and that on t' other Seed Moves as they move and stayes when as they stay And seemes delighted in their infant-play Yet fearing danger with a busie eye Lookes here and there if ought she can espy Which unawares might snatch a booty from her Eyes all that passe and watches every commer Even so th' affection of this tender Syre B'ing made more fervent with the selfe-same â—â—re Of dearest love which flamed in their brests Preserved as by fuell in those Feasts Was ravisht in the height of joyes to see His happy Childrens ten-fold unity As was his joy such was his holy feare Lest he that plants his Engines every where Baited with golden Sinnes and re-insnares The soule of Man turning his Wheat to Tares Should season Error with the taste of Truth And tempt the frailty of their tender youth No sooner therefore had the dappled skie Opened the Twilight of her waking eye And in her breaking Light had promis'd day But up he rose his holy hands did Iay Vpon the sacred Altar one by one An early Sacrifice for every Sonne For who can tell said he my Sonnes perchance Hâ—ve slipt some sinne which neither Ignorance Pleaded nor want of heed nor youth can cure Sin steales unseene when men sleep most secure Meditat. 1. WAnt is the badge of poverty Then he That wanteth most is the most poore say we The wretch that hunger drives from door to door Aiming at present Almes desires no more The toiling Swaine that hath with pleasing trouble Cockt a small fortune would that fortune double Which dearly bought with slav'ry then alas Hee would be deem'd a Man that 's well to passe Which got his mind 's now tickled with an itch But to deserve that glorious stile of Rich. That done h'enjoyes the crowne of all his labour Could he but once out-nose his right-hand-neighbourâ— Lives he at quiet now Now he begins To wish that Vs'ry were the least of sinnes But great or small he tries and sweet's the trouble And for its sake he wishes all things double Thus wishing still his wishes never cease But as his Wealth his Wishes still encrease Wishes proceed from want The richest then Most wishing want most and are poorest men If he be poore that wanteth much how poore Is he that hath too much and yet wants more Thrice happy he to whom the bounty of heaven Sufficient with a sparing hand hath given 'T is Grace not Gold makes great sever but which The Rich man is but poore the Poore man rich The fairest Crop of either Grasse or Graine Is not for use undew'd with timely raine The wealth of Croesus were it to be given Were not thank-worthy if unblest by Heaven Even as faire Phaebe in Diameter Earth interpos'd betwixt the Sunne and her Suffers Eclips and is disrobed quite During the time of all her borrowed Light So Riches which fond Mortals so embrace If not enlightned with the Beames of Grace B'ing interposed with too grosse a Care They lye obscured and no riches are My stint of Wealth lyes not in my expressing With Iacobs Store Lord give me Iacobs Blessing Or if at night thou grant me Lazars Boone Let Dives Dogs licks all my sores at noone Lord pare my wealth by my Capacity Lest I with it or it suit not with mee This humbly doe I sue for at thy hand Enough and not too much for my command Lord what thou lend'st shall serve but in the place Of reckoning Counters to summe up thy Grace THE ARGVMENT Satan appeares and then professes Himselfe mans Enemy confesses Gods love to Iob malignes his Faith Gaines power over all he hath Sect. 2. VPon a time when heaveÌ„s sweet quire of Saints Whose everlasting Hallelujah chaunts The highest praise of their celestiall King Before their Lord did the presentment bring Of th' execution of his sacred Will Commited to their function to fulfill Satan came too that Satan which betraid The soule of man to Deaths eternall shade Satan came too and in the midst he stands Like to a Vulture 'mongst a herd of Swans Said then th' Eternall From what quarter now Hath businesse brough thee Satan whence com'st thou The Lord of Heaven said th' Infernall since Thou hast intitled me the Worlds great Prince I hâ—ve beene practising mine old profession And come from compassing my large Possession Tempting thy sonnes and like a roaring Lion Seeking my prey disturbe the peace of Sion I come from sâ—wing Tares among thy Wheat To him that shall dissemble Peters seat I have beene plotting how to prompt the death Of Christian Princes and the bribed breath Of cheapned Iustice hath my fire inflam'd With spirit of boldnesse for a while unsham'd I come from planting strife and sterne debate 'Twixt private man and man 'twixt State and State Subverting Truth with all the power I can Accusing Man to God and God to Man I daily sâ—w fresh Schismes among thy Saints I buffet them and laugh at their complaints The Earth is my Dominion Hell 's my Home I round the World and so from thence I come Said then th' Eternall True thou hast not fail'd Of what thou say'st thy spirit hath prevail'd To vexe my little Flocke Thou hast beene bold To make them stray a little from their Fold Bâ—t say In all thy hard Adventures hath Thine eye observed Iob my Servants faith Hath open force or secret fraud beset His Bulwarkes so impregnable as yet And hast thou without envy yet beheld How that the World his second cannot yeeld Hast thou not found that he 's of upright will Iust fearing God â—schewing what is ill True Lord reply'd the Fiend thy Champion â—â—th A strong and fervent yet a crafty Faith A forced love needs no such great applause He loves but ill that loves not for a cause Hast thou not heap'd his Garners with excesse Inricht his Pastures Doth not he possesse All that he hath or can demand from Thee His Coffers fill'd his Land stock'd plenteouâ—â—y Hath not thy love surrounded him about â—And â—edg'd him in to fence my practice out But small 's the triall of a Faith in this â—f thou suppâ—rt him t is thy strength not hisâ— Can then my power that stands by thy permission Encounter where Thou mak'st an Opposition Stretch forth thy Hand and smite 〈◊〉 what he hath And prove thou then the temper of his Faith Cease cock'ring his fond humour veile thy Grace No doubt but he 'll blaspheme thee to thy fâ—â—c Lâ—e said th' Eternall to thy cursed hand I â—ere commit his mighty Stocke his Land His hopefull Issue and Wealth though nere so much Himselfe alone thou shalt forbeare to touch Medita 2. SAâ—an beg'd once and found his pray'rs reward We often beg yet oft returne unheard If granting be th' effect of love then we Conclude our selves to be lesse lov'd than hee True Satan beg'd and beg'd his shame no lesse 'T was granted shall we envie his successe We beg and our request 's perchance not granted
Now when as Time had fitted ev'ry thing By course these Virgins came before the King Such was the custome of the Persian soyle Sixe months the Virgins bath'd in Myrâ—h Oyle Sixe months perfum'd in change of odours sweet That perfect lust and great excesse may meet What costly Robes rare Iewels rich attire Or curious Fare these Virgins did desire 'T was given and freely granted when they bring Their bodies to be prostrate to the King Each Virgin keepes her turne and all the night They lewdly lavish in the Kings delight And soone as â—orning shall restore the day They in their bosomes beare blacke night away And in their guilty breasts as are their sinnes Close prisoners in the house of Concubines Remaine untill the satiate King shall please To lend their pamper'd bodyes a râ—lease Now when the turne of Ester was at hand To satisfie the wanton Kings command Shee â—ought not as the rest with brave attire To lend a needlesse spurre t' unchast Desire Nor yet endeavours with a whorish Grace T'adulterate the beautie of her face Nothing she sought to make her glory braver But simply tooke what gentle Hege gave her Her sober â—â—sage daily wan her honour Each wandring eye inflam'd that look'd upon her Meditat. 5. WHen God had with his Al-producing Blast Blown up the bubble of the World plac't In order that which he had made in measure As well for necessary use as pleasure Then out of earthy mould he fram'd a creature Farre more Divine and of more glorious feature Than earst he made indu'd with understanding With strength victorious with awe commanding With Reason Wit repleate with Majesty With heavenly knowledge and Capacity True embleme of his Maker Him he made The sov'raigne Lord of all Him all obay'd Yeelding their lives as tribute to their King Both Fish and Bird and Beast and every thing His body 's rear'd upright and in his eye Stand radient beames of awfull sov'raignty All Creatures else poâ—e downward to the ground Man looks to heaven and all his thoughts rebound Vpon the Earth where tydes of pleasures mecro He treads and daily tramples with his feete Which reade sweet Lectures to his wandring eyes And teach his lustfull heart to moralize Naked he liv'd nak'd to the world he came For he had then nor fault to hide nor shame His state was levell and he had free will To stand or fall unforc't to good or ill Man had such state he was created in Within his pow'r a power not to sinne But Man was tempted yeelded sinn'd and fell Abus'd his free will lost it then befell A worse succeeding state who was created Complete is now become poore blinde and naked He 's drawne with head-strong bias unto ill Bereft of active pow'r to will or nill A blessed Saint's become a balefull Devill His free-will's onely stinted now to evill Pleasure 's his Lord and in his Ladies eyes His Christall Temple of devotion lyes Pleasures the white whereat he takes his levell Which too much wronged with the name of evill With best of blessings takes her lofty seat Greatest of goods and seeming best of great What 's good like Iron rusts for want of use And what is bad is worsed with abuse Pleasure whose apt and right ordained end Is but to sweeten labour and attend The frailty ' of man is now preferr'd so hie To be his Lord and beare the sov'raignty Ruling his slavish thoughts ignoble actions And gaines the conquest of his best affections Sparing no cost to bolster up delight But force vaine pleasures to unwonted height ¶ Who addes excesse unto a lustfull heart Commits a costly sin with greater Art THE ARGVMENT Ester's belov'd wedded crown'd A Treason Mordecai betrai'd The Trailors are pursu'd and â—ound And for that treason well appaid Sect. 6. NOw now the time is come faire Ester must Expose her beauty to the Letchers lust Now now must Ester stake her honour downe And hazzard Chastity to gaine a Crowne Gone gone she is attended to the Court And spends the evening in the Princes sport As when a Lady walking Flora's Bowre Picks here a Pincke and there a Gilly-flowre Now plucks a Vi'let from her purple bed And then a Primerose the yeares maiden-head There nips the Bryar here the Lovers Pauncy Shifting her dainty pleasures with her Fancy This on her arme and that she liâ—ts to weare Vpon the borders of her curious haire At length a Rose-bud passing all the rest She plucks and bosomes in her Lilly brest So when Assuerus tickled with delight Perceiv'd the beauties of those virgins bright He lik't them all but when with strict revye He viewed 〈◊〉 face his wounded eye Sparkl'd whilst Cupid with his youthfull Dart Transfixt the Center of his feeble heart Ester is now his joy and in her eyes The sweetest flower of his Garland lyes Who now but Ester Ester crownes his blisse And hee 's become her prisoner that was his Ester obtaines the prize her high desert Like Di'mond's richly mounted in his heart Iô now Iô Hymen sings for shee That crownes his joy must likewise crowned bee The Crowne is set on Princely Esters head Ester sits Queene in scornefull Voshties stead To consecrate this Day to more delights In due solemnizing the nuptiall rites In Esters name Assuerus made a Feast Invited all his Princes and releast The hard taxation that his heavy hand Laid on the subjects of his groning Land No rights were wanting to augment his joyes Great gifts confirm'd the bounty of his choyce Yet had not Esters lavish tongue descri'd Her Iewish kin or where she was aly'd For still the words of Mordecai did rest Within the Cabbin of her Royall breast Who was as pliant being now a Queene To sage advice as ere before sh 'ad beene It came to passe as Mardochaeus sate Within the Portall of the Princes gate He over-heard two servants of the King Closely combin'd in hollow whispering Like whistling Notus that foretels a raine To breathe out treason 'gainst their Soveraigne Which soone as loyall Mardochaeus heard Forthwith to Esters presence he repair'd Disclos'd to her and to her care commended The Traitors and the treason they intended Whereat the Queene impatient of delay Betraid the Traitors that would her betray And to the King unbosom'd all her heart And who her Newes-man was and his desert Now all on hurly-burly was the Court All tongues were fill'd with wonder and report The watch was set pursuit was made about To guard the King and finde the Traitors out Who found and guilty found by speedy tryall Where witnesse speaks what boots a bare deniall Were both hang'd up upon the shamefull tree To beare such fruit let trees ne're barren be And what successe this happy Day afforded Was in the Persian Chronicles recorded Meditat. 6. THe hollow Concave of a humane brest Is Gods Exchequer and therein the best And summe of all his chiefest wealth consists Which he shuts up and opens when
the God of Love's as blinde as hee 〈◊〉 that they brought poore Samson to the Hall 〈◊〉 as he past he gropes to finde the wall 〈◊〉 paâ—â— was slow His feet were lifted high 〈◊〉 tongue would taunt him Every scornfull eye 〈◊〉 filld with laughter Some would cry aloud 〈◊〉 in state His Lordship is growne proud 〈◊〉 bid his honour â—asle whilst others cast â—prochfull termes upon him as he past 〈◊〉 would salute him fairely and embrace 〈◊〉 wounded sides then spit upon his face 〈◊〉 would cry For shame for heare t' abuse 〈◊〉 high and great redeemer of the Iewes 〈◊〉 gibe and flout him with their taunts quip◠〈◊〉 others flurt him on the starting lips 〈◊〉 that poore Samson whose abundant griefe 〈…〉 hopes of comfort or reliefe Resolv'd for patience Turning round he made Some shift to feele his Keeper out and said Good Sir my painfull labour in the Mill Hath made me bold although against my will To crave some little rest If you will please To let the Pillour but afford some ease To my worne limmes your mercy should relieve A soule that has no more but thanks to give The keeper yeelded Now the Hall was filld With Princes and their People that beheld Abused Samson whilst the Roofe retain'd A leash of thousands more whose eyes were chainâ—â— To this sad Object with a full delight To see this flesh-and-blood-relenting sight With that the pris'ner turnd himselfe and pray'd So soft that none but heaven could heare and saidâ— My God my God Although my sinnes doe cry For greater vengeance yet thy gratious eye Is full of mercy O remember now The gentle promise and that sacred vow Thou mad'st to faithfull Abram and his seed O heare my wounded soule that has lesse need Of life then mercy Let thy tender eare Make good thy plenteous promise now and heare See how thy cursed enemies prevaile Above my strength Behold how poore and fraile My native power is and wanting thee What is there Oh what is there Lord in me Nor is it I that suffer My desert May challenge greater vengeance if thou wert â—xtreme to punish Lord the wrong is thine The punishment is just and onely mine I am thy Champion Lord It is not me They strike at Through my sides they thrust at thee 〈◊〉 thy Glory 't is their Malice lies 〈◊〉 at that when they put out these eyes 〈◊〉 their blood-bâ—dabl'd hands would flie 〈…〉 thou but cloth'd in flesh as I 〈◊〉 thy wrongs great God O let thy hand 〈◊〉 thy suffring honour and this land 〈◊〉 â—e thy power Renew my wasted strength 〈…〉 fight thy bâ—ttels and at length 〈◊〉 thy glory that my hands may do 〈◊〉 faithfull service they were borne unto 〈…〉 thy power that I may restore 〈◊〉 and I will never urge thee more 〈◊〉 having ended both his armes he laid 〈◊〉 the pillours of the Hall and said 〈◊〉 with the Philistines I resigne my breath 〈◊〉 let my God finde Glory in my death 〈◊〉 having spoke his yeelding body strain'd 〈◊〉 those Marble pillours that sustain'd 〈◊〉 pondrous Roofe They cracket and with their fall 〈◊〉 fell the Battlements and Roofe and all 〈◊〉 with their ruines slaughter'd at a blow 〈◊〉 whole Assembly They that were below 〈◊〉 their sudden deaths from those that fell 〈◊〉 off the top whilst none was left to tell 〈◊〉 horrid shreckes that filld the spatious Hall 〈◊〉 ruines were impartiall and slew all 〈◊〉 fell and with an unexpected blow 〈◊〉 every one his death and buriall too Thus di'd our Samson whose brave death has won 〈◊〉 honour then his honourd life had done 〈◊〉 di'd our Conquerour whose latest breath 〈◊〉 crown'd with Conquest triumph'd over death 〈◊〉 di'd our Sampson whose last drop of blood â—deem'd heavn's glory and his Kingdome 's good Thus di'd heavens Champion and the earths bright Glory The heavenly subject of this sacred Story And thus th' impartiall hand of death that gathers All to the Grave repos'd him with his fathers Whose name shall flourish and be still in prime In spight of ruine or the teeth of Time Whose fame shal last till heaven shal please to free This Earth from Sinne and Time shall cease to be Medita 23. WAges of sinne is death The day must come Wherin the equall hand of death must sum The severall Items of mans fading glory Into the easie totall of one Story The browes that sweat for Kingdomes and renown To glorifie their Temples with a Crowne At length grow cold and leave their honourd name To flourish in th' uncertaine blast of Fame This is the heighth that glorious Mortalls can Attaine This is the highest pitch of Man The quilted Quarters of the Earths great Ball Whose unconfined limits were too small For his extreame Ambition to deserve Six foote of length and three of bredth must serve This is the highest pitch that Man can flie And after all his Triumph he must die Lives he in Wealth Does well deserved store Limit his wish that he can wish no more And does the fairest bounty of encrease Crown him with plenty and his dayes with peaceâ— It is a right hand blessing But supply Of wealth cannot secure him He must die Lives he in Pleasure Does perpetuall mirth 〈◊〉 him a little Heaven upon his earth â—eets he no sullen care no sudden losse 〈◊〉 coole his joyes Breathes hee without a crosse â—ants he no pleasure that his wanton eye 〈◊〉 crave or hope from fortune He must dye 〈◊〉 he in Honour Hath his faire desart â—â—tain'd the freedome of his Princes heart 〈◊〉 may his more familiar hands disburse 〈◊〉 liberall favors from the royall purse 〈◊〉 his Honour cannot soare too high 〈◊〉 palefac'd death to follow He must dye Lives he a Conqu'rour And doth heaven blesse 〈◊〉 heart with spirit that spirit with successe Successe with Glory Glory with a name To live with the Eternitie of Fame The progresse of his lasting fame may vye With time But yet the Conquerour must dye Great and good God Thou Lord of life and deth 〈◊〉 whom the Creature hath his being breath Teach me to underprize this life and I Shall finde my losse the easier when I dye So raise my feeble thoughts and dull desire That when these vaine and weary dayes expire I may discard my flesh with joy and quit My better part of this false earth and it Of some more sinne and for this transitory And tedious life enjoy a life of Glory The end SIONS SONETS Sung By SOLOMON the KING And PERIPHRAS'D By Fra. Quarles LONDON Printed by MILES FLESHER 1632. To the READERS REaders now you have them May the end of my paines be the beginâ—ing of your pleasures Excuse me for â—haring so high else give me leave to excuse my selfe Indeed I flew with Eagles feathers otherwise I had not flowne or falne It is the Song of Songs There present you with The Author King SOLOMON the wisest of Kings The matter mysticall the divinest of subjects
