University of Virginia Library

The meaning of the Title page.

TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT Maiestie.

Most Royall SIR:

Brittan's Remembrancer.

Canto the first.

One Storm is past, & though some clouds appear,
A peacefull ayre becalmes our Hemispheare.
That frighting Angell whose devouring blade,
Among the People such a havock made,
Is now departed, and hath tooke from hence
His pois'ned Arrowes of the Pestilence.
God smoothes his brow; and lo, we now obtaine
The cheerfull brightnesse of his face againe.
Oh, boundlesse Mercy! what a change is this!
And what a joy unto my heart it is!
Run quickly Muse, to cary thy Oblation;
And, (twixt that Angell, and the Congregation)
Some sweet perfume to our Preserver burne,
Before that bloody Messenger returne.
Let all affaires keepe off, and give thee way;
For, though my fairest outward Fortunes lay
This houre at spoyle, I would not be advis'd
To speake for them, till I had sacrifis'd;
Nor will I, to the world, one line allow,
Till I have made performance of my Vow.
Most awfull Pow'r, by whom hath formed bin
The Globe of Heav'n and Earth, and all therein;
Thou Alpha, and Omega of my Songs,
To whom all glory, and all fame belongs;
To thee, thrice holy and Almighty King,
Of Iudgement, and of Mercy, now I sing.
Thou hast unclos'd my lips, and I will raise
My thankfull voice in setting out thy praise:
Thou hast preserv'd thy Children in the flame,
And we ascribe the glory to thy Name:
Thou saved hast thy people from their crimes;
And, here, I publish unto future Times,
What I have seene. Oh! let my Poeme be
A sanctified Sacrifice to thee.
Accept this poore Oblation I prefer;
These drams of Incense, and these drops of Mirth,
(Which fired in Afflictions Flame, perfume
Thy sacred Altars) gratiously assume;
And give my Lines a date to last as long
As there are speakers of our English tongue;
That Children, yet unborne, may reade the Story
Which now I sing, to thy perpetuall glory.
And, harke ye People: harken you, I pray,
That were preserv'd with me to see this day;
And listen you that shall be brought upon
This Stage of action, when our Scæne is done:
Come harken all; and let no soule refraine
To heare; nor let it heare my words in vaine.
For, from the Slaughter-house of Death, and from
The habitations of the Dead I come.
I am escaped from the greedy Iawes
Of Hell, and from the furious Lions pawes;
With sorrowes I have lodged; and I have
Experience in the horrors of the Grave;
In those discomforts which, by day, assaile;
And those black terrors which, by night, prevaile:
Despaire, with her grim Furies, I have seene;
Spectator of Gods Iustice I have beene;
And, passing through Gods Iudgements, had a sight
Of those his Mercies which are infinite:
And here, I tell the world what I observed;
For, to this purpose is my soule preserved.
That fatall Yeare, in which the forward Spring
Became an Autumne to our peacefull King;
When Iames his Crowne and Scepter did forgoe.
That Charles (of whom this Kingdome hopeth so)
Might shew, when he did weare hir Diadem,
How worthily we plac'd our hopes on him.
Yea, when within the compasse of one house,
Two King both had, and had not, regall pow'r:
Ev'n then, by Thames faire Banks I did reside,
Where her sweet waters washeth ev'ry Tide
The spacious verge of that well peopled Towne,
Which with most princely Pallaces doth crowne
Her goodly streame, and at her Ports and Keyes,
Take in the wealth of Kingdomes and of Seas.
Our soueraigne Citie, then I did espie
Vpon the couch of soft security;
And, how with Peace and Plenty being fed,
She toyed like a wanton, on her bed.
I saw her drest in all that rich attire,
Which doth inflame her Lovers with desire;
And how her idle Children, ev'ry day,
Sate downe to eate, and drinke, and rose to play.
For, she was growne insensible of cares;
She had almost forgotten, sighes, and teares;
And all this Iland in her cup of Pleasure,
With her had quaffed (so much out of measure)
Till they grew drunke together through excesse,
And wilde and giddy in their drunkennesse.
They had almost forgotten him, from whom
Their ease and their prosperity did come.
They spent their houres in laughter and in song,
And grew regardlesse of the poore mans wrong.
They alwayes clothed went in soft aray;
They fed themselues with dainties, day by day;
And, that no outward meanes of pleasure might
Be wanting, to accomplish their delight,
Those iollities, wherein they did appeare,
Were further'd by the season of the yeare.
The windes then breathed on them wholsome aire
The Groves, their summer clothings did repaire;
The fruitfull Fields with fresh greene gownes were clad,
Which Flora curiously embroydered had:
The pleasant Gardens their choyce plaints displaid,
Their Orchard with gay blossomes wore arraid;
The winged Choristers did sweetly sing,
And with choice Musicke welcome in the Spring:
Their streets with matchlesse bravery did shine;
Their Parlers many beauties did enshrine:
Their costly Bowres with rarities were hung,
And alwayes filled with a merry throng.
Of nought but sports & triumphs were their dreams
Wealth, health & honor, were their studied theames
No noisome Plagues, within their Gates were found,
Of Grones, their dwellings did but rarely sound;
Nor was there any storme or danger feared:
For, in this Hemisphere so bright appeared
New CHARLES-his-waine, that sunlike he did chase
All fogs of discontentment from each place,
And, all those clouds of griefe, expelled farre,
VVhich rose at setting of our IACOB-Starre.
But, oh how trustlesse are those lying showes
Of happinesse, on which most men repose
Their greatest confidence? And from our sight
How swiftly did these pleasures take their flight
For, whether he, who from his heav'nly sphere
Beholdeth all our thoughts and actions here,
Did with a searching eye, examine more
Our courses at that present then before:
Or, whether hee our carelesnesse had eyde,
Or our hypocrisie, or else our pride,
Or our impiety; or whether he
Did in this Iland, or this Kingdome see
Our old Idolatries come creeping in;
Or, whether he some new devised sinne
Descride to sprout among us here; yea, whether
It were some one of these, or all together,
Or what it was, I know not: But it prov'd.
A crying sinne; and so extreamly moov'd:
God's gentlenesse that angry he became;
His browes were bended, and his eyes did flame.
Me thought I saw it so: and (though I were
Afraid within his presence to appeare)
My Soule was rais'd above her common station;
Where what ensues I view'd be Contemplation.
There is a spacious Round which bravely reares
Her Arch above the top of all the Spheares,
Vntill her bright Circumference doth rise
Above the reach of Mans, or Angels eyes;
Conveying through the Bodies christalline
Those Rayes which on our lower Globe doe shine,
And, all the great and lesser Orbes, doe lye
Within the compasse of that Canopy.
In this large Roome of State is fixt a Throne,
From whence the wise Creator looks upon
His workmanship; and thence doth heare and see,
All sounds, all places, and all things that be.
Here sate the King of Gods; and from about
His eye-lids, so much terror sparkled out,
That ev'ry circle of the Heav'ns it shooke,
And all the World did tremble at his looke;
The prospect of the Skie, that earst was cleare,
Did with a lowring countenance appeare:
The troubled Ayre, before his presence fled;
The Earth into her bosome shrunk her head;
The Deeps did roare; the Heights did stand amaz'd;
The Moone and Stars upon each other gaz'd;
The Sun did stand unmoved in his path;
The Hoast of Heav'n was frighted at his wrath;
And with a voice which made all Creatures quake,
To this effect, the great ETERNALL spake.
