Why shouldst then be at so much pains good Lord To kill a thing which of its own accord Will quickly dye a thing that by thy Wrath As yet deny'd the liberty of Death Doth only some small sparks of Life retain And like a Dying Creature breaths with pain One entire Ulcer a meer lump of Boyls A heap of Sores one loaden with the Spoiles Of all Diseases one so fully spent In Body and in Mind so discontent No pleasure which the World affords can hire My Soul to Live pray let me now expire Or else I fear that through impatience Of my afflictions I may give offence For when I say my Couch shall me relieve And in my Bed I shall some comfort have When I imagine I may find some ease In-sleep to cull the edge of my Disease When I suppose I may find Consolation I' th' pleasure of a few hours Meditation And whilst on Pillow I my Head do lay To sleep away the sorrows of the day Then dost thou put my Soul all in a fright With fearful Dreams and Visions of the night In a cold sweat I lye my Flesh and Bones My Joints and Sinews tremble all at once Strugling with pain upon my Bed I rowl Whilst horrid Objects do night-mare my Soul And to my troubled fancie represent What neither Tongue can speak or hard can paint Hells Terrors plainlie are to me reveal'd Whilst with amusing sleep my Eyes are sealâ—d On which reflecting when I do awake Fear damps my Soul and makes my Body shake Hence Drowning Smothering Strangling of the Breath Or any of the numerous kinds of Death My Soul to Life prefers my generous Soul Abhorrs to live in such a lurking hole As is this body such a vile Hog-sty A Brutish Soul would even disdain to ly Within its Walls a Cottage so unclean So Cob web-furnish'd so obscure and mean As none but one of Life that 's wearyed In such a villanous Cave would lay his bed What Soul so poor and mean exceeding but The small Dimensions of a Hazel nut Would stoop so low as condescend to dwell In such an ugly smelling nasty Cell As is this body which I do call mine So thin the Sun doth clearly through it shine Is this a Lodging for a Thing Divine A tottering Fabrick which the rotten Bones Not able to support down all at once Will quickly fall is this a dwelling place For any thing come of a Heavenly Race No no fly hence my Soul fly hence make haste Why dost not fly for such a Noble Guest There 's here no room no fit Accomodation This body can afford no Habitation For such as thee Dear Soul O let me dy then let me dy good Lord O let me dy Death surely will afford Such comfort as I here expect in vain Why should I live then in such grievous pain And as a mark to all sad torments stand When pitying Death doth offer help at hand In this condition I do do life abhorr I baâ—e it and shall never love it more What should I for a few hours breathing give For 't is impossible I can longer live O spare me then for some small time at least That these o re wearyed bones may have some rest And in this life I may find ease before I take my Journey hence and be no more E're I be wrapp'd up in Eternity For all my days are but meer vanity Then what is Man that thou shouldst look upon him This wretched thing that thou shouldst so much own him Thou dost thy heart too much upon him set Which makes the silly Toad it self forget Valuing it self so much on thy esteem As it hath purchas'd to its self a name Beyond the other Creatures of thy hand Whereas if it it self did understand 'T is but as dust that 'fore the Wind doth fly A passing thought th' abstract of vanity Since thou canst then Lord by one word destroy This Creature why shouldst so much time employ In Torturing of it thus once and again And not by one blow put me out of pain One blow of favour Lord I do implore Kill me and then I shall complain no more But still I cannot fancy why shouldst thou Before whom all in Heavens and Earth do bow Have this same Creature Man in such esteem This flying Shade this passage of a Dream A thing so mean not worth thy Observation Why should'st allow it so much Reputation That thou the great Creator every day Shouldst of this pismire make so strict survey How long Lord shall I in these Torments lye â— Ah is there no end of my Misery Some respite Lord I beg I do request Some breathing time even so long time at least Free from these pains as I may swallow down My Spittle Oh good God let me alone But for a Moment that I may but try Thy goodness once again before I Dye Lord I have sinn'd 't is true I do confess My Error and my black unrighteousness What shall I do how shall I answer find To thee the great preserver of Mankind As worst of sinners Lord thou dost me treat For as my Sins so are my Judgements great Th' hast set me gainst thee as a Mark or Butt At which thy pointed Arrows thou dost shoot With Torments hast me so o'reloadened That long ago of Life I 'm wearied Why should thy wrath continually burn 'Gainst a poor sinner O let Grace return Pardon my sins wash from iniquity The Soul thou gavst me Lord before I dye Let me of Mercy hear the joyful sound For in an instant I shall not be found I dye I dye my Passing Bell doth Toul Have Mercy Lord have Mercy on my Soul Cap. VIII THus have we seen how Job with grief opprest By night and day has in his Mind no rest In this sad case with great impatience Appears to quarrel even Providence For those his Friends of whom he did expect Some Comfort rather sharplie did him check For th' Errors of his Life and openly Reprov'd him for his gross Hypocrisie We 've seen with how much Art and Eloquence One of his friends has given evidence Against him now another undertakes Th' argument and thus he answer makes How long sayes he friend wilt thou thus exclaim Against that justice which the Heavens did frame To what do all thy imprecations tend What means this clamour shall there be no end Of this thy idle talking shall we be Oblig'd to hear what none but such as thee Would stammer out what one in sober case Would be asham'd to speak such words as these Which thou in foolish passion hast us'd Against our God would hardly be excus'd Out of a mad-mans mouth but when they flow From such as thee friend whom we all do know To be of more than ordinary Sense We must condemn thy gross impatience Dost ' think that God whose great and mighty Name All things Created dayly do
all the world may see What mean esteem he has of mortal race View me I pray look but upon my face And there behold a sad Epitome Of Heavens displeasure O were there no more worth your noticing Then this alone 't is such a dismal thing As if you take it in consideration Affords a subject of sad contemplation Such as might make you all asham'd to speak As you have done and I 'm convinc'd would check The heat of your discourse give ear then pray As you would be inform'd to what I say For when I think upon my former state How in the World I flourished of late How all my wishes did attain their aim And I no sooner could a blessing name But assoon God would send it to my door And blesse me so till I could ask no more And now how wretch'd how poor and miserable In yours and all mens eyes how despicable And quite undone I here on Dung-hill ly Th' hyperbole of pain and misery When I amidst my groans and lamentations Reflect upon the various Dispensations Of our great God and weigh them seriouslie I quake I sweat I tremble by and by I shake all over I am dampt with fear Like one out of his wits I do appear Infernal horror on my Soul doth seize And I become all stupid by degrees When I consider on this sad occasion What unexpected fearful alteration I 've seen of late Oh I am all confounded My Soul with fear and terror is surrounded When I consider how th' Almighty raises This or that man and throws down whom he pleases Without regard to all these mean Defences Which mortals use these pitiful Pretences Of Piety and Virtues by which some Would plead forsooth Exemption from his Doom Whilst he with great indifference on all Sends out his plagues then I a-trembling fall Then I perceive that what you all assert And labour to evince with so much art Concluding firmly God doth punish none Nor sends afflictions but on those alone Whose Sins do call for Judgments and from thence By an unquestionable consequence Infer that I am such then then I see What ever errors you would fix on me That your Position is both false and vain Below such men as you are to maintain Since then my friends by sad experience I know what you who never yet had sense Of such afflictions cannot understand Me thinks I may with reason now demand Your firm atention to what I shall speak Upon the subject which you may expect Shall be sincere for who can so express The Justice of th Almighty in the case As he who feels it as the man God knows Who 's tasted both Prosperitie and Woes If it be true then what you all assert That sin is only punish'd for my part I 'de gladlie know why Heavens King doth give Blessings to those who merit not to live Why doth the race of sin the earth possess Why thus in Issue Honor Wealth encrease Do we not dailie see how sinful men Do in their several stations attain To all that in this life can be desir'd Wish'd or projected Nor doth the Tide of prosprous daies encrease To its full height but for a season last No as their sins so do their blessings grow The current of Gods mercies still doth flow In those mens lives whatever they demand To feed the sense is granted out of hand In a most smooth uninterrupted stream Of earthly blessings like a pleasant dream They 're gently wafted without Wind or Wave Into the spacious Ocean of the Grave Thus live and dy they but this is not all For were these blessings meerly personal And perish'd with themselves we might suppose That their poor issue who their eyes did close Shut up with these all their felicity And became heirs to utmost misery No no these outward blessings are so far From dying with themselves as they appear Entail'd upon their Family and Race And settled so on their appanages As if inherent in the several fees Nay which is more those men whom you do call The worst of sinners do perceive this all In their own time they see their Families Flourish like verdant plants before their eyes They see the hopes of numerous Generations And view the rise of many famous Nations In their fair Off-spring they perceive their seed In peace and plenty fully established Their Childrens Children grow up in their sight As Heirs apparent to their Fathers Right In fine those wretches see their memory Run on the lines of perpetuity These sinful men within doors live at ease Free from all jars bless'd with domestick peace They know no discords no nor quarrels they No picques or humours ly a-crosse their way But all the day they plentifully feed With pleasant converse and at night to bed They drill encircled in each others arms Free from all passions clamours fears allarums And as in plenty within doors they dwell So with these men all without doors goes well Their Cattle thrive their Grounds are well manur'd Their beasts are from ill accidents secur'd Their Revenues are punctually pay'd Their Acts of Court-leet faithfully obey'd Their Tennents too do live in wealth and peace Enjoying each an undisturbed lease For many years and richly cultivat Each one his parcel of his Lords Estate In short these men are fully bless'd in all They can desire their Vassals at a call Attend their motions every one contends Who most shall serve them and be most their friends Around the neighbouring fields their wings they spread And all the Campaign soil is overlaid With numerous Branches of their Families Which soon dilate themselves in Colonies And People Countreys far remote from these Which first their Predecessors did possesse Amongst themselves they make firm allyance And when they meet they revel sport and dance They Correspond in mutual harmony And spend their time in mirth and jollity For when they meet at their grand Festivals They eat and drink and then with Masques and Balls They entertain themselves the Harp and Lute The Viol Organ Timbrel contribute T' encrease their jovialty and all their care Is only for their sports and daily fare In peace and plenty with great affluence Of worldly blessings and convenience Of every thing that humane life requires They waste their days and when their lease expires And sullen death commands them to remove And quite those fields which with their souls they love Then do not these men dy as others do In pain and torment But as soft slumber on the eyes doth creep And gently moves when men would fall asleep Or as a Candle burning nigh the end Its light in twinkling by degrees doth spend So in the Grave those men do gently roul Not troubled with the progress of the soul Not anxious whither it should take its course After this life for better or for worse They care not whether all is one to them For they think Soul and Body
time are often overtane With punishment nor do I yet denie But God doth his Displeasure signifie By previous signs to such ere he doth fall Upon them in his Wrath for good and all But that he sends afflictions on none But those whose sins do merit Hell alone I still denie and in that Confidence To all your bold and cruel Eloquence I still oppose my Faith and Innocence On these and on Gods mercie I relie And if you think I argue foolishlie Convince me pray by other arguments Then I have heard as yet But thus to treat me thus to aggravate My woes to comfort me at such a rate By adding to my sorrows is indeed A comforting of which I have not read 'T is such a method as I think that none Did ever yet practise but you alone I do confess indeed my grief is such As may have prompted me to speak too much Upon the Subject and I don't denie But in my sore and bitter agonie Some words might fall I cannot justifie But when you see me in this dire estate With griefs and sorrows so exasperate And plagu'd with such sad exercise of mind I did expect you would a'been so kind As to afford me counsel and advice That such a fool as I by men so wise As you are might b'instructed in the case But stead of that you tell me in my face I 'm lost undone and may in justice fear Moe pains and torments then I yet do bear Such comforting did ever Mortal hear What spirit moves thee thus my friend to speak Dost thou imagine I am yet so weak But that I understand as well as thou What is Gods greatness and his justice too What spirit then doth move thee thus to speak Dost thou intend to comfort or correct Thy poor afflicted friend do let me know Whether thou means't to comfort me or no For what thou speaks't doth nothing contribute T' uphold my swouning spirits or recruit My so much wasted strength I cannot see What comfort all thy speeches yield to me For with such zeal and fervour thus to press Once and again what all men do confess Gods power and greatness thus still to repeat Were to suppose that we did now debate The truth of these things and that I deny'd What you so eagerly affirm beside If any man should chance to hear us now Upon this Subject and observ'd but how Thou and my other friends with all the Art That Learning can afford do still assert What I deny hee 'd presently conclude That you are pious men and I a leud Ungodly person whereas you all know And are convinc'd your selves things are not so Pray then