Prayers and complaints are rise Each one 's become an Orator for life The Windes above the waters underneath Ioyne in rebellion and conspire death The Seamens courage now begins to quaile Some ply the plump whilst others strike the â—aile Their hands are busie while their hearts despaire Their feares and dangers move their lips to praier They praid but winds did snatch their words away And lets their pray'rs not go to whom they pray But still they pray but still the wind and weather Do turn both ship prai'rs they know not whether Their gods were deafe their danger waxed greater They cast their wares out and yet ne're the better But all this while was Ionah drown'd in sleepe And in the lower decke was buried deepe Medita 2. BVt stay this was a strange and uncouth word Did Ionah flye the presence of the Lord What mister word is that He that repleats The mighty Vniverse whose lofty seat's Th' imperiall Heaven whose footstoole is the face Of massie Earth Can he from any place Be barr'd or yet by any meanes excluded That is in all things and yet not included Could Ionah finde a resting any where So void or secret that God was not there I stand amaz'd and frighted at this word Did Ionah flye the presence of the Lord Mount up to Heaven and there thou shalt discover The exc'lent glory of his kingly power Bestride the earth beneath with weary pace And there he beares the Olive branch of Grace Dive downe into th' extreme Abisse of Hell And there in Iustice doth th' Almighty dwell What secret Cloister could there then afford A screene'twixt faithlesse Ionah and his Lord ¶ â—onah was charg'd to take a charge in hand But Ionah turn'd his backe on Gods command Shooke off his yoke and wilfully neglected And what was strictly charg'd he quite rejected And so he fled the power of his Word And so he fled the presence of his Lord. ¶ Good God! how poore a thing is wretched man So fraile that let him strive the best he can With every little blast hee 's overdon If mighty Cedars of great Lebanâ—n Cannot the danger of the Axe withstand Lord how shall we that are but bushes stand How fond corrupt how senselesse is mankinde How faining deafe is he How wilfull blinde He stops his eares and sinnes he shuts his eyes And blindfold in the lap of danger flyes He sinnes despaires and then to stint his griefe He chuses death to baulke the God of life ¶ Poore wretched sinner travell where thou wilt Thy travell shall be burthen'd with thy guilt Climb tops of hils that prospects may delight thee There wil thy sins like wolves bears afright thee Fly to the vallies that those frights may shun thee And there like Mountains they will fall upon thee Or to the raging Seas with Ionah goe There will thy sinnes like stormy Neptune flow Poore shiftlesse Man what shall become of thee Wher'ere thou fly'st thy griping sinne will flee ¶ But all this while the ship where Ionah sleepes Is tost and torne and batter'd on the Deeps And well-nigh split upon the threatning Rocke With many a boistrous brush and churly knocke God helpe all desp'rate voyagers and keepe All such as feele thy wonders on the deepe THE ARGVMENT The Pilot thumps on Ionah's brest And rowzeth Ionah from his rest They all cast Lotts being sore afrighted The sacred Lott on Ionah lighted Sect. 3. THe amazed Pilot finding no successe But that the storme grew rather more than lesse For all their toilsome paines and needlesse praiers Despairing both of life and goods repaires To Ionahs drowsie Cabbin mainly cals Cals Ionah Ionah and yet lowder yawles Yet Ionah sleepes and gives a shrug or two And snores as greedy sleepers use to doe The wofull Pylot jogs him but in vaine Perchance he dreames an idle word or twaine At length he tugs and puls his heavy coarse And thunders on his brest with all his force But after many yawnes he did awake him And being both affrighted thus bespake him Arise O Sleeper O arise and 〈◊〉 There 's not a twiny thred'twixt death and thee This darkesome place thou measur'st is thy grave And sudden Death rides proud on yoâ—der wave Arise O sleeper O arise and pray Perhaps thy God will heare and not say Nay Repaire the losse of these our ill spent houres Perchance thy God's more powerfull than ours Heavens hand may cease and have compassion on us And turne away this mischiefe it hath done us The sturdy Saylors weary of their paine Finding their bootlesse labour lost and vaine Forbare their toilesome task and wrought no more Expecting Death for which they lookt before They call a parley and consult together They count their sinnes accusing one another That for his sinne or his this ill was wrought In fine they all proove guilty of the fault But yet the question was not ended so One sayes 'T was thine offence but he sayes No But 't was for thy sake that accuses me Râ—sht forth a third the worser of the three And swore it was anothers which he hearing Deny'd it 〈◊〉 and said 'T was thine for swearing In came a fift accusing all replying But little else they all chid him for lying One said it was another said 't was not So all agreed to stint the strife by Lott Then all was whist and all to prayer went For such a bus'nesse a fit complement The Lott was cast t'pleas'd God by Lots to tell The Lott was cast the Lott on Ionah fell Medita 3. O Sacred subjâ—ct of a Meditation Thy Workes O Lord are full of Admiration Thy judgements all are just severe and sure They quite cut off or else by lancing cure The festring sore of a rebellious heart Lest-foule infection taint th' immortall part How deepe a Lethargy doth this disease Bring to the slumbring soule through carelesse ease Which once being wak't as from a golden dreame Lookes up and sees her griefâ—s the more extreme How seeming sweet's the quiet sleepe of sin Which when a wretched man 's once nuzzled in How soundly sleepes he without feare or wit No sooner doe his armes infolded knit A drowzy knot upon his carelesse brest But there he snorts and snores in endlesse rest His eyes are closed fast and deafe his eares And like Endymion sleepes himselfe in yeares His sense-bound heart relents not at the voice Of gentle warning neither does the noise Of strong reproofe awake his sleeping eare Nor louder threatnings thunder makes him heare So deafe's the sinners eare so numb'd his sense That sinne 's no corrosive breeds no offence For custome brings delight deludes the heart Beguiles the sense and takes away the smart ¶ But stay Did one of Gods elected number Whose eies should never sleep nor eie lids â—luÌ„ber So much forget himselfe Did Ionah fleepe That should be watchfull and the Tower keepe Did Ionah the selected mouth of God In stead of roaring judgements does he nod Did
the grounds and how unstable How many Deities yet how unable Implore these gods that list to howle and barke They bow to Dagon Dagon to the Arke But hee to whom the seale of mercy 's given Adores Iehovah the Great God of Heaven Vpon the mention of whose sacred Name Meeke Lambs grow fierce the fierce Lions tame Bright Sol shall stop heaven shal turn his course Mountains shall dance and Neptune slake his force The Seas shall part the fire want his flame Vpon the mention of Iâ—hovah's Name A Name that makes the roofe of Heaven to shake The frame of Earth to quiver Hell to quake A Name to which all Angels blow their Trumps A Name puts frolicke man into his dumps Though ne're so blythe A Name of high renown It mounts the meeke and beats the loftie downe A Name divides the marrow in the bone A Name which out of hard and flintiâ— stone Extracteth hearts of flesh and makes relent Those hearts that never knew what mercy ment O Lord how great 's thy Name in all the Land How mighty are the wonders of thy hand How is thy glory plac't above the heaven To tender mouthes of Sucklings thou hast given Coercive pow'r and boldnesse to reproove When elder men doe what them not behoove O Lord how great 's the power of thine hand O God! how great 's thy Name in all the Land THE ARGVMENT The Prophet doth his fault discover Perswadeâ— the men to cast him over They row and toyle but doe no good They pray to be excus'd from blood Sect. 5. SO Ionah fram'd this speech to their demand Not that I seeke to traverse the command Of my deare Lord and out of minde perverse T' avoid the Ninivites doe I amerâ—e My selfe Nor that I ever heard you threat Vnlesse I went to Niniveh the great And doe the message sent her from the Lord That you would kill or cast me over-boord Doe I doe thiâ— 'T is my deserved fine You all are guiltlesse and the fault is mine T is I ' tâ—â— I alone 't is I am he The tempest comes from heaven the cause from me You shall not lose a haire â—or this my sâ—â— Nor perish for the fault that mine hath bin Lo I the man am here Lâ— I am he The root of all End your revenâ—e on me I fled th' Eternall God O let me then Because I fled my God so flie from men Redeeme your lives with mine Ah why should I Not guiltlesse live and you not guilty die I am the man for whom these billowes dance My death shall purchase your deliverance Feare not to cease your feares but throw me in Alas my soule is burthen'd with my sin And God is just and bent to his Decree Which certaine is and cannot alter'd be I am proclaim'd a Traitor to the King Of heaven an earth The windes with speedy wing Acquaint the Seas The Seas mount up on high And cannot rest untill the Traytor die Oh cast me in and let my life be ended Let Death make Iustice mends which Life offended Oh let the swellinâ— waters me enbalme So shall the Waves be still and Sea be calme So said th' amazed Mariners grew sad New Love abstracted what old Feare did adde Love called Pity Feare call'd vengeance in Love view'd the Sinner Feare beheld the Sin Love cry'd out Hold for better sav'd than spil'd But Feare cry'd Kill O better kill than kill'd Thus plung'd with Passions they distracted were Betwixt the hopes and doubts of Love and Feare Some cry'd out Save if this foule deed we doe Vengeance that haunted him will haunt us too Others cry'd No May rather death befall To one that hath deserv'd to dye then all Save him sayes one Oh save the man that thus His dearest blood hath profer'd to save us No sayes another vengeance must have blood And vengeance strikes most hard when most withstood In fine say all Then let the Prophet die And we shall live For Prophets cannot lye Loth to be guilty of their owne yet loth To haste poore Ionahs death with hope that both Th' approching evils might be at once prevented With prayers and paines reutter'd reattented They try'd new wayes despairing of the old Love quickens courage makes the spirits bold They strove in vaine by toile to win the shore And wrought more hard than erâ—e they did before But now both hands and hearts begin to quaile For bodies wanting rest must faint and faile The Seas are angry and the waves arise Appeas'd with nothing but a Sacrifice Gods vengeance stormeth like the raging Seas Which nought but Ionah dying can appease Fond is that labour which attempts to free What Heaven hath bound by a divine decree Ionah must die Heaven hath decreed it so Ionah must die or else they all die too Ionah must die that from his Lord did flie The Lott determines Ionah then must die His guilty word confirmes the sacred Lott Ionah must die then if they perish not If Iustice then appoint since he must die Said they us Actors of â—is Tragedy We beg not Lord a warrant to offend O pardon blood-shed that we must intend Though not our hands yet shall our hearts be cleare Then let not stainlesse consciences beare The pond'rous burden of a Murders guilt Or pay the price of blood that must be spilt For 〈◊〉 deare Lord it is thine owne decree And we sad ministers of Iustice be Meditat. 5. BVt stay a while this thing would first be known Can Ionah give himselfe and not his owne That part to God and to his Countrey this Pertaines so that a slender third is his Why then should Ionah doe a double wrong To deale himselfe away that did belong The least unto himselfe or how could hee Teach this Thou shalt not kill if Ionah be His life 's owne Butcher What was this a deed That with the Calling he profest agreed The purblinde age whose workes almost divine Did meerely with the oyle of Nature shine That knew no written Law nor Grace nor God To whip their conscience with a steely rod How much did they abhorre so foule a fact When led by Natures glimpse they made an act Selfe-murderers should be deny'd to have The charitable honour of a Grave Can such doe so when Ionah does amisse What Ionas Isr'els Teacher and doe this The Law of Charity doth all forbid In this thing to doe that which Ionah did Moreo're in charity 't is thy behest Of dying men to thinke and speake the best The mighty Samson did as much as this And who dare say that Samson did amisse If heavens high Spirit whisper'd in his eare Expresse command to doe 't No wavering feare Drew backe the righteous Abram's armed hand From Isaacks death secur'd by heavens command ¶ Sure is the knot that true Religion tyes And Love that 's rightly grounded never dyes It seemes a paradoxe beyond beliefe That men in trouble should prolong reliefe That Pagans to withstand a
first descend before the ball rebound It must be throwne with force against the ground The seed increases not in fruitfull eares Nor can she reare the goodly stalke she beares Vnlesse bestrow'd upon a mould of earth And made more glorious by a second birth So man before his wisedome can bring forth The brave exploits of truly noble worth Or hope the granting of his sinnes remission He must be humbl'd â—â—rst in sad contrition The plant through want of skill or by neglect If it be planted from the Sunnes reflect Or lacke the dew of seasonable showres Decayes and beareth neither fruit nor flowres So wretched Man if his repentance hath No quickning Sun-shine of a liuely Faith Or not bedew'd with showres of timely teares Or workes of mercy wherein Faith appeares His prayers and deeds and all his forced groanes Are like the howles of dogs and works of Drones The wise Chirurgeon first by letting blood Weakens his Patient ere he does him good Before the Soule can a true comfort finde The body must be prostrate and the minde Truly repentive and contrite within And loathe the fawning of a bosome sin But Lord Can Man deserve Or can his best Doe Iustice equall right which he transgrest When Dust and Ashes mortally offends Can Dust and Ashes make eternall mends Is Heaven unjust Must not the recompence Be full equivalent to the offence What mends by mortall Man can then be given To the offended Majesty of Heaven O Mercy Mercy on thee my Soule relyes On thee we build our Faith we bend our eyes Thou fill'st my empty strain thou fill'st my tongue Thou art the subject of my Swan-like song Like pinion'd pris'ners at the dying tree Our lingring hopes attend and wait on thee Arrain'd at Iustice barre prevent our doome To thee with joyfull hearts wee cheerly come Thou art our Clergy Thou that dearest Booke Wherein our fainting eyes desire to looke In thee we trust to read what will release us In bloody Characters that name of IESVS ¶ What shall we then returne the God of heaven Where nothing is Lord nothing can be given Our soules our bodies strength and all our pow'rs Alas were all too little were they ours Or shall wee burne untill our life expires An endlesse Sacrifice in Holy fires ¶ My Sacrifice shall bee my HEART intire My Christ the Altar and my Zeale the Fire THE ARGVMENT The Prophet discontented praye To God that he would end his dayes God blames his wrath so unreprest Reproves his unadvis'd request Sect 11. BVt this displeasing was in Ionah's eyes His heart grew hot his blood began to rise His eyes did sparkle and his teeth strucke fire His veines did boyle his heart was full ire At last brake forth into a strange request These words he pray'd and mumbl'd out the rest Was not O was not this my though O Lord Before I fled Nay was not this my word The very word my jealous language vented When this mis-hap might well have beene prevented Was there O was there not a just suspect My preaching would procure this effect For Lord I knew of old thy tender love I knew the pow'r thou gav'st my tongue would move Their Adamantine hearts I knew 't would thaw Their frozen spirits and breed relenting awe I knew great God upon their true repentance That thou determin'dst to reverse thy sentence For well I knew thou were a gracious God Of long forbearance slow to use the Rod I knew the power of thy Mercies bent The strength of all thy other workes outwent I knew the tender kindnesse and how loath Thou wert to punish and how slow to wrath Turning by Iudgements and thy plagues preventing Thy minde rever sing and of ev'll repenting Therefore O therefore upon this perswasion I fled to Tarshish there to make evasion To save thy credit Lord to save mine owne For when this blast of zeale is over-blowne And sackcloth left and they surcease to mourne When they like dogs shall to their vomit turne They 'll vilipend thy Sacred Word and scoffe it Saying was that a God or this a Prophet They 'll scorne thy judgements and thy threats despise And call thy Prophets Messengers of lyes Now therefore Lord bow downe attentive eare For ah my burthen's more than flâ—sh can beare Make speed O Lord and banish all delayes T' extinguish now the Taper of my dayes Let not the minutes of my time extend But let my wretched houres finde an end Let not my fainting spirits longer stay In this fraile mansion of distempered clay The threds but weake my life depends upon O cut that thred and let my life be done My brest stands faire strike then and strike againe For nought but dying can asswage my paine O may I rather dye than live in shame Better it is to leave and yeeld the game Than toyle for what at length must needs be lost O kill me for my heart is sore imbost This latter boone unto thy servant give For better 't is for me to dye than live So wretched Ionah But Iehovah thus What boot's it so to storme outragious Becomes it thus my servants heart to swell Can anger helpe thee Ionah dost thou well Medita 12. HOw poore a thing is maÌ„ How vain 's his mind How straÌ„ge how base wav'ring like the wind How uncouth are his wayes how full of danger How to himselfe is hee himselfe a stranger His heart 's corrupt and all his thoughts are vaine His actions sinfull and his words prophane His will 's deprav'd his senses are beguil'd His reason 's darke his members all defil'd His hasty feet are swift and prone to ill His guilty hands are ever bent to kill His tongue 's a spunge of venome or of worse Her practice is to sweare his skill to curse His eyes are fire-bals of lustfull fire And outward helps to inward foule desire His body is a well-erected station But full of folly and corrupted passion Fond love and raging lust and foolish feares Griefes overwhelmed with immoderate teares Excessive joy prodigious desire Vnholy anger red and hot as fire These daily clog the soule that 's fast in prison From whose encrease this lucklesse bâ—ood is risen Respectlesse pride and lustfull idlenesse Base ribbauld talke and loathsome drunkennesse Faithlesse Despaire and vaine Curiosity Both false yet double-tongu'd Hypocrisie Soft flattery and haughty-ey'd Ambition Heart-gnawing Hatred and squint-ey'd Suspition Selfe-eating Enâ—y envious Detraction Hopelesse distrust and too-too sad Dejection Revengefull Malice hellish Blasphemy Idolatry and light Inconstancy Daring Presumption wry-mouth'd Derisson Damned Apostasie Fond superstition ¶ What heedfull watch Ah what continuall ward How great respect and howerly regard Stands man in hand to have when such a brood Of furious hel-hounds seeke to suck his blood Day night and hower they rebell and wrastle And never cease till they subdue the Castle ¶ How slight a thing is man how fraile and brittle How seeming great is he How truly little