Are we a GOD? and is there pow'r in us
To startle all our whole Creation thus?
And yet, are we despis'd, as if these Pow'rs
Were either lesser growne, or none of ours?
Are we, that with our gentlest breath can blow
All things to nothing, still abused so?
Hath our long-suffring hardned so our Foes,
That now our Godhead into question growes?
Nay (which is worse) have we compassion showne,
Till we are quite neglected of our owne?
Is this the Land whom we have lov'd so long,
And, in our love, elected from among
The Heathen Iles (and at the first was hurl'd
Into the utmost corner of the world)
That we might raise the glory of her name,
To equall Kingdomes of the greatest fame?
Is this that Iland, which our love did place
(Within our bosome) in the safe embrace
Of great Oceanus? and, garden like
Did wharfe about (within her watry Dike)
With mighty Rocks, and Cliffes, whose tops were higher,
Then any foming Billow dares aspire?
Is this the Kingdome, which our hand hath made
The Schoole and Shop, of ev'ry Art, and Trade?
The Cornucopia of all needfull plenties?
The Storehouse, and the Closset of our dainties?
Our Iewell house, and Palace royall, where
The fairest of our Loves maintained are?
Is this the Country which our bounty served
With store of bread, when many Lands were starved?
And whom we have preserved from the spoiles
Of Foes abroad, and from domesticke broyles?
Are theirs the Cities, which doe weare the Flag
Of Peace, while Rochel, Heidleberg, and Prague,
And ill the Christian world engaged are,
In some offensive, or defensive warre?
Are their's the Cities, to whose fleets were showne,
The pathlesse wayes through many seas unknowne?
Whose wealthy Merchants have encreast their trade
From ev'ry Port and Creek, that we have made?
Whose vessels have, by our protection, gone
Past both the Tropicks, and through every Zone,
And made their petty Villages, become
Acquainted with more worlds, then ancient Rome?
Is this that people unto whom we gave,
More lovely Bodies, then most Nations have?
And in whose minds (of our especiall grace)
We did the best approved temper place?
Is this that People, whom we did restore
To humane shape, when as the scarlet-whore
Had with her charmed Cup of poisned wine,
Transform'd them into Asses, Apes and swine?
Did we in persecution heare their cries?
Take off, the scales of blindnesse from their eyes?
Wincke at their follies, when they most offended?
Forbeare the punishments that were intended?
From diverse Plagues inflicted them release?
Make Europe stand and wonder at their peace?
Yea save them from the malice of their Foe,
When all were like to perish at a blow?
And, grace and favour undeserved shew,
When they their owne destruction did pursue?
Have we, these threescore yeares and upwards blest
Their Kingdomes from those troubles that infest
Most other States? And (when their soules had been
Nigh famisht else) did we provide a Queene,
(A maiden Queene, with vertues masculine)
To nurse them up in holy Discipline?
Did we provide, when she her course had run,
A King who favor'd, what her hand begun?
And now another, who doth both restore
Those hopes they lost in him, and promise more?
Did we but here, of late, when they had lost
Their Prince (that now is King) when they almost
Despair'd of his returne, for evermore,
When he remained on th'iberian shore?
Did we accept their vowes? observe their teares?
Compassionate their jealousies and feares?
And send their Darling home, when few did know
Whereon to build a hope it should be so?
Yea, when throughout the world no other pow'r,
Could such a work have compassed but our?
Have we endur'd their frowardnesse so long?
Forgiven and forgotten so much wrong?
Sought after them, when they had us forsaken?
So oft, their counterfeit Repentance taken?
So many times apparant made unto them,
What mischiefes their owne foolish projects doe them?
Yea, did we freely sundry blessings daigne
Vnaskt, which other Lands could not obtaine
By labors, vowes, and prayers? And have they thus,
For all those benefits requited us?
Js that their vowed thankfulnesse? Are these
The fruits of all their zealous promises?
Is this their Piety? Goe, draw together
Thy Forces, Vengeance: quickly march them thither,
With all our Armies; and consume them so,
That we may never more displeased grow
At their unkindnesse; or be cheated by
The fained weepings of Hypocrisie.
No sooner had he spoken, but, behold,
An Hoast (which he doth alway keepe enrold,
To execute his wrath) did straight appeare
And in his awfull presence mustred were.
So many Troups, did round about him throng,
That, all the world with Plagues, was overhung:
For not a Judgement is there, which hath name,
But, thither to attend his Will it came.
Sterne visag'd WAR (whose very look doth strike)
Came driving on his Charret, Iehu-like;
Arm'd and beset with holberts, bills, and glaves,
Bowes, arrowes, pikes pole axes, darting staves,
Guns, balls of fire, and ev'ry thing that furthers
The worke of Desolation, Wounds, and Murthers.
His prime companions, Theft and Rapine were,
With all those Vices which most cruell are.
And at their heeles pursued all those Bands
Of raging mischiefes, that afflict the Lands
On which he falls. This is that roring Fiend
Who Lawes, and Leagues, doth into pieces rend.
This is that bloody Tyrant, who o're-turnes
The goodl'est Monuments, and spoiles and burnes
The fairest Dwellings. This, is he that razes
Renowned Cities, and the strongest places.
This is that sacrilegious Theefe, who spares
Nor Hospitall nor Temple; neither heares
The suits or cries of aged or of young;
Nor is regardfull of men weake or strong.
The Suckling from his Mothers brest he snatcheth
And braines it in her sight: The Wife he catcheth
Ev'n from her Husbands bed; and Virgins from
Their Lovers armes, his Strumpets to become.
A fertile Soile he makes a Wildernesse,
And Wolves, and Beares, and Foxes, to possesse
Those places, wherein Arts did once abound;
And where have dwelled Nations most renown'd.
However, he's an instrument of God's;
And usually, the last of all those rods
Which on a thanklesse Kingdome he doth lay,
Before he finally remove away
The meanes of Grace. Next him, came sneaking in
Leane Famine, with bare bones, and parched skinne;
With deep sunke eyes, with talons over-growne;
With hungry teeth that would have crackt a stone;
And, close behind her, and at either hand,
Such Troups did wait, as are at her command.
The crawling Caterpillers, wastfull Flyes,
The skipping Locust (that in winter dies)
Floods, Frosts, & Mildewes, Blastings, Windes, & Stormes,
Drough, rav'nous Fowles, & Vermine, Weeds, & Wormes:
Sloth, Evill busdandry, and such as those,
Which make a scarcenesse where most plenty grows.
This is that hungry Houswife, who first found
The searching out for meat from under ground;
To dig up Roots; to rellish, well, the tast
Of stinking Garlick, and of bitter Mast.
She taught poore people how to fill their mawes,
With Bramble-berries, Hedge-picks, Hips, & Hawes,
Twas she who finding on the sandy shore
A heape of Oisters (all bedaubed o're)
First sought within those dirty shels for meat,
Else we had never dar'd of them to eate;
Nor thought, nor hoped, that so foule a dish
Could bring to table such a dainty fish.