forbear this way of comforting By such reiterated arguing And telling of me things I don't deny For what doth all this talking signifie T' a poor afflicted man and if you please Pray use such words as may afford some ease To one in a deplorable estate And let me hear no more of your debate For what you speak if I do understand Doth not concern the question in hand But here my friends that you may no more Preach Upon this Theme as if you meant to teach One that is dull and ignorant I 'le show How I Gods Greatness and his Justice know As well as any of you all and how I can descant upon his wonders too Allow me then his Greatness to express As you have done by as few instances First then that my discourse may method keep Let us observe his wonders in the deep Let 's there begin and see how providence So vast so pow'rful so profound immense Active and quick at all occurrences Doth reach ev'n to the bottom of the Seas There he doth rule as well as on the Land There all the Creatures which his mighty hand Hath fram'd submit themselves to his command Those Monsters of the Ocean who afright Th' admiring Sea-man with their very sight Those dreadful Creatures of such various frames As we do hardly yet know all their names Those numerous Giants of the deep who scoure The Ocean with an Arbitrary power Swallowing their fellow-creatures with such ease As if they claim'd dominion of the Seas Who when they mean to sport themselves will make Th' unbroken Waves with their strong motion shake Like troubled Waters and anon to show Their force whole Tuns of Water up they throw From their prodigious Snouts as if they 'd dare By force of Water to subdue the Air. Those huge portentuous Creatures though they seem In their own Sphere to be of some esteem To have some pow'r dominion and command Yet are they govern'd by his mighty hand And do submit their necks with deference To his great Lord-Lieutenent Providence Who when he sees those Creatures wantonly Sporting along the Ocean by and by With single nod commands them to be gone Then like so many Slaves they trembling run To the Seas bottom where they groveling ly Until from him they have the liberty To swim aloft and there they roam about At every prey till their Verloof run out Dead things he also orders in the Seas Such as Pearls Amber Coral Ambergrease And Sperma cete which for humane use He makes them as a yearly Rent produce Now as he rules i'th'bottom of the Seas So in the earth he orders all with ease He views its darkest Caverns and descryes What is impervious to all humane eyes The Grave before him opens up her Womb His eyes doth pierce the clossest Marble Tomb. No place affords a shelter from his wrath Not all the winding Labyrinths of death Not Hell it self in whose closs Vaults do ly The burning Tares of poor Mortality Where damned Souls eternally bemoan Their idle progress here on earth whilest none Can make them help and to no purpose groan Where grining Fiends by his permission rule And treat our glorious World in ridicule Making the highest 'mongst the lowest ly Where all are Cudgell'd to conformity Yet of this Dungeon he doth keep the Keys And every moment doth survey with ease The actions postures tears of all in Hell And the sad living knows exactly well Of all those Souls who nigh Earths Center dwell With curious Art he doth expose to th' eye That large and glorious Azure Canopy Which round this Earthen Glob he doth expand Whilst in its Center with a mighty hand He makes this Glob so spacious and fair Unfix'd unprop'd unfounded any where Hang like a Water-bubble in the Air. Here then let admiration fix its eyes And high-flown Art its Artless self despise When it considers how beyond all Art And contrair to what reason doth impart A solid Body which should downwards tend By Nature and is apt still to descend Should in this posture Pendulous remain And by its own weight it s own weight sustain To see gross Earth and heavy Water mix't Stand so unmoving so secure so fix't Amidst the Light thin Element of Air That unresisting Element that rare And
by a Whore Or have set Spyes before my Neighbours Door T' observe the glances of his amorous Wife Or robb'd him of the pleasures of his life By close appointments and dark assignations Where I have had my will at all occasions Then were it just my Wife should be so us'd As I my self had others Wives abus'd 'T were just that she her self should prostitute For hire without he trouble of a sute To every Porter Foot-man Slave or Groom And for all Comers keep an open open Room That all l 've injured in that humble state May their affronts on her retalliate Besides I know this was a sin so foul And so provocking as my very soul Did still abhor it I did still detest This treacherous Crime nor would I in the least By any means into â—s Clutches fall Nor would I hearken to th' Adulteress call Though by the Laws it were not capital A sin I alwayes thought in Heavens sight So black and ugly that it hates the light No more than God hates â—t a dreadful sin From whence his wrath doth usually begin Against its Actors and pursues the Chace To th' utmost extirpation of their Race This was my life this was my conversation Thus without blemish in my reputation I alwayes liv'd and never deviate From Virtues narrow road and as with hate I still rejected all incontinence So in the peace of a good Conscience I liv'd secure whilst I administrate Both in my publick and my private state Justice to all men for to th' meanest slave Within my Walls I 'de the same way behave In point of right when they 'd to me complain Of any wrong as to the greatest men I' th' Countrey in their sutes and after all I thought it but my duty For in my mind I oft considered That those poor slaves though they by Law were made My servile Subjects yet both they and I Were subject to that King who sits on high That Supream Judge who deals impartially With all men So that if I during my eminence To any of these men had done offence Had I refus'd to hear their exclamations Or of their wrongs refus'd them reparations Had I abused that authority Which I had o're those wretches what could I Pray what could I with reason have expected Might be my doom for if I had neglected My duty to the meanest here below Or e're deny'd them justice even so When God in justice 'gainst me should proceed I might my sin then in my judgement read For with my self my friends I alwayes thought That though those men I had with Money bought And so by Law had pow'r of life and death Over them all and might have in my wrath Kill'd them like beasts yet these poor souls were men As well as I and that a time was when Those now distinguished by Law and I Did undistinguish'd in the belly ly For in the womb what the Almighty frames This only Man and that he Woman names No more distinction there no in that Cell Without Precedence all as Brethren dwell There is no Master there 's no Servant there For in the sight of God all do appear But as one Plastick matter out of which His mighty hand doth form both poor and rich He whom the world doth honourable name And he whom mean and base is there the same There 's no such thing there as we birth do call For there 's but one birth in t' th' Original One common source from whence we trindle all Though as we daily see how from one spring Several petty Rivers issuing Swoln up by other Rivers in the stream Do purchase to themselves a lofty name So the poor aery notion of blood Though in the fountain barely understood To be one species what so e're esteem Th' applause of men put on it in the stream As it in several Veins scaturiats Is valued by the Worlds Book of Rates Which slights the Fountain but respects the Streams And this Blood base and that Blood Noble names But in the Mass there is no difference No formal quality no excellence Nor even in the stream can sharpest eye Perceive a Physical disparity 'Twixt this and t' other Blood for all appear Of the same colour all are equal there Yes let a Princes and a Peasants Veins Be Launc'd together there 's no difference Betwixt the two for both of them to th' eye Appear to be of a bright Scarlet dye Only as Iron Copper Lead or Brasse Esteemed but base Mettals in the Masse Are soon by Princes orders rais'd as high As Gold in value and do signify As much in Commerce and in Bargains go At no lesse rate if they will have it so Even so a Princes favour when it shines On this or 'tother Blood in direct Lines It raises soon the value of the thing And this or 'tother Blood to hight doth bring Which were as mean as others in the spring Yet let me tell you in a sober sense I truly think there is great difference Betwixt that Blood stamp'd by a Prince and that On which unspoted Virtue sets a rate The first like vapours by the Sun exhal'd From Lakes and Ditches justly may be call'd Which do not firmly in the Clouds remain But quickly either in Hail Snow or Rain Do from their stations tumble down again For as by Princes smiles that Blood was rais'd So by their frowns it is as soon debas'd Their anger taints that current in a tryce On which their favour lately set a price Which now diverted from its former course Appears as low and cheap as in the source But that by virtue rais'd we may compare To Elemental waters which do there Dwell with a firm design of remanence And are not easily to be pumped thence For that by virtue rais'd cannot be stain'd So long as that its motion doth attend Which gave its Being and through Princes wrath The owner of that Blood may bring to death Yet still it lives in his Posterity And runs i' th' Channel of a Memory For Virtue 's only true Nobility Then where 's the man that boasts of Noble Race Can he his Blood from other Fountain trace Then that o' th' Womb in which the poorest slave Who has no foot of Earth besides his Grave Has as much interest as he and can Derive his Line from th' ancient House of Man As well as those who with great vanity Can point the series of their Family O then what fools must these be understood Who void of Virtue only boast of Blood Who think their Birth affords them liberty Beyond the vulgar in all villany And sin according to their quality Sure these must be the worst of men sure these Of humane blood must be the very lees Yet such there are and such will always be Who by the fable of their Pedigree Make way through every sin as if what shame Forbids the Vulgar were allow'd to them And when they 've made
visitations For certainly if thou wilt call to mind Thy by past life I doubt not but thou'lt find Th' hast had some warnings were 't but in a dream Of thy afflictions long before they came Yes in a dream for often-times I know God is accustom'd seriously to show To men what often they conceal for shame Their future state i' th' mirrour of a dream For when the active soul outwearied With toile o' th' day at night is brought to bed Of a sound sleep then it begins to fly Then liberat from the bodies drudgery It soares aloft and in another sphere Begins to act nay then it doth appear To be what we cannot imagine here For being then as fit for contemplation Almost as 't will be after separation By vision intuitive it sees The state of things to come and by degrees Becomes so subtile and doth at that rate In contemplation then expatiate With such delight as if it did not mean By natural Organs e're to act again But when some hours it has thus wandered And in that time God has discovered What for its profit he intends at large Then he commands it to its former charge Have you not sometimes seen a General His Officers to his Pavilion call Whilst all the Army do securely sleep Save a few Companies who Guard do keep And there inform them what he would ha' done Give every one his Orders and anon Command each to his Post so let 's suppose When in profoundest sleep the eyes are close The Body one would think o're-come by death Were 't not that only it did softly breath Th' Almighty then is pleas'd as 't were to call The soul unto him and inform it all What he intends to do with it and then Commands it to the sleeping Corps again Whether when come the sad Noctambulant In a cold sweat with fear and rambling faint Rouzes the Body from its sleep and then Shows its instructions and begins t' explain What it has seen and heard and plainly shows What Miseries Calamities and Woes They may expect God will to them dispense If not prevented by true penitence Then as if God himself to them did speak When on these admonitions they reflect With fear and horrour they begin to quake For they consider that his sole intent By these night-warnings is but to prevent Their total fall and by such signs as these Divert them from those foolish purposes Which in their hearts they proudly do intend To prosecute did he not kindly send Such seasonable messages to show What will be th' event if they forward go In such mad projects and by consequence Make them to understand the difference 'Twixt humane power and his Omnipotence By Dreams and Visions then he doth allarme Th' unwary race of man and from all harm Preserve both soul and body which alace Would fall into the dreadful ambushes Of th' enemy o' th' world wer 't not that he Who fram'd both soul and body thus did free Them both from danger and did constantly Mind their concerns with a Paternal eye For else the murdered body soon would drop Into the grave the soul without all hope Of pardon in that deep abyss would fall Which God in justice has design'd for all Whom he doth hate and dolefully in Chains Compare short pleasures with eternal pains Thus then we see how much we should esteem The ordinar Phaenomenon of a dream And not contemn it because usual As if a common accident to all Occurring in their sleep ane aâ—ry thing Of which the wiser make no reckoning For sure those dreams and visions contain The mind of God and are not shown in vain Next as by dreams so by diseases too The Spirit of God is pleased to allow Kind warnings to us for if understood All sicknesses of body for our good Are sent upon us so that did we know What kindness by diseases God doth show To our poor souls we never would complain But think our selves most happy in our pain For let 's observe now don't we daily see How man in health from all diseases free Consumes his precious years so wantonly As if he never did expect to die He so imploys his time in sinful pleasure As for devotion he can find no leasure But when diseases on his body seize And conquering death approaches by degrees When th' lungs all overflow'n with constant rain Of Pituite that falls down from the Brain Afford scarce room for breathing when the Blood Is in its Circulation withstood By stagnant humours when the Bones do ake And all the Pillars of the Body shake When for his food he has no appetite And in his Table he takes no delite But every dainty Dish doth nauseate On which with pleasure he did feed of late VVhen all his flesh in health so plump and fair Now rotten and consum'd doth not appear As formerly but shrunk quite to the bone The bones which were not seen before anon Stick out i'th'figure of a Skeleton When in this sad condition on his bed Helyes and sees that all his hopes are fled And he must die when all he can perceive Is nothing but the avenue o'th'grave And with himself he now considereth There 's no avoiding of a certain death Then he begins with horrour to reflect Upon his by past actions and take Account of all his wandrings then he falls On thoughts of Heaven and for Preachers calls For pious men who in this sad occasion May by their words afford him consolation And teach him how he may attain salvation Then all his former wayes he doth abhorre Complains on sin and can endure no more To hear the voice of pleasure in his ears But buried now in sorrows pains and fears His only thought his sole consideration Is what shall become after separation Of his poor soul how that in death shall fare For which in life he took so little care And if perhaps which is rare to be found A man of God appear who can expound The matter to him and before his eyes Draw out the Map of his iniquities Speak to his soul and to his anxious heart The gracious language of the Heavens impart Then will this good man to his God address And say have pity on this sinners case Father of mercy for I 'me confident He of his sins doth seriously repent Restore him to his health and let him see How much O Lord he is oblig'd to thee Who when thou couldst have ruin'd him with ease And made him perish in this sad disease Art pleas'd to let him live that he may yet Express thy glory in his mortal state To this petition God shall lovingly Make answer well this sinner sholl not dye For I have found him in this exigent Vext at his sins and truly penitent Then let him live for I his heart have try'd And for his errors he hath satisfy'd I 'me reconcil'd and freely to him give Full liberty
