, they in close prison dwell,
And cannot come, although they much desire.