Twas she that learn'd the Spaniards how to dresse
Their Frogs; the Frenchman how to cooke a messe
Of spumy Mushromes; Germans how to make
A dinner or a supper on a Snake;
Jtalians on the slimy Snaile to feed;
Our Irishmen to live upon a weed
That growes in Marshes. And I dare to say,
That, but for her, we scarce had heard this day
Of Cavear, and twenty such like bables,
VVhich Gluttony now sets upon our Tables.
The broyling of old shooes, was her device;
And so was eating Carrion, Rats, and Mice.
Those dainty pallats which could relish nought
But what was set farre off, and dearly bought,
She so hath dieted, that they could feed
On mouldy scraps; and beg them too for need.
This Hag, hath Townes and Cities famished.
VVith humane flesh, she hungry men hath fed:
She forc't them hath to suck their horses blood:
To feed on Pigeons dung (in stead of food)
And dearly purchase it. Yea, some constrained
To drinke their Vrine, when they drought sustained.
Nay, this is that unequall'd cruell-one,
VVho urg'd a Mother, once, to kill her Sonne,
And make unnaturally that cursed wombe
VVhich gave him being, to be made his tombe.
Ev'n this is She, God shield us from her cheere,
And grant her Plagueship never settle here.
The Pestilence, moreover, thither brought
Her feared forces, and employment sought.
This is that Nimble Fury, who did slay
Her three and twenty thousand in one day;
And in th' Assirian Camp, to death did smite,
Almost two hundred thousand in one night.
Betwixt an evening and a morning tide,
From ev'ry house a soule she did divide
Throughout the Land of Ægypt; and could mark
Their eldest-borne, although the night were dark.
In little space, she quite hath overthrowne
Great Cities, and dispeopled many a Towne.
She from each other makes acquaintance run,
Before that any injuries be done;
And of the pois'ning-Art hath found the height,
For, she knowes how to poison by conceit.
A Mantle wrought with purple spots she wore,
Embost with many a Blaine, and many a Sore.
She had a raving Voice, a frantick Look,
A noysome Breath, and in her hand she shooke
A venom'd speare, which, where it toucheth, fills
The veines with poison, and distracts, and kills.
Within her Regiment are all Diseases,
And ev'ry Torment which the Body seizes;
Goits, Collicks, Lethargies, and Apoplexies,
Obstruction, which the spleene, or stomack vexes;
The Pox of ev'ry kinde, Rheumes, aches, Stickes,
Quick killing Pleurisies, and Scabs, and Itches;
The Burning-Fever, who deserveth well
The place of her Lieutenant-Colonell;
Consumptions, Gangreeves, Coughes, and Squinancies,
The Falling-evill, Cramps, and Lunacies,
(VVith other such Diseases, many moe
Then I am able by their names to know)
Besides those maladies the Sea procures,
As, sloath-bred Scurvies, and mad Calentures;
And all those other Griefes, and Sorrowes, which
Those Sicknesses doe bring on poore and rich.
But, of that Hoast which here is mentioned,
The maine Battalion was both rang'd and led
By that slye Prince, (ev'n that malicious one)
VVhich in the ayrie Region hath his throne.
To further his designes, he brought in Lyes,
Extortion, Bribing, Fraud, and Perjuries;
VVith many thousand stratagems beside,
VVhose dangerous effects are often tride.
All ravenous Beasts, (or rather those of whom
Such Beasts are Emblemes) in his troups did come:
To worke his mischiefes (with amaze and wonder)
He furnisht was with Lightnings, Winds, & Thunder;
Prodigious apparitions, and those sights
Wherewith mens troubled fancies he affrights;
And, thither did (for soule-assaults) repaire
His two black Twins, Presumption and Despaire.
Attended by those manifold Temptations,
Wherewith he maketh sure the reprobations
Of all obdurate sinners; whom in wrath
Our God, deservedly rejected hath.
These greedy Spoilers, hungry for a prey,
Stood ready, Gods commandings to obey:
Who having view'd their well prepared Bands,
(And ponting out his finger to these Lands)
Said; Goe ye Plagues. And (had he not beene staid)
Lay waste, that sinfull Realme, he would have said.
And yet, it seems, these dreadfull shews were rather
The threatnings of a wise and loving Father,
(To bring his Children to a filiall feare)
Then such a wrath as doth in Foes appeare.
For, neither Chance, nor Time, nor New-desert,
Was interposed on the guilty part:
But, God's owne goodnesse brought the means about
That stopt our Doome, before his words were out.
And thus it was. The great Almighty One
Hath evermore atttending on his throne
Two royall Daughters. One of them is she
That's called Iustice; and her Emblemes be
An equall Ballance, and a flaming Blade,
To weigh the Good their due, and fright the Bad:
And, both with hand and eye she threatens those,
That her uprightnesse, any way oppose.
The other for her Hierogliphick, weares
A Box of Balme, and in her bosome beares
A sucking Lambe, (which meek and harmles creature
Doth somewhat intimate her gentle nature)
Betwixt her beauteous brests, a true Compassion
Erecteth her perpetuall habitation;
And, such a lovely sweet aspect hath she,
Thats if Wrath saw her, Wrath in love would be.
We call her Clemency. She often makes
Our peace with God, and his displeasure slakes.
This Princesse, marking well with what intent
Her Lord would those great Armies forth have sent;
And finding, by that wrath she saw in him,
What Desolations would have followed them;
With teares of pitie, to his throne she ran,
To kisse and to embrace his feet began;
And (whilst his halfe-spoke sentence God delaid)
These words, the faire-well spoken Virgin said.
Deare, oh deare Father! wherefore frownst thou so?
What fearfull thing art thou about to doe?
Hold (I beseech thee hold) thou backe the doome,
Which from thy lips is now about to come;
And hear (Dread Sov'raign heare thy Handmaid speak
A word or two, before thy Iustice wreake
Deserved vengeance on that wretched place
Which hath so fallen from thy wonted Grace.
Look Father: looke upon me: it is I,
Thy best-beloved Daughter CLEMENCIE
Tis I whom thou forgettest. I am she
Who in thy bosome lay, belov'd of thee
Before all worlds; and had a sov'raignty
O're all thy creatures from eternity.
Tis I, at whose intreaty thou wert moved
To send thine onely Sonne, thy best-beloved
(For Mans redemption) to assume the nature,
The forme, and frailties, of a sinfull creature.
Tis I that have presumed to become
A suitor now, to stay thy heavy dome:
And, why should J be doubtfull to make triall
Of thy regard, or fearfull of deniall?
In Iudgement, thou hast promised, oh Lord!
To thinke on Me (ev'n in thy written word)
Yea, Heav'n and Earth have often heard thee say,
Thou never wouldst, for ever, cast away
Thy Loving-Mercy; and, J know, thou must
And wilt, be found in all thy sayings, just.
But, then, to what intents, doe These appeare?
Why are thy dreadfull Armies mustred here?
VVhat favour is it possible to show,
VVhere such a Rablement as this, shall goe?