me since without dispute Had I then dy'd my happiness had been As great this very day as is my pain For I had now secure from trouble sleep't And in the silent grave my quarter keep 't I in the grave the grave to be envy'd And wish'd beyond all Palaces beside 'T is there 't is there 't is there where only all The groaning world themselves can happy call There both those who opprest and were opprest On earth enjoy uninterrupted rest There all are Friends there all our Picques and Jarrs Our Plots our Forraign and our Civil Wars Ly buryed with us I we all appear To be so many dormant Brethren there The boistrous Tyrant who in life did rage To whom no sleep could give an hours Soulage Who betwixt King and Prisoner spent his years Amidst a thousand jealousies and fears In deaths cold arms when he encircled lyes Hee 's free from all his Royal Miseries The valâ—ant Warriour who in life enjoy'd But little rest and was most part employ'd In action ready still to march or fight And knew no difference betwixt day and night Free from Allarm of Trumpets under ground He sweetly sleeps until last Trumpet sound Poor Prisoners who were in life distrest And by their cruel Creditors opprest In grave together comfortably rest No Usurer against them doth declare In Court no Action lies against them there Free from the gingling noise of Chaines and Keyes And weekly threatnings for their weekly Fees In Deaths low Rooms the Wretches sleep with ease There there both poor and rich both low and high Princes and Peasants undistinguish'd lye Those who in life imagin'd they excell'd All others and with vain Opinion swell'd Of their own parts do in the grave appear But even as those whom they call Dunces here The Servant there is from his Master free No former quarrels make them disagree The slave who all his life-time made no gain But what he earn'd betwixt the whip and chain Who oft his freedom would with tears demand And long'd to be turn'd by his Masters hand But still deny'd in grave that blessing hath And only owes his liberty to death O Death who can thy Excellence declare What state of life can we with thine compare In life we waste a few unhappy years In a continued Labarinth of tears 'Twixt envy and compassion here we breath Preferring worst estate of life to death For O this notion of life this bare And mean conception of a breathing here Doth in our wanton ears so sweetly sound That we abhorre the thoughts of under-ground Fools who 'd be rather toss'd 'twixt wind and wave Than sleep on Bed of Roses in the grave Whilst all bedaub'd with sweat in noon-tide-light Does not the wearied Labourer long for night That free from toyl he may enjoy at best But the poor Favour of a few hours rest Though quickly rouz'd before the Sun appear With morning-blush upon our Hemisphere Hee 's forc'd again to toil Then O how much then o how much should those Who in this sleep of life find no repose Wish sor the sleep of death in which they may Beyond the fear of interrupting day Though thunder round this lower world should roar Sleep undisturb'd while Heavens shall be no more Then why should one be thus compell'd to live That fain would dye Why should th' Almighty give A Lease of Life to one who seriously Hates it so much that he doth long to dy For what is life to one that 's destitute Of all the favours it can contribute What man is he on earth that can be able When of what even doth make it tolerable This life is spoil'd ah who is he who then For love of life would suffer so much pain As I endure Then why should one desire to live who lyes Environ'd with a thousand miseries A wretched man a man who hardly knows What life is now only he doth suppose By th' figure of his present suffering This life must be some very naughty thing Some naughty thing yes sure it must be such As wise men never can despise too much A thing it is esteem'd by none but Fools A thing which Boyes are even taught at Schools To undervalue nay each man doth boast Himself the bravest who contemns it most The Cob web-product of a toiling breath Never compleat while finished by Death A silly toy which as we come to years Still to us more ridiculous appears 'T is true this lise bestowes all empty pleasures On men on earth it gives them Honours Treasures Revenge and Success yes these Life doth give For which these Aery Fools desire to live As those who dream to sleep but after all When they on serious Contemplation fall When their own minds do tell them all is vain Which they thought here was Permanent O then O then how they abhor this Life and fain Would be out of its Intrigue yes at length When they perceive how all their wit and strength Is baffled by some pitiful disease Which on their bodies then begins to seise Lord how they 're vext and penitently think Of Life as men next morning after drink When the sad pleasures of their Cups now make Their Stomachs sick their Heads with horrour ake I then as these their Cups so these abhor Their Lives and swear they 'll never love them more But wearied of the Inconvenience Which Life affords with great Impatience O how they long to be a trudging hence With groans they hast the Journey of their breath And never rest till they arrive at Death Should any then extravagantly sad As I am now be yet alace so mad As wish to live no sure or if he do That man deserves no pity For a poor living man with grief oppressâ—t I horrid grief should have in mind no rest Whilst clogg'd with Fetters of a lingring Breath But in his Torments force resisting Death Yes and in Joyes mad excesse fondly rave When he 's so happy as to find his Grave Then why is Life upon a man bestow'd That would of Death be insolently proud Of Death I and esteem that favour more Then all the Blessings he enjoy'd before O then kind Death now let me see thy Face O wilt thou me in thy cold Arms embrace Make haste make haste for I 'me with Life opprest If thou hast any love for me make haste Haste haste for Heaven sake haste For why is Life upon a man bestow'd To whom his God no Comfort hath allow'd Why should I be condemn'd to Live when all What in this World I could Pleasure call Is gone when Felons are allow'd to Dye After the Fisque has stripp't them why should I Not yet not yet convict of any Crime Bear the sad threatnings of insulting Time Insulting Time that doth my Case proclaim Whilst gentle Death would cover all my shame Then let me dye yes dye and never more The benefit of a poor Life implore Of a poor
seem to represent In all his actings something of a Saint Yet then he cryes then he repines a main Then he complaines of poverty and pain O then he railes upon that providence Which was in former times his sole defence For now all sorrow wrath and desperation He thinks on nothing less then restauration Whereas before he thought he was so sure His wealth to generations would endure Well I have seen some Gallant in his pride Inâ—ulsly laugh at all the world beside Fix'd and firme-rooted as he did suppose And proof against the batterie of his foes When on a suddain providence would frowne And this same fool would tumble headlong down With all his sins about him in a tryce Kill'd by the fall from glories precipice Then would I say this man deservedly Doth fall and with him all his family Is levelled with dust because he did In such vain transitory things conside For by fair justice he shall be destroy'd And all his unjust purchases made voide Then after he has justly forfeit all He without pity shall most justly fall Those who are hungry shall eat up his grain And reap the profit of his nine Months pain Nay they shall sweep his grounds and fields so clean As his poor children shall find nought to glean The thirsty travellers who for rain doth gape Shall drink up all the substance of his grape For thou must know afflictions do not come By accident as is suppos'd by some On any man nor do Heavens noble laws Allow that any one without a cause Should suffer punishment no not at all There 's no such thing as that you fortune call 'T is a meer notion a device of men To palliate their sins and entertain A proud opinion of their innocence And lay the blame of all on Providence Which they call fortune and conclude from thence When any are afflicted at the rate As thou art now that they 're unfortunate Unlucky and I know not what alace Why should we with such sopperies as these Abuse our selves when certainly we know Who know there is a God things are not so But that our God doth formally arraigne For every sin convict and punish men Then know That no affliction comes by accident But that all Judgements to our doors are sent By rule of Heavens Court where information Is made and prov'd preceeding condemnation Besides as sparks by nature upwards fly So man to sorrows born doth live and dye In a continued sweat of toyle and care With dregs of anger for his daily fare Tortures of mind and body all at once Do suck the marrow from his very bones Nor can he pleasure to himself project Or joy and comfort in this earth expect Were I then in thy lamentable case I 'd not repine but humblie make address To my good God from him I would demand A patient mind and learn to understand From whence such floods of evils do proceed And in my sorrows I my sins would read To him alone my self I would apply To whom the world belongs who sits on High To whom all Creatures in subjection are Whose Jurisdiction doth exceed by far All Powers on Earth who things unsearchable Performes of which we are not capable To give a Judgement things beyond our reach Things which to act no humane Art can Teach 'T is he who makes the Rain from Clouds to fall By which the Earth made pregnant yeelds us all Our Hearts can wish affords us dayly Bread Drink Cloaths and Med'cine and what else we need For Maintnance of that Fabrick which he fram'd To Lodge the Soul and it the Body nam'd The Body O a thing most excellent For whose Subsistence we should even torment Our Souls a very precious thing indeed That on the Labours of the Soul should feed The Body a meer piece of useful Dust Demis'd for some time to the Soul in Trust. Though for its use the too kind Soul at best Payes a severe and dreadful Interest Whilst to afford it pleasure legally It forfaults its own true Felicity What is 't we hugg then what do we esteem A dying thing which scarce deserves a name A thing so long as Soul doth it inspire Moves for a time like Puppet on a Wyre That gone it moves it prats it squeeks no more But a dull piece of Clay as 't was before Breathless and Sapless on the Ground it lies Yet in its Fall its Maker glorifies As well as in its Frame because from thence We learn what Honour and Obedience We owe to him who this fair Fabrick raises And by a Breath destroyes it when he pleases Besides who 'd not in Duty be exact When still before his Eyes he sees the Rack The Axe the Gibbet and in Mind doth feel Sad apprehensions of the dreadful Wheel Is not our case the same do we not see How many thousand Shapes of Death there be Dayly presented to our view to show That after all all to the Grave must go From this fair Topick let us argue then He is our God and we poor sinful men Therefore since to him we owe Life and Breath We should live well that when invading Death Approaches he may find us on our Guard Not by his gastly looks to be out-dar'd For though he seize the Body yet on high The Soul shall live to perpetuity 'T is he the mighty God 't is he alone Who in the Heavens has set up his Throne From whence he orders all things and doth raise This man to honours and that man debase That to th' afflicted he may comfort give And make those whom the world abhorreth live The subtile plottings of our knowing men He disappoints and makes their projects vain He laughs at all their consults and despises Both them and all their silly state devises So that what e're those Crocodiles project Their Machinations never take effect He spoiles their counsels and makes all their wit Like salt whose savour's lost down-right unfit For any thing save at a round of Ale To be the subject of some Country tale For the Worlds wisdom in Gods eyes is folly Their Art but th' product of dull Melancholly Their reasoning is notional and vain Erring in things even evident and plain Things manifest things clear as noon-tide-light To them are dark as to one in the night Who nothing sees gropes but no rode can find And stands confounded betwixt raine and wind Whil'st at each justling shrub his joints do tremble Thinking the Night-thieves round him do assemble Lord what is all we brag of then for what Keep we such toyl on earth is 't only that We may be thought more wise than others are And be esteemed wits 't is very fair A rare designe indeed well worth our pain When after all we learn or can retain All our fine wisdom in Gods eyes is vain For when our Politicians counsel take How they the just and pious man