heart and sucke thy blood Beware betimes lest custome and permission Prescribe a title and so claime possession ¶ Despairing man whose burthen makes thee stoop Vnder the terror of thy sinnes and droop Through dull despaire whose too too sullen griefe Makes heav'n unable to apply reliefe Whose eares are dull'd with noyse of whips and chaines And yels of damned soules through tort'red pains Come here and rouze thy selfe unâ—eele those eyes Which sad Despaire clos'd up Arise Arise And goe to Nineveh the worlds great Palace Earths mighty wonder and behold the Ballace And burthen of her bulke is nought but sin Which wilfull she commits and wallowes in Behold her Images her fornications Her crying sinnes her vile abominations Behold the guiltlesse blood that she did spill Like Spring-tides in the streets and reeking still Behold her scorching lusts and taint desier Like sulph'rous Aetna blaze and blaze up higher She rapes and rends and theeves there is none Can justly call the thing he hath his owne That sacred Name of God that Name of wonder In stead of worshipping she teares in sunder She 's not enthrall'd to this Sin or another But like a Leper's all infected over Not onely sinfull but in sinnes subjection Shee 's not infected but a meere infection No sooner had the Prophet Heav'ns great Spy Begun an onset to his lowder Cry But she repented sigh'd and wept and tore Her curious hayre and garments that she wore She sate in ashes and with Sack-cloth clad her All drencht in brine that griefe cannot be sadder She calls a Fast proclames a prohibition To man and beast sad tokens of contrition No sooner pray'd but heard No sooner groan'd But pittied No sooner griev'd but moan'd Timely Repentance speedy grace procur'd The sore that 's salvd in time is eas'ly cur'd No sooner had her trickling teares ore-flowne Her blubber'd cheeks but heav'n was apt to mone Her pensive heart wip'd her suffused eyes And gently strok'd her cheekes and bid her rise No faults were seene as if no fault had bin Deare Mercy made a Quittance for her sin ¶ Malfido rouze thy leaden spirit bestirre thee Hold up thy drouzy head here 's comfort for thee What if thy zeale be frozen hard What then Thy Saviours blood will thaw that frost agen Thy pray'rs that should be servent hot as fier Proceed but coldly from a dull desier What then Grieve inly But do not dismay Who heares thy pray'rs will give thee strength to pray Though left a while thou art not quite giv'n ore Where Sinne abounds there Grace abounâ—eth more This this is all the good that I can doe thee To ease thy griefe I here commend unto thee A little booke but a great Mystery A great delight A little History A little branch slipt from a saving tree But bearing fruit as great as great mought be A small abridgement of thy Lords great love A message sent from heaven by a Dove It is a heavenly Lecture that relates To Princes Pastors People all Estates Their sev'rall duties ¶ Peruse it well and binde it to thy brest The rests the Cause of thy defect of rest But read it often or else read it not Once read is not observ'd and soone forgot Nor is 't enough to read but understand Or else thy tongue for want of wit 's prophan'd Nor is 't enough to purchase knowledge by it Salve heales no sore unlesse the party ' apply it Apply it then which if thy flesh restraines Strive what thou canst pray for what remaines The particular Application ¶ THen thou that art opprest with sad Despaire Here shalt thou see the strong effect of pray'r Then pray with faith servent without ceasing Like Iacob wrestle till thou get a blessing ¶ Here shalt thou see the type of Christ thy Saviour Then let thy suits be through his name and favour ¶ Here shalt thou finde repentance and true griefe Of sinners like thy selfe and their beliefe Then suit thy griefe to theirs and let thy soule Cry mightily untill her wounds be whole ¶ Here shalt thou see the meeknesse of thy God Who on Repentance turnes and burnes the Rod Repents of what he purpos'd and is sorry Here may ye heare him stoutly pleading for ye Then thus shall be thy meed if thou repent In stead of plagues and direfull punishment Thou shalt find mercy love and Heav'ns applause And God of Heav'n himselfe will plead thy cause ¶ Here hast thou theÌ„ compil'd within this treasure First the Almighties high and just displeasure Against foule sinne or such as sinfull be Or Prince or poore or high or low degree ¶ Here is descri'd the beaten Road to Faith ¶ Here maist thou see the force that Preaching hath ¶ Here is describ'd in briefe but full expression The nature of a Convert and his passion His sober Dyet which is thin and spare His clothing which is Sack-cloth and his Prayre Not faintly sent to heaven nor spatingly But piercing â—ervent and a mighty cry ¶ Here maist thou see how Pray'r true repeÌ„tance Do strive with God prevaile and turn his sentence From strokes to stroking from plagues infernall To boundlesse Mercies and to life Eternall ¶ Till Zephyr lend my Barke a second Gale I slip mine Anchor and I strike my saile FINIS O dulcis Salvator Mundi ultima verba quae tu dixisti in Cruce sint ultima mea verba in Luce quando amplius effari non possum exaudi tu cordis mei desiderium A HYMNE to GOD. WHo gives me then an Adamantine quill A marble tablet And a Davids skill To blazon forth the praise of my deare Lord In deepe-grav'n Characters upon record To last for times etcâ—nall processe suer So long as Sunne and Moone and Starres endure Had I as many mouthes as Sands there are Had I a nimble tongue for every Starre And every word I speake a Character And every minutes time ten Ages were To chaunt forth all thy prayse it no'te availe For tongues words and time and all would faile Much lesse can I poore Weakling tune my tongue To take a taske befits an Angels song Sing what thou canst when thou canst sing no more Weepe then as fast that thou canst sing no more Beblurre thy booke with teares and go thy wayes For every blurre will prove a booke of prayse Thine eye that viewes the moving Spheares above Let it give praise to him that makes them move Thou riches hast Thy hands that hold have them Let them give praise to him that freely gave them Thine armes defend thee then for recompence Let them praise him that gave thee such defence Thy tongue was given to praise thy Lord the Giver Then let thy tongue praise highest God for ever Faith comes by hearing thy Faith will save thee TheÌ„ let thine cars prais him that hearing gave thee Thy bea rt is beg'd by him whose hands did make it My Sonne Give me thy Heart Lord freeâ—y take
it Eyes â—ands and armes tongues eares and hearts of men Sing praise and let the people say Amen ¶ Tune you your Instruments and let them vary Praise him upon them in his Sanctuary Praise him within the highest Firmament Which shewes his Power and his Government Praise him for all his mighty Acts are knowne And suit thy praises to his high Renowne Praise him with Trump victorious shrill sharpe With Psaltry lowd and many-stringed Harpe With sounding Timbrell and the warbling Flute With Musicks full Interpreter the Lute Praise him upon the Maiden Virginalls Vpon the Clerick Organs and Cymballs Vpon the sweet Majestick Vyalls touch Double your joyes and let your prayse be such Let all in whom is life and breath give praise To heav'ns eternall God in endlesse dayes Let every Soule to whom a voyce is given Sing Holy Holy Holy Lord of Heaven For loe a Lambe is found that undertooke To break the seven-fold-Seale ope the BOOK◠¶ O let my life adde number to my dayes To shew thy glory and to sing thy praise Let every minute in thy praise be spent Let every head be bare and knee be bent To thee deare Lambe Who ere thy praises hide Clos'd be his Lippes and tongue for ever ty'de Hallelujah Gloria DEO in excelsis ELEVEN PIOVS Meditations 1. ¶ WIthin the holy Legend I discover Three speciall Attributes of God his Power His Iustice and his Mercy All uncreated Eternall all and all unseparated From Gods pure Essence and from thence proceeding All very God All perfect All exceeding And from that selfe-same text three names I gather Of great lehova Lord and God and Father The first denotes him mounted on his Throne In Power Majesty Dominion The second shewes him on his kingly Bench Rewarding Evill with equall punishments The third describes him on his Mercy-seat Full great in Grace and in his Mercy great ¶ All three I worship and before all three My heart shall humbly prostrate with my knee But in my private choice I fancy rather Then call him Lord or God to call him Father 2. ¶ IN hell no Life in heaven no Death there is In earth both Life and Death both Bale and Blis In Heaven 's all Life no end nor new supplying In hell 's all Death and yet there is no dying Earth like a partiall Ambidexter doth Prepare for Death or Life prepares for both Who lives to sinne in Hell his portion 's given Who dyes to sinne shall after live in Heaven ¶ Though Earth my Nurse be Heaven bee thou my Father Ten thousand deaths let me endure rather Within my Nurses armes then One to Thee Earths honour with thy frownes is death to mee I live on Earth as on a Stage of sorrow Lord if thou pleasest end the Play to morrow I live on Earth as in a Dreame of pleasure Awake me when thou wilt I wait thy leisure I live on Earth but as of life bereaven My life 's with thee for Lord thou art in Heaven 3. NOthing that e'r was made was made for nothing Beasts for thy food their skins were for thy clothing Flowers for thy smell and â—earbs for Cure good Trees for thy shade Their Fruit for pleasing Food The showers fall upon the fruitfull ground Whose kindly Dew makes tender Grasse abound The Grasse springs forth for beasts to feed upon And Beasts are food for Man but Man alone Is made to serve his Lord in all his wayes And be the Trumpet of his Makers praise ¶ Let Heav'n be then to me obdure as brasse The Earth as iron unapt for graine or grasse Then let my Flocks consume and never steed mee Let pinching Famine want wherewith to feed mee When I forget to honour thee my Lord Thy glorious Attributes thy Workes thy Word O let the Trump of thine eternall Fame Teach us to answer Hallow'd be thy Name 4. ¶ GOd built the World and all that therein is He framed yet how poore a part is his Quarter the Earth and see how small a rome Is stiled with the name of Christeâ— dome The rest through blinded ignorance rebels O're-runne with Pagans Turkes and Infidels Nor yet is all this little quarter his For though all know him halfe know him amisse Professing Chrâ—â—â— for lucre as they lâ—st And serve the triple Crowne of Anâ—â—â—hrist Yet is this little handfull much made lesser There 's many Lâ—â—ertines for one Prâ—fessour Nor doe Professours all professe aright ' Mong ' whom there often lurks an Hypocrite ¶ O where and what 's thy Kingdome blessed God Where is thy Scepter where 's thine iron Rod Reduce thy reck'nings to their totall summe O let thy Power and thy kingdome come 5. ¶ MAN in himselfe 's a little World Alone His Soul 's the Court or high Imperiall throne Wherein as Empresse sits the Vnderstanâ—ing Gently directing yet with awe Commanding Her Handmaid's will Affections Maids of Honour All following close and duely waiting on her But Sin that alwayes envi'd mans Condition Within this Kingdome raised up Division Withdrawne the Will and brib'd the false Affection That This no order hath nor That Election The Will proves Traitor to the Vnderstanding Reason hath lost her power and left commanding She 's quite depos'd and put to foule disgrace And Tyrant Passion now usurps her place ¶ Vouchsafe Lord in this little World of mine To raigne that I may raigne with Thee in thine And since my Will is quite of good bereaven Thy will be done in earth as 't is in Heaven 6 ¶ WHo live to sin are all but theeves to hearÌ„ And Earth They steale froÌ„ God take ungiveÌ„ Good men they rob such as live upright And being bastards share the freemans Right They 're all as owners in the owners stead And like to Dogs devoure the childrens bread They have and lacke and want that they possesse Vnhappy most in their most happinesse They are not goods but riches that they wast And not beâ—ng goods to ev'ls they turne at last ¶ Lord what I have let me enjoy in thee And thee in it or else take it from mee My store or want make thou or fade or flourish So shall my comforts neither change nor perish That little I enjoy Lord make it mine In making mee that am a Sinner thine 'T is thou or none that shall supply my need Great God Give us this day our daily bread 7. ¶ THe quick conceited Schoole-men doe approve A difference 'twixt Charity and Love Love is a vertue whereby we explaine Our selves to God and God to us againe But Charitie 's imparted to our Brother Whereby we trafficke one man with another The first extends to God The last belongs To Man in giving right and bearing wrongs In number they are twaine In vertue one For one not truely being t' other's none ¶ In loving God if I neglect my Neighbour My love hath lost his proofe and I my labour My Zeale my Faith my Hope that never failes me If
Charity be wanting nought a vailes me ¶ Lord in my Soule a spirit of Love create me And I will love my Brother if he hate me In nought but love let me envy my betters And then Forgive my debts as I my detters 8. ¶ I Finde a true resemblance in the growth Of Sin and Man A like in breeding both The Soul 's the Mother and the Devill Syer Who lusting long in mutuall desier Enjoy their Wils and joyne in Copulation The Seed that fils her wombe is foule Tentation The sinnes Conception is the Soules coâ—sent And then it quickens when it breeds content The birth of Sin is finisht in the action And Custome brings it to its full perfection ¶ O let my fruitlesse Soule be barren rather Then bring forth such a Child for such a Father Or if my Soule breed Sinne not being wary Let not her wombe bring forth or else miscarry She is thy Spouse O Lord doe thou advise her Keepe thou her chast Let not the Fiend entice her Try thou my heart Thy Trials bring Salvation But let me not be led into temptation 9. ¶ FOrtune that blinde supposed Goddesse is Still rated at if ought suceed amisse 'T is shee the vaine abuse of Providence That beares the blame wheÌ„ others make th' offence When this mans barne finds not her wonted store Fortun 's condâ—mn'd because she sent no more If this man dye or that man live too long Fortun 's accus'd and she hath done the wrong Ah foolish Dolls and like â—our Goddesse blinde You make the fault and call your Saint unkinde For when the cause of Ev'll begins in Man Th' effect ensues from whence the cause began Then know the reason of thy discontent Thy ev'll of Sinne makes the Ev'll of punishment ¶ Lord hold me up or spurre mee when I fall So shall my Ev'll bee just or not at all Defend me from the World the Flesh the Devill And so thou shalt deliver me from Evill 10. ¶ THe Priestly Skirts of A'rons holy coate I kisse and to my morning Muse devote Had never King in any age or Nation Such glorious Robes set forth in such a fashion With Gold and Gemmes and Silks of Princely Dye And Stones befitting more than Majesty The Persian Sophies and rich Shaeba's Queene Had n'er the like nor e'r the like had seene Vpon the Skirts in order as they fell First a Pomegranat was and then a Bell By each Pomegranat did a Bell appeare Many Pomegranats many Bels there were Pomegranats nourish Bels doe make a sound As blessings fall Thanksgiving must rebound ¶ If thou wilt cloth my heart with A'rons tyer My tongue shall praise as well as heart desier My tongue and pen shall dwell upon thy Story Great God for thine is Kingdome Power Glory 11. ¶ THe Ancient Sophists that were so precise and oftentimes perchance too curious nice Averre that Nature hath bestow'd on Man Three perfect Soules When this I truly scan Me thinks their Learning swath'd in Errour lyes They were not wise enough and yet too wise Too curious wise because they mention more Then one Not wise enough because not foure Nature not Grace is Mistris of their Schooles Grace counts them wisest that are veriest Fooles Three Soules in man Grace doth a fourth allow The Soule of Faith But this is Greeke to you 'T is Faith that makes man truly wise 'T is Faith Makes him possesse that thing he never hath ¶ This Glorious Soule of Faith bestow on me O Lord or else take thou the other three Faith makes men lesse then Children more then Men It makes the Soule cry Abba and Amen The End PENTELOGIA Morstua Mors Christi Fraus Mundi Gloria Coeli Et Dâ—lor Inferni sunt meditanda tibi Thy death the death of Christ the worlds teÌ„tation Heavens joy hels torment be thy meditation LONDON Printed for IOHN MARRIOT 1632. Mors tua 1. ¶ ME thinkes I see the nimble-aged Sire Passe swiftly by with feet unapt to tire Vpon his head an Hower-glasse he weares And in his wrinkled hand a Sythe he beares Both Instruments to take the lives from Men Th' one shewes with what the other sheweth when Me thinkes I heare the dolefull Passing-bell Setting an onset on his louder knell This moody musick of impartiall Death Who dances after dances out of breath Me thinkes I see my dearest friends lament With sighs and teares and wofull dryriment My tender Wife and Children standing by Dewing the Death-bed whereupon I lie Me thinkes I heare a voyce in secret say Thy glasse is runne and thou must die to day Mors Christi 2. ¶ ANd am I here and my Redeemer gone Can He be dead and is not my life done Was he tormented in excesse of measure And doe I live yet and yet live in pleasure Alas could Sinners finde out ne're a one More fit than Thee for them to spit upon Did thy cheekes entertaine a Traylors lips Was thy deare body scourg'd and torne with whips So that the guiltlesse blood came trickling after And did thy fainting browes sweat blood and water Wert thou Lord hang'd upon the Cursed Tree O world of griefe And was all this for me ¶ Burst forth my teares into a world of sorrow And let my nights of griefe finde ne're a morrow Since thou art dead Lord grant thy servant roome Within his heart to build thy heart a Tombe Fraus Mundi 3. ¶ WHat is the World a great exchange of warâ— Wherein all sorts sexes cheapning art The Flesh the Devill sit and cry What lacke ye When most they fawn they most intend to rack ye The wares are cups of Ioy and beds of Pleasure Ther 's goodly choice down weight flowing meâ—sure A soul 's the price but they give time to pay Vpon the Death-bed on the dying day ¶ Hard is the bargaine and unjust the measure When as the price so much out-lasts the pleasure The joyes that are on earth are counterfaits If ought be true 't is this Th' are true deceits They flatter fawne and like the Crocodile Kill where they laugh and murther where they smile They daily dip within thy Dish and cry Who hath betraid thee Master Is it I Gloria Coeli 4. ¶ VVHen I behold and well advise upon The Wisemans speech There 's nought beneath the Sun But vanity my soule rebels within And lothes the dunghill prison she is in But when I looke to new Ierusalem Wherein 's reserv'd my Crown my Diadem O what a Heaven of blisse my Soule enjoyes On sudden rapt into that heaven of Ioyes Where ravisht in the depth of meditation She well discernes with eye of contemplation The glory ' of God in his Imperiall Seat Full strong in Might in Majesty compleat Where troops of Powers Vertues Cherubims Angels Archangels Saints and Seraphims Are chaunting prayses to their heavenly King Where Hallelujah they for ever sing Dolor Inferni 5. ¶ LEt Poets please to torture Tanialus Let griping Vultures