VVhy may not Pitie shew her selfe as well
VVithin the bottome of the lowest Hell
As where these revell? Doubtlesse, these rude Bands
VVill spare nor Lawes nor Temples in those Lands
To which thou send them shalt; but, from each place
Root out (with ev'ry present meanes of Grace)
All outward helps of present knowing thee,
If equall to their hate, their pow'r may be.
And, what if then their breathlesse fury shall
Leave some few trifles which are temporall?
For what will they reserve them, but to breed
A race of Infidels? a wicked seed,
For them to prey upon? a Brood, to whom
The Blessings left Damnation shall become.
Thou hast upon that Iland (I confesse)
Bestowed Favours, great and numberlesse.
I know that they may justly blush for shame,
To heare how grossely they abuse thy Name;
Yea, they now are, and have a long time bin,
Growne out of measure sinfull in their sin.
Yet, if thou look upon them, thou shalt see
Some there, who bend not unto Baal their knee;
Some left, who for thine honour firme have stood;
Some, who have garments washed in the blood
Of thy unspotted Lamb: and some, which beare
Those marks, that Seales of thy free pardon are.
Oh! let not them enclos'd with Sinners be,
Nor swallowed up with such who know not thee.
But, for the sakes of those forbeare thou, rather,
The Tares, untill thy Harvest thou shalt gather:
So, by those Follies which in them abound,
Thy Goodnesse shall the farther be renown'd.
Jf, therefore, thou this Kingdome shouldst not spare,
Because, repleat with sin her dwellings are,
What Nation is there, or what Habitation,
That merits not perpetuall reprobation?
Where wilt thou finde a People, under Heav'n,
Which hath not ev'ry way occasion giv'n
Of thy displeasure? Or, what Man is there
That in thy sight could justified appeare,
If thou shouldst mark him with a frowning eye?
And, what a pretty Nothing, then were I,
If no man lived, that amisse had done,
For me, to exercise my pity on?
Nay, if Transgression had but finite been,
How should thy Mercies infinite. be seene?
Though on this Field which thou hast plow'd & sown
With purest Wheat) some wicked-ones have throwne
Their Tares, by night; yet, somewhat it hath borne
For which it may be cald thy Field of Corne.
Thy Fence is yet about it; and there stands
A Fort, and Wine-presse, builded by thy hands.
There are thy Sacraments, thy Word divine,
There, is the Schoole of Christian Discipline.
There, may the meanes of Grace be kept in store
For those who will hereafter prise them more.
Thy poore afflicted Servants, thither may
From forraine persecutions flye away;
And sheltred in a Storme, there softly tary,
As in a Fortresse, or a Sanctuary.
But, whither shall they flye when that lyes wast?
Where shall thy sacred Oracles be plac'd?
Or whither with her Sonne that Woman goe,
Who by the Dragon is pursued so?
I know that if thou please thou canst provide
A place for her, securely to abide,
Amid the Westerne wildernesse (and where
Scarce glimmerings of thy favours yet appeare)
By moulding out the Heathen Salvages
To be a people far surpassing these.
This, Lord, thou couldst effect; and make of them
Thy people, whom these most of all contemne.
And, since this Nation, in their wealthy peace,
Have sent out Colonies, but to encrease
Their private gaine: since they faire showes have made
Of publishing thy Gospell when the Trade
For cursed lucre (as the Times reveale)
Was chiefest founder of their fained zeale:
Since they in that, and other things, pretend
Religion, when tis farthest from their end:
Thou didst but right, if thou shouldst force their seed
To settle on some barbarous Coast for reed;
And, there, thy Truth, to those, with sorrow preach,
Whom they neglected, in their weale, to teach.
But, since it were no more for thee to doe,
This Land to save, and call another too,
Then one such worke so compasse; why I pray
Shouldst thou remove their Candlestick away?
Why maist not Thou, who all compassion art,
Thy people, rather, by thy pow'r convert,
Then quite destroy them? wherefore shouldst thou not
Their errors forth of thy remembrance blot,
As heretofore? And alwayes praised be
For that abundant Love, which is in thee?
Why should their Foes and thine, with jeering say,
Now, now we see our long-expected Day?
Why wilt thou give them cause to domineere?
Ev'n those, who love not thee, to laugh, and steere
As their destruction, who, thy Truth profest,
(If not unfainedly) in show, at least.
Though they have ill-deserv'd, why should the shame
Of their offences fall upon thy Name?
And, thy Blasphemers (by thy Peoples fall)
Assume the boldnesse on themselves, to call
Thy Gospel into question? Or, thereby,
Their shamelesse falshoods seeke to justifie?
Why should the wicked, take occasion from
These Plagues, to say; Where is their God become?
Where is their pow'r, on which they did repose?
Where is their Faith? where are the hopes of those
Their services? Oh! for thine owne deare sake,
(However they deserve) compassion take.
Deare SIR, have pittie: and, as often, thou
Hast granted my request, vouchsafe it now.
Yea, to those many thousands, heretofore,
From thy abundance, adde one favour more:
By these, and other Motives (breathed from
A zealous brest) the heav'ns are overcome.
His love of us, doth so our Sampson wound,
That, he hath taught us, how he may be bound.
Yea, Holy-writ informeth us, that He,
By such like Charmings, will compelled be.
And, now they so prevailed, that the rage
Of our great God, they partly did aswage.
Which, MERCY by his looke, had quickly heeded;
And taking that advantage, thus proceeded.
Oh! what a comfort is it, to behold
Thine Eye speak Mercy, and thy Brow unfold
A reconcilement! Now, J seeme to see
Thy gracious face, to shine againe on me.
I finde it is the jealousie of Love,
(And no effect of hatred) which doth move
Thy wronged Patience: and, that when thou hidest
Thy presence in an angry Cloud, or chidest,
It is not alwayes in consuming wrath,
(To punish, as the fault deserved hath)
But, that thy frighting Iudgements might prevaile,
To worke amendment, when thy Love doth faile.
That People, whom so much thou didst affect,
How canst thou have a purpose to reject,
So long as in their Confines doth remaine
That Number, which thy Vengeance doth restraine?
Who can beleeve that thou defraie'st such cost,
To purchase what, thou meanest shall be lost?
Or, labour to erect them, didst bestow,
For nothing else, but them away to throw?
VVhy should J thinke, thy endlesse goodnesse, had
So little care, to save what thou hast made,
That Sathans Hate, should for their Desolation,
Out-worke thy Love, in working their Salvation?
Or, that the boundlesnesse of Mans transgression,
Could over-match thine Infinite Compassion?
It may not be beleeved; Or, that this
Pretended warre, for finall ruine is.
Since, if in summoning thy Iudgements, now,
Thou hadst propos'd their utter overthrow,
Thou wouldst not have discovered an affection,
By still continuing them, in thy protection,
As yet thou dost: Nor early send unto them
Love-tokens, (as if kindnesse, thou wouldst doe them
VVhich they should never know of) nor, make show
Of having left them, when tis nothing so.
Thus have I seene, on earth, a Lover use
His Best-beloved, when she did abuse
His true affection. Though he seeme unkinde,
That her unkindnesse she may thereby finde;
Yea, though he faine some outward disrespects,
Yet, in his heart, so truly he affects,
That, whatsoever good, he can, he does her:
By meanes unseene, to her lost vertues, woees her:
For her well-doing, takes a thousand cares:
Of her ill-doing, hath ten thousand seares:
Wakes not, but thoughts of her, in waking, keepes;
Sleeps not, but dreameth of her, when he sleepes.