to your half-dead Friend you threaten Death Your unkind words like Grins and Snares you lay By which your Friend you shrewdly may betray Now therefore pray at length impartially Look on me and consider whether I Have reason thus t' expresse my grief or no When I endure what none of you can know Assure your selves then I take no delight Thus to complain I am no Hypocrite As you pretend my sorrows are no less Then I esteem them nay could I expresse My inward griefs they 'r more in number sure Then mortal man did ever yet endure Forbear then pray at my desire forbear From such Discourse so rigid so severe As wound my Heart more than my Sorrows do With all my Plagues and Torments pray allow My grief some vent or as my present case is Should I be silent I should burst to pieces Have patience but a while and you shall see There 's no so great iniquity in me As you alleage when my survey is made And with my woes my words in Scales are laid Cap. VII THen what am I a man and what is he A breathing Bauble now pray let us see What is this man of what should he be proud What more than t' other Creatures is allow'd To this same taudry piece of Flesh and Bone This painted Glow-worm this Cameleon That casts it self in every Form and Shape And fain would something of its Maker Ape Is there not to this glorious Creature set A certain time his days are limitate As are those of a Hireling his abode Upon this Earth has its own period Beyond which no man of the greatest strength Can pass vain man must dye vain man at length Must drop into his Grave and there become The very Dross the Caput mortâ—um Of Lifes projection fitted for no use Yet is this all his labour doth produce Although he fancies to himself he may Exceed the reputation of Clay In high conceits and even seems to hold Within his Clutch whole Magazines of Gold Like one who in a Dream great Booties takes But finds himself deceiv'd when he awakes On what alace then should this silly Tool Value it self this Hypocondriackfooll For what should he himself so much esteem When all his Life is but a very Dream Have you not seen a Labourer all the day Long for the happy night wherein he may Refresh his wearied Bones and think the Sun Spite of him with too slow a pace doth run And with impatience doth his Task attend Longing to have his Labours at an end This is my very case for so have I Toil'd all the day long of my vanity And long'd extreemly for th'approach of night In which I pleas'd my self to think I might Enjoy some Rest but here the difference lay 'Twixt the Labourer and me the night and day To me were both alike no rest I found In either at no rate I could compound With sleep for one hour of its company But on my Bed I 'd sick and tossing lye With Eyes unclos'd and Spirit much perplex't Fainting with grief in Mind and Body vex't So runs my Time so do my Years advance I'have indeed had for Inheritance Long dayes of pain and months of vanity Which makes my Life a Scene of misery So soon as I my self compose to Rest Thinking to cach some slender Nap at least Before I shut up my o'rewearied Eyes Now I lye down but when shall I arise I say how shall I pass the tedious night When shall I see again the morning light The night I do by Moments Calculate And with impatience for the Morning wait With tossing too and fro upon my Bed My Body is sore pain'd and wearied My Body tortur'd with a strange Disease Wâ—ose fury no soft Ointments can appease What art to such as I am can bring ease My Flesh with Vermine is all overspread See how with Dust and Mud I 'm covered My Skin to pieces is all rent and torn Was ever man to such sad Judgements born My Pains and Torments are all visible With Ulcers I am become horrible My days do pass with more celerity Than Weavers Shuttle through the Web doth fly Amidst a thousand Sorrows Cares and Fears I spend some inconsiderable Years They flye they flye nothing in Earth or Air In swiftness can with humane years compare Out all sight they flye they flye amaine Never intending to return again Time turns its Hour-glass and ore'turns us all No Mortal Creature can its Time recal Consider then good Lord what thing I am And how I must return from whence I came In a few days my Life is but a blast And like a puff of Wind is quicklie past Then shall my Eyes with darkness black as night Be sealed up and to my earthly sight Nothing that 's pleasant shall again appear For what to me most precious was and dear I have alreadie lost and now remains What to preserve is hardlie worth my pains For why alace should such a one as I Desire to live in pain and misery Of which I cann't be free unless I dye In a short time for which I do implore Th' Eye that hath seen me shall see me no more Thy Eyes O Lord are on me and annon Shal't strike me dead and so I shall be gone I shall no longer in this state remain For Death shall put an end to all my pain As Clouds do quickly vanish into Air And in full Bodies do no more appear So he that once goes down to silent Grave To Life again shall no more access have Shall not return unto his dwelling place For even his Servants who ador'd his Face To whom on Life his presence was most dear If after Death to them he shall appear His gastlie looks will make them quicklie run Nor can these very underlings be won With their old Friend and Master to converse By all the Rhetorick of the Universe Though all such apparitions as these Are but meer phantasms and delude our Eyes With empty Shadows of composed Air But the True Body never doth appear That rests in Grave and shall not rise before The Fabrick of this Earth shall be no more Then since no other lenitive can be found T' allay my grief ere I go under ground But only words by which I may express Those inward ills that do my Soul oppress I will not spare my mouth but openly Unto my ever-living God I 'le cry I 'le speak as one in Spirit sore perplex't As one with Plagues and Torments shrewdly vex't I 'le speake I 'le speak I will not hold my Tongue But roar out my oppressions all day long Lord I 'le say what am I an Ocean A Whale or any thing that 's more than man That to destroy me thou shouldst take such pains Whilst to undo all that of me remains Were but a small Task for a Gnat a Flee A Wasp a Hornet or a humble Bee
to dye Nor should I offer to expostulate ' And with my Maker enter in debate Is there an Umpire to oblige us both And tye us by Subscription and Oath To stand to his award for who is he Dares arbitrate betwixt my God and me But let him hold a little and at least For some small time forbear at my request To torture me let him withdraw his Rod And let th' hot Pincers of an angry God Piece-meal my Soul no more O let his wrath Be satisfied with a single death Then would I boldly speak and without fear Before him in my own defence appear Then would I argue with such Eloquence As in short time would clear my Innocence But 'cause at present I am not in case For speaking I think fit to hold my peace Cap. X. MY Soul 's cut off and though I seem to breath Yet am I coop'd up in the jaws of death My Soul is fled my days of life are gone And this poor widow'd Body left alone To be the subject of some country fable As in its ruines only memorable This fashion'd piece of Earth which formerly One would ha' thought would shift Mortality For many years a Body which of late In health and vigour fully animate With a most cheerful Soul seem'd to imply As if at least some small felicity Were to be found below the Heavens this point Of the Creation framed joint by joint Into a reasonable shape at last By griefs consuming fury quite defac't Has now no figure but doth every day Like Wax before the Candle melt away For as a stranded Vessel by no hands To be got off and sticking on the Sands Obnoxious to the rage of every Tide Whilst each rude Wave beats ribs out of its side In its dimensions every day decreases Until at length 't is shattered all to pieces And then what was a statelie Ship before In Planks and Boards is cast upon the Shore So this frail Body which in health and strength Look'd like a tall Ship in its Course at length Stranding upon the Shelves of foul diseases In its proportion every hour decreases And that it may be ruin'd with dispatch Each ulcerous Billow doth large Gobbets snatch Out of that vigorous Body which alace Is now in a most despicable case Hence what remains is that this shattered frame Void of all honour beautie shape and name Should like infected Goods by no man own'd In Skin and Bones be hurried under ground Then what is Life O let me but admire What idle expectation can hire Insipid man upon this Earth to dwell And love that thing which we call Life so well Life like the Mornings-dew upon the Grass Exhal'd e're Noon-tide Life a simple lease At will and pleasure of a homelie Farm For us to toile in where we 're hardly warm In the possession of it when anon Our Lease runs out and we must all be gone Life but the parcels of a few years breath Summ'd up at last i' th capital of death Times wast-book health and strengths extinguisher Heavens great derider Hells remembrancer The old mans profit and the young mans loss The rich mans Idol and the poor mans cross Sins active Pander for some little space Then to Repentancea sad looking glass Pleasures mean vassal times obedient â—alve And a most faithful servant to the Grave Death charges Time Time charges Life by Roll To make account of every living Soul The grand Collector by just calculation Himself discharges of each Generation In deaths exchequer then begins afresh T' exact the impost of all living flesh This is that we call Life this is the thing Of which poor Mortals make such reckoning As if the sum of all their happiness Lay in their breathing for some little space Alace that men of reason thus should lye Sick of an universal phrenesie And not rouz'd up at length perceive for shame What is this Life which they so much esteem This Life a thing so burdensome to me As how I hate it you do clearly see May I not then oppress 't with Life repine Since there 's no Life comparable to mine The dregs of Life that do with me remain Are but the meer fomenters of my pain For who extended night and day on rack Would not with all his heart Death welcome make O let me then to God make my address O let me to himself my woes express He is a God of mercy and will hear Th'oppress't and have regard to every tear That drops from pious eyes A sore complaint then on my self I 'l make And in the anguish of my Soul I 'l speak I 'l say to God condemn me not and why Wilt thou contend with such a thing as I An Eagle take the pains to kill a flee Contend with me a thing not to be nam'd A thing of which even Nature is asham'd A piece of Earth that serving for no use Is thrown out on the Dung-hill as refuse The dross of human frailâ—â—y the abstract Of all that 's mouldy low decay'd and crack't A thing now grating at the gates of death Retarded only by a gasping breath A thing so mean as is not worth thy wrath Then why good Lord dost thou take so much pleasure T' oppress so mean a thing beyond all measure What doth this to thy Glory contribute How doth such usage with thy Justice sute Alace I know not how the matter stands But thus t' undo the labour of thy hands Thus to destroy a Creaure thou didst frame And once didst think it worthy of a name Nay as thy Creature thou was 't pleas'd to own Thus to reject it with a sullen frown Me thinks is strange What may the Atheists say When thy own servants are oppress 't this way Why they will surely in their scoffing mode Blaspheme the ever glorious Name of God See here they 'l say a man who seriously Apply'd his mind to th' art of piety Who his great God above all things ador'd A most devoted Servant to his Lord. One who not pleas'd with what his neighbours us'd Despised their Religion and refus'd T' acknowledge any of their Deities But in a zealous phrensy did devise A Deitie to himself peculiar Out of an humour to be singular See now they 'l say see how his God doth treat him See how his Lord he so much lov'd doth hate him How he doth whip him how he takes delite To vex a man who us'd himself to write A most obedient Servant to his God See how he beats him with a heavie Rod. Let him complain weep pray do what he can Let him cry out yet still this pious man Finds none to comfort pity or deplore him And for his God ' has no compassion for him But on the contrair doth appear t' abhor him Sure this will be their language thus alace Those impious wretches will themselves express Yes this will be their Table-talk I fear O then forbear for thy own sake
thy debt still more and more So that at length I 'm broke upon the score For who so guilty of ingratitude What man so void of reason who so rude Whoso unthinking as when he begins To reckon up thy mercies and his sins But will acknowledge he 's oblig'd to thee Though punish'd tortur'd and oppress'd like me When he considers how thou formerly Hast guarded him since his Nativity From what had else besaln him hadst not thou Both own'd him kindly and supply'd him too With all things for his life convenient Since the first hour he to the world was sent And then if any man perhaps intend Some small proportion of his time to spend â—th ' serious and useful contemplation Of the so much to be admir'd Creation And view the order of thy Providence How to each living Soul thou dost dispense Thy Justice and thy mercy instantly He 'd find his Reason in an extaâ—â—e Whilst linking second causes in a chain By thumbing of 'em he 'd attempt in vain To fathom what no Art can comprehend And then at length he 'd find there is no end In searching of such things and so give o're His inquisition and will dive no more In that abyss but end his contemplation In a profound and humble admiration Acknowledging that save to thee alone Those Mysteries can not at all be known Thou Lord hast all things made dost all things spy Nothing can be concealed from thy Eye For what man labours by his foolish art To lock up in the Cabin of his Heart And thinks a secret to thee Lord is known As well as what to publicque view is shown If I have sinn'd then thou wilt instantly Look with a most sever enquiring Eye Upon my Errors and wilt not acquit Me from the Censure that is just and fit To be on man inflicted in such cases But wilt most justly as my sin encreases Add to my punishment and possibly Entail wy woes on my Posterity Why then if I have sinn'd I am undone And merit to be pitied by none Because I knew thy Justice would not spare For all excuses such as guilty are Hence if I 've sinn'd my Doom I plainly read If not I will not yet lift up my head Or sayâ— ' th' least that I am innocent Because I fear a furder punishment But still imagine that I guilty am And in thy presence hide my face for shame I 'l live in great humility and fear For no man in thy fight can just appear But how soe're the matter be good Lord Proceed thou to destroy me in a word Let loose the Reins of thy consuming Wrath And never leave me whilst the Gates of Death â—ly open to receive me Let thy Rage By close pursute abridge my lingring age Never give o're but rouze me every day With the same view as Lyons hunt their Prey Break me to pieces do and so express Thy self admir'd in my unworthiness For rather than in such sad torments lye 'T were better far I instantly should dye Let me then quickly be undone let all Thy heavie plagues at once upon me fall And not by Piece-meal every day augment The several species of my punishment And thus each hour thy dreadful Chace renue As if thou didst take pleasure to pursue My wearied Soul Armies of sorrows up against me draw With all the numerous rude Militia Of foul diseases which my Body seize Whilst I am to such Cannibals as these A daily prey my sores do still encrease And in my Spirit I can have no peace Then O why didst thou bring me from the Womb Why did I from my Native Cottage come Where I no sorrow knew no trouble felt But most secure in peace and plenty dwelt Was it for this that to the World I came For this that ever I was born