Chap. 8. 2. 15. Secondly in the behaviour 〈◊〉 the Subject to his Prince in observing 〈◊〉 Lawes and discovering his enemies Châ—â— 2. 22. Thirdly the behaviour of a Subiect 〈◊〉 a Subject in mutuality of love Chap. 4. 7. 〈◊〉 propagation of peace Chap. 10. 3. 3. The Oeconomical part the object whâ—â—â— of is private Society teacheth first the 〈◊〉 riage of the Wife to her Husband in 〈◊〉 Chap. 1. 22. of the Husband to his Wife is ruling Chap. 1. 22. Secondly of a Father to his Childe in advising Chap. 2. 7 10. of a Childe to his Father in observing Chap. 2. 20. Thirdly of a Master to his Servant in commanding Chap. 4. 5. of a Servant to his Master in effecting his command Chap. 4. 6. Furthermore in this history the two principall faculties of the soule are nor in vaine imployed First the Intellect whose proper object is Truth Secondly the Will whose proper object is good whether Philosophicall which the great Master of Philosophy calls Wisedome or Theologicall which wee point at now hoping to enjoy hereafter Who the Pen-mâ—n of this sacred History was or why the name of God as in few other parts of the Bible is unmentioned in this it is immateriall and doubtfull For the first it is enough for anuncurious questioner to know it was indited by the Spirit of God for the second let it suffice that that Spirit will'd not here to reveale his name As for the Manner of this history consisting in the Periphrase the adjournment of the Story and interposition of Meditations I I hope it hath not injured the Matter For in this I was not the least carefull to use the light of the best Expositors not daring to goe un-led for feare of stumbling Some say Divinity in Verse is incongruous and unpleasing such I referre to the Psalmes of David or the Song of his sonne Salomon to bee corrected But in these lewd times the salt and soule of a Verse is obscene scurrility without which it seemes dull and livelesse And though the sacred History needs not as humane doe Poetry to perpetuate the remembrance being by Gods owne mouth blest with Eternity yet Verse working so neare upon the soule and spirit will oft times draw those to have a history in familiarity who perchance before scarce knew there was such a Booke Reader bee more than my hasty pen stiles thee Reade mee with advice and thereafter judge me and in that judgement censure me If I jangle thinke my intent thereby is to toâ—â— better Ringers in Farewell THE INTRODVCTION WHen Zedechia He whose haplesse hand Once held the Scepter of Great Iudahs Land Went up the Palace of Proud Babylon The Prince Serajah him attending on A dreadfull Prophet from whose blasting breath Came sudden death and nothing else but death Into Serajah's peacefull hand betooke The sad Contents of a more dismall Booke Breake ope the leaves those leaves so full of dread Read sonne of thunder said the Prophet reade Say thus say freely thus The Lord hath spoke it 'T is done the world 's unable to revoke it Woe woe and heavy woes ten thousand more Betide great Babylon that painted whore Thy buildings and thy â—ensive Towers shall Flame on a sudden and to cinders fall None shall be left to waile thy griefe with Howles Thy streets shall peopl'd be with Bats and Owles None shall remaine to call thy places voyd None to possesse nor ought to be enjoy'd Nought shall be left for thee to terme thine owne But helplesse ruines of a haplesse towne Said then the Prophet When thy language hath Empty'd thy Cheekes of this thy borrow'd Breath Close then the Booke and binde a stone unto it That done into the swift Euphrates throw it And let this following speech explane withall The Hieroglyphickâ— of proud Babels fall Thus thus shall Babel Thus shall Babels glory Of her destruction leave a Tragick story Thus thus shall Babell fall and none relieve her Thus thus shall Babel sinke Thus sinke for ever And falne she is Thus after-times made good That sacred Prophesie confirm'd in blood Great Royall Dreamer where is now that thing Thou so much vaunted'st of where O soveraigâ—â— King Is that great Babel that was rais'd so high To shew the highnesse of thy Majesty Where is thy Royall off-spring to succeed Thy Throne and to preserve thy Princely seed Till this time Sleeping how could'st thou foreâ—â—â— That thing which waking thou thoghtst ne'r would beâ— And thou Belshazzar full of youthfull fire Vnlucky Grand-child to a lucklesse Syre On thee the sacred Oracles attended For with thy life great Babels Kingdome ended What made thy Spirit tremble and thy hayre Bolt up what made thee fainting gaspe for ayre A simple Word upon a painted Wall What 's that to thee If ought what harme at all Could words affright thee O preposterous wit To feare the writing not the hand that writ The Hand that writ it selfe unseene did shroud Within the gloomy bosome of a Cloud The Hand that writ was bent nor bent in vaine To part the Kingdome and the King in twaine The Hand that writ did write the sentence downe And now stands armed to depose the Crowne The hand that writ did threaten to translate Thy Kingdome Babel to the Persian state Th' effect whereof did brooke no long delayes For when Belshazzar had spun out his dayes Soone cut by that Avengers fatall knife Proud Babels Empire ended with his life As when that rare Arabian Bird doth rest Her bedrid carkase in her Spicy nest The quick-devouring fire of heaven consumes The willing sacrifice in sweet perfumes From whose sad cinders balm'd in fun'rall spices A second Phoenix like the first arises So from the Ruines of great Babels Seat The Medes and Persians Monarchy grew great For when Belshazzar last of Babels Kings Yeelded to death the summe of mortall things Like earth-amazing thunder from above And lightnng from the house of angry Iove Or like to billowes in th' Euboean Seas Whose swelling nought but shipwrack can appease So bravely came the fierce Darius on Marching with Cyrus into Babylon Two Armies Royall stoutly following The one was Medes the other Persia's King As when the Harvester with bubling brow Reaping the intrest of his painfull Plough With crooked Sickle now a shock doth sheare A handfull here and then a handfull there Not leaving till he nought but stubble leave Here lies a new falne ranke and there a sheave Even so the Persian Host it selfe bestur'd So fell great Babel by the Persian Sword Which warm with slaughter with blood imbru'd Ne'r sheath'd till wounded Babel fell subdu'd But see These brave Ioynt-tenants that surviv'd To see a little world of men unliv'd Must now be parted Great Darius dyes And Cyrus shares alone the new-got prize He fights for Heaven Heavens foemen he subdues He builds the Temple he restores the Iewes By him was Zedechias force disjoynted Vnknowne to God he was yet Gods Anointed But
leaves it undecided The fleshly eye that lends a feeble sight Failes in extent and hath no further might Than to attaine the object and there ends His office and of what it apprehends Acquaints the understanding which conceives And descants on that thing the sight perceives Or good or bad unable to project The just occasion or the true effect Man sees like man and can but comprehend Things as they present are not as they end God sees a Kings heart in a shepheards brest And in a mighty King he sees a Beast 'T is not the spring tyde of an high estate Creates a man though seeming Fortunate The blaze of Honour Fortunes sweet excesse Doe undeserve the name of Happinesse The frownes of indisposed Fortune makes Man poore but not unhappy He that takes Her checks with patience leaves the name of poor And lets in Fortune at a backer doore ¶ Lord let my fortunes be or rich or poore If small the lesse account if great the more THE ARGVMENT Vnto the King proud Haman sues For the destruction of the Iewes The King consents and in his name Decrees were sent t' effect the same Sect. 8. NOw when the year had turn'd his course about And fully worne his weary howers out And left his circling travell to his heire That now sets onset to th' ensuing yeare Proud Haman pain'd with travell in the birth Till after-time could bring his mischiefe forth Casts Lots from month to month from day to day To picke the choycest time when Fortune may Be most propitious to his damned plot Till on the last month fell th' unwilling Lot So Haman guided by his Idoll Fate Cloaking with publike good his private Hate In plaintiffe tearmes where Reason forg'd a rellish Vnto the King his speech did thus imbellish Vpâ—â— the limits of this happy Nation There flotes a skumâ—e an off-cast Generation Disperst despis'd and noysome to the Land And Refractory to the Lawes to thy Command Not stooping to thy Power but despising All Government but of their owne devising Which stirs the glowing embers of division The hatefull mother of a States perdition The which not soone redrest by Reformation Will ruine-breed to thee and to thy Nation Begetting Rebels and seditioâ—s broyles And fill thy peacefull Land with bloody spoyles Now therefore if it please my gracious Lord To right this grievance with his Princely sword That Death and equall Iustice may o'rewhelme The secret Ruiners of thy sacred Realme Vnto the Royall Treasure of the King Ten thousand silver Talents wâ—ll I bring Then gave the King from off his heedlesse hand His Ring to Haman with that Ring command And said Thy proffer'd wealth possesse Yet â—e thy just Petition ne'rthelesse Entirely granted Lâ—e before thy face Thy vassals lye with all their rebell race Thine be the people and the power thine T' allot these Rebels their deserved Fine Forthwith the Scribes were summon'd to appeare Decrees were written sent to every Shire To all Lieutenants Captaines of the Band And all the Provinces throughout the Land Stil'd in the name and person of the King And made authentick with his Royall Ring By speedy Post men were the Letters sent And this the summe is of their sad content ASSVERVS REX Let ev'ry Province in the Persian Land Vpon the Day prefixt prepare his hand To make the Channels flow with Rebels blood And from the earth to roote the Iewish brood And let the sâ—finesse of no partiall heart Through melting pitie love or false desert Spare either young or old or man or woman But like their faults so let their plagues be common Dicreed and signed by our Princely Grace And given at Sushan from our Royall Place So Haman fill'd with joy his fortunes blest With faire successe of his so foule request Laid care aside to sleepe and with the King Consum'd the time in jolly banquetting Meane while the Iewes the poore afflicted Iewes Perplext and startl'd with the new-bred newes With drooping heads and selfe-imbracing armes Wept forth the Dirge of their ensuing harmes Medita 8. OF all diseases in a publike weale No one more dangerous and hard to heale Except a tyrant King then when great might Is trusted to the hands that take delight To bathe and paddle in the blood of those Whoâ— jealousies and not just cause oppose 〈…〉 as haughty power is conjoynd Vnto 〈◊〉 will of a distemper'd mind What â—â—re it can it will and what it will It in it 〈◊〉 hath power to fulfill What! 〈◊〉 then can linger unattemted What base attempts can happen unprevented Statutes must breake good Lawes must go to wracâ— And like a Bow that 's overbent must cracke Iustice the life of Law becomes so furious That over-doing right it proves injurious Mercy the Steare of Iustice flyes the City And falsly must be term'd a foolish Pity Meane while the gracious Princes tender brest Gently possest with nothing but the best Of the disguis'd dissembler is abus'd And made the cloke wherewith his fault 's excus'd The radient beames that warme shine so bright Comfort this lower world with heat and light But drawne and recollected in a glasse They burne and their appointed limits passe Even so the power from the Princes hand Directs the subject with a sweet command But to perverse fantasticks if confer'd Whom wealth or blinded Fortune hath prefer'd It spurres on wrong and makes the right retire And sets the grumbling Common-wealth on fire Their foule intent the Common good pretends And with that good they maske their private ends Their glorie 's dimme and cannot b'understood Vnlesse it shine in pride or swimme in blood Their will 's a Law their mischiefe Policy Their frownes are Death their power Tyranny Ill thrives the State that harbours such a man That can what e're he wills wills what he can May my ungarnisht quill presume so much To glorifie it selfe and give a touch Vpon the Iland of my Soveraigne Lord What language shall I use what new-founâ—â—ord T' abridge the mighty volume of of his worth And keepe me blamelesse from th' untimely birth Of false reputed flattery He lends No cursed Haman pow'r to worke his Ends Vpon our ruine but transferres his grace On just desert which in the ugly face Of foule detraction untouch't can dare And smile till black-mouth'd Envy blush and tare Her Snaky fleece Thus thus in happy peace He rules to make our happinesse increase Directs with love commands with Princely awe And in his brest he beares a living Law Defend us thou and heavens thee defend And let proud Haman have proud Hamans end THE ARGVMENT The Iewes and Mordecai lament And waile the height of their distresses But Mordecai the Queene possesses With cruell Hamans foule intent Sect 3. NOw when as 〈◊〉 the daughter of the earth Newly dis-burthen'd of her plumed birth From off her Turrets did her wings display And pearcht in the sad cares of Mordecai He rent his garments wearing in their stead Distressed sack-cloth
on his fainting head He strowed Dust and from his showring eyes Ran floods of sorrow and with bitter cryes His griefe saluted heaven his groanes did borrow No Art to draw the true pourtraict of sorrow Nor yet within his troubled brest alone Too small a stage for griefe to trample on Did Tyrant sorrow act her lively Sceane But did inlarge such griefe admits no meane The lawlesse limits of her Theater i th' hearts of all the Iewish Nation where With no dissembled Action she exprest The lively Passion of a pensive brest Forthwith he posteth to the Palace gate T' acquaint Queene Ester with his sad estate But found no entrance for the Persian Court Gave welcome to delights and youthly sport To jolly mirth and such delightfull things Soft rayment best befits the Courts of Kings There lyes no welcome for a whining face A mourning habit suits no Princely Place Which when the Maids and Eunuchs of the Queen Vnable of themselves to helpe had seene Their Royall Mistresse straight they did acquaint With the dumb-shew of her sad Cousins plaint Whereat till now a stranger to the cause Perplext and forced by the tender Lawes Of deare affection her gentle heart Did sympathize with his conceived smart She sent him change of rayment to put on To vaile his griefe But he received none Then sore dismai'd impatient to forbeare The knowledge of the thing she fear'd to heare She sent her servant to him to importune What sudden Chance or what disast'rous fortune Had caus'd this strange and ill-apparell'd griefe That she if in her lyes may send reliefe To whom his sorrowes made this sad Relation And this the tenor of his Declaration Hamans that cursed Hamans haughty pride Because my 〈◊〉 deservedly denyde To make 〈◊〉 Idoll of his greatnesse hath Incenst the fury of his jealous wrath And profer'd lavish bribes to buy the blood Of me and all the faithfull Iewish brood In here the copy granted by the King Sul'd in his name confirmed with his Ring 〈◊〉 of the which into his hands 〈◊〉 Haman hath ingrost our lives our lands 〈◊〉 tell the Queene it resteth in her powers To helpe the case is â—ers as well as Ours 〈◊〉 tell my cousin Queene it is her charge To use the meanes whereby she may inlarge Hâ—â— aged kinsmans life and all her Nation Preferring to the King her supplication Meditat. 9. WHo hopes t' attain the sweet Elysian Layes To reap the harvest of his wel-spent daies Must passe the joylesse streames of Acaron The scorching waves of burning Phlegeton And sable billowes of the Stygian Lake Thus sweet with sowre each mortall must partake What joyfull Harvester did ere obtaine The sweet fruition of his hopefull gaine Vntill his hardy labours first had past The Summers heat and stormy Winters blast A sable night returnes a shining morrow And dayes of joy ensue sad nights of sorrow The way to blisse lyes not on beds of Downe And he that had no Crosse deserves no Crowne There 's but one Heav'n one place of perfect ease In man it lies to take it where he please Above or here below And few men doe Injoy the one and tast the other too Sweating and constant labour wins the Goale Of Rest Afflictions clarifie the soule And like hard Masters give more hard directionâ— Tut'ring the nonage of uncurb'd affections Wisedome the Antidote of sad despayre Makes sharpe Afflictions seeme not as they are Through patient sufferance and doth apprehend Not as they seeming are but as they end To beare Affliction with a bended brow Or stubborne heart is but to disallow The speedy meanes to health salve heales no sore If mis-apply'd but makes the griefe the more Who sends Affliction sends an end and He Best knows what 's best for him what 's best for me 'T is not for me to carve me where I like Him pleases when he list to stroke or strike I le neither wish nor yet avoid Tentation But still expect it and make preparation If he thinke best my Faith shall not be tryde Lord keep me spotless from presumptuous pride If otherwise with tryall give me care By thankfull patience to prevent Despaire Fit me to beare what e're thou shalt assigne I kisse the Rod because the Rod is thine How-ere let me not boast nor yet repine With tryall or without Lord make me thinâ— THE ARGVMENT Her ayd implor'd the Queene refuses To helpe them and her selfe excuses But urg'd by Mordecai consents To die or crosse their foes intents Sect. 10. NOw when the servant had returrn'd the words Of wretched Mordecai like pointed swords They neere impierc't Queene Esters tender heart That well could pity but no helpe impart â—allac'd with griefe and with the burthen foyld Like Ordnance over-charg'd she thus recoyl'd Gâ—â— Hatach tell my wretched kinsman thus The case concernes not you alone but us 〈◊〉 the subject of proud Hamans hate As well as you our life is pointed at As well as yours or as the meanest Iew Nâ—â— can I helpe my selfe nor them nor you You know the Custome of the Persian State No King may breake no subject violate How may I then presume to make accesse â—â—fore th' offended King or rudely presse Vâ—call'd into his presence How can I Expect my suit and have deserâ—'d to dye May my desiers hope to find successe When to â—ffect them I the Law transgresse Thâ—se thirty dayes uncall'd for have I bin 〈◊〉 my Lord How dare I now goe in Gâ—â— Hatach aâ—d returne this heavy newes 〈…〉 the truth of my vnforc'd excuse Whereof when Mordecai was full possest His troubled Soule he boldly thus exprest Goe tell the fearfull Queene too great 's her feare Too small her zeale her life she rates too deare How poore's th' adventure to ingage thy blood To save thy peoples life and Churches good To what advantage canst thou more expose Thy life than this Th' ast but a life to lose Thinke not thy Greatnesse can excuse our death Or save thy life thy life is but a breath As well as ours Great Queene thou hop'st in raine In saving of a life a life to gaine Who knowes if God on purpose did intend Thy high preferment for this happy end If at this needfull time thou spare to speake Our speedy helpe shall like the morning breake From heaven together with thy woes and he That succours us shall heape his plagues on thee Which when Queen Ester had right well perus'd And on each wounding word had sadly mus'd Startled with zeale not daring to deny She rouz'd her faith and sent this meeke reply Since heaven it is endowes each enterprize With good successe and onely in us lies To plant and water let us first obtaine Heavens high assistance lest the worke be vaine Let all the Iewes in Susa summon'd â—e And keepe a solemne three dayes Fast and we With all our servants and our maiden traine Shall fast as long and from our thoughts abstaine Then to the King
uncall'd will I repaire Howe'r my boldnesse shall his Lawes contraire And brauely welcome Death before mine eye And scorne her power If I dye I dye Meditat. 10. AS in the winged Common-wealth of Bees Whose carefull Summer-providence foresees Th' approching fruitlesse Winter which denies The crowne of labour some with laden thighs Take charge to beare their waxy burthens home Others receive the welcome load and some Dispose the waxe others the plot contrive Some build the curious Comb some guard the Hive Like armed Centinels others distreine The purer honey from the waxe some traine And discipline the young while others drive The sluggish Drones from their deserved Hive Thus in this Common-wealth untaught by Art Each winged Burger acts his busie part So man whose first creation did intend And chiefly pointed at no other end Then as a faithfull Steward to receive The Fine and quit-rent of the lives we live Must suit his deare indeavour to his might Each one must lift to make the burthen light Proving the power that his gifts afford To raise the best advantage for his Lord Whose substitute he is and for whose sake We live and breath each his account must make Or more or lesse and he whose power lacks The meanes to gather honey must bring waxe Five Talents double five two render foure Wher 's little little 's crav'd where much there 's more Kings by their Royall priviledge may do What unbefits a mind to search into But by the force of their prerogatives They cannot free the custome of their lives The silly Widow from whose wrinkled browes Faint drops distill through labour that she owes Her needy life must make her Audite too As well as Kings and mighty Monarks doe The world 's a Stage each mortall Acts thereon As well the King that glitters on the throne As needy beggers Heav'n Spectator is And markes who acteth well and who amisse ¶ What part befits me best I cannot tell It matters not how meane so acted well THE ARGVMENT Vnto the King Queene Ester goes He unexpected favour showes Demands her suit she doth request The King and Haman to a Feast Sect. 11. WHen as Queen Esters solemne 3. daies Fast Had feasted heaven with a sweet repast Her lowly bended body she unbow'd And like faire Titan breaking from a cloud She rose and with her Royall Robe she clad Her livelesse limmes and with a face as sad As griefe could paint wanting no Art to borrow A needlesse helpe to counterfeit a sorrow Softly she did direct her feeble pace Vnto the inner Court where for a space She boldly stood before the Royall Throne Like one that would but durst not make her mone Which when her princely husband did behold His heart relented Fortune helpes the bold And to expresse a welcome unexpected Forth to the Queene his Scepter he directed Whom now imboldned to approch secur'd In gracious termes he gently thus conjur'd What is 't Queene Ester would What sad request Hangs on her lips dwells in her doubtfull brest Say say my lifes preserver what 's the thing That lyes in the performance of a King Shall be deny'd Faire Queenâ— what e're is mint Vnto the moity of my Kingdome 's thine So Ester thus If in thy Princely eyes Thy loyall Servant hath obtain'd the prize Of undeserved favor let the King And Haman grace my this dayes-banquetting To crowne the dainties of his handmaids Feast Humbly devoted to so great a Guest The motion pleas'd and fairly well succeeded To willing minds no twice intreaty needed They came but in Queene Esters troubled face Robd of the sweetnesse of her wonted grace The King read discontent her face divin'd The greatnesse