Not ceasing to endeavour, till he see
Some sparkes of lost affection kindled be.
And, as her over sights she doth deplore,
So, he his love discovers, more and more;
Untill the fire, that was a long time hid,
Breake forth, and flame as high as e're it did.
I never knew thee, yet, to ruinate
A wicked Kingdome, or a sinfull State,
Professing thee; but, thou didst first withdraw
From those Offenders, thy abused Law.
And, as in Christian Realmes, the temp'rall Sword
Cuts off no Preacher of thy blessed Word,
(For any Crime committed) untill he
Of Holy-orders, first degraded be:
So, thou (most frequently) dost first remove
The Scales of Grace, and Pledges of thy Love,
Before thou give up Lands into their pow'r,
Who them, and theirs, shall finally devoure:
For, till thy holy things, be fetched from
Their Coast, such Desolation shall not come.
Those, they retaine. And, if conclude I shall
From hope of any blessing temporall,
That yet thou lovest them (and dost intend
Their Land, with future favours, to befriend)
That King which thou hast now on them bestowne,
Some token of thy Clemency hath showne.
For, if man may by good externall signes,
Conjecture whereunto his heart enclines:
If Thou, to whom all secrets open be,
See'st that in him, which mortalls hope they see;
And hast not mockt that People, for their sinne,
With shewes of things that have not reall bin:
As Lord forbid) No Kingdome hath a Prince,
Whose infant yeares, gave better evidence,
That with an earthly Crowne he should inherit,
A plentious portion of thy sacred Spirit.
None liveth now, on whom the gen'rall eye
Did so much gaze, and so few scapes espy.
Few private men were in their youth so free
From all those vanities, which frequent be
In these rude times (he having meanes to doe
His pleasure, and, perhaps, strong temptings too)
Who seemed of those knowledges, more faine
That might informe him, to obey, and raigne?
How well those crossings was he thought to beare,
Which in the times of his subjection were?
And, with how brave a temper to neglect,
To be aveng'd of wrongs and disrespect?
What Sonne, did in his Fathers life time, show
A filiall feare and love, united so?
Or, which of all thy Vice-royes didst thou see
Appeare more zealously devout then he?
Thou knowest which: But, if they doe not erre
Who, things by probability, inferre,
It might be said, The world had not his peere
In all those vertues, that are mention'd here.
And should confessed be, ev'n of his foe,
They had not flattred who affirmed so:
Since, what was of his worth, at home conceived,
All Europe for a verity received.
And loe; now by thy Grace he sitteth on
The seat of Rule, and in his Fathers Throne;
VVho giveth signes of truer love to thee?
Or of more conscience, of his Charge, then He?
VVhat Monarke, in appearance, better preacheth
By good Examples, what thy Precepts teacheth?
Or which of all his reverend Prelacy,
Jn shewes of true religious constancie,
Outgoes or equals him? Oh! if so cleare
His vertues prove. as yet they doe appeare,
How glorious will they grow? And, what a light
VVill he become, when he ascends the height
Of his great Orbe? And, oh! what pitty 'twere
His minde should ever fall below that spheare
Of Grace which he hath climb'd! or, that thy Love
Should wanting be, to keepe him still above!
How grievous would it be, that his beginning
(So hopefull, and such love and honour winning)
Should faile that expectation, which it hath?
And, make thee shut thy favour up, in wrath?
Let not oh God! let not the sins of others
Nor any fog (which Vertues glorie smothers)
Ascending from his frailties, make obscure
His rising honor, which yet seemeth pure.
If might, in him, be wanting of that worth
Which to the publike view is blazed forth,
Forgive, and perfect him, that he may grow,
To be in deed, what he appeares in show.
Yea, Lord (as farre as humane frailty can
Permit the same make him, ev'n such a Man
As now that Kingdome needs; and spare that Nation
For him, which else deserveth Desolation.
If he be what he seemeth; Thou (I know)
Wilt save his Land from utter overthrow.
Thou, in the life-time of a pious King,
Wert never yet, accustomed to bring
Destruction: For, thou shewedst him compassion,
Who did but once, well act humiliation;
Ev'n wicked Ahab; and within his Times
Thou wouldst not punish (no no!) his owne Crimes.
Oh! be as mercifull, as thou hast bin;
And let this King, thy favours triumph in.
Let that exceeding Grace already shew'd him,
(Ev'n that wherewith thy Spirit hath indu'd him)
Be Pledges of some greater Gifts, with which
Thou shalt in future times, his heart enrich.
His brest inflame thou, with a sacred fire;
Teach him to aske, and give him his desire:
Grant him thy Wisdome, and thy Righteousnesse,
The wrongs of all his People to redresse.
Let him the Widow, and the Orphane save,
Releeving all, that need of succour have:
And, let his Mountaines, and each lesser Hill,
His humbler Dales, with peace, and plenty fill.
As he was honor'd in his Preservation,
So, let him glory still in thy Salvation.
As he persisteth to relie on thee;
So, let him sure of thy protection be.
Be thou his onely joy. Be thou I pray
His Triumph on his Coronation-day.
Crowne thou his head with purified gold:
Make strong his Scepter, and his Throne uphold,
To be renowned by thy Grace divine,
As long as either Sunne, or Moone shall shine.
Since thou to rule thine Isr'el dost appoint him,
Let thy most holy Spirit, Lord, anoint him.
Make thou a league with him, as thou hast done
With David, and adopt him for thy Sonne.
To thee, Thou art my Father, let him say,
My God, my Rocke of safety, and my stay.
Throghout those Lāds, where thou to raign shalt place him
With Title, of thy First-begotten, grace him.
And, let his Kingdomes harbor none of them,
Who shall deny him to be their Supreme.
So guard, and so enclose him with thine Arme,
The Man of Sinne; may never doe him harme.
To him, his Adversaries all subject,
And, prosper none that him shall disaffect.
Lead thou his Armies, when his Warre beginnes;
Make thou his Peace, when he the Battle winnes.
Let still thy Truth, and Love, with him abide;
Let in thy Name, his name be glorifi'd.
Doe thou the Seas into his pow'r deliver;
Make thou his right hand reach beyond the River;
And, plant so strongly on the Banks of Rhyne,
Those fruitfull Branches of his Fathers Vine,
(VVhom late the salvage Bore (with tripled pow'r)
Hath rooted up, with purpose to devoure)
That they may spread their Clusters, far and nigh;
And fill, and top, the Germane Empery.
Yea, minde thou, Lord, the scornes and defamations,
Which they have borne among their neighboring nations:
And, please to comfort them, and make them glad,
According to the sorrowes they have had.
To them, so sanctifie their great affliction,
That it may bring their vertues to perfection;
And, fit them for some place, in which they shall
Helpe reare againe, decaying Sions wall.
Oh! keep for them, a favour still in store;
Preserve them in thy League, for evermore;
Blesse thou that Race, which is or shall be given:
As lasting make it, as the dayes of heav'n:
And, if thy Lawes or Iudgements, they forsake,
Or, if thy League, or Covenant, they breake,
With Rods, let them, in mercie, be corrected;
But, never fall, for aye, to be rejected.
