5 8 BAXTER•s ·_PO'EMS. Spirit. Pr-osperity is barren: all men say 'fhe soil is best where there's the deepest way. Life .is for work~ and not to spend in play. Now sow thy seed: labour while it is day. 'f'he huntsman seeks his game in barren plains : Dirty land answers best the ploughman's pains. Passengers care not so the way be fair; Husbandmen would have the best ground and air. First think what's s.afe and fruitful: there's no pleasure Like the beholding of thy chiefest treasure. [sense: Fleslt. Nature made me a man; and gave me Changing of nature is a vain pretence: Jt :umgh: me to love women, honour, ease, And every thing that doth my senses please. [son Spirit. Nature bath made thee rational; and rea- . -Must rule the sense, in ends, degrees, and season. Reason's the rider; sense is but the horse: \Vhich then is fittest to direct thy course ? Give up the reins, and thou becomest abeast; Thy fall at death will sadly end thy feast. Flesh. Heligion is a dull and .heavy thing, . Whereas a merry cup will make me sing. . Love's entertainments warm both heart and braill, And wind my fancy to the highest strain. Spirit. Cupid had stuck a feather in thy cap; _ And lull'd thee dead asleep on Venus's lap: _ Thy brains are tipled with some wanton's .eyes : Thy reason:is become lust's sacrifice. Playing a game at folly, thou hast lost Thy wit and soul,. and winnest to thy_cost.
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