Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Bridegroome, at his nuptiall Feast,
to the Philistians, doth propound
A Riddle: which they all addrest
themselves, in counsell to expound.

Now, when the glory of the next dayes light
Had chas'd the shadowes of the tedious night,
Then coupling Hymen with his nuptiall bands,
And golden Fetters, had conjoyn'd their hands;
Then jolly welcome had to every Guest,
Expos'd the bounty of the mariage Feast,
Their now appeased stomacks did enlarge
Their captive tongues, with power to discharge
And quit their Table-duty, and disburse
Their store of enterchangeable discourse,
Th'ingenious Bridegroome turn'd his rolling eyes
Upon his guard of Bridemen, and applies
Espeech to them: And, whil'st that every man
Lent if his attentive eare, he thus began;

My tongue's in labour, and my thoughts abound;
I have a doubtfull Riddle, to propound;
Which if your joyned wisdomes can discover,
Before our seven dayes feasting be past over;
Then, thirty Sheets, and thirty new supplies
Of Raiment shall be your deserved prize:
But if the seven dayes feast shall be dissolv'd,
Before my darkned Riddle be resolv'd,

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Ye shall be all engaged to resigne
The like to me, the vict'rie being mine:
So said; the Bridemen, whose exchanged eyes
Found secret hopes of conquest, thus replies:

Propound thy Riddle: Let thy tongue dispatch
Her cloudy errand: We accept the match:
With that, the hopefull Challenger convai'd
His Riddle to their hearkning eares, and said;

The Riddle.

Our food, in plenty, doth proceed
from him that us'd to eate;
And he, whose custome was to feed
does now afford us meate;
A thing that I did lately meet,
as I did passe along,
Afforded me a dainty sweet,
yet was both sharpe and strong:
The doubtful Riddle being thus propounded,
They muse; the more they mus'd, the more cōfounded:
One rounds his whispring neighbour in the eare,
Whose lab'ring lips deny him leave to heare:
Another, trusting rather to his owne
Conceit, sits musing, by himselfe, alone:
Here, two are closely whispring, till a third
Comes in, nor to the purpose speakes a word:
There, sits two more, and they cannot agree
How rich the clothes, how fine the Sheets must be
Yonder stands one that, musing, smiles; no doubt,
But he is neere it, if not found it out;
To whom another rudely rushes in,
And puts him quite beside his thought agin:

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Here, three are Whispring, and a fourths intrusion
Spoiles all, and puts them all into confusion:
There sits another in a Chaire, so deepe
In thought, that he is nodding fast asleepe:
The more their busie fancie doe endever,
The more they erre; Now, farther off, than ever:
Thus when their wits, spur'd on with sharpe desire,
Had lost their breath, and now began to tire,
They ceas'd to tempt conceit beyond her strength;
And, weary of their thoughts, their thoughts at length
Present a new exploit: Craft must supply
Defects of wit; Their hopes must now rely
Vpon the frailty of the tender Bride;
She must be mov'd; Perswasions may attaine;
If not, then rougher language must constraine:
She must diclose the Riddle, and discover
The bosome secrets of her faithfull Lover.

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Medita. 10.

There is a time, to laugh: A time, to turne
Our smiles to teares: There is a time to mourn:
There is a time for joy, and a time for griefe,
A time to want, and a time to finde reliefe,
A time to binde, and there's a time to breake,
A time for silence, and a time to speake,
A time to labour, and a time to rest,
A time to fast in, and a time to feast:
Things, that are lawfull, have their times, and use;
Created good; and, onely by abuse,
Made bad: Our sinfull usage does unfashion
What heaven hath made, and makes a new creatiō:
Ioy is a blessing: but too great excesse
Makes Ioy, a madnesse, and, does quite unblesse
So sweet a gift; And, what, by moderate use;
Crownes our desiers, banes them in th'abuse:
Wealth is a blessing; But too eager thurst
Of having more, makes what we have, accurst:
Rest is a blessing; But when Rest withstands
The healthfull labour of our helpfull hands,
It proves a curse; and staines our guilt, with crime,
Betraies our irrecoverable time:
To feast and to refresh our hearts with pleasure,
And fill our soules with th'overflowing measure
Of heavens blest bounty, cannot but commend
The precious favours of so sweet a friend;
But, when th'abundance of a liberall diet,
Meant for a blessing, is abus'd by Riot,

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Th'abused blessing, leaves the gift, nay, worse,
It is transform'd, and turn'd into a curse:
Things that afford most pleasure, in the use,
Are ever found most harmfull in the abuse:
Vse them like Masters; and their tyrannous hand
Subjects thee, like a slave, to their command;
Vse them as Servants; and they will obey thee;
Take heed; they'l either blesse thee, or betray thee.

Could our Fore fathers but revive, and see
Their Childrens Feasts, as now a dayes they bee:
Their studied dishes, Their restoring stuffe,
To make their wanton bodies sinne enough;
Their stomack-whetting Sallats, to invite
Their wastfull palat to an appetite;
Their thirst-procuring dainties, to refine
Their wanton tasts, and make them strong, for wine;
Their costly viands, charg'd with rich perfume;
Their Viper-wines, to make old age presume
To feele new lust, and youthfull flames agin,
And serve another prentiship to sinne:
Their time-betraying Musicke; their base noise
Of odious Fidlers; with their smooth-fac'd boyes,
Whose tongues are perfect, if they can proclame
The Quintessence of basenesse without shame;
Their deepe-mouth'd curses, new invented oathes,
Their execrable Blasphemy, that loathes
A minde to thinke on; their obsceaner words,
Their drunken Quarrels, their unsheathed swords:
O how they'd blesse themselves, & blush, for shame,
In our behalfs, and hast from whence they came,
To kisse their graves, that hid them from the crimes
Of these accursed and prodigious times.

Great God; O, can thy patient eye behold
This height of sinne, and can thy vengeance hold?