 | Andronicus : A Tragedy, Impieties Long Successe, or Heavens Late Revenge |  |
8
SCENE 4.
Enter Monobius the Hermite alone.Mon.
Scarce have I crau'ld from out my Mossy Cell
On my four legs to view the world abroad,
Full sixty yeares and six therein I dwelt,
My aime was to do good, and to shun evil,
(A solitary man's a Saint or Devil)
Oft to my self I have a Question stated
Oppos'd, then answer'd, at last moderated,
Now scatter'd into three, then sum'd to one,
And never lesse alone, then when alone.
On my four legs to view the world abroad,
Full sixty yeares and six therein I dwelt,
My aime was to do good, and to shun evil,
(A solitary man's a Saint or Devil)
Oft to my self I have a Question stated
Oppos'd, then answer'd, at last moderated,
Now scatter'd into three, then sum'd to one,
And never lesse alone, then when alone.
But now to change my course, I do intend,
And by another may gain the same end.
Our lives were made for labour, not for ease,
To profit others, not our selves to please;
Us for our selves our Mothers never bare,
Friends and the Common good in us claim share.
Discourse us for Society hath fitted.
What sin unnatural have mens parts committed,
Condemned to be buried thus alive?
Our Talents are put out, If not put out,
And gifts are deaded, if not dealt about.
And by another may gain the same end.
Our lives were made for labour, not for ease,
To profit others, not our selves to please;
Us for our selves our Mothers never bare,
Friends and the Common good in us claim share.
Discourse us for Society hath fitted.
What sin unnatural have mens parts committed,
Condemned to be buried thus alive?
Our Talents are put out, If not put out,
And gifts are deaded, if not dealt about.
Nor do I count those men most mortifi'de
Which most to solitarie Lives are ti'de,
Bad servants, disobedient sons, curst wives,
Ill neighbours, cruel masters, faithlesse friends,
These Crosses which a Civil life betide,
More humbleth hearts, and more abateth pride,
Then all mans wilful fasting in a Cell,
Which makes some soules with windy pride to swell
Which most to solitarie Lives are ti'de,
Bad servants, disobedient sons, curst wives,
Ill neighbours, cruel masters, faithlesse friends,
These Crosses which a Civil life betide,
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Then all mans wilful fasting in a Cell,
Which makes some soules with windy pride to swell
But oh, my vow, my vow, which I did make,
That I alive would not my Cell forsake.
Its sad remembrance keeps my soul in awe,
This Corosive my very heart would gnaw
Did not this salve the sore. Vows rashly spoken,
On more mature advice, are justly broken,
First, ev'n to make it, was a grievous sin,
It would be greater to remain therein.
That I alive would not my Cell forsake.
Its sad remembrance keeps my soul in awe,
This Corosive my very heart would gnaw
Did not this salve the sore. Vows rashly spoken,
On more mature advice, are justly broken,
First, ev'n to make it, was a grievous sin,
It would be greater to remain therein.
To th'Court I'le go, there all things now are sad,
Where one doth seek each other ro out-bad.
It hath as many Factions as Lords,
Only their strife in wickednesse accords,
However there my Councel I'le dispence,
And for successe relie on Providence.
Where one doth seek each other ro out-bad.
It hath as many Factions as Lords,
Only their strife in wickednesse accords,
However there my Councel I'le dispence,
And for successe relie on Providence.
| Andronicus : A Tragedy, Impieties Long Successe, or Heavens Late Revenge | |