II. PSALMS LXIX. III.
O Lord, thou knowest my foolishnesse, and my sinnes are not hid from thee.
Seest thou this fulsome Ideot? In what measure
He seemes transported with the antick pleasure
Of childish Baubles? Canst thou but admire
The empty fulnesse of his vaine desire?
Canst thou conceive such poore delights as these
Can fill th'insatiate soule of Man, or please
The fond Aspect of his deluded eye?
Reader, such very fooles are thou and I:
False puffs of Honour; the deceitfull streames
Of wealth; the idle, vaine, and empty dreames
Of pleasure, are our Traffick, and ensnare
Our soules; the threefold subject of our Care:
We toyle for Trash, we barter solid Joyes
For ayry Trifles; sell our Heav'n for Toyes:
We snatch at Barly graines, whilst Pearles stand by
Despis'd; Such very Fooles are Thou and I:
Aym'st thou at Honour? Does not th'Ideot shake it
In his left hand? Fond man, step forth and take it:
Or wouldst thou Wealth? See how the foole presents thee
With a full Basket; if such Wealth contents thee:
Wouldst thou take pleasure? If the Foole unstride
His prauncing Stallion, thou mayst up, and ride:
Fond man: Such is the Pleasure, Wealth, and Honour
That earth affords such Fooles as dote upon her;
Such is the Game whereat earths Ideots flie;
Such Ideots, ah, such Fooles are thou and I:
Had rebell-mans Foole-hardinesse extended
No further than himselfe, and there, had ended,
It had been Just; but, thus, enrag'd to flie
Upon th'eternall eyes of Majesty,
And drag the Son of Glory, from the brest
Of his indulgent Father: to arrest
His great and sacred Person; in disgrace,
To spit and spaule upon his Sun-bright face;
To taunt him with base termes; and, being bound,
To scourge his soft, his trembling sides; to wound
His head with Thornes; his heart, with humane feares;
His hands, with nayles; and his pale Flanck with speares;
And, then, to paddle in the purer steame
Of his spilt Blood, is more than most extreame:
Great Builder of mankind, canst thou propound
All this to thy bright eyes, and not confound
Thy handy-work? O, canst Thou choose but see,
That mad'st the Eye? Can ought be hid from Thee?
Thou seest our persons, LORD, and not our Guilt;
Thou seest not what thou maist, but what thou wilt:
The Hand, that form'd us, is enforc'd to be
A Screene set up betwixt thy Work and Thee:
Looke, looke upon the Hand, and thou shalt spy
An open wound, a Throughfare for thine Eye;
Or if that wound be clos'd, that passage be
Deny'd betweene Thy gracious eyes, and me,
Yet view the Scarre; That Scarre will countermand
Thy Wrath: O read my Fortune in thy Hand.
S. CHRYS. Hom. 4. Ioan.
Fooles seeme to abound in wealth, when they want all things; they seeme to
enjoy happinesse, when indeed they are onely most miserable; neither do they
understand that they are deluded by their fancy, till they be delivered from their folly.
S. GREG. in mo.
By so much the more are we inwardly foolish by how much we strive to seeme outwardly wise.
EPIGRAM 2.
[Rebellious foole, what has thy Folly done?]
Rebellious foole, what has thy Folly done?
Controld thy GOD, and crucified His Son:
How sweetly has the LORD of life deceiv'd thee?
Thou fledst His Blood, and that shed Blood has sav'd thee.
