A01981:325
The saints sacrifice
The saints sacrifice: or, a commentary on the CXVI. Psalm Which is, a gratulatory psalm, for deliverance from deadly distress. By William Gouge, D.D.The saints sacrifice: or, a commentarie on the CXVI. Psalme Which is, a gratulatory psalme, for deliverance from deadly distresse. By William Gouge, D.D.
London: printed by George Miller for Edward Brewster, 1632
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Demen. Peace fool, my grief is more then can be cured •y any words of comfort, no man knows What a sharp corrosive it was to my heart, •ore fervent is my love now he is absent.
Demen. Peace foole, my griefe is more then can be cur'd •y any words of comfort, no man knowes What a sharpe corsive it was to my heart, •ore fervent is my love now he is absent.
This. Fie, fie, forget him, think upon his pride And high disdain against you, think he doth •eserve this punishment and greater too.
This. Fie, fie, forget him, thinke upon his pride And high disdaine against you, thinke he doth •eserve this punishment and greater too.
Demen. How ready thou art Thisbe to do mischief, Thou art the fire brand that hast kindled this Combustion in my heart, thou hast not been A help unto me▪ but a hinderance In the fruition of my love, by thee And by thy means I have lost my only joy, And yet for all this thou dost still incense me To run on in this way; most wicked wretch.
Demen. How readie thou art Thisbe to doe mischiefe, Thou art the fire brand that hast kindled this Combustion in my heart, thou hast not beene A helpe unto me▪ but a hinderance In the fruition of my love, by thee And by thy meanes I have lost my onely joy, And yet for all this thou dost still incense me To run on in this way; most wicked wretch.