The like for this new Monark, I emplore:
Jn him, encrease thy Graces, more, and more.
Make him a Blessing, for all Christendome:
Make him, a Patterne, for all Times to come:
Make him, in ev'ry happy course persever;
And, let him live, for ever and for ever.
His Royall Robe, he hath but new put on;
And, I my prayers have but new begun.
Oh let me to thy Majestie prefer
These few Petitions, in particular:
And place them where, they may both day and night,
Stand, evermore, unfolded in thy sight.
First, teach him, to consider, how and why,
Thou hast enthron'd him on a seat so high;
And, so to think on his great charge; and trust,
As one who knowes he come to reckning most:
For, honors if by thee they be not blest,
Make wisest men as brutish as a beast.
Teach him to minde, how great the favour was,
When thou, of thy meere motion, and thy Grace,
Didst from so many millions chuse out him,
To weare this Kingdomes fourefold Diadem:
And, make thy Servants, favour'd in his sight;
As thou hast made of him, thy Favorite.
Teach him, the fittest meanes to take away
(And let none murmure at his just delay)
Those Groves, and those Hill-Altars in the Land,
Which suffred are untill his dayes to stand:
And, give him wisedome, wisely to foresee,
That Wheat from Chaffe, may well distinguisht be.
For, some will, else, bring Truth into suspition,
Condemne good Discipline, for Superstition;
And with faire shewes, of Piety, beguile,
That underhand they may encroach, the while,
On Gods Inheritance; and from her teare
Those outward Ornaments his Bride doth weare.
Oh! let him purge from Church and Commonweale,
Those inflammations of corrupted zeale,
And indigested humors, which doe spread
Distempers through the Stomacke; paine the Head:
And, by prepost'rous courses, raise a storme
To rend that Body, which it would reforme.
Let him, his Reformations, first begin,
Like David, with himselfe: and search within
The closset of his heart, what he can finde,
Which may annoy him there, in any kinde:
And let him thence expell it, though it were,
As deare unto him as his eye-bals are.
His Houshold, let him next enquire into,
And, well informed be, what there they doe;
That, so he may expect thy Comming-day
With heart upright, and in a perfect way.
Let him in no prophanenesse take delight,
Nor brook a wicked person in his sight.
Let no Blasphemer in his presence tarry;
Nor they that falshoods, to and fro, doe carry.
Let him acquaintance with all such refraine;
The lowly cherish; haughty mindes restraine;
Enquire for them that vertuously excell,
And take in honest men with him to dwell.
No such Projector, who doth put in vse
Great Injuries, to mend a small abuse;
Nor such, who in reforming, doe no other
But rob one Knave, to helpe enrich another;
And prove themselves, when try all doth befall,
To be, perhaps, the veriest Knaves of all.
Let him be curst with no base Officer,
Who doth before true Honor, Gold prefer;
And, to enrich his Chest, a little more,
Would in his Reputation, make him poore:
Or with some needlesse Treasure, to supply him,
Lose him more Loue, then all his Lands can buy him.
Let no man of his daily bread partake,
VVho at thy holy Boord shall him forsake;
And, lay thou open their dissimulation,
Who shall approve of Namans Toleration.
Keepe from his Counsells, though their wit excels,
All Hypocrites, and all Achitophels.
Yea, let thy Wisdome, his discretion blesse,
From Rehoboams childish wilfulnesse,
VVho left his ancient Princes good directions,
To follow his young Nobles raw projections.
Or, if he like their Counsels, and receive them,
Harme let them bring to none but those who gave them:
And, if to him some dammage they procure,
Let present losse his future peace procure.
Make him perceive that humane Policy
Is Hand maid to religious Honesty;
And that, the man who doth foundations lay
On Iustice, (and proves constant in his way)
Shall mad the Politician; and make vaine
His underminings without feare, or paine.
For, as a Fowler seldome doth surprise
That wary Bird, which can her selfe suffise,
With what thy hand provideth in the fields,
Or, what the Forrest, for her dier yeelds:
So, sleights of Policy (although, perchance,
They seeme, a while, to worke some hinderance)
Can disadvantage none, but those, who leaving
The pathes of Vertue, and themselves deceiving
With some false hopes (which were before them laid)
Made them the meanes, whereby they were betrayd.
Make him as precious in his Peoples eyes
As their owne blood. Far higher let them prise
His honor then their fortunes; and let him,
Be ev'ry way as tender over them.
Yea, let the mutuall love, betwixt them bred,
Vnite them as the Body, and the Head.
For, such a blessed Vnion doth procure
More safety then foure Kingdomes can assure;
Commands mens hearts, their fortunes, and their lives,
Is chiefe of all his chiefe Prerogatives;
And shall more comfort, and more profit doe him,
Then all those fruitlesse claimes can bring unto him;
Whereto, perchance, they urge him will, who shall
Pretend his honor, when they seeke his fall.
Such men in Princes Courts were ever found,
But, thou their lewd Projections wilt confound;
And, when their vaine devises bring on them,
Confusion, who this reall Truth contemne;
When such men's foolish counsels, shall have brought
Those mischiefs on them which their hāds have wrought
(Yea, when opprest, with feares and discontent,
They shall, too late, perhaps, their course repent)
Then, they in heart shall forced be to say,
That, what they sleighted was the safest way.
Blesse him from those, who censure his Intents,
His Counsels, or his Actions by events:
And sawcily, his Iudges dare appeare
On ev'ry sland'rous Rumor they shall heare.
Preserve him from those Minions (who do raise
Their credits by another mans dispraise)
That Machivillian crew, who to endeare
Their base immerits, fill the royall eare
With tales, and false reports, concerning those
Who their misdoings legally oppose:
They, who growne great with rapine, and made strong,
With wealth extorted to the publike wrong,
Still add (to cover what misdone hath bin)
New wrongs; and make new partners in their sin,
In hope their number keep them shall unshent:
And, silence and condemne the innocent.
Make him abhor such Apes, and such Baboones,
As Parasites, and impudent Buffoones:
Such, as would make their Princes glad with lies:
Such, as with filthy tales of ribaldries,
With scurvile songs, with unbeseeming jests,
And stuffe which ev'ry civill eare detests,
Abuse Kings Chambers. Let all those who buy
Their Offices (which is lay Simony)
Have alwayes his dislike; and not recover
His good esteeme againe, till they give over
Their evill gotten places. Let all such
Who for the seats of Iudgement, do as much,
Appeare to him as men who are detected
Of heinous crimes; and ever be suspected
Of some Corruption: for, it may be thought,
That many must be made of what is bought.
Let him the causes of Abuse discerne;
Let him the cure of ev'ry mischiefe learne;
Let him of what he knoweth, practice make;
Let all his People, his example take.
Give them repentance for their passed crimes;
Assist them by thy grace, in future times;
And send thy Holy-Spirit through their Lands,
To keep them in the way of thy Commands.
So, thou in their Devotions wilt be pleas'd,
So, all thine anger will be quite appeas'd;
So, King and People, praise thee shall, together;
And, then, thou need'st not send these Armies thither.