for shame For this that e're my Mother should ha known The pangs of Child-birth nay one single groan In bringing forh a Creature destinate For grief and sorrow one whom God doth hate 'Gainst whom he doth his angry Sword unsheath And every day doth wound him in his Wrath. But ne're will bless him with the blow of Death Would I had perish'd in the Womb at least Would â— a still-born Embryo at best Had dropp'd into the World and instantly Had been Box'd up and Buried so no eye Had seen me this side of Mortalitie Would I had been as though I ne're had been Without existence never heard or seen Would Providence for me had never car'd Would my fond Parents had their labour spar'd And I a thing without all form and shape Had been conceal'd in Natures modest Lap When from the Womb soft hands did me receive Would I had fairly slipt into the Grave But since I am condemn'd O since I must In a few days incorporat with Dust Since thou O Lord wilt call for what is thine And I to Worms this Body must resign Some little respite for thy Mercy sake Allow me that I may some comfort take Before I to the Land of darkness go A dismal Land which never Light did know Whence I shall not return a dreadful Land Where pale-fac'd horrour doth in chief command Where Worms with Death in council sit and call For an account of every Funeral Where empty Sculls in heaps are gathered And with dry Bones the Land is overspread A Land so very dark no art can trace It s true dimensions or by Map express Its Scituation a most barbarous Land Whose Laws and Language none can understand A Land of mourning where no joy is known But Mirth and Sorrow there are both as one Cap. XI THus Job had spoke thus had himself express't Whilst his poor troubled Soul could find no rest For ' stead of sleeping he did still complain Keep 't waking by the torture of his pain But which is worse when he had made an end Of speaking and it may be did intend To take a Nap then some of those who keep 't Him company and as we fancy sleep't By turns would fall a speaking and with heat Engage him in a most unkind debate Thus when he now had spoke thus instantly Zophar his friend made him this tart reply Who can with patience thy vain humour bear Or says he so much idle talking hear From whence this torrent of discourse from whence This foolish bragging of thy innocence From whence this clamour whence this sad complaining Whence all this crying out what is the meaning Of all these blustring words whence all this noise Dos't think my friend thou hast to do with Boy 's Dos't think us fools dost think us Novices Dos't think we do not understand thy case Pray'to what purpose shouldst complain so sore Dos't think we never see such things before Then what dost mean by such a multitude Of puling words dost think we will conclude From all these fine expressions thou art just And so believe thou' rt
lye Am I not punish'd yet sufficiently Not yet not yet O may it not suffice That I am wrap'd in such calamities As hardly any one has suffered But I must yet be further punished Shall there be no end of my Miserie May not I now have libertie to die For thou hast fill'd my bodie with such pain As in me there doth no more life remain Than what doth serve to make me sensible Of what I fuffer O most terrible Consuming Wrath now let me die good Lord I can endure no more pray now afford This favour to a man in dying case That like Moth-eaten Garment rots apace Then since I cannot live O let me die Since Life it self is but Mortality For mortal man at best I do conceive To be a thing that like a Floating-wave Swells in the Cradle breaks upon the Grave Cap. XIV MAN of a Woman born in cares and teares Enjoyes a few but miserable Years He sucks in sorrow with his infant Breath And. in his husk he bears the seeds of death In his short life he nothing doth perceive But Seas of troubls Wave succeeding Wave He knows no pleasure nor contentment he Nor is he ever from some passion free Yet must this wretch be born Though it were better for him certainly He were not born than thus be born to dye 'T were better for him he lay buried With all his hopes about him covered With the thin notion of an entity Under the arch of possibility Then that he should exist But O he must be born he must appear On Earths wide and capacious Theater To act with mighty pomp and vanity His part o' th' fable of mortality Though 't were but fool o' th' play For whilst i' th' womb he safely lyes immur'd Free of all woe of aliment secur'd By others labour yet he thinks he 's there At best but a well treated prisoner Hence in the belly languishing he lyes And fain would make escape to feed his eyes On things abroad and fully satiate His Virgin-longing with he knows not what At length impatient of this kind restraint He 'l be no longer in this Cloyster pent But with his fellow-mortals he 'l b'acquaint At any rate what e're the event be And in this humour justles out to see This foolish world This world of which he fancies some such things As Beggars when they dream they 're mightie kings And yet no sooner into it he peeps Then instantly the changeling cryes and weeps Appearing in some inward perturbation As disappointed of his expectation In it he wastes his time in fear and pain And oft of being born he doth complain Yet when he goes out of it weeps again As if unwilling after all to part Sad as it is from what his soul and heart Doth truly love which that he might possess He could dispense with all its painfulness Inconstant Creature whom no state can please To whom nor life nor death can purchase ease Whose humorous fancy nought can satisfy Who knows not whether he should live or dye Yet is this man of so much worth and fame Whom all the Creatures have in great esteem This this is he who is so vainly proud Of the three souls which God has him allow'd Whilst those who do his actions strictly view Hardly believe that he has more than two For of the third he takes so little care As one would say his reason lay not there So that of all endu'd with growth and sense He least deserves that heavenlie influence This this is man who doth no sooner come A native naked Beggar from the womb Then assoon Food and Rayment God provides For him with every other thing besides Of which he stands in need ordering all The other Creatures to attend his call Yet after all when he 's accommodat By Providence at such a princelie rate The wretch becomes to him the most ungrate Of any thing that lives For as we know Beggars can bear no wealth So now endu'd with riches health and strength In these external things he puts his trust And quite forgets who rais'd him from the dust This is that formal piece of dâ—llest clay That moulded and unmoulded every day A thing from Heavens only with breath inspir'd That he who gave this breath might be admir'd And not the thing that breaths yet on this breath The Grashoper himself â—o valueth As he with lofty pride and arrogance Above his fellow creatures doth advance And thinks the world his sole inheritance Whilst many Brutes as we may daily see Both longer time and with more peace than he Possesse the same for he poor soul alace Can scarce enjoy but for one half hours space The full possession of what Life and breath Affords him when an enemy call'd Death Doth turn him out of all and then annon Ere he can view it well he must be gone This is the Source from which by progresse springs The Stream of all our Emperours and Kings Those men who with an armed foppery Blow up the pipes of vain Chronology Those men who when in their carreer withstood Will make the world swim around in blood Only to purchase to themselves a name And never think to have their fill of fame Whilst mean time ah poor souls how Iregrate There as ridiculous as illustrious state With all their glorious power they but appear To us like squibs that squandring here and there Put the admiring rabble in a fear Who know not what they are but men of sense Are not afraid of of their imperâ—nence For in an instant as with crackling noise Affording only sport to wanton Boyes These fly in smoak so these men in a tryce After they 've damp'd us with their cruelties Afford us sport in their own Tragedies This then is Man who rambles every where To catch a name who doth no labour spare T' attain his point running he cares not whether Killing and spoiling mixing all together In his hot fury sparing no expence To show the world his great magnificence Whilst really he 's but like one of those Who at our Fairs do set up publick Shows And with his Drums and Trumpets makes a noise In Streets and Lanes assembling all the Boyes And Girles about the Town but by and by His Licence now run out he silently Packs up his Trinkets and by break of day Out of the Town he meanly sneaks away So man on Earth for a small term of years Makes no small noise and then he disappears Have you not seen a silly Butter-flee Attacque the flaming light and wantonly Hover about it for some little space Until its wings begin to burn apace And then the helpless Creature in a tryce Sticks to the Candle spurns a while and dyes So on this dangerous Earth Stuck full of all the species of death Th' adventuring mortal arm'd with single breath Boldlie appears what next why in he flies Buzzes a while about the world and dies Is this the thing then
And with themselves think what they may expect When such as I who hopes all don't maintain That in Gods sight I am the worst of men Am so unkindlie us'd but when they check Their errors and begin to recollect Their minds and fall to solid Contemplations Of the true Order of Gods Dispensations Then do they understand that God doth try His own by so exact a scrutiny And with such Judgments doth their lives infest As puts their patience to the utmost test Yet still he loves them and will not permit The Floods to rise higher than he thinks fit Because good men men just and innocent Do at his hands deserve no punishment But for the couzâ—ning Hypocrite sad wrath Shall rain upon him he shall wish for Death But shall not find it and his miseries Shall be augmented by his unheard cries Because God knows those men the World do cheat With a fair show of zeal and shreudly treat The just and upright whilst they would maintain They were themselves the only pious men Then good men their afflictions shall forget When they see men whom God doth truly hate So justly punish'd men who have provok't By Villany Fraud and Oppression cloak't With piety one that will not be mock't Then shall the righteous men new Spirits take When they consider how God doth correct The good but utterly destroys the bad And makes their case irreparably sad Then though in dreadful misery and pain Yet shall they no more of their God complain Then will a Patient who doth understand His good Phisician will not set his hand To any Order or for any bribe Be hired by his En'mies to prescribe Such Medicines to him but what he knows At least he doth by rules of art suppose Are for his Health to those Religious Men In the most boiling Calenture of pain Shall not repine but with great constancy Endure all the assaults of misery And still hold bravely out untill at length God shall relieve them and renew their strength And now my friends though I design'd no more To argue with you as I did before Yet on this subject I cannot forbear But once again must in all calmness here Complain of you who so mistake my case And 'cause afflicted tell me in my face I 'm a curs'd Person a vile Reprobat One whom his Maker doth abhor and hate When you your selves for shame will not deny But that th' Almighty when he means to try The faith of those he loves will exercise Such with unheard of woes and miseries That when such fiery tryal they endure With patience they may become more pure Then formerly and as your selves aver After such sufferings in Gods sight appear More just and righteous then they were before Like Gold refin'd in Furnace o're and o're But since you 've taken up an argument To prove that no man can be innocent Who is afflicted but that only those Whose sins do cry for judgements suffer woes You do resolve although your reasons were Ill founded and of no more weight then air Yet still your reputation to maintain By a continued reasoning and vain Expressing of your Parts albeit you know You are i'th'wrong yet you will have it so Because you are wisemen and cannot err Whereas my friends by what doth yet appear I know not what you wit and prudence call But truth I find none wise amongst you all But O I will no more expostulat With men who love to entertain debate On every triffle and in foolish pride Think they know more than all mankind beside No such men are too wise for me and I Now am not for debates I dy I dy My days are spent all my designs are quash'd My poor endeavours are to pieces dash'd My thoughts are now so with afflictions clouded My judgement with the vail of woes so shrowded As now my sad confusion I see When things most clear are dubious to me Then why should I my time in arguing wast My small time that remains my days are past Then why should I desire to live when those From whom in this sad state I did suppose I might find comfort by their tart discourse Have rendred my condition ten times worse Then when they found me O had not these men Come hither sure I had been out of pain Before this time for in my solitude I had been stiffled by the multitude Of wasting sighs and groans sure I had dy'd And been so happy too as none had spy'd My face when dying none had interpos'd Themselves 'twixt me and death no hand had clos'd My glaring eyes none had officiousl Impeded me when I design'd to dy But in some silent hour unseen unknown Unheard uninterrupted all alone As one that falls asleep I had expir'd And gently from the Worlds view retir'd How sweetly had I dy'd how quietly Had I been shiffled in eternity Betwixt the utmost gasp of parting breath And the chill blowing of approaching death My wearied soul ere now from whence it came In the vehicle of a pleasant dream Had been transported and my Body laid In the cold Ground had its last tribute pay'd For though I with some reason hope that I May see my sun return before I dy And though I fancy to my self that yet The time may come in which I may forget All these afflictions which I now sustain And no more of consuming want complain The time may come in which my Body may In its own sphere its former strength display And this poor soul which now with heavy groans And floods of tears its miseries bemoans May from the Dung-hill yet be elevate And so restored to its former state Yet to what purpose all these hopes alace To what end serve those faÌ„ir appearances Those aery expectations which uphold The drooping spirits of both young and old Those pleasing notions by which we deceive Our lingring hours and make our selves believe We may when vapours of the night are gone Yet view our sun in its full horizon That smiling prospect of our future blisse Which for some time allays our grievances That painted idol in whose downy lap Our wearied sorrows sometime take a nap For what do all those serve when after all Death at our doors doth peremptorly call To Grave to Grave make haste my hour draws on Dispatch dispatch up I most wait on none Bestir your selves 't is high time to be gone Then where are all our hopes where all our joys And pleasures which did here make so much noise When that sad Summons in our ears doth sound Ah where is then our Life-guard to be found Those Champions of the World I doubt they are By that time bravely vanish'd into Air. Away all foolish hopes then for I know I know this Body to the Grave must go And after all those mournful passages I know the Grave must be my dwelling place Where in close darknesse and long night I must Attend until my Soul