of some further suit behind Say say thou bountâ—ous harvest of my joyes Said then the King what dumpish griefe annoyes Thy troubled soule Speake Lady what 's the thing Thy heart desires By th' onour of a King My Kingdomes halfe requested I 'le divide To faire Queene Ester to my fairest Bride Lâ— then the tenour of my deare request Repli'd the Queene unto a second Feast Thy humble Suitor doth presume to bid The King and Haman as before she did Now therefore if it please my gracious Lord To daigâ—e his Royall presence and afford The peerlesse treasure of hiâ— Princeâ—y Grace To dry the sorrowes of his Handmaids face Then to my Kingly and thrice-welcome Guest His servant shall unbosome her Request Medita 11. HE that invites his Maker to a Feast Advising well the greatnesse of his Guest Must purge his dining chamber from infections And sweepe the Cobwebs of his lewd affections And then provide such Cates as most delight His Palate and best please his Appetite And such are holy workes and pious deeds These are the dainties whereon heaven feeds Faith plaies the Cook seasons directs and guides So man findes meate so God the Cooke provides His drinke are teares sprung from a midnight cry Heaven sips out Nectar from a sinners eye The dining chamber is the soule opprest God keepes his revells in a Sinners brest The musicke that attends the Feast are grones Deep-founding sighes and loud lamenting moneâ— Heav'n heares no sweeter musick than complaints The Fasts of sinners are the Feasts of Saints To which heav'n dains to stoop heav'ns hie King Descends whilst all the quire of Angels sing And with such sense-bereaving Sonets fill The hearts of wretched men that my rude quill Dazeld with too much light it selfe addressing To blaze them forth obscures theÌ„ in th' expressing Thrice happy man and thrice-thrice happy Feast Grac'd with the presence of so great a Guest To him are freely giv'n the privy keyes Of heav'n and earth to open when he please And locke when e're he liâ—t In him it lyes To ope the showring flood-gates of the skies Or shut them at his pleasure in his hand The Host of heaven is put if he command The Sunne not daring to withstand obeyes Out-runnes his equall howres flies back or stayes To him there 's nought uneasie to atchieve Hee le rouze the graves and make the dead alive ¶ Lord I 'me unfit t' invite thee to my home My Caâ—es are all too coorse too meane my Roome Yet come and welcome by thy pow'r Divine Thy Grace may turne my Water into Wine THE ARGVMENT Good Mordecai's unreverence Great Hamans haughty pride offends H'acquaints his wife with the offence The counsell of his wife and friends Sect. 12. THat day went Haman forth for his swolne brest Was fill'd with joyes and heart was full possest Of all the height Ambition could require To satisfie her prodigall Desire But when he passed through the Palace Gate His eye-sore aged Mardocheus sate With head unbar'd and stubborne knee unbenâ— Vnapt to fawne with slavish blandishment Which when great Haman saw his boyling brest So great disdaine unable to digest Ran o're his blood grew hot and new desires Incenst and kindled his avenging fires Surcharg'd with griefe and sick with male-content
to boot Denounc'd to him that takes from or ads too 't True 't is the Law of God's the rule and squire Whereby to limit Mans uncurb'd desire And with a gentle hand doth justly paize The ballances of his unbevell'd wayes True 't is accurs'd and thrice accurs'd be he That shall detract or change such Lawes as be Directive for his Worship or concerne His holy Serviceâ— these we strictly learne Within our constant brest to keepe inshrin'd These in all seasons and for all times binde But Lawes although Divine that doe respect Thy publike rest and properly direct As Statutes politike doe make relation To times and persons places and occasion The brazen Serpent which by Gods command Was builded up was by the Prophets hand Beat downe againe as impious and impure When it became an Idoll not a Cure ¶ A morall Law needs no more warranty Then lawfull givers and conveniency Not crossing the Divine It lies in Kings To act and to inhibit all such things As in his Princely wisedome shall seeme best And most vantagious to the publike rest And what before was an indifferent thing His law makes good or bad A lawfull King Is Gods Liev-tenant in his sacred eare God whispers oft and keepes his presence there◠¶ To breake a lawfull Princes just Command Is brokage of a sinne at second hand THE ARGVMENT Assuerus Acts upon Record The just mans vertue and reward Sect. 20. ANd Assuerus stretcht his heavy hand Laying a Tribute both on Sea and Land What else he did what Trophies of his fame He left for time to glorifie his Name With what renowne and grace he did appay The faithfull heart of loyall Mordecai Are they not kept in endlesse memory Recorded in the Persian History For Mordecai possest the second seat In all the Kingdome and his name is great Of God and man his-vertues were approv'd Of God and man much honour'd and belov'd Seeking his peoples good and sweet prosperity And speaking joyfull peace to his posterity Meditat. 20. THus thrives the man thus prosper his endevors That builds on faith in that faith persevers ¶ It is no losse to lose no gaine to get If he that loses all shall win the Set God helpes the weakest takes the losers chayre And setting on the King doth soone repayre His losse with vengeance Hee 's not alway best That takes the highest place nor he the least That sits beneath for outward fortunes can Expresse how great but not how good 's the man Whom God will raise he humbles first a while And where he raises oft he meanes to spoyle ¶ It matters not Lord what my fortunes be May they but lead or whip me home to thee Here the Canonicall History of Queene ESTER ends IOB MILITANT Horat. car lib. 1. ode 17. Dijs piet as mea Et Musa cordi est By Fra. Quarles LONDON Printed by MILES FLESHER 1632. The Proposition of the WORKE WOuldst thou discover in a curious Map That Iland which fond worldlings call Mishap Surrounded with a sea of briny tears The rockie dangers and the boggie Feares The stormes of Trouble the afflicted Nation The heavy soyle the lowly scituation On wretched Iob then spâ—nd thy weeping eye And see the colour painted curiously Wouldst thou behold a Tragick Sceane of sorrow Whose wofull Plot the Author did not borrow From sad invention The sable Stage The lively Actors with their equipage The Musicke made of Sighs the Songs of Cries The sad Spectators with their watry Eyes Behold all this comprized here in one Expect the Plaudit when the Play is done Or wouldst thou see a well built Pinace tost Vpon the swelling Ocean split almost Now on a churlish Rocke now fiercely striving With labouring Winds now desperately driving Vpon the boyling Sands her storme-rent Flags Her Main-mast broke her Canvas torne to rags Her Treasure lost her men with lightning slaine And left a wrecke to the relentlesse Maine This this and more unto your moistned Eyes Our patient Iob shall lively moralize Wouldst thou behold unparalleld distresse Which minds cannot out-think nor tongs express Full to the life the Anvill whereupon Mischiefe doth worke her master-piece for none To imitate the dire Anatomy Of curiously-dissected Misery The face of Sorrow in her sternest lookes The rufull Arg'ment of all Tragicke bookes In briefe Would tender eyes endure to see Summ'd up the greatest sorrowes that can be Behold they then poore Iob afflicted here And each Beholder spend at least his Teare TO THE GREAT TETRAGRAMMATON LORD PARAMOVNT OF HEAVEN AND EARTH His Humble Servant dedicates himselfe and implores the Enfranchising of his Muse. 1 GReat God th'indebted praises of thy glory If Man shold smother or his Muse wax faint To number forth the stones wold make complaint And write a never-ending Story And not without iust reason say Mens hearts are more obdure than they 2 Dismount from Heaven O thou diviner Power Handsell my slender Pipe breath thou upon it That it may run an everlasting Sonnet Which envious Time may not devoure Oh let it sing to After-dayes When I am Dust thy louder Praise 3 Direct the footsteps of my sober Muse To tread thy glorious path For be it knowne She only seeks thy Glory not her owne Nâ—rrouzed for a second use If otherwise O! may she never Sing more but be strucke dumbe for ever IOB MILITANT THE ARGVMENT Iobs Lineage and Integrity His Issue Wealth Prosperity His childrens holy Feast His wise Forecast and zealous Sacrifiâ—e Sect. 1. NOt far from Casius in whoâ—e bounteous womb Great Pompeys dust lies crowned with his tomb Westward betwixt Arabia and Iudaea Is situate a Country called Idumaea There dwelt a man brought from his Lineage That for his belly swopt his Heritage His name was Iob a man of upright Will Iust fearing Heaven eschewing what was Ill On whom his God had heapd in highest measure The bounteous Riches of his boundlesse Treasure As well of Fortune as of Grace and Spirit Goods for his Children Children to inherit As did his Name his wealth did dayly wexe His Seed did germinate in either Sexe A hopefull Issue whose descent might keepe His righteous Race on foot seven thousand sheepe Did pay their Summer-tribute and did adde Their Winter blessings to his Fold He had Three thousand Camels able for their load Five hundred Asses furnisht for the road As many yoake of Oxen to maintaine His houshold for he had a mighty Traine Nor was there any in the East the which In Vertue was so rare in Wealth so rich Vpon a time his Children to improve The sweet affection of their mutuall love Made solemne Feasts each feasted in his turne For there 's a time to mirth as well as mourne And who by course was Master of the Feast Vnto his home invited all the rest Even as a Hen whose tender brood forsake The downy closet of her Wings and take Each its affected way markes how they feed This on that Crum
the Iayle â—his neglected Schoole turnes speedy tayle â—â—on his tedious booke so ill befriended â—â—fore his Masters Iie be full ended So thanklesse Satan full of winged haste Thinking all time not spent in Mischiefe waste Departs with speed lesse patient to forbeare The patient Iob then patient Iob to beare Forth from the furnace of his Nostrell flies A sulpherous vapour which by the envious eyes Of this foule Fiend inflam'd possest the faire And sweet complexion of th' Abused Ayre With Pestilence and having power so farre Tooke the advantage of his worset Starre Smote him with Vlcers such as once befell Th'Egyptian Wizzards Vlcers hot and fell Which like a searching Tetter uncorrected Left no part of his body unaffected From head to foote no empty place was found That could b'afflicted with another wound So noysome was the nature of his griefe That left by friends and wife that should be chiefe Assister he poore he alone remain'd Groveling in Ashes being himselfe constrain'd With pot-sheards to scrape off those rip'ned cores Which dogs disdain'd to licke from out his sores Which when his wife beheld adust and keene Her passion waxt made strong with scorn spleen Like as the Winds imprison'd in the earth And barr'd the passage to their naturall birth Grow fierce and nilling to be longer pent Break in an Earthquake shake the world and vent So brake shee forth so forth her fury brake Till now pent in with shame and thus she spake Fond Saint thine Innocence findes timely speed A foolish Saint receives a Saintly meed Is this the just mans recompence Or hath Heaven no requitall for thy painfull Faith 〈◊〉 then this What haue thy zealous Qualmes â—â—â—â—ious Fastings and thy hopefull Almes Thy private groanes and often bended knees No other end no other thankes but these 〈◊〉 man submit thee to a kinder fate 〈◊〉 to be righteous at so deare a rate 'T is Heaven not Fortune that thy weale debarres Câ—â—se Heaven then and not thy wayward flarres 'T is God that plagues thee God not knowing why Câ—â—se then that God revenge thy wrongs and dye 〈◊〉 then reply'd God loves where â—e chasâ—iz'd Thou speakest like a foole and ill adviz'd â—â—â—gh we to licke the sweet and shall we lowre If â—e be pleas'd to send a little sowre 〈◊〉 I so weake one blast or two should chill me I 'le trust my Maker though my Maker kill me When these sad tidings fill'd those itching eares Of Earths black babling daughter she that heares And vents alike both Truth and Forgeries And utters often cheaper then she buyes She spred the pinions of her nimble wings Advanc'â— her Trumpet and away she springs And fils the whispering Ayre which soone possest The spacious borders of th'enquiring East Vpon the summon of such solemne Newes Whose truth malignant Fame could not abuse His wofull friends came to him to the end To comfort and bewaile their wretched friend But when they came farre off they did not know Whether it were the selfe same friend or no Brim-fill'd with briny woe they wept and tore â—â—express their grief the garments that they wore Seven dayes and nights they sate upon the ground But spake not for his sorrowes did abound Medit. 5. SAy is not Satan justly stiled than A Tempter and an enemy to Man What could he more His wish would not extend To death lest his assaults with death should end Then what he did what could he further doe His Hand hath seiz'd both goods and body too The hopefull Issue of a holy straine In such a dearth of holinesse is slaine What hath the Lazar left him but his griefe And what might best been spar'd his foolish wife Cold mischief bin more hard though more in kind To nip the flowers and leave the weeds behind Woman was made a Helper by Creation A Helper not alone for Propagation Or fond Delight but sweet Society Which Man alone should want and to supply Comforts to him for whom her Sex was made That each may ioy in eithers needfull ayde But fairest Angels had the foulest fall And best things once abus'd prove worst of all Else had not Satan beene so foule a Fiend Else had not Woman prov'd so false a Friend Ev'n as the treachrous Fowler to entice His silly winged Prey doth first devise To make a Bird his stale at whose false call Others may chance into the selfe-same thrall Even so that crafty snarer of Mankind Finding mans righteous Palate not enclin'd To taste the sweetnesse of his gilded baites Makes a collaterall Suâ—e and slily waites Vpon the weakenesse of some bosome friend From whose enticement he expects his end Ah righteous Iob what crosse was left unknowne What griefe may be describ'd but was thine owne Is this a just mans case What doth befall To one man may as well betide to all The worst I 'le looke for that I can project If better come 't is more then I expect If otherwise I 'm arm'd with Preparation No sorrow's sudden to an expectation Lord to thy Wisedome I submit my Will I will be thankfull send me good or ill If good my present State will passe the sweeter If ill my Crowne of glory shall be greater THE ARGVMENT Orewhelm'd with griefe Iob breaketh forth Into impatience Bans his birth Professes that his heart did doubt And feare what since hath fallen out Sect. 6. WOrn bare with griefe the patient Iob betrai'd His seven-daies silence curst his day said O that my Day of birth had never bin Nâ—â— yet the Night which I was brought forth in Be it not numbred for a Day let Light Not make a difference 'twixt it and Night Let gloomy Shades then Death more sable passe Vpon it to declare how fatall 't was Let Clouds ore-cast it and as hatefull make it As lifes to him whom Tortures bid forsake it From her next day let that blacke Night be cut Nor in the reckning of the Months be put Let Desolation fill it all night long In it be never heard a Bridall song Let all sad Mourners that doe curse the light When light 's drawne in begin to curse this night Her evening Twilight let foule darknesse staine And may her midnight expect light in vaine Nor let her infanâ— Day but newly borne Suffer't to see the Eye-lids of the morne Because my Mothers Wombe it would not clâ—ze Which gave me passage to endure these Woes Why dyed I not in my Conception rather Or why was not my Birth and death together Why did the Midwife take me on her knees Why did I sucke to feele such griefes as these Then had this body never beene opprest I had injoy'd th' eternall sleepe of rest With Kings and mighty Monarchs that lie crown'd With stately Monuments poore I had found A place of Rest had borne as great a sway Had beene as happy and as rich as they Why was not I as an abortive birth The â—e're had knowne the horrors of the earth The silent
Grave is quiet from the feare Of Tyrants Tyrants are appeased there The grinded Prisner heares not there the noyse Nor harder threatnings of th'Oppressors voyce â—oth rich and poore are equal'd in the Grave Servants no Lords and Lords no Servants have What needs there light to him that 's comfortlesse Or life to such as languish in distresse 〈◊〉 long for death which if it come by leysure They ransack for it as a hidden treasure What needs there Life to him that cannot have A Bâ—â—ne more gracious then a quiet Grave Or else to him whom God hath wall'd about That would but cannot finde a passage out When I but taste my sighes returne my food The flowing of my teares have rais'd a flood When my estate was prosperous I did feare Leâ—t by some heedlesse slip or want of care I might be brought to Misery and alas What I did then so feare is come to passe But though secure my soule did never slumber Yet doe my Woes exceed both Waight and Number Meditat. 6. SO poore a thing is Man No Flesh and blood Deserves the stile of Absolutely Good The righteous man sins oft whose power 's such To sin the least sins at the least too much The man whose Faith disdain'd his Isaacks life Dissembled once a Sister for a Wife The righteous Lot being drunk did make at once His Daughters both halfe sisters to their sonnes The royall Favorite of heaven stood Not guiltlesse of Adultery and Blood And he whose hands did build the Temple doth Bow downe his lustfull knees to Ashtaroth The sinfull Woman was accus'd but none Was found that could begin to fling a stone From mudled Springs can Christall water come In some things all men sin in all things some Even as the soyle which Aprils gentle showers Have fild with sweetnesse and inricht with flowers Reares up her suckling plants still shooting forth The tender blossomes of her timely Birth But if deny'd the beames of cheerly May They hang their withered heads and fade away So man assisted by th' Almighties Hand His Faith doth flourish and securely stand But left a while forsooke as in a shade It â—â—nguishes and nipt with sin doth fade No Gold is pure from Drosse though oft refin'd The strongest Cedar's shaken with the wind The fairest Rose hath no prerogative Against the fretting Canker-worme The Hive No honey yeeldâ— unblended with the wax The finest Linnen hath both soyle and bracks The best of men have sins None lives secure In Nature nothing's perfect nothing pure Lord since I needs must sin yet grant that I Forge no advantage by infirmity Since that my Vesture cannot want a staine Assist me lest the tincture be in Graine To thee my great Redeemer doe I flye It is thy Death alone can change my Dye Teares mingled with the Blood can scower so That Scarlet sinnes shall turne as white as Snow THE ARGVMENT Rash Eliphaz reproves and rates And falsly censures Iob Relates His Vision shewes him the event Of wicked men Bids him repent Sect. 7. THen Eliphas his pounded tongue repliev'd And said shold I conteÌ„d thou wold'st be grievd Yet what man can refraine but he must breake His angry silence having heard thee speake O sudden change many hast thou directed And strengthned those whose minds have bin dejected Thy sacred Thewes and sweet Instructions did Helpe those were falling rais'd up such as slid But now it is thy case thy soule is vext And canst not help thy selfe thy selfe perplext Thou lov'st thy God but basely for thy profit Fear'st him in further expectation of it Iudge then Did Record ever round thine eare That God forsooke the heart that was sincere But often have we seene that such as plow Lewdnesse and mischiefe reape the same they sow So have proud Tyrants from their thrones bin cast With all their off-spring by th' Almighties Blast And they whose hands have bin imbrew'd in blood Have with their Issue dyed for want of Food A Vision lately appear'd before my sight In depth of darknesse and the dead of night Vnwonted feare usurpt me round about My trembling bones were sore from head to foot Forthwith a Spirit glanc'd before mine eyes My browes did sweat my moistned haire did rise The face I knew not but a while it staid And in the depth of silence thus it said Is man more just more pure then his Creator Amongst his Angels more upright by nature Then man he hath found Weaknesse how much more Shall he expect in him that 's walled ore With mortall flesh and blood founded and floor'd With Dust and with the Wormes to be devour'd They rise securely with the Morning Sunne And unregarded dye ere Day be done Their glory passes with them as a breath They die like Fooles before they think of death Rage then and see who will approve thy rage What Saint will give thy railing Patronage Anger destroyes the Foole and he that hath A wrathfull heart is slaine with his owne wrath Yet have I seene that Fooles have oft beene able To boast with Babel but have falne with Babel Their sons despairing roare without reliefe In open ruine on the Rocks of Griefe Their harvest though but small the hungry eate And robbers seize their wealth thogh ne'r so great But wretched man were thy Condition mine I 'de not despaire as thou dost nor repine But offer up the broken Sacrifice Of a sad soule before his angry eyes Whose workes are Miracles of admiration He mounts the meeke amidst their Desolation Confounds the worldly wise that blindfold they Grope all in darknesse at the noone of day But guards the humble from reproach of wrong And stops the current of the crafty Tongue Thrice happy is the man his hands correct Beware lest Fury force thee to reject Th' Almighties Tryall He that made thy wound In Iustice can in Mercy make it sound Feare not though multiply'd afflictions shall Besiege thee He at length will rid them all In Famine he shall feed in Warre defend thee Shield thee from slander in griefes attend thee The Beasts shall strike with thee eternall Peace The Stones shall not disturbe thy fields Encrease Thy House shall thrive replenisht with Content Which thou shalt rule in prosp'rous Government The number of thy Of-spring shall abound Like Summers Grasse upon a fruitfull Ground Like timely Corne well ripened in her Eares Thou shalt depart thy life strucke full of yeeres All this Experience teâ—ls Then Iob advise Thou hast taught many now thy selfe be wise Meditat. 7. THe perfect Modell of true Friendship 's this A rare affection of the soule which is Begun with ripened judgement doth persever With simple Wisedome concludes with Never 'T is pure in substance as refined Gold That buyeth all things but is never sold It is a Coyne and most men walke without it True Love 's the Stamp Iâ—hovah's writ about it It rusts unus'd but using makes it brighter 'Gainst Heav'n high treason 't is to make