Thus MERCIE spake; & more she would have said
(For, she could everlastingly have praid)
To this effect. But, JVSTICE having spy'd
Gods eye to marke, how she seem'd satisfi'd;
(And looking somewhat sternly, to betoken
That MERCIE in her injury had spoken)
Thus interrupted her. Faire Sister, stay;
And, doe not think to beare my right away
With smoothed words. Thou art an Advocate
Well knowne to be the most importunate
That ever pleaded: and, thou hast a trick
With these moist eyes, beyond all Rhetorick.
So that, unlesse I make it still appeare,
What grosse offenders all thy Clients are,
A Bill of mine (how just soe're the case)
Would seldome in this great Star-chamber passe.
No place, no persons, are so dissolute,
But if they whine to thee, thou makest sute
On their behalfes. Thou wert Soliciter
For King Manasses (that Idolater
And gotst his pardon. Thou hast Proctresse bin
For Icroboam (who made Isr'el sin)
That hand recuring which he did extend,
The Messenger of God, to apprehend.
Thou art for any who in thee beleeves,
Though Traytors, Strumpets, Murtherers, or Theeves.
Thou prayd'st for Nineveh; yea thou hast prayd
For Sodome; and my hand had sure beene staid
When I consum'd them, if there had beene, then,
In five great Cities, but tenne righteous men.
I never yet could get a verdict past
On any Sinner, but thou crost it hast,
Vpon the least repentance. And if over
To serve an Execution I endeavor,
Thou, still, one meanes or other dost procure,
To mitigate the strictest forfeiture.
Thee, for delaying Iudgements, I prefer
Ev'n farre before the Courts at Westminster.
And, if I longer these thy dealings beare,
Thou here wilt use me, as they use me there.
For, lately J surveyed it; and saw
Their Chauncery had halfe devour'd their Law.
Sweet Lady call to minde, there is a due
Pertaining equally to me and you.
As nothing without MERCIE should be done;
So IVSTICE should not be encroacht upon.
I claime a Daughters part, and I desire
To keepe mine owne inheritance intire.
I, for your sake, huge Armies, often save,
When they had, else, beene rotting in the grave.
I suffer you to wipe more sinnes away
Then twice tenne thousand millions in a day.
There's none whom I doe punish for his crimes,
But J doe scarre him first, a thousand times
(At your entreaty) when, if I had pleased,
I might so many times his life have seized.
Yea, J should none have injur'd, though I had
Of all the World, long since, a Bone-fire made.
For, what effects hath your Compassion wrought?
What Offrings, to Gods Altars, now are brought
By my long sparing them? Nay, have they not
Him, and his awfull pow'r, the more forgot?
What did I say? forgot him? If they had
Us'd him and his Indulgence but so bad,
Thou might'st have spoken for them; and I could
Have left thy supplications uncontroll'd.
But, they have aggravated their neglect,
With such base villanies, such disrespect,
And such contempt of Him, of Thee, and Mee,
That if we beare it, we shall scorned be.
They so presumptuous are, that well J know,
Were but a petty-Iustice used so,
He would not brooke it: But, so rough appeare,
That all the sin-professing houses neare,
Of Reformation would be much in doubt;
And feare they should not buy his Anger out,
Though they presented him with coyne and wares;
And brib'd his Clarke, with whom, tis thought he shares.
I will not therefore palliate their despight;
I will not be debarred of my right;
J will not make my selfe a publike scorne;
Nor will J longer beare what I have borne.
Here with (as if she thought it were in vaine,
For Vengeance, unto MERCIE to complaine)
She rais'd her eyes; she fixed them upon
The Throne of heav'n, and Him that sate thereon:
Then bowed thrice, and, then to her complaint,
She thus proceeded like an Angry Saint
Great IVDGE of all the world, just, wise, and holy;
Who sin abhorrest, and correctest folly:
Who drivest all uncleannesse from thy sight,
And feared art, ev'n of the most upright:
Consider well my Cause, and let thou not
Thy JVSTICE in thy MERCIE be forgot.
As well as this my sister, so am I
Vnited unto thee essentially
Before all Time; and there is cause for me
To boast thy favour, full as much as she.
For, to maintaine thy Iustice (and approve
That sacred, never violated Love
Thou bearest me) great Monarkies have drunk
Thy cup of wrath; and into ruine sunk.
For their contempt of me, thou hast rejected
The Nation, of all Nations, most affected.
Once, thou the Globe of Earth didst wholly drowne;
From Heav'n thou threw'st the sinfull Angels downe:
And (which is more) thy Best-beloved dy'd,
That my displeasure might be satisfi'd.
But, let no former favour me availe,
If now of Reason on my side J faile.
I never did a Vengeance, yet pursue
Before it was requir'd by double due.
I never plagued any in despight,
Nor in the death of sinners took delight.
Why therefore thus is my proceeding staid?
And thy just wrath so suddenly alaid?
Hath Mercy their offences vailed so,
That thou beholdest not what faults they do?
And wilt thou still continue thy compassion
To this unthankfull and forgetfull Nation?
What are they, but a most corrupted breed?
A wicked, a perverse, ingratefull seed?
A people for instruction so untoward,
So stubborne in their courses, and so froward,
That, neither threats, nor plagues, nor love can mend them,
And therefore Desolation must attend them.
Me they have injured, past all compare;
They flout me to my face; they me out dare
Ev'n on my Iudgement-seats; they truth deny,
Although they know, their hearers know they lye.
They use my Titles, and my Offices,
But as a meanes to rob, or to oppresse
The poorer sort: and he that wrong sustaines,
Is sure of more, if he for right complaines.
Search thou their Streets, their Markets, & their Courts;
Note where the greatest multitude resorts,
And if thou finde a man among them, there,
That hath of Truth or Iudgement any care,
Him let thine Angell save. But, thou shalt see
That nothing else from heele to head they be,
But swellings, wounds, and sores: that they are wholly
O'regrowne with leprosies of noysome folly;
And that, among them, there abideth none,
Whose path is right and perfect, no not one.
Their studies, are in cheating trickes, and shifts.
Their practice, is to compass bribes, and gifts.
Their silver is but dross. Their wine impure.
Their finest gold, will not the touch endure.
The poore oppresse the poore. The Childe assumes
An Elders place. The basest Groome presumes
Before the Noble. Women take on them
Mens habits, and subjection doe contemne.
Men grow effeminate. Age dotes, Youth raves,
The begger's proud. The rich man, basely craves.
The neighbour of his neighbour goes in danger;
The brother to the brother growes a stranger.
There is no kin, but Cousnage. Few professe
Affection, Amity, or Friendlinesse,
But to deceive. If men each other greet,
With shewes of wondrous friendship, when they meet,
They doe but practise kindly to betray;
And jeere, and scoffe, when they depart away:
They labour, and they study, lyes to make:
To grow more wicked, serious paines they take:
Wolves are as mercifull: Their Dogs as holy:
Vertue, they count a Foole: Religion, folly.
Their Lawes are but their nets, and ginnes, to take
Those whom they hate, and seeke their prey to make:
The patronage of Truth, none standeth for:
The way of Piety, they doe abhor:
They meet unseene, the harmlesse to deceive?
They hatch the Cocatrice: They sliely weave
The Spiders web; and, when in bed they are,
They lye and study plots of mischiefe there.