return in Dust. And when I there have fix'd my habitation I shall take pleasure in the contemplation Of that dark subterraneous Soil and strive To learn more there than when I was alive On earth there I shall quicklie know what all Which here we honour Riches Beauty call Strength Learning Judgment Worldlie Policy With all the Product of Mortality Do in those dismal Regions signify There there I fear I soon shall learn to know There is no difference betwixt High and Low Betwixt the Rich and Poor the Strong and Weak But there all of 'em the same figure make I shall perceive that all those qualities Which we esteem in life afford no price Amongst the inhabitants of these Provinces Who barter nothing but for Species Of simple bodies void of cost or art Do only trade and in return impart Dire Putrifaction pestilentious Vapours Thick rotten air that would extinguish Tapers Black Sculls dry Bones with Matter purulent O goodly Trade O Wares most excellent Yet these are th' only Product of the Grave These these are all which in return we have For bodies of the goodliest Form and Shape For stately Bodies which no art can ape How many healthful bodies in their prime Are hurried hourly hence by pruning time To Deaths Plantations where that of a King And that of a poor Clown is all one thing That in its youth and that with age consum'd That wrapp'd up in its rags and that perfum'd With Aromatick Odours Nay although To coasts of grave those latter will not go But elsewhere trade and brag much of their gain How free from Putrifaction they remain By trading to deep Caverns under ground Where putrifying moisture is not found Where by the help of Powders Spices Oyles With other rich Ingredients the Spoiles Of some fair Provinces they do endeavour To keep their figure under ground for ever Yet at long run their trading doth amount To the same Profit to the same account As do all others for in sober sense I can indeed perceive no difference Betwixt a Body that enbalm'd doth ly In a Lead Coffin wrapp'd up decently In costly Wax-cloathes Bowell'd and perfum'd And that which with a tabid ill consum'd Putrid and withered under ground doth rest In a poor Wooden Coffin for at best Both are but food for Vermine only this As those who live in open Villages Are by th' Invaders sooner over-run Brought in Subjection plundred and undone Than those in Garisons doth sooner feed Those hungry insects than that wrapp'd in Lead But even that too to wasting time at length Is forc'd to yeeld for all its formal Strength And the poor Carion which it self did trust To those firm Walls becomes at length all Dust. As well as that which in the open Grave Was sooner eat up seing all things have Their own duration and their period Set by th' appointment of th' Almighty God Now even those under ground preserv'd and dry'd Do become black and almost petrifi'd As we may daily see without all shapes Flat and deform'd not so like Men as Apes Nay in a short time even to powder too Their flesh doth crumble Whilst their rich Coffines studded every where With Characters of Gold do still appear Sound and untouch'd which we should not admire If we consider that in Shell entire A rotten Kirnel oftentimes is found So these by long retention under ground Not with such dwellings in their lifetimes us d Though well prepar'd yet are at length reduc'd By a contagious subterraneous air To that Condition in which they appear Then O for all this wit for all this art How do those bodies to the world impart As perfect Emblems of lifes vanity As any records of Mortality Afford For don't see these withered things Those musty reliques of our glorious Kings Who in their lives with art and vast expence T' express their Grandeur and magnificence Caus'd dig deep Caverns out of solid Rocks In which their bodies as in Marble box Might from the rage of insects sleep secure And firm to all Eternity endure Pray don 't we see how those same Corps are made Through much o' th' world the subject of a trade O this vain World how ridiculous To see a Princes Body serve the use Of each Plebeian To see those things for all their foolish hopes Exposed in Apothecaries Shops As well as other Drugs to publick Sale And in small parcels vented by retail Alace how mean and how much differing From the first project of a Mighty King But the great King of Heavens will have it so That to proud Mankind he their pride may show For as from dust they sprung again they must By course of nature all return to dust 'T is Dust alone for which those Countreys deal The only traffique of that Common-weall All things imported these to Dust convert And soon or late by a laborious Art Expose that Dust to publick view again To show corruption only their doth reign That Governs all whilst no eye can perceive The cunning Manufacture of the Grave Let bodies swim in oyl and carefully Preserv'd in Glasses boast Eternity Let them be swallowed down let them be kep't In Fishes bellies or confus'dly heap't One bove another in some nasty hole Or in small atomes reach from pole to pole Or squandred in the bottom of the Seas Yet certainly at length all by degrees Must become Dust which when I shall perceive With men on Earth I 'll no more commerce have But keep firm correspondence with the grave Corruption I will my Father call The Worms my Mother Brethren Sisters all Then where are all my hopes what look I for On this side time why should I labour more T' uphold my spirit in vain expectation Of future blisse and worldy restauration When after all I clearly may perceive There is no hope for me but in the Grave In that dark dwelling I must only rest And in Deaths silent shades must only taste That which on Earth I never can attain That ease which I from Life expect in vain Then farewell all my hopes I 'll hope no more But here all expectations give o're Let others hope to see their misery Turn to a Sun-shine of prosperity Let others hope to see their sorrows crown'd With a fair issue and themselves abound In wealth and peace my hope is under ground Thither O thither only will I go And in those Regions finish all my woe Let others then hope still when I am gone Let others live I am for death alone All Earthly hopes are vain and perishing The course of life is a meer changeling There 's nothing here that we can lasting call The joyes of Mankind are meer cous'nage all Wit Honours Riches Courage Titles Fame Are but the hiccups of the Worlds esteem In which vain man buoy'd up doth proudly swim But when the black clouds of adversity Begin to gather and the angry Sky Threatens a storm then one may plainly see What
are the same And as they liv'd together so they dy Returning both to dust by sympathy They think re-union not imaginable And hold the Resurrection but a fable Thence void of apprehensions after death With great indifference they shut up their breath Nor are these men to whom God is so kind O' th' better sort more polish'd and refin'd Then common sinners are no they are such As hugg their sins and honour vice so much In foulest shape with so high veneration They 're not asham'd to make it their profession Such as our God so little do esteem They think his glory but a sounding name Such as affirm the works of Providence The checks and dictats of a Conscience To be but stale devices forg'd by those Envious men whom Fortune doth oppose Men who enrag'd because they can't possesse That which themselves acknowledge happinesse Pick'd to see others in a better state Then they themselves invent they know not what To crosse their joyes and fain by art would move The World to credit what they cannot prove For when outwitted by Philosophy They run to th're fuge of a mystery Yet God is even kind to such as these Who think so of him and speak what they please Who boldly laugh at Death Heavens Hell and all In principles so Atheistical As they to God dar impiously say Prethee begone disturb us not we pray Let us alone torment us pray no more With admonitions which our souls abhor Forbear thy curses and dire menaces Vex us no more but let us live in peace And when we dy thou mayest dispose of us Even as thou wilt but whilst we live we 'll thus Employ our time in mirth and jollity And take our hazard of Eternity For who say they shall ever us perswade Or make believe that thou a soul hast made A something which doth after death exist A thing which preachers call even what they list That such a thing of thy own essence part Infus'd into us by thy special art Should after separation be condemn'd To endlesse torments and by thee esteem'd As useless dross because the thing did take Pleasure in that which thou thy self did make Why this we are perswaded were to hate Thy self and so thy self excruciat For others errors this is somewhat strange And in our thoughts a very poor revenge Give orders pray then to thy preaching men Who in this World spend much talk in vain To spare their lungs for they shall ne'r perswade Any of us that thou a soul hast made A subtile Idea a thing Divine Limbeck'd to th' hight sublimat sopra fine To be destroyed eternally No let us live say they even as we please On Earth let us enjoy our mirth and ease Not all thy art our pleasures shall controle Nor shall the silly notion of a soul Ever be able in the least to check What we resolve by what we may expect Pray who 's this God say they let 's understand Who 's this Almighty Lord at whose command We all must live and dy pray let us know Who is this Prince to whom all here below Must pay such homage who 's this Heavenly King To whom all Mortals on their knees must bring Their praying tribute twice a day at least And once a week give audience to some Priest Who calls himself this Kings Ambassador Whilst he repeats his Message o'r and o'r In such a saucy and incensing strain As those who hear him hardlie can abstain From choller when he is so bold to say All men shall be chastis'd who do not pray To this Great God For what end should we pray who stand in need Of nothing from him those whose dailie bread Comes from his Table those who do possess No part of earthlie Joy and happiness As we do all those whom unluckie fate Has plung'd into a miserable state Those men may lie a begging at Heavens Gate But as for us who live in afluence Who spend our time in great convenience Why should we pray what can he give us more Than we enjoy nay whom should we adore Shall we adore an unknown Prince who shrouds Himself behind the Curtains of the Clouds And treats the Sons of Men with such Disgrace As he disdains to let us see his face The Sun and Moon we know and dailie see But for this God of Heaven pray who is he Or if such adoration we allow him What profit shall we make by praying to him Have any fortunes by this praying made Are anie wealthie by this idle trade Do not we see how those who dailie call On this same God are miserable all Poor and Deform'd Contemptible and Mean By want of food most scandalouslie lean Praying and sleeping by a formal Rule Treated by all the world in Ridicule Why then should we to him our selves applie Who live in Wealth since onlie Povertie Is the return of Prayer shall we request That we may become such no let us wast Our Years in mirth and not our selves betray To miserie but chase all cares away By frolick sports whilst Fools and Beggars pray Yet such even such the God of Heavens doth bless Such cursed things in Honour Wealth and Peace Do flourish here on earth those wretched men Have in their lives no reason to complain They know no judgments nor afflictions they Whilst ' those who from their tender Years do pray And in Devotion earlie exercise Their spirits are involv'd in miseries For shame forbear my friends then to assert That punishments are meerlie by desert Inflicted when the contrair doth appear By what I 've said so evident and clear Nor would I my dear friends you should mistake My meaning or suppose by what I speak Whilst I express how happy those men are That I envie them or i' th' least appear To harbour any thoughts of discontent Whilst those means plentie with my punishment And wretched state of life I do compare Or that I would be happy as they are No God forbid that I should entertain Such impious thoughts or any way complain Of Gods good Dispensations No I 'm so far from that as seriouslie I think what those men call Prosperitie Doth not deserve the name of happiness But is at best but like a gentle breeze Which blowes before a Storm I do believe What those poor Souls do fillilie conceive To be the true supream Felicity Is on the matter down-right Misery O let those mens prosperity to me Be never known let these eyes never see Plenty on earth as I have seen before Let my kind Maker never me restore To anie thing which men call happiness Rather than I should be as one of those And now my friends as I have thus express'd How much the wicked in this life are bless'd So I would have yow know that what I say I do not as a firm position lay Nor do I think it proper on my part That I should so tenaciouslie assert That all such