it lighter 'T is a Gold Chain links soule and soule together In perfect Vnity tyes God to either Affliction is the touch whereby we prove Whether 't be Gold or gilt with fained Love The wisest Moralist that ever div'd Into the depth of Natures bowels striv'd With th' Augur of Experience to bore Mens hearts so farre till he had found the Ore Of Friendship but despairing of his end My friends said he there is no perfect Friend Friendship 's like Musicke two strings tun'd alike Will both stirre though but onely one you strike It is the quintessence of all perfection Extracted into one A sweet connexion Of all the Vertues Morall and Divine Abstracted into one It is a Mine Whose nature is not rich unlesse in making The state of others wealthy by partaking It bloomes and blossomes both in Sun and shade Doth like the Bay in winter never fade It loveth all and yet suspecteth none Is provident yet seeketh not her owne 'T is rare it selfe yet maketh all things common And is judicious yet it judgeth no man The noble Theban being asked which Of three propounded he suppos'd most rich In vertues sacred treasure thus reply'd Till they be dead that doubt cannot be tryde It is no wisemâ—ns part to weigh a Friend Without the glosse and goodnesse of his End For Life without the death considered can Afford but halfe a Story of the Man 'T is not my friends affliction that shall make Me either Wonder Censure or Forsake Iudgement belongs to Fooles enough that I Find he 's afflicted not enquier why It is the hand of Heaven that selfe-same sorrow Grieves him to day may make me grone to morrow Heaven be my comfort In my highest griefe I will not trust to Mans but Thy reliefe THE ARGVMENT Iob counts his sorrowes and from thence Excuses his impatience Describes the shortnesse of Mans Time And makes confession of his Crime Sect. 8. BVt wretched Iob sigh't forth these words said Ah me that my Impatience were weigh'd With all my Sorrowes by an equall hand They would be found more pondrous then the sand That lies upon the new-forsaken shore My griefes want utterance haue stopt their dore And woÌ„der not heav'ns shafts have struck me dead And God hath heapt all mischiefes on my head Will Asses bray when they have grasse to eate Or lowes the Oxe when as hee wants no meat Can palates finde a relish in distast Or can the whites of Egges well please the tast My vexed soule is dayly fed with such Corruptions as my hands disdaine to touch Alas that Heav'n would heare my hearts request And strike me dead that I may find some rest What hopes have I to see my end of griefe And to what end should I prolong my life Why should not I wish Death My strength alas Is it like Marble or my flesh like Brasse What power have I to mitigate my paine If e're I had that power now is vaine My friends are like the Rivers that are dry In heat of Summer when necessity Requireth water They amazed stand To see my griefe but lend no helping hand Friends beg I succour from you Craved I Your Goods to ransome my Captivity Shew me my faults and wherein I did wrong My Patience and I will hold my tongue The force of reasonable words may moove But what can Rage or Lunacie reproove Rebuke you then my words to have it thought My speech is franticke with my griefe distraught You take a pleasure in your friends distresse That is more wretched than the fatherlesse Behold these sores Be judg'd by your owne eyes If these be counterfeited miseries Ballance my words and you shall finde me free From these foule crimes wherewith ye branded me And that my speech was not distain'd with sin Onely the language sorrow treated in Is not mans day prefixt which when expir'd Sleepes â—e not quiet as a servant hir'd A servants labour doth at length surcease His Day of travell findes a Night of peace But wretched I with woes am still oprest My mid-day torments see no Even of Rest My nights ordain'd for sleep are fill'd with griefe I looke in vaine for the next dayes reliefe With dust and wormes my flesh is hid my sorrowes Have plow'd my skin and filth lyes in her furrows My dayes of ioy are in a moment gone And hopelesse of returning spent and done Remember Lord my life is but a puffe I but a man that 's misery enough And when pale death hath once seald up my sight I ne're shall see the pleasures of the light The eye of Man shall not discover me No nor thine Lord for I shall cease to be When mortalls dye they passe like clouds before The Sun and backe returne they never more T' his earthly house he ne're shall come agin And then shall be as if he ne're had bin Therfore my tongue shal speak while it hath breath Prompted with griefe and with the pangs of death Am I not weake and faint what needst thou stretch Thy direfull hand upon so poore a wretch When as I thinke that night shall stop the streames Of my distress thou frightst me then with dreams So that my soule doth rather choose to dye Than be involved in such misery My life 's a burthen and will end O grieve No longer him that would no longer live Ah! what is Man thaâ— thou should'st raise him so High at the first then sinke him downe so low What 's man thy glory 's great enough without him Why dost thou thus disturb thy mind about him Lord I have sinn'd Great Helper of Mankind I am but Dust and Ashes I have sinn'd Against theâ— as a marke why hast thou fixt me How have I trespast that thou thus afflict'st mo Why rather didst thou not remoue my sin And salve the sorrowes that I raved in For thou hast heapt such vengeance on my head That when thou seekst me thou wilt find me dead Meditat. 8. TH'Egyptians amidst their sollemne Feasts Vsed to welcome and present their Guests With the sad sight of Mans Anatomy Serv'd in with this loud Motto All must dye Fooles often goe about when as they may Take better vantage of a neerer way Looke well into your bosomes doe not flatter Your knowne infirmities Behold what matter Your flesh was made of Man cast back thine eye Vpon the weaknesse of thine Infancye See how thy lips hang on thy mothers Brest Bawling for helpe more helplesse then a Beast Liv'st thou to childhood then behold what toies Doe mocke the sense how shallow are thy joyes Com'st thou to downy yeares see how deceits Gull thee with golden fruit and with false baits Slily beguile the prime of thy affection Art thou attain'd at length to full perfection Of ripened yeares Ambition hath now sent Thee on her frothy errand Discontent Payes thee thy wages Doe thy grizly haires Begin to cast account of many cares Vpon thy head The sacred lust of gold Now fits
thy spirit for fleshly lust too cold Makes thee a slave to thine owne base desire Which melts and hardens at the selfe-same Fire Art thou deâ—repit Then thy very breath Iâ— grievous to thee and each griefe 's a death Looke where thou list thy life is but a span Thou art but dust and to conclude A Man Thy life 's a Warfare thou a Souldier art Satan's thy Foe-man and a faithfull Heart Thy two-edg'd Weapon Patience thy Shield Heaven is thy Chiefetain and the world thy Field To be afraid to dye or wish for death Are words and passions of despairing breath Who doth the first the day doth faintly yeeld And who the second basely flies the field Man 's not a lawfull Stearsman of his dayes His bootlesse wish nor hastens nor delayes We are Gods hired Workmen he discharges Some late at night and when he list inlarges Others at noone and in the morning some None may relieve himselfe till he bid Come If we receive for one halfe day as much As they that toyle till evening shall we grutch Our life 's a Road in death our Iourney ends We goe on Gods Embassage some he sends Gall'd with the â—â—otting of hard Misery And others pacing on Prosperity Some lagge whilest others gallop on before All goe an end some faster and some slower Lead me that pase great God that thou think'st best And I will follow with a dauntlesse brest Which ne'rethelesse if I refuse to doe I shall be wicked and yet follow to Assist me in my Combat with the flesh Relieve my fainting powers and refresh My feeble spirit I will not wish to be Cast from the world Lord cast the world from me THE ARGVMENT Bildad mans either state expresses Gods Mercy and Iustice Iob confesses He pleads his cause and begs reliefe Foild with the burthen of his griefe Sect. 9. SO Bildads silence great with tongue did breake And like a heartlesse Comforter did speake How long wilt thou persist to breathe thy minde In words that vanish as a storme of winde Will God forsake the innocâ—nt or will His Iustice smite thee undeserving ill Though righteous death thy sinfull sons hath rent From thy sad bosome yet if thou repent And wash thy wayes with undissembled teares Tuning thy troubles to th' Almighties eares The mercy of his eyes shall shine upon thee And shoure the sweetnesse of his blessings on thee And though a while thou plunge in misery At length hee l crowne thee with prosperity Run backe and â—earne of sage Antiquity What our late births to present times deny See how and what in the worlds downy age Befell our Fathers in their Pilgrimage If Rushes have no mire and Grasse no raine They cease to flourish droop their heads â— waine So fades the man whose heart is not upright So perisheth the double Hypocrite His hopes are like the Spiders web to day That 's flourishing to morrow swept away But he that 's just is like the flowting tree Rooted by Chrystall Springs that cannot be Scorcht by the noone of day nor stird from thence Where firmely fixt it hath a residence Heavenâ—never failes the soule that is upright Nor offers arme to the base Hypoâ—rite The one he blesses with eternall joyes The other his avenging hand destroyes I yeeld it for a truth sad Iob reply'd Compar'd with God can man be justifi'd If man should give account what he hath done Not of a thousand can he answer one His hand 's all-Power and his heart all pure Against this God what man can stand secure He shakes the Mounâ—aines and the Sun he barres From circling his due course shuts up the Starres He spreades the Heavens and rideth on the Flood His workes may be admir'd not understood No eye can see no heart can apprehend him Lists he to spoile what 's he can reprehenâ— hâ—m His Will 's his Law The smoothest pleader hath No power in his lips to slake his Wrath Much lesse can I pleade faire immunity Which could my guiltlesse tongue attaine yet I Would kisse the Footstep of his Iudgement-seat Should he receive my cry my griefe 's so great It would perswade me that he heard it not For he hath torne me with the five-fold knot Of his sharpe Scourge his plagues successive are That I can finde no ground but of Despaire If my â—â—old lips should dare to justifie My selfe my lips would give my lips the lye God owes his mercy nor to good nor bad The wicked oft he spares and oft does adde Griefe to the just mans griefe woes after woes We must not judge man as his Market goes But might my prayers obtaine this boone that God Would cease those sorrowes and remove that Rod Which moves my patience I would take upon me T'implead before him your rash judgement on me Because my tender Conscience doth perswade mee I 'me not so bad as your bad Words have made me My life is tedious my distresse shall breake Into her proper Voyce my griefes shall speake Iust â—udge of Earth condemne me not before Thou please to make me understand wherefore Agrees it with thy Iustice thus to be Kinde to the wicked and so harsh to Me Seest thou with fleshly eyes or doe they glance By favour Are they clos'd with Ignorance Liv'st thou the life of man Dost thou desire A space of time to search or to enquire My sinne No in the twinkling of an eye Thou seest my heart seest my Immunity From those foule crimes wherewith my friends at pleasure Taxe me yet thou afflict'st me in this Measure Thy hands have form'd and fram'd me what I am Whâ—n thou hast made wilt thou destroy the same Remember I am built of Clay and must Returne againe without thy helpe to Dust. Thou didst create preserve me hast indu'd My life with gracious blessings oft renew'd Thy precious favours on me How wert thou Once so benigne and so cruell now Thou hunt'st me like a Prey my plagues encrease Succeed each other and they never cease Why was I borne Or why did not my Tombe Receive me weeping from my mothers wombe I have not long to live Lord grant that I May see some comfort that am soone to dye Meditat. 9. HE that 's the truest Master of his owne Is never â—esse alone than when alone His watchfull eyes are plac't within his heart His skill is how to know himselfe his Art How to command the pride of his Affections With sacred Reason how to give directions Vnto his wandring Will His conscience checks hiâ— More looser thoughts His 〈◊〉 sins she vexes With frights and feares within her owne precincts She rambles with her Whips of wire ne're 〈◊〉 At smallest faults like as a tender Mother How e're she loves her darling will not 〈◊〉 His childish fault but shee her selfe will rather Correct than trust him to his angry Fatâ—â—er Even so the tender Conscience of the wise Cheâ—ks her beloved soule and doth chastise And Iudge the crime it selfe lest it
's an Index to Eternity And gives a glance of what our cleerer eye In time shall see at large nothing's so slight Which in it nature sends not forth some light Or Memorandum of his Makers Glory No Dust so vile but pens an ample story Of the Almighties power nor is there that Which gives not man just cause to wonder at Cast down thine eies behold the pregnant earth Her selfe but one produceth at one birth A world of divers natures From a seed Entirely one things hot and cold proceed She suckles with one milke things moist and dry Yet in her wombe is no repugnancy Or shall thy reason ramble up so high To view the Court of wilde Astronomy Behold the Planets round about thine eares Whirling like firebals in their restlesse Spheares At one selfe-instant moving severall wayes Still measuring out our short and shorter dayes Behold the parts whereon the World consists Are limited in their appointed lists Without rebellion unapt to vary Though being many divers and contrary Looke where we list above bâ—neath or under Our eyes shall see to learne and learne to wonder Their depth shall drown our judgements and their height Besides his wits shal drive the prime coÌ„ceit Shall then our daring minds presume t' aspire To heavens hid Myst'ries shall our thoughts inquirâ— Into the depth of secrets unconfounded When in the shoare of Nature they were drowned Fond man be wise strive not above thy strength Tempt not thy Barke beyond her Cables length And like Prometheus filch no sacred fire Lest Eagles gripe thee Let thy proud desire Suit with thy fortunes Curious mindes that shall Mount up with Phaeton shall have Phaetons fall Vnbâ—nd thy bow betimes lest thou repent Too late for it will breake or else stand bent I 'le work at home ne'r crosse the scorching Line In unknowne lands to seeke a hidden Mine Plaine Bullion pleaseth me I not deâ—ire Deare Ignoâ—s from th'Elixars techy fire I 'le spend my paines where best I may be bold To know my selfe wherein I shall behold The world abridg'd and in that world my Maker Beyond which taske I wish no Vndertaker Great God by whom it is what-e're is mine Make me thy Viceroy in this World of thine So cleare mine eyes that I may comprehend My slight beginning and my sudden end THE ARGVMENT God questions Iob and proves that man Cannot attaine to things so high As divine secrets since he can Not reach to Natures Iobs reply Sect. 18. FOrth from the bosome of a murm'ring Cloud Heavens great â—ehovah did at length unshroud His Earths-amazing language equally Made terrible with Feare and Majesty Challeng'd the Duell he did undertake His grumbling servant and him thus bespake Who who art thou that thus dost pry in vaine Into my secrets hoping to attaine With murmuring to things conceal'd from man Say poreblinde mortall Who art thou that can Thus cleare thy crimes and dar'st with vaine applause Make me defendant in thy sinfull cause Ioe here I am Engrosse into thy hands Thy soundest weapons Answer my demands Say where wert thou when these my haÌ„ds did lay The worlds foundation canst thou tell me Say Was earth not measur'd by this Arme of mine Whose hand did ayde me was I help't by thine Where wert thou when the Planets fiâ—st did blaze And in their sphears sang forth their Makers praise Who is 't that tames the raging of the Seas And swathes them up in mists when e're he please Did'st thou divide the darknesse from the Light Or know'st thou whence Aurora takes her flight Didst ere enquire into the Seas Abysse Or mark'd the Earth of what a bulk she is Know'st thou the place whence Light or Darknesse springâ— Can thy deepe age unfold these secret things Knowâ—st thou the cause of Snow or haile which are My fierce Artill'ry in my time of warre Who is 't that rends the gloomy Clouds in sunder Whose sudden rapture strikes forth fire thunder Or who bedewes the earth with gentle showres Filling her pregnant soyle with fruits and flowres What father got the raine from what chill wombe Did frosts and hard-congealed Waters come Canst thou restraine faire Maja's course or stint her Or sad Orion ushering in the Winter Will scorching Cancer at thy summons come Or Sun-burnt Autumne with he fruitfull wombe Know'st thou Heavens course above or dost thou know Those gentle influences here below Who was 't inspir'd thy soule with understanding Aâ—d gave thy spirit the spirit of apprehending Dost thou command the Cisternes of the Skie To quench the thirsty soyle or is it I Nay let thy practice to the earth descend Prove there how farre thy power doth extend From thy full hand will hungry Lions eate Feed'st thou the empty Ravens that cry for meaâ—eâ— Sett'st thou the season when the fearfull Hind Brings forth her painfull birth Hast thou assign'd The Mountaine-Goate her Time Or is it I Canst thou subject unto thy soveraigntie The untam'd Vnicorne Can thy hard hand Force him to labour on thy fruitfull land Did'st thou inrich the Peacock with his Plume Or did â—hat Steele-digesting Bird assume His downy Flags from thee Didst thou endow The noble Stallion with his strength Canst thou Quaile his proud courage See his angry breath Puffes nothing forth but fearsâ— summ'd up in death Marke with what pride his horny hoofes doe tabor The hard resounding Earth with how great labour How little ground he spends But at the noyse And fierce Alar'm of the hoarse Trumpets voyce He breaks the ranks amidst a thousand Speares Pointed with death undaunted at the feares Of doubfull warre he rushes like a Ranger Through every Troop scorns so brave a dangerâ— Doe lofty Haggards cleave the flitting Ayre With Plumes of thy devising Then how dare Thy ravenous lips thus thus at randome runne And countermaund what I the Lord have done Thinkst thou to learne fond Mortall thus by diving Into my secrets or to gaine by striving Plead then No doubt but thine will be the Day Speake peevish Plaintiffe if th'aft ought to say Ioâ— then replyde Great God I am but Dust â—y heart is sinfull and thy hands are just I am a Sinner Lord my words are wind My thoughts are vaine Ah Father I have sinn'd Shall dust reply I spake too much before I le close these lips and never answer more Meditat. 18. O Glorious Light A light unapprehended By mortall eyes O Glory never ended Nor ere created whence all Glory springs In heavenly bodyes and in earthly things O power Immense derived from a Will Most just and able to doe all but ill O Essence pure and full of Majesty Greatnesse it selfe and yet no quantity Goodnesse and without quality producing All things from out of Nothing and reducing All things to nothing past all comprehending Boâ—h first and Last and yet without an ending Or yet beginning filling every Creature And not it selfe included above Nature Yet not excluded of it selfe subsisting And with it selfe