And, why thus fares it? but, because they see
That (how unjust soe're their Courses be)
They prosper in their wickednesse, and thrive,
Whilst they who honor thee afflicted live.
If any man reprove their damned way,
They persecute, and slander him, and say;
Come, let us smite him with our tongue, that he,
And his reproofes, may unregarded be.
They desp'rately resolve a wicked Course;
And, ev'ry day proceed from bad, to worse.
Themselves they sooth in evill: and professe
In publike manner, Trades of wickednesse.
They impudently boast of their Transgressions,
And madly, glory in their great Oppressions.
Yea, some so farre have over-gone the Devils
In shamelesnesse, that they make bragge of evils
Which they committed not (as if they fear'd
That else they had not lewd enough appear'd)
Whereas, they from themselves would strive to flie,
If they could see their owne deformity.
For, what remaineth to be termed ill
Which they are guiltlesse of, in act, or will?
They, gall unto the hungry profer'd have:
They, vineger unto the thirsty gave:
With brutish fiercenesse they themselves aray:
Unsatisfied in their lust are they,
And neither earth nor heav'n escapes the wrongs
Of their injurious and blasphemous tongues.
With ev'ry member, they dishonor Thee,
No part of them from wickednesse is free:
Their Eyes, are wandring after vanitie,
And leere about, advantages to spye.
Their Eares are deafe to goodnesse; but most prone
To heare a slander told of any one:
And have an itching after ev'ry thing,
Which, newes of sensualitie, may bring.
Their brazen Foreheads, without shame appeare:
Their Teeth are sharper then a sword or speare:
Their Lips, as keenly cut, as Razors doe;
And, under them, is Adders poison too.
Their Mouthes with bitter cursings, over-flow:
Their oily Tongues, contention daile sow:
In Heart, they Falshood before Truth, preferre:
Their Throats, are like a gaping Sepulcher:
Foule belchings from their Stomacks doe arise,
Ev'n filthie speeches; and ranke blasphemies.
Their Hands (their right hands) lawlesse gifts receive:
With Bribes, their Fingers, they defiled have.
Their Feet, are swift in executing ill,
And, run the blood of innocents to spill.
They are corrupt in ev'ry Facultie;
In Vnderstanding, Will, and Memorie;
Yea, their most specious works of pietie
Are little else, but meere hypocrisie.
All stain'd with Murthers, Thefts, Adulteries,
And other unrepented Villanies
Thy House they enter, as if they were cleare,
Or, thither came, but to out-brave thee there.
There, they display their pride: there, they contemne
Thy Messengers; or, sit and censure them.
There, they disturbe thy Children in their pray'rs,
By tatling of impertinent affaires.
The many roving lookes, they throw about,
Doe prove them, far more wanton, than devout.
And, say, they bring devotion for a fit:
Alas! what pleasure canst thou take in it?
Or, what doe they but mocke thee, when they pray,
Vnlesse their wickednesse they cast away?
What profits it, to kneele sometime an houre?
To fast a day? to look demure, or soure?
To raise the hands aloft? the brest to strike?
To shake the head, or hang it Bulrush-like?
And, all that while to have no thought of thee;
But on base projects, musing, there, to be?
I many such enormities might name,
Wherein this People have beene much to blame.
And, shall they still, thy gentlenesse contemne?
Wilt thou forbeare, for this, to punish them?
Shall such devotion be regarded more,
Then if they brought the hyring of a whore?
Or sacrific'd a Dog? Nay, though they had
Of farre fet Calamus an Offring made,
Or, incense brought from Sheba; doe they think
The smoke of that, shall take away the stink
Of their corruption? shall this wicked Throng,
(Who partners are in ev'rie kind of wrong,
And Reformation hate) still spared be
Because they can a little prate of thee?
Make zealous outward shewes; and preach thy word,
Whose pow'r they have deny'd? (if not abhorr'd:)
Let me consume them rather. For, Compassion
So often hath prevailed for this Nation,
That, all my threatnings are no whit regarded,
Thy Pittie is with disrespect rewarded;
Thy Blowes doe nothing soften them: but, more
Hard hearted, rather, make them then before.
They neither know nor seeke thee. They scarce daigne
So much as thoughts of thee to entertaine.
Or if they doe; yet, thou in kindnesse, hast
So frequently, their errors over past
With gentle stripes; that they conjecture, now
That thou art like to them, and dost allow
Their wicked courses. For, Is there (say they)
In God, or sight, or knowledge of our way?
Doth he behold, or care what things we doe?
Will he take vengeance? Tush, it is not so.
Such fables were devis'd in times of old,
And of strange judgements, stories have beene told;
But, who hath seene them? or, when will appeare
That Day of Doome, whereofso oft we heare?
Sure never. For the world doth still remaine
The same it was; and these are feares in vaine.
Oh! what will this increase unto, if thus
Thou suffer them to make a scorne of us?
Where is thy feare, if thou a Master be?
Why, (if a God) should they not honour thee?
What meanes thy long long-suffring? and, what way
To worke amendment wilt thou next assay?
Thou hast already mov'd them to repent,
By Threats, Gifts, Precepts, and by Punishment.
To stop their wickednesse, thou Flouds, and Drought,
Frosts, Fires, and Tempests, hast upon them brought.
Distempers, Frights, and (many times of late)
Distrusts, and hazzards of the publike State.
With ev'ry kind of Sicknesse, thou hast try'd them;
With Pestilence, and Famine, mortifi'd them:
With Slaughters thou hast foild them; and betwixt
Each Plague, thou Mercy still hast intermixt,
Yet, all in vaine. Oh! rise, and suffer me
On all at once avenged now to be.
Plucke from thy bosome, thy sure striking hand,
And, let it fall so heavy on that Land,
That, all their Follies may their merit have,
And, they be put to silence in the grave.
Permit them not unplagued to persever,
Blaspheming thus, thy Name and thee for ever.
But, let me ev'ry Plague upon them cast,
Which thou, for such as they, prepared hast.
Let them perceive, that they have lov'd and served
Those gods, by whom they cannot be preserved.
Let me transport from their polluted Coast,
Those Holy-things, whereof they vainly boast:
And, let not their prophanenesse be protected
By that, which they so much have disrespected.
For, why shouldst thou forbeare this people more
Then many other Nations heretofore?
Since they for their example those have had
The lesse excusable their faults are made.
Yea, though their wickednesse were but the same,
Yet, they are worthy of a greater blame.
What are they better then the stubborne Iewes?
Wherein, doe they thy blessings lesse abuse?
What have their Temples, of more worth in them
Then Shilo, Bethel, or Ierusalem,
That we should spare their many steepled Towres,
Not rather making them the Neasts, and Bowres
Of noysome Vermine, and such fatall Fowles,
As croking Ravens, and loud screeching Owles?
Why shouldst thou not, as low this Ile decline,
As Milke and Hony-flowing Palestine?
What have they more deserved of thy pittie
Then Sion, thy so much beloved Citty?
Or, wherefore should their Seed be thought upon
More kindely, then the bratts of Babylon?
Why should their Common wealth, more prised be,
Then those great Monarchies destroy'd by me
In former ages, whose transcendent Fate,
Each Time