prosper as you stifflie plead That such by him are onlie punished No my good friends I am not to maintain A point whereof the contrair is so plain I 'm not so much in love with vain debate Nor am so wedded to my own conceit As you appear to be that I should call What I have said so purelie general As it of no exception can admit No I do not pretend to so much wit As to maintain with Reasons full extent The truth of such a foolish Argument For I do onlie say that some not all Of those same men whom you do wicked call Are bless'd on earth because I understand As well as you that on the other hand Many of them do in this life sustain The Wrath of God and undergo much Pain Much Hatred much Contempt and Povertie Whilst here on earth and suffer Miserie In its extream Degree I know that some Unhappie men are whollie overcome With Plagues and Sorrows and before they die Reap the reward of their impietie Though such as in this earth are punished And by afflictions terrors visited Are not so numerous if we do compare Their list with those on Earth who blessed are How oft pray do we see such sinful men Expos'd to Gods displeasure one of ten Perhaps are so 't is true when God doth fall Upon those villanous men root branch and all He doth destroy their glory quickly dyes As doth the spark from flame that upward flyes Or as the light of Candle when its head Is turned down is soon extinguished It s splendid lustre instantly is spent Evaporating in a noisome scent As Chaff or Stuble driven 'fore the Wind Scattered along the Fields we daily find Such when God is incens'd shall be the state Of those poor men they shall be dissipat Upon the face of Earth their Families Shall go to ruine and their Memories Shall with themselves expire their former glory Shall not be entred in the Page of Story Nay that they may be further punished Their misery shall not be limited To their own persons for before their eyes They shall perceive horrid calamities Invading of their so late happy Race Destroy their pleasures and disturb their peace Shall see their dearest Children beg their Bread And with sad roots their hungry Stomachs feed Shall see them scattered every where abroad Sitting half-naked in each common Road With lift up hands most lamentably cry For Alms from every one that passeth by All this they shall perceive and quickly know When God for any man designs a blow Though he 's long-suffering and slow to wrath And takes no pleasure in a sinners death Yet when his Choller once begins to rise Judgements like Lightnings issue from hit Eyes Upon these wretches which with sudden flash Them and their issue all to pieces dash For when Heavens Monarch doth in wrath appear His Judgements are so heavy and severe No Mortal Shoulders can his loadnings bear And where they 'd cheer their spirits formerly With expectation that their memory Might be preserved and men may clearly read Their glorious names ingrav'd when they were dead I' th' several Fore-heads of their fruitful Race Which might proclaim their worth from place to place Alace what pleasure now can these men have When all their Race is swallowed by the Grave In their own time when all their pleasure dyes And all their memories are before their eyes By th' very hand of God obliterat So that no vestige of their former state Doth now remain and they are in their prime E're they 're well entred in the books of Time Shiffled out of the World and quickly sent To their so oft derided punishment Since then my friends our God is pleas'd to blesse Some sinful wretches letting them possesse All pleasures here on Earth and makes them dye As they had liv'd in soft tranquillity Whilst others of 'em are so sore oppress 't By plagues on Earth as they can have no rest But wearied of their lives incessantly Cry our for help from death until they dâ— Who 's he dares say that none are punished But sinful men that God has limited His Judgements only to such men as these Whilst all the truly godly live in peace What man is he will undertake to teach God what he ought to do or vainly preach Upon a text so far above his reach So then my friends I hope you will allow Th' Almighty God knowes better things then you And is not to be taught at any rate How he his Judgements should proportionat With this or t'other subject as you dream And in your crazy judgements do esteem No no my friends as God doth fully know So he doth fully judge both high and low Even as he pleaseth nor can humane wit Prescribe to God methods so just and fit As he doth use in all his dispensations Upon the sons of men Yet must we not imagine or suppose That he who all men most exactly knows Who all things fram'd who all things did create Who judges men of every rank and state With a true knowledge and deliberatly That he should let his plagues at random fly On this or t'other as it were by chance No none are punish'd but by ordinance And firm decree of Heaven in which doth shine The glory of his Majesty Divine For though indeed we cannot understand The Almighties ways when we perceive his hand Sometimes on this sometimes on t'other fall As if he did observe no rule at all In governing o' th' World yet if we do In sad sobriety observe but how He lets some live in wealth and happinesse Whilst others in great sorrow and distresse Consume their days how some in peace do dye Larded with riches to whom penury Was never known whose calm and quiet years Void of all cares anxieties and fears In a course so serene so smooth and slow As streams do gentlie through the Meadows flow Slide softlie to the grave as one should think Those men knew nothing but to eat and drink How with such plentie those same men are blest As scarce by Humane Art can be exprest Their bodies healthful strong and vigorous As tempered Steel nothing obnoxious To th' force of anie violent disease But as they liv'd so go to death with ease Their breasts with milk their bones with marrow fall In earthlie pleasures become soft and dull Whilst others of those men our God permits To live and die in such tormenting fits Of Poverty Fear and Anxiety With all the species of Adversity As all their lives they have no other fare But tears and do not know what pleasures are In tears they sleep in tears they do awake Their hearts with sorrow alwaies seem to break Oppress 't with tears and sighs they eat and drink Nor can their minds on anie pleasure think But in the bitter anguish of their Soul Conjure all living Creatures to condole Their sad disasters fretting constantlie At others
all families they spoil And what the poor ones do with daily toil Amongst the reapers glean they take away Making the sheaves of th' hunger-starv'd their prey Nay though our Peasants for security From these shrewd thieves within doors silently Tread out their Wines and with great care and toyl Do in some hidden corner make their Oyl Yet maugre all the shifts they can devise Those cruel men before their very eyes Take all away and cunningly do cheat Those anxious souls of both their Drink and Meat So that for want of sustenance they dye And in the fields their bodies scattered lye As food for Crows unburied here and there And with contagious scent infect the aire VVhich quickly doth engender Pestilence That in its rage making no difference Betwixt the rich and poor doth sweep away Some thousands at a Muster every day Where both the guilty and the innocent In the same Coffin to the Grave are sent On shoulders of poor Slaves and Pioneers Whilst not a man of all their friends appears At the Graves-mouth in mourning to condole The Dead or say a requiem to their Soul So that a man may well infer from thence Oppression is some cause of Pestilence And yet though Heavens are hourly battered With cryes of many thousands ruined By such Oppressours though the Towns exclaim And all the Countys bitterly do blame The Magistrate who should by force restrain The frequent in rodes of those barbarous men Though Ghosts of all the Murthered round about With a loud voice for vengeance do cry out Yet God appears to slight this joint address And still permits those Varlets to oppress And now that I have spoke sufficiently Of those whose trade is sin who openly Practise it and esteem it no disgrace To be descended of a thieving race Now I shall show you how on th' other part Some men do sin as much but with great art Endeavour closely to conceal the same Not for its guilt but to avoid its shame There be indeed some who commit offence Against the light of their own Conscience And therefore as asham'd of what they do Because they dare not openly avow Their sinful actings they abhore the light And wrapp'd up in the mantle of the night Practise the works of darkness with delight Yet those most part escape the censure too Which you affirm to wicked men is due And flourish in this life Of these I shall give you some instances For if I should endeavour to express The several kinds of such who do offend I fear that my discourse should have no end I 'le not then reckon all but satisfie My self with Murder and Adultery Two loud-tongu'd sins as to the world are known And which are able of themselves alone To bring down Judgements which might overthrow Whole Kingdomes States and Nations at a blow Two sins that in a constant Threnody Do call for vengeance whilst most bitterly They do accuse their actors and in crouds Make for themselves a way through thickest Clouds Each day from hence not resting while they be Familiar in the Court of Heavens and see The very face of God yet after all Although for justice every hour they call God will not hear them for great reasons known To his Eternal Majesty alone For let 's observe but how the Murderers Before the Sun with morning blush appears On th' utmost confines of our Horizon Are ready arm'd and to their work are gone Enter some Countrey-dwellings silently And cut the throats of all the Family Then riffle every Room take all away And get them home before it is yet day Th' Adulterer too knowing the proper time In which he may with safety act his Crime Longs for the twilight when he poorly may To his poor pleasures his poor Soul betray For whilst he sick with last nights surfeit sleeps Till noon-tide then attires himself and keeps Within Doors at his Book and violin To put himself in humour for his sin The closs dissembling night draws on apace Then doth he with great art disguise his Face As all who go a rambling Wrappp'd in long-cloak he sneaks along the streets Unknown as he conceives to all he meets To th' evening-walks he doth direct his march Where he with great anxiety doth search In every Grove and arbour o're and o're Until he find out his beloved Whore Whom when he finds in a most lustful passion He hurries to the place of assignation Sometimes in publick on design he walks And seemingly unconcern'd converses talks With one or other whilst still privatly Upon some Window he doth cast an Eye Where some bewitching face he doth espy Then on the door he sets a private mark That he may find the place out in the dark Thence to his Pandress quicklie drives and there What he has now discovered doth declare A beauty O most excellent and rare Th' old sinner views her Books with care to see Who this same so much cry'd up Whore can be At length by his account she seems to guess And tells him she will do his business And cunningly appoints both time and place Where these do meet and at their ease and leasure Until the morning glut themselves with pleasure But O the morning O the rising Sun When that appears this man is quite undone Upon his nights atchievments he reflects And finds himself assaulted by the checks Of an enraged Conscience and appears As one distracted betwixt lusts and fears Leaps from his Bed attires himself anon Calls for a Bill and fain he would begone Whilst th' Whore yet sleeps because he apprehends If he should tarry longer by some friends Who early stir about their businesse He may be seen from that unlawful place Come out and so these men may soon proclaim Through all the City both his sin and shame On th' other hand he judges he may stay Within doors with more safety while the day Be spent and in the evening steal away In these reflections and sad apprehensions Each moment he doth alter his intentions His resolutions waver to and fro He knows not whether he should stay or go Cold fear invades his Nerves his Blood doth frieze His Joints do tremble and Deaths terrors sieze Upon his Soul for in this pannick fear He thinks he sees the Husband every where Whom he has injur'd with Sâ—iletto arm'd Ready t' assault his Person He thinks he hears him swear in every place He shall be soon reveng'd of his disgrace At length 'twixt hope and fear he issues out Down next blind-lane he slips and veers about By many durty windings here and there Until to the next fields he doth repair Where he doth walk as if he took the Air But by and by he to the Woods doth fly For now he doth suspect the Hue and Cry Is out against him thus he doth declare How for his sin he punishment doth fear Resolving from such actions to forbear In all time coming
But when his Lust begins again to to flow Forgetting wholly all his former woe To the same place like mad-man he returns And in those unclean flames again he burns There 's one Crime more of which I do expect You will permit me yet my friends to speak A Crime well known by th' name of piracy Which is on Sea an open robbery I have already spoke of that on Land And now 't is fitting you should understand How that on Sea is no lesse openly Practis'd as from those men who live hard by The Coasts of the Red-sea we daily hear Where in great Fleets those Picaroons appear They re men who having try'd all Trades on Land And finding nothing which they took in hand Succeeded to their wish in hopes of gain At length they became down-right High-way-men Then out-law'd and by justice every where Pursu'd they found there was no living there And so at last to Sea-towns they repair Where buying some small Pinnace with a few Hatchets and Swords and mustering a crew Of Rake-hells like themselves to Sea they go And plunder all they meet both friend and foe They spoil all Trade they make the Merchants groan And to all States and Nations bemoan Their daily losses by such men as these Who 'gainst all justice do infest the Seas They seldom come on Land or if they do 'T is in some Creek where for a day or two They do refresh themselves and with great pain Carine their Barks and so to Sea again At length when by this vill'nous roaving trade Those Sea-opprssours have great Booty made To some small Island where they are not known They steer and there themselves they boldly own To be the Subjects of some mighty State Where they as Merchands do Negotiat With th' â—slanders and riotously spend What by their privateering they had gain'd These in their little Wherryes skim the Seas And ramble on the Ocean with ease Killing and Robbing doing what they please Who though each moment they have fair occasions T' enrich their Souls with pious Meditations Viewing Gods wonders in the deep Yet do they still their sinful Trade practise And both the Laws of God and man despise Though floating shrewdly betwixt Winds and Waves And not four inches distant from their Graves Thus then we see my friends how at all times Men take delite to act most horrid Crimes In a continued tract of villany Pray let us see now how these men do dye Why not bereav'd of Life by Rope or Sword Not drown'd not cut in pieces in a word After they have grown old in sin and known No other trade but that of Hell alone As in some places Snow doth still appear Until the Summer Solstice of the year And undissolv'd in heaps it self doth show Until by heat it doth in waters flow So these grown old in sin and now no more Able to act it as they did before Do softly dwindle to the Grave and there Lye down and rest without all fear or care Nay with such calmnesse and tranquility As if they mean't to sleep they softly dye And with so little violence or pain As even their very Mothers do abstain From weeping at their death and making noise Above their Corps but rather do rejoice To see their Children in th' extremity Of age wealth honours and discretion dye The worms upon their Corps do sweetly feed And they in Grave do find as soft a bed As do the bodies of those pious men Of whom no man had reason to complain Nay though those men with sin so soul and black May well be nam'd villany in th' abstract Yet in their Death there 's nothing singular Nor do they die in horrour and dispair But like an aged Trunk fall'n to decay Insensibly they moulder quite away Now here my friends I thought t' have given o're And of oppression to have spoke no more But that I think on 't there 's a species Of those unhappy men who do oppress Of whom I have not spoke as yet there are Some who for neither rich nor poor do care But bolster'd up with vain authority Against all persons they promiscuously Do vent their rage