her feares would teach her to repent That frighfull thought but wheÌ„ she deeply waigh'd The joyfull message then her thoughts obay'd Her first conceit Distracted with confusion Sometimes she fear'd it was a false delusion Suggested in her too beleeving eares Sometimes she doubts it was a Dreame that beares No waight but in a slumber till at last Her feet advised by her thoughts made haste Vnto her husband in whose eares she brake This minde-perplexing secret thus and spake Sir As my discursive thoughts did lately muse On those great blessings wherewith heaven doth use To crowne his children here among the rest Me thoughts no one could make a wife more blest And crowne her youth her age with greater measure Of true content than the unprized treasure Of her chaste wombe but as my thoughts were bent Vpon this subject being in our Tent And none but I appear'd before mine eyes A man of God His habit and his guise Was such as holy Prophets use to weare But in his dreadfull lookes there did appeare Something that made me tremble In his eye Mildnesse was mixt with awfull Majesty Strange was his language and I could not chuse But feare the man although I lik'd his newes Woman said he Cheare up and doe not feare I have no Vials nor no Iudgements here My hand hath no Commission to enquire Into thy sinnes nor am I clad in fire I come to bring thee tydings of such things As have their warrant from the King of Kings Thou shalt conceive and when thy time is come Thou shalt enjoy the blessings of thy wombe Before the space of twice five months be runne Thou shalt become the parent of a Sonne Till then take heed thou neither drinke nor eate Wines or strong drinke or Law-forbidden meate For when this promis'd child shall see the light Thou shalt be mother to a Nazarite While thus he spake â— trembled Horrid feare Vsurpt my quivering heart Onely mine eare Was pleas'd to be the vessell of such newes Which Heaven make good and give me strength to use My better Faith The holy Prophets name I was affraid t' enquire or whence he came Meditat. 2. ANd dost thou not admier Can such things Obtain lesse priviledge thaÌ„ a Tale that brings The audience wonder enter mixt with pleasure Is 't a small thing that Angels can finde leisure To leave their blessed seates where face to face They see their God and quit that heavenly place The least conception of whose joy and mirth Transcends th' united pleasures of the earth Must Angels leave their Thrones of glory thus To watch our foot-steps and attend on us How good a God have we whose eyes can winke For feare they should discover the base finke Of our loath'd sinnes How doth he stop his eare Lest when they call for Iustice he should heare How often Ah how often doth He send His willing Angels hourely to attend Our steps and with his bounty to supply Our helplesse wants at our false-hearted cry The bounteous Ocean with a liberall hand Transports her laden treasure to the land Inriches every Port and makes each towne Proud with that wealth which now she cals her owne And what returne they for so great a gaine But sinckes and noysome Gutters backe againe Even so great God thou sendst thy blessings in And we returne thee Dunghils of our Sinne How are thy Angels hacknei'd up and downe To visit man How poorely doe we crowne Their blessed labours They with Ioy dismount Laden with blessings but returne th' account Of Filth and Trash They bring th'unvalued prize Of Grace and promis'd Glory while our eyes Disdaine these heavenly Factours and refuse Their proferd wares affecting more to chuse Agraine of pleasure than a Iemme of glory We finde no treasure but in Transitory And earth-bred Toiâ—s while things immortal stand Like Garments to be sold at second hand Great God Thou know'st we are but flesh blood Alas we can interpret nothing good But what is evill deceitfull are our Ioyes We are but children and we whine for Toyes Of things unknowne there can be no desire Quicken our hearts with the celestiall fire Of thy discerning Spirit and we shall know Both what is good and good desier too Vouchsafe to let thy blessed Angell come And bring the tidings that the barren Wombâ— Of our affections is inlarg'd O when That welcome newes shall be revealed then Our soules shall soone conceive bring thee forth The firstlings of a new and holy birth THE ARGVMENT Manoah's wonder turnes to zeale his zâ—ale to pray'r His pray'rs obtaine The Angel that did late reveale the joyfull newes returnes againe Sect. 3. NOw when th' amazed woman had commended Her tongue to silence and her tale was ended Perplexed Manoah ravisht at the newes Within himselfe he thus began to muse Strange is the message And as strangely done Shall Manoah's loynes be fruitfull Shall a Sonne Blesse his last dayes Or shall an Issue come From the chill closet of a barren wombe Shall Manoah's wife give suck and now at last Finde pleasure when her prime of youth is past Shall her cold wombe be now in age restor'd And was 't a man of God that brought the word Or was 't some false delusion that possest The weaknesse of a lonely womans brest Or was 't an Angel sent from heaven to show What Heaven hath will as well as pow'r to doe Till then thou must refraine to drinke or eate Wines and strong drink and Law-forbidden meate Evill Angls rather would instruct to riot They use not to prescribe so strict a Dyet No no I make no further question of it 'T was some good Angel or some holy Prophet Thus having mus'd a while he bow'd his face Vpon the ground and prostrate in the place Where first he heard the welcome tydings pray'd His wonder now transform'd to zeale and said Great God that hast ingag'd thy selfe by vâ—w When e're thy little Israel begs to bow Thy gracious eare O harken to the least Of Israel's sonnes and grant me my request By thee I live and breathe Thou did'st become My gracious God both in and from the wombe Thy precious favours I have still possest And have depended on thee from the Brest My simple Infancy hath bin protected By thee my Child-hood taught my youth corrected And sweetly chastned with thy gentle Rod I was no sooner but thou wert my God All times declare thee good this very houre Can testifie the greatnesse of thy power And promptnesse of thy Mercy which hast sent This blessed Angel to us to augment The Catalogue of thy favours and restore Thy servants wombe whose hopes had even given ore T' expect an issue What thou hast begun Prosper and perfect till the worke be done Let not my Lord be angry if I crave Aboone too great for me to beg or have Let that blest Angel that thou sent'st of late Reblesse us with his presence and relate Thy will at large
patience of so strong a foe To bring these evils and worke their overthrow To him they haste and with resolv'd desire Of bloud they burne his house him with fire Meditat. 15. DOst thou not tremble does thy troubled care Not tingle nor thy spirits faint to heare The voice of those whose dying shriekes proclaime Their tortures that are broyling in the flame She whose illustrious beautie did not know Where to be matcht but one poore houre agoe She whose faire eyes were apt to make man erre From his knowne faith and turne Idolater She whose faire cheeks inricht with true complexion Seem'd Beauties store-house of her best perfection See how she lies see how this beautie lies A foule offence unto thy loathing eyes A fleshly Cinder lying on the floore Starke naked had it not beene covered ore With bashfull ruines which were fallen downe From the consumed roofe and rudely throwne On this halfe roasted earth O canst thou reade Her double storie and thy heart not bleed What art thou more than she Tell me wherein Art thou more priviledg'd Or can thy sinne Plead more t' excuse it Art thou faire and young Why so was she Were thy temptations strong Why so were hers What canst thou plead but she Had power to plead the same as well as thee Nor was 't her death alone could satisfie Revenge her father and his house must die Vnpunisht crimes doe often bring them in That were no lesse than strangers to the sinne Ely must die because his faire reproofe Of too foule sinne was not austere enough Was vengeance now appeas'd Hath not the crime Paid a sufficient Intrest for the time Remove thine eye to the Philistian fields See what increase their fruitfull harvest yeelds There 's nothing there but a confused heape Of ruinous Ashes There 's no corne to reape Behold the poyson of unpunisht sinne For which the very earth 's accurst againe Famine must act her part her griping hand For one mans sinne must punish all the land Is vengeance now appeas'd Hath sinne given ore To cry for plagues Must vengeance yet have more O now th' impartiall sword must come and spill The bloud of such as famine could not kill The language of unpunisht sinne cryes loud It roares for Iustice and it must have bloud Famine must follow where the fire begun The sword must end what both have left undone Iust God! our sinnes doe dare thee to thy face Our score is great our Ephah fills apace The leaden cover threatens every minut To close the Ephah and our sinnes within it Turne back thine eye Let not thine eye behold Such vile pollutions Let thy vengeance hold Looke on thy dying Sonne there shalt thou spie 〈◊〉 object that 's more fitter for thine eye 〈◊〉 sufferings Lord are farre above our finnes 〈◊〉 looke thou there Ere Iustice once begins â—T ' unsheath her sword O let one precious drop Fall from that pierced side and that will stop The eares of vengeance from that clamorous voice Of our loud sinnes which make so great a noise O send that drop before Revenge begins And that will crie farre louder than our sinnes THE ARGVMENT He makes a slaughter Doth remove To Etans rocke where to repay him The wrongs that he had done they move The men of Iudah to betray him Sect. 16. THus when th'accurs'd Philistians had appaid The Timnies sinne with ruine and betraid Th'unjust Offenders to their fierce desire And burn'd their cursed Family with fire 〈◊〉 the greatnesse of whose debt deni'd So short a payment and whose wrongs yet crideâ— For further vengeance to be further laid Vpon the sinne-conniving Nation said Vnjust Philistians you that could behold 〈◊〉 a crime and yet with-hold 〈◊〉 well deserved punishment so long 〈◊〉 made you partners in their sinne my wrong Had yee at first when as the fault was young Before that Time had lent her clamorous tongue So great a strength to call for so much bloud O hid your earlie Iustice but thought good To strike in time nay had you then devis'd Some easier punishment it had suffic'd But now it comes too late The sinne has cryed Till heaven hath heard and mercy is denied Nay had the sinne but spâ—r'd to roare so loud A drop had serv'd when now a Tide of bloud Will hardly stop her mouth Had ye done this betimes But now this hand Must plague your persons and afflict your land Have ye beheld a youth-instructing Tutor Whose wisdome's seldome seene but in the future When well deserved punishment shall call For the delinquent Boy how first of all He preaches fairely then proceeds austerer To the foule crime whilst the suspitious hearer Trembles at every word untill at length His language being ceas'd th' unwelcome strength Of his rude arme that often proves too rash Strikes home and fetches bloud at every lash Even so stout Samson whose more gentle tongue In easie tearmes doth first declare tho wrong Injustice did then tells the evill effects That mans connivence and unjust neglects Does often bring upon th' afflicted land But at the last upheaves his ruthlesse hand He hewes he hacks and furie being guide His unresisted power doth divide From top to toe his furious weapon cleft Where ere it strucke It slue and never left Vntill his flesh-destroying arme at length Could finde no subject where t' imploy his strength Here stands a head-strong Steed whose fainting guider Drops down another drags his wounded rider Now here now there his franticke arme would thunder And at one stroake cleaves horse man in sunder In whose mixt bloud his hands would oft embrue And where so ere they did but touch they slew Here 's no imployment for the Surgeons trade All wounds were mortall that his weapon made There 's none was left but dying or else dead And onely they that scap'd his fury fled The slaughter ended the proud victor past Through the afflicted land untill at last He comes to Iudah where he pitcht his tent At the rocke Etan There some time he spent He spent not much till the Philistian band That found small comfort in their wasted land Came up to Iudah and there pitch'd not farre From Samsons tent their hands were arm'd to warre With that the men of Iudah strucke with feare To see so great an Armie straite drew neere To the sad Campe who after they had made Some signes of a continued peace they said What new designes have brought your royall band 〈◊〉 the borders of our peacefull land 〈◊〉 strange adventures What disastrous weather 〈◊〉 you this way What businesse brought you hether 〈◊〉 my Lords be angry or conceive 〈◊〉 evill against your Servants What we have 〈◊〉 The peacefull plentie of our land 〈◊〉 we are yours and at your owne command 〈◊〉 to what purpose are you pleas'd to shew us 〈◊〉 strength Why bring you thus an Army to us 〈…〉 our yearly tributes justly paid Have we not kept our vowes have we delaid Our faithfull
glorious Conquerour is now afraid His conscious heart is smitten with his sinne He cannot chuse but feare and feare agin He feares and now the terrible alarmes Of sinne doe call him from th'unlawfull armes And lips of his luxurious Concubine Bids him arise from dalliance and resigne The usurpation of his luke-warme place To some new sinner whose lesse dangerous case May lend more leisure to so soule a deed Samson with greater and vnwonted speed Leapes from his wanton bed his feares doe presse More haste to cloath than lust did to undresse He makes no tarryance but with winged hast Bestrides the streets and to the gates he past And through the armed troupes he makes his way Beares gates and barres and pillers all away So scap'd the rage of the Philistian band That still must owe his ruine to their land Medit. 19. HOw weake at strongest is poore flesh blood Samson the greatnes of whose power withstood A little world of armed men with death â—ust now be foyled with a womans breath The mother sometimes lets her infant fall To make it hold the surer by the wall God lets his servant often goe amisse That he may turne and see how weake he is David that found an overflowing measure Of heavens high favours and as great a treasure Of saving grace and portion of the Spirit As flesh and bloud was able to inherit Must have a fall to exercise his feares And make him drowne his restles couch with tears Wise Salomon within whose heart was planted The fruitfull stockes of heavenly wisdome wanted Not that whereby his weakenesse understood The perfect vanity of flesh and bloud Whose hand seem'd prodigall of his Isaacs life He durst not trust Gods providence with his wife The righteous Lâ—t had slidings Holy Paul He had his pricke and Peter had his fall The sacred Bride in whose faire face remaines The greatest earthly beauty hath her staines If man were perfect land entirely good He were not man he were not flesh and blood Or should he never fall he would at length Not see his weakenesse and presume in strength Ere children know the sharpnesse of the Edge They thinke their fingers have a priveledge Against a wound but having felt the knife A bleeding finger sometime saves a life Lord we are children our sharpe-edg'd knives Together with our bloud le ts out our lives Alas if we but draw them from the sheath They cut our fingers and they bleed to death Thou great Chirurgion of a bleeding soule Whose soveraigne baulme is able to make whole The deepest wound Thy sacred salve is sure We cannot bleed so fast as thou canst cure Heale thou our wounds that having salv'd the sore Our hearts may feare and learne to sinne no more And let our hands be strangers to those knives That wound not fingers onely but our lives THE ARGVMENT He falls in league with Delila The Nobles bribe her to discover Her Samsons strength and learne the way To binde her arme-prevailing Lover Sect. 20. NOt farre from Azza in a fruitfull Valley Close by a brooke whose silver streams did daâ—ley â—ith the smooth bosome of the wanton sands â—hose winding current parts the neighbring lands And often washes the beloved sides â—her delightfull bankes with gentle tydes â—â—re dwelt a Beauty in whose Sunne-bright eye 〈◊〉 sate in thron'd and full of Majestie 〈◊〉 forth such glorious eye-surprizing rayes 〈◊〉 she was thought the wonder of her dayes 〈◊〉 name was called Delila the faire â—â—ther did amorous Samson oft repaire 〈◊〉 with the piercing flame of her bright eye 〈◊〉 so long that like a wanton flye 〈◊〉 â—urnt his lustfull wings and so became 〈◊〉 slavish prisner to that conquering flame She askt and had There 's nothing was too high For her to beg or Samson to denie Who now but Delila What name can raise And crowne his drooping thoughts but Delila's All time 's mispent each houre is cast away That 's not imploy'd upon his Delila Gifts must be given to Delila No cost If sweetest Delila but smile is lost No ioy can please no happinesse can crowne His best desires if Delila but frowne No good can blesse his amorous heart but this Hee 's Delila's and Delila is his Now when the louder breath of fame had blowne Her newes-proclaiming Trumpet made knowne This Lovers passion to the joyfull eares Of the cow'd Philistines their nimble feates Advis'd their better hopes not to neglect So faire advantage which may bring t' effect Their best desires and right their wasted Land Of all her wrongs by a securer hand With that some few of the Philistian Lords Repaire to Delila with baited words They tempt the frailty of the simple maid And having sworne her to their counsell said Faire Delila Thou canst not chuse but know The miseries of our land whose ruines show The danger whereinto not we but all If thou deny they helpefull hand must fall Those fruitfull fields that offer'd but of late Their plenteous favours to our prosperous state See how they lie a ruinous heape and void Of all their plenty wasted and destroyde Our common foe hath sported with our lives Hath slaine our children and destroy'd our wives 〈…〉 poore distressed land doth grone Vnder that mischiefe that his hands have done â—â—dowes implore thee and poore Orphans tongues â—all to faire Delila to right their wrongs 〈◊〉 lies in thee to help Thy helpefull hand May haâ—e the Glory to revenge thy land For which our thankefull Nation shall allow Not onely honour but reward and thou From every hand that 's present here shall gaine 〈◊〉 a thousand Sicles for thy paine To whom faire Delila whom reward had tied To satisfie her owne desires replied My Lords My humble service I acknowledge due 〈◊〉 to my native country next to you If Heaven and Fortune have enricht my hand With so much power to relieve our Land When ere your honours please to call me to it 〈◊〉 Delila shall die or doe it Say then my Lords wherein my power may doe This willing Service to my land or you Thou knowest say they No forces can withstand The mighty strength of cursed Samsons hand 〈◊〉 ruines Armies and does overthrow 〈◊〉 greatest Bands nay kingdomes at a blow The limits of his more then manly powers Are not confin'd nor is his Arme like ours His strength is more then man his conquering Arme Hath sure th' assistance of some potent charme 〈◊〉 nothing but the glory of thine eyes Wherein a farre more strong enchantment lies 〈◊〉 overthrow He 's prisoner to thine eye 〈◊〉 canst thou aske what Samson can deny 〈◊〉 sweetnesse of thy language hath the Art To dive into the secrets of his heart Move Samson then unbarre his bolted brest And let his deafned eares attaine no rest Vntill his eye-inchanted tongue replyes And tells thee where his hidden power lyes Vrge him to whisper in thy private â—are And to repose his magicke mystr'y there How by what meanes
his strength may be betray'd To bâ—nds and how his power may be allaid That we may right these wrongs which his proud hand Hath rudely offer'd to our ruinous land In this thou shalt obtaine the reputation To be the sole redeemer of thy Nation Whose wealth shall crowne thy loyalty with a meed Due to the merits of so faire a deed Whereto faire Delila whose heart was tyed To Samsons love for her owne ends replied My honourable Lords If my successe In these your just imployments prove no lesse Then my desiers I should thinke my paines Rewarded in the Action If the raines Of Samsons headstrong power were in my hands These lips should now performance Your commands Should worke obedience in the loyall brest Of your true servant who would never rest Till she had done the deed But know my Lords If the poore frailty of a womans words May shake so great a power and prevaile My best advis'd endeavours shall not faile To be imploy'd I le make a sudden triall And quickly speed or finde a soule deniall Meditat. 20. INsatiate Samson Could not Azza smother Thy flaming Lust but must thou finde another Is th' old growne stale And seekst thou for a new Alas where Two's too many Three 's too few Mans soule is infinite and never tires In the extension of her owne desires The sprightly nature of his active minde Aimes still at further Will not be confinde To th' poore dimensions of flesh and blood Something it still desiers Covets good Would faine be happy in the sweet enjoyment Of what it prosecutes with the imployment Of best endeavours but it cannot finde So great a good but something 's still behind It first propounds applauds desires endeavours At last enjoyes but like to men in Feavours Who fancy alway those things that are worst The more it drinks the more it is a thirst The fruitfull earth whose nature is the worse For sin with man partaker in the curse â—â—mes at perfection and would faine bring forth As first it did things of the greatest worth â—er colder wombe endeavours as of old To ripen all her Metals unto Gold O but that sin-procured curse hath chill'd The heate of pregnant Nature and hath filld Her barren seed with coldnesse which does lurke In her â—aint wombe that her more perfect worke Is hindred and for want of heate brings forth Imperfect metals of a baser worth Even so the soule of Man in her first state Receiv'd a power and a will to that Which was most pure and good but since the losse Of that faire freedome onely trades in drosse Aimes shee at Wealth alas her proud desire Strives for the best but failing to mount higher Than earth her errour grapples and takes hold On that which earth can onely give her Gold Aimes she at Glory Her ambition flies As high a pitch as her dull wings can rise But failing in her strength she leaves to strive And takes such Honour as base earth can give Aimes she at Pleasure her desires extend To lasting joyes whose pleasures have no end But wanting wings she grovels on the Dust And there she lights upon a carnall Lust Yet nerethelesse th'aspring Soule desires A perfect good but wanting those sweet fires Whose heate should perfect her unrip'ned will Cleaves to th'apparent Good which Good is ill Whose sweet enjoyment being farre unable To give a satisfaction answerable To her unbounded wishes leaves a thirst Of re-enjoyment greater than the first Lord When our fruitlesse fallowes are growne cold And out of heart we can inrich the mould With a new heate wee can restore againe Her weakned soile and make it apt for graine And wilt thou suffer our faint soules to lie Thus unmanur'd that is thy Husbandry They beare no other bulke but idle weeds Alas they have no heart no heate Thy seedes Are cast away untill thou please t'enspire New strength quench them with thy sacred fire Stirre thou my Fallowes and enrich my mould And they shal bring thee'encrease a hundred fold THE ARGVMENT False Delila accosts her Lover her lips endeavour to entice His gentle nature to discover his strength Samson deceives her thrice Sect. 21. SOone as occasion lent our Champions eare To Delila which could not chuse but heare If Delila but whisper'd she whose wiles Were neatly baited with her simple smiles Accosted Samson Her alluring hand Sometimes would stroke his Temples sometime span'd His brawny arme Sometimes would gently gripe His sinewy wrest Another while would wipe His sweating browes Her wanton fingers plai'd Sometimes with his faire lockes sometimes would brai'd His long dishevell'd hair her eyes one while Would steale a glance upon his eyes and smile And theÌ„ her crafty lips would speak then smother Her broken speech and then begin another At last as if a sudden thought had brake From the faire prison of her lips she spake How poore a Grisle is this arme of mine Me thinkes 't is nothing in respect of thine I 'd rather feele the power of thy Love Than of thy hand In that my heart would prove The stouter Champion and would make thee yeeld And leave thee captive in the conquer'd field The strength of my affection passes thine As much as thy victorious arme does mine The greatest conquest then is due to me Thou conquer'st others but I conquer thee But say my love is it some hidden charme Or does thy stocke of youth enrich thy arme With so great power that can overthrow And conquer mighty Kingdomes at a blow What cause have I to joy I need not feare The greatest danger now my Samson's here I feare no Rebels now me thinks thy power Makes me a Princesse and my house a Tower But say my Love if Delila should finde thee Lost in a sleepe could not her fingers binde thee Me thinkes they should But I would scorne to make So poore a Conquest When th' art broad awake Teach me the tricke Or if thou wilt deny me Know that my owne invention shall supply me Without thy helpe I 'le use a womans charmes And binde thee fast within these circled Armes To whom the Champion smiling thus replied Take the greene Osyers that were never dried And bind thy Samsons wrists together then He shall be fast and weake as other men With that the Philistines that lay in waite Within an eares command commanded strait That Osyers should be brought wherwith she tyed Victorious Samsons joyned hands and cryed Samson make haste and let thy strength appeare Samson take heed the Philistines are here He starts and as the flaming fier cracks The slender substance of th'untwisted flaxe 〈◊〉 â—witcht in sunder his divided bands 〈◊〉 in a moment freed his fastned hands 〈◊〉 that offended Delila bewrai'd 〈◊〉 frowne halfe sweetned with a smile and said Thinkst thou thy Delila does goe about 〈◊〉 â—rappe thy life Or can my Samson doubt â—wrodâ— ledge a secret in the loyall brest 〈◊〉 faithfull Delila that findes no rest 〈◊〉 happinesse
but in thy heart alone 〈◊〉 Ioy I prize farre dearer then my owne 〈◊〉 then shouldst thou deceive me and impart Sâ—â—oule a falshood to so true a heart Câ—me grant my suite and let that faithlesse tongue Make love amends which hath done love this wrong To whom dissembling Samson thus replied Take twisted ropes whose strength was never tryed And tye these closed hands together then I shall be fact and weake as other men With that she bound him close and having made The knot more suer then her love's she said Samson arise and take thy strength vpon thee Samson make hast the Philistines are on thee He straight arose and as a striving hand Would breake a Sisters thred he crackt the band That bound his arms he crackt the bands insunder But frowning Delila whose heart did wonder No lesse then vexe being fill'd with discontent She said False lover If thy heart had meant What thy faire tongue had formerly profest Thou nere hadst kept thy secrets from my brest Wherein hath Delila bin found unjust Not to deserve the honour of thy trust Wherein have I beene faithlesse of disloyall Or what request of thine are found denyall Had I but bin so wise as to deny Samson might beg'd and misâ— as well as I But 't is my fortune still to be most free To those as are the â—est reserv'd to me Be not ingratefull Samson If my brest Were but as false as thine is hard I 'd rest To tempt thy silence or to move my suite Speake then but speake the truth or else be mute To whom fond Samson If thy hands would tye These locks to yonder Beame they will diserie My native weâ—knesse and thy Samson then Would be as poore in strength as other men So said her busie fingers soone obey'd His locks being platted to the beame she said Samson bestirre thee and let thy power appeare Samson take heed the Philistines are here With that he quits the place whereon he lay Fallne fast asleepe and bore the Beame away Meditat. 21. SEe how the crafty Serpent twists and windes Into the brest of man What paths he findes And crooked by-wayes With how sweet a baite He hides the hooke of his inveterate hate What suger'd words and eare-delighting Art He uses to supplant the yeelding heart Of poore deceived man who stands and trusts Vpon the broken staffe of his false â—â—â—sts He tempts allures suggests and in conclusion Makes Man the Pander to his owne confusion The fruit was faire and pleasing to the eyes Apt to breed knowledge and to make them wise Must they not taste so faire a fruit not touch Yes doe T will make you Gods and know as much As he that made it Thinke you you can fall Into deaths hands Yee shall not dye at all Thus fell poore man his knowledge proved such Better ' thad bin he had not knowne so much Thus this old Serpent takes advantage still On our desiers and distemperd will Art thou growne Covetous wouldst thou faine be rich He comes and strikes thy heart with the dry itch Of having Wealth will rouze thy heartles friends Make thee a potent Master of thy Ends 'T will bring thee honour make thy suites at Law Prosper at will and keepe thy Foes in awe Art thou Ambitious He will kindle fire In thy proud thoughts make thy thoughts aspire â—ee'l come and teach thy honour how to scorne 〈◊〉 old acquaintance whom thou hast outworne 〈◊〉 teach thee how to Lord it and advance 〈◊〉 servants fortunes with thy Countenance Wouldst thou enjoy the Pleasures of the flesh 〈◊〉 bring thee wanton Ladies to refresh 〈◊〉 drooping soule He 'l teach thine eyes to wander 〈◊〉 thee how to wooe Hee 'l be thy Pander 〈◊〉 fill thy amorous soule with the sweet passion 〈◊〉 powerfull Love Hee 'l give thee dispensation 〈◊〉 sinne at pleasure He will make thee Slave 〈◊〉 thy own thoughts hee 'l make thee beg crave 〈◊〉 be a drudge hee 'l make thy treacherous breath 〈◊〉 thee and betray thee to thy death Lord if our Father Adam could not stay 〈◊〉 his upright perfection one poore day How can it be expected we have power To hold out Seige one scruple of an hower Our Armes are bound with too unequall bands We cannot strive We cannot loose our hands Great Nazarite awake and looke upon us Make haste to helpe The Philistines are on us THE ARGVMENT She sues againe Samson replies The very truth Her lips betray him They binde him They put out his eyes And to the prison they convey him Sect. 22. WIth that the wanton whose distrustfull eye Was fixt upon reward made this reply Had the deniall of my poore request Proceeded from th'inexorable brest Of one whose open hatred sought t' endanger My haunted life Or had it bin a stranger That wanted so much nature to deny The doing of a common curtesie Nay had it bin a friend that had deceiv'd me An ordinary friend It nere had griev'd me But thou even thou my bosome friend that art The onely joy of my deceived heart Nay thou whose hony-dropping lips so often Did plead thy undissembled love and soften My deare affection which could never yeeld To easier termes By thee to be beguild How often hast thou mockt my slender suite With forged falshood Hadst thou but beene mute Iâ—ere had hop'd But being fairely led Towards my prompt desiers which were fed With my false hopes and thy false-hearted tongue And then beguild I hold it as a wrong How canst thou say thou lov'st me How can I Thinke but thou hat'st me when thy lips deny So poore a Suite Alas my fond desire Had slak'd had not deniall blowne the fire Grant then at last and let thy open brest 〈◊〉 that thou lov'st me ' and grant my faire request Speake or speake not thy Delila shall give ore To urge her lips shall never urge thee more To whom the yeelding Lover thus betrai'd His heart being tortur'd unto death and said My deare my Delila I cannot stand Against so sweet a pleader In thy hand There entrust and to thy brest impart In Samsons life and secrets of his heart 〈◊〉 then my Delila that I was borne â—Nazarite These locks were never shorne 〈◊〉 Raisar yet came ere upon my crowne There lies my strength with theÌ„ my strength is gone 〈◊〉 they but shaven my Delila O then In Samson should be weake as other men No sooner had he spoken but he spred His body on the floore his drowzy head 〈◊〉 pillow'd on her lap untill at last He fell into a sleepe and being fast She clipt his locks from off his carelesse head And beckning the Philistians in she said Samson awake Take strength and courage on thee Samson arise The Philistines are on thee Even as a Dove whose wings are clipt for flying Flutters her idle stumps and still 's relying Vpon her wonted refuge strives in vaine To quit her life from danger and attaine The freedome of her
secret angle of the Land Which beares no marke of heavens enraged hand ELEG 4. â—Arts thrild from heaveÌ„ transfix my bleeding heart And fill my soule with everlasting smart Whose festring wound no fortune can recure Th' Almighty strikes but seldome but strikes sure His finowy arme hath drawne his steely bow And sent his forked shafts to overthrow My pined Princes and to ruinate The weakened Pillars of my wounded State His hand hath scourg'd my deare delights acquired My soule of all wherein my soule delighted I am the mirrour of unmasked sin To see her dearely purchas'd pleasures in ELEG 5. EVen as the Pilot whose sharpe Keele divides Th' encountring waves of the Cicilian Tides Tost on the listâ— of death striving to scape The danger of deepe mouth'd Chaâ—ybdis rape Reâ—uts on Scyâ—â—a with a forc'd careere And wrecks upon a lesse suspected feare Even so poore I contriving to withstand My Foemans fall into th' Almighties hand So I the childe of ruine to avoid Lesse dangers by a greater am destroy'd How necessary Ah! How sharp's his end That neither hath his God nor man to friend ELEG 6. FOrgotten Sion hangs her drooping head Vpon her fainting brest Her soule is fed With endlesse griefe whose torments had depriv'd her Long since of life had not new paines reviv'd her Sion is like a Garden whose defence Being broke is left to the rude violence Of wastefull Swine full of neglected waste Nor having flowre for smell nor herbe for taste Heaven takes no pleasure in her holy Feasts Her idle Sabbaths or burnt fat of beasts Both State and Temple are despoil'd and fleec't Of all their beauty without Prince or Priest ELEG 7. GLory that once did Heavens bright Temple fill Is now departed from that sacred Hill See how the emptie Altar stands disguis'd Abus'd by Gentiles and by heaven despis'd That place wherein the holy One hath taken So sweet delight lies loathed and forsaken That sacred place wherein the precious Name Of great Iebovah was preserv'd the same Is turn'd a Den for Theeves an open stage For vice to act on a defiled Cage Of uncleane birds a house of priviledge For sin and uncontrolled sacriledge ELEG 8. HEaven hath decreed his angry brest doth boile His time 's expired and he 's arm'd to spoile His secret Will adjourn'd the righteous doome Of threatned Sion and her time is come His hand is arm'd with thunder from his eyes A flame more quicke than sulphrous Etna flyes Sion must fall That hand which hath begun Can never rest till the full worke be done Her walls are sunke her Towres are overthrowne Heaven will not leave a stone upon a stone Hence hence the flouds of roaring Iudah rise Hence Sion fills the Cisternes of her eyes ELEG 9. IOy is departed from the holy Gates Of deare Ierusalem and peace retraits From wasted Sion her high walls that were An armed proofe against the brunt of feare Are shrunke for shame if not withdrawne for pity To see the ruine of so brave a City Her Kings and out-law'd Princes live constraind Hourely to heare the name of Heaven profan'd Manners and Lawes the life of government Are sent into eternall banishment Her Prophets cease to preach they vow unheard They howle to heaven but heaven gives no regard ELEG 10. KIng Priest and People all alike are clad In weeds of Sack-cloth taken from the sad Wardrobe of sorrow prostrate on the earth They close their lips their lips estrang'd to mirth Silent they sit for dearth of speech affords A sharper Accent for true griefe than words The Father wants a Son the Son a Mother The Bride her Groom th the brother waÌ„ts a brother Some Famine Exile some and some the sword Hath slaine All want when Sion wants her Lord How art thou all in all There 's nothing scant Great God with thee without thee all things want ELEG 11. â—Aunch forth my soule into a sea of teares Whose ballanc'd bulke no other Pilot steares Then raging sorrow whose uncertaine hand Wanting her Compasse strikes on every sand Driven with a storme of sighes she seekes the Haven Of rest but like to Noahs wandring Raven She scowres the Maine and as a Sea-lost Rover She roames but can no land of peace discover Mine eyes are faint with teares teares have no end The more are spent the more remaine to spend What Marble ah what Adamantine eye Can looke on Sions ruine and not cry ELEG 12. MY tongue the tongues of Angels are too faint T' expresse the causes of my just complaint See how the pale-fac'd sucklings roare for food And from their milkles mothers brests draw blood Children surcease their serious toyes and plead With trickling teares Ah mothers give us bread Such goodly Barnes and not one graine of corne Why did the sword escape's Why were we borne To be devour'd and pin'd with famine save us With quicke reliefe or take the lives you gave us They cryde for bread that scarce had breath to cry And wanting meanes to live found meanes to dye ELEG 13. NEver ah never yet did vengeance brand A State with deeper ruine than thy Land Deare Sion how could mischiefe beene more keene Or strucke thy glory with a sharper spleene Whereto Ierusalem to what shall I Compare this thy unequall'd misery Turne backe to ages past Search deepe Records Theirs are thine cannot be exprest in words Would would to God my lives cheape price might be Esteem'd of value but to ransome thee Would I could cure thy griefe but who is able To heale that wound that is immedicable ELEG 14. O Sion had thy prosperous soule endur'd Thy Prophets scourge thy joyes had bin secur'd But thou ah thou hast lent thine itching eare To such as claw'd and onely such wouldst heare Thy Prophets 'nointed with unhallow'd oyle Rubd where they should have launcht and did beguile Thy abused faith their fawning lips did cry Peace peace alas when there was no peace nigh They quilted silken curtaines for thy crimes Belyde thy God and onely pleas'd the times Deare Sion oh hadst thou but had the skill To stop thine eares thou hadst beene Sion still ELEG 15. â—Eople that travell through thy wasted Land Gaze on thy ruines and amazed stand They shake their spleenfull heads disdaine deride The sudden downefall of so faire a pride They clap their joyfull hands fill their tongues With hisses ballads and with Lyrick songs Her torments give their empty lips new matter And with their scornfull fingers point they at her Is this say they that place whose wonted fame Made troubled earth to tremble at her name Is this that State are these those goodly Stations Is this that Mistris and that Queene of Nations ELEG 16. QVencht are the dying Embers of compassion For empty sorrow findes no lamentation When as thy Harvest flourisht with full eares Thy sleightest griefe brought in a tide of teares But now alas thy Crop consum'd and gon Thou art but food for beasts to trample on