men full of picquant-wrath Who threaten still Destruction and Death To all who give them but the least offence And to th' afflicted with great violence They add affliction They take great pleasure tartly to upbraid All those on whom the hand of God is laid The barren woman who in doleful tone In private doth her barrenness bemoan They call an useless wretch a barren fool A dry She-ass a pitiful Night owl The widow too whose lamentable state All truely pious men compassionate Those men with all their force and art oppress And makes her Life a Scene of bitterness Nay on the wealthy too their hand they stretch And fleece them all as far as they can reach By heavy Fines give way to Informations Against them and encourage accusations On slender grounds which with great art they draw Out of the very Excrements of Law T' attain the lives and means of those they hate And satiat their Revenge at any rate Their dire Revenge which no man can endure For who is he can of his life be sure If once those men by their intelligence Can find against them any evidence Then must they dy for all their innocence Yet these these are the men who do possess The good things of the earth these men in peace Do spend their time whilst good and righteous men Of want of bread do every day complain But after all though these men sillily Suppose they sin with great security And think God doth not eye them nor remark At least their hidden actings in the dark Yet he doth eye them and will surely bring Those men to an account and reckoning For all these villanous deeds and make them know That though he be a God to anger slow Yet when inflam'd with a just indignation He 'll of his anger make clear demonstration And cut off all their race by extirpation For wicked men though in the worlds eyes They seem to swell and in great foamings rise Blown up by winds of pride to th'hight of all That which poor mortals happiness do call Yet are their honours titles dignities But meer delusions vain uncertainties Things of no value triffles emptie shows And but of short duration God knows For in a few years time we shall perceive Them and their honours shut up in the Grave And their successors prodigally fall A wasting spending and consuming all What those poor Caterpillers had with pain Amass'd together in their lives and then There shall be no more memory of those men Now to conclude then if what I have said Shall not be able fully to perswade Your minds my friends that what I speak is true Come let me hear I pray now which of you Will undertake the question to decide And make appear that I have
protest No trouble no affliction no oppression No pain no woe no torment no occasion Shall move me in my sorrow to express What may be even supposed wickedness For whilst I breath I never do intend To speak those words which may my God offend And though since so much woe and miserie Has seiz'd upon me I might possiblie Vent some hot words and have perhaps express't My self but as a simple man at best Yet God forbid that I should ratifie What you have said or my integritie Prejudge i' th' least no never while I die What you have spoke my friends is all in vain For I will still my innocence maintain To my uprightness I do still adhere Whatever to the contrair you aver I 'le not bely my Conscience for all That you have said or can say should you baul Never so much and bitterly exclaim Against your poor afflicted friend and blame My fervent zeal to own my righteousness As a meer humour as a stubbornness And positive opinion in the case For while I breath my heart shall ne're upbraid My tongue with lying as it had betray'd That heart that upright and ingenuous heart That heart o' th' first mould void of Craft and Art With any ne're so small acknowledgment Of what its altogether innocent Most innocent for I again protest I do not know that thought within my breast That for injustice can be quarrelled For did I think that one were harboured Of that kind here I 'de quickly tear it out And for that thought abhor my self to boot No no my friends I utterly detest The very thoughts of sin nor in the least Will I allow my heart to entertain Such guests as those of which you do compâ—â—in For of all men I truly do esteem Those Godless livers you so often name However in this world they daily thâ—â—â—e To be the most unhappy men alive No greater judgments would I imprecate On any whom my very soul doth hate Then that they live and die in â—â—ose mens state I therefore do beseech you now my friends In charity to alter here your minds And not believe that I am on of those Whom you call Hypocrites th' Almighty knows I am not such nor would you ere conclude That I were such if you but understood The difference betwixt a Hypocrite And one that 's pious and in heart upright For but observe now here 's the difference The Hypocrite whilst in great affluence Of worldly blessings he consumes his time And his felicity is in its prime Then he rejoyces is above all hope 'Cause all his wishes have attain'd their scope Then in Gods goodness he is confident Speaks piously and passes for a Saint Yet he will tell you He 'll tell you when his Gold in heaps doth ly That all these Riches are but vanity Things of no moment only stamped Dust And therefore no wise man should put his trust Or place his confidence at any rate In such a mean return of humane sweat That product of the toyl of many years That ballance of so numerous cares and fears As all the profit after just account Those Riches do afford do scarce amount To so much as may countervail the loss Which we sustain in purchasing such Dross Whilst he himself doth place such confidence In this same Dross that he concludes from thence His happiness as Riches do encrease And how much Land and Cash he doth possess ' Has as much Faith exactly and no more And all his Hope he measures by his Store For he himself in this so valueth As he doth laugh at all the Powers of Death Nor can the weeklie Sermons he doth hear To which he most attentive doth appear Delivered with much zeal and force of art Find any passage into this mans heart For notwithstanding all that men can say And all the Burials which he everie day Under his Windows sees that plainlie teach More Death than all the art of man can preach Yet this rich Worldling never can believe That oft repeated Fable of the Grave But in his mind rejects and privatlie Derides the Storie of Mortalitie For while in health he minds his business And has no leisure for such thoughts as these But change the Scene a little homewards bear The Plot and let approaching Death appear Let this bold Sinner be imprisoned Within the narrow compass of a Bed Lay the poor Carrion on his back and then He is the most disconsolate of men His troubled Conscience nothing can appease When now before his eyes that thing he sees Of which he oft had heard that gastly thing Of which before he made small reckoning Appear at his Bed-side with confidence And peremptorily charge him to go hence Then all Confusion Horrour and Despair He quites all hope and onlie now doth fear He fears he fears he trembles all apace When he confiders on his future case Thinks all the Wealth that he has purchased Is very Dross and nothing now indeed Bus stamped Dust whilst when his Chests are full Death his reluctant Soul begins to pull Out of his Body But on the contrair one upright and just Is full of hope and in his God doth trust When that sad hour arrives in confidence Of future bliss he for his journy hence Prepares himself with great alacrity Welcomes his stroak and smilinglie doth dy Or if perhaps in miserie he fall And by Heavens Wrath he is bereft of all As I am now his Spirits never drop But firmly rooted in a solid hope On God as on his anchor he relies And all the roaring Waves of Hell defies Next do you think that when this wretched man In trouble lyes let him say what he can That God will hear him let him sigh and groan Let him his by-past actions bemoan Let him his sins so cunninglie lament As one would think him truly penitent No after all such crying is in vain For he from God no audience can obtain For well God knows he understands full well Not love to him but trouble doth compel This man to pray and were he out of pain He 'd soon return to his old wayes again And therefore our Creator stops his ear To such a subtile and time-serving prayer But he that trusts in God no sooner prays Then God doth hear him and his soul doth raise Out of the Quag mire of adversity As soon as he to Heavens for help doth cry Again when this man into sickness falls Then not while then upon Gods name he calls Then sighs and prayes because he feels some pain And of his sins doth bitterly complain But 'cause with pain not with delight he prays His new patch'd up Devotion soon decayes When Heavens afford no answer but delayes For how d' ye think a man not formerly Accustom'd to the works of piety Who ne'r before upon Gods name did call 'Till now he 's forc'd to do 't for good and all Can when in trouble bring his
thing 11. He bindeth the floods from overflowing and the thing that is hid he bringeth forth to light 12. But where shall wisdom be found where is the place of understanding 13. Man knoweth not the price thereof neither is it found in the land of the living 14. The depth says it is not in me and the Sea says it is not with me 15. It cannot be gotten for gold neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof 16. It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir with the precious Onyx or the Sapphire 17. The Gold and the Chrystal cannot equal it and the exchange of it shal not be for Jewels of fine Gold 18. No mention shall be made of Coral or Pearls for the price of wisdom is above Rubies 19. The Topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it neither shall it be valued with pure Gold 20. Whence then cometh wisdome where is the place of understanding 21. Seing it is hid from the eyes of all living and kept closs from the fowls of the air 22. Destruction death say we have heard the same thereof with our ears 23. God understandeth the way thereof and he understandeth the place thereof 24. For he looketh to the ends of the earth seeth under the whole Heaven 25. To make the weight for the winds and he weigheth the water by measure 26. When he made a decree for the rain away for the lightning of the thunder 27. Then did he see it and declare it he prepared it yea he searched it out 28. And unto man he said behold the fear of the Lord that is wisdom 1. Moreover Iob continued his parable and said 2. O that I were as in months past as in the days when God preserved me 3. When his candle shined upon my head and when by his light I walked through darkness 4. As I was in the days of my youth when the secret of God was on my tabernacle 5. When the Almighty was yet with me when my children were about me 6. When I washed my steps with butter and the rock poured me out rivers of oyl 7. When I went out to the gate through the city when I prepared my â—eat in the strcet 8. The young men saw me hid themselves and the aged arose and stood up 9. The princes refrained talking and laid their hands on their mouths 10. The nobles held their peace and their tongues cleaved to the roof of their mouths 11. When the ear heard me then it blessed me when the eye saw me it gave witness to me 12. Because I delivered the poor that cryed and the fathersess and him that hath none to help him 13. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me and I caused the widows heart to sing for joy 14. I put on righteousness and it cloathed me my judgement was as a robe and a diadem 15. I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame 16. I was a father to the poor and the cause which I knew not I searched out 17. And I broke the power of the wicked and plucked the spoil out of his teeth 18. Then I said I shall dy in my nest and I shall multiply my days as the sand 19. My root was spread out by the waters and the dew lay all night upon my branches 20. My glory was fresh in me and aâ—y bow was renewed in my hand 21. Vnto me men gave ear and waited and keeped silence at my counsel 22. After my words they spoke not again and my speach dropped upon them 23. And they waited for me as for the rain and they opened their mouths wide as for the latter rain 24. If I laughed on them they believed it not and the light of my countenance they cast not down 25. I chose out their way and sat chief dwelt as a king in the army as one that comforteth the mourners 1. But now those that are younger than I have me in derision whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of myflocks 2. Yea whereto might the strength of their hands profit me in whom old age was perished 3. For want and famine they were solitary flying into the wilderness formerly desolate and waste 4. Who cut up mallows by the bushes and juniper-roots for their meat 5. They were driven forth from among men they cryed after them as after a thief 6. They dwelt in the cliffs of the valleys in caves of the earth and in the rocks 7. Amongst the bushes they brayed under the nettles they were gathered together 8. They were children of fools yea children of base men they were viler then the earth 9. Yet now am I their song yea I am their by-word 10. They all abhor me they fly far from me and spare not to spit in my face 11. Because he hath loosed my cord and anâ—â—câ—â—â— mâ— they have also lâ—â— loose the bridle before me 12 Upon my right hand â—ife the youth they push away my feet and they raise up against me the ways of their destruction 13 They mark my paths they set forward my calamity they have no helper 14 They came upon me as a wide breaking in of waters in the desolation they rolled themselves upon me 15. Terrours are turned upon me they pursue my soul as the wind and my welfare passeth away as a cloud 16. And now my soul is poured out upon me the dayes of affliction have taken hold on me 17. My bones are pierced in me in the night season and my sinews take no rest 18. By the great force of my disease my garment is changed it bindeth me about as the collar of my coat 19. He hath cast me into the mire I am become like dust and ashes 20. I cry unto thee and thou dost not hear me I stand up and thou regardest me not 21. Thou art become cruel to me with thy strong hand thou opposest thy self against me 22. Thou liftest me up to the wind thou causest me to ride upon it and dissolvest my substance 23. For I know that thou wilt being me to death and to the house appointed for all living 24. Howbeit he will not stretch out his hand to the grave though they cry in his destruction 25. Did not I weep for him that was in trouble was not my soul grieved for the poor 26. When I looked for good then evil came unto me and when I waited for light there came darkness 27. My bowels boiled and rested not the days of affliction prevented me 28. I went mourning without the sun I stood up and I cried in the congregation 29. I am a brother to dragons and a companion to owls 30. My skin is black upon me and my bones are burned with heat 31. My harp also is turned to mourning and my organ to the voice of them that weep 1. I made a covenant with my eyes why then should I think upon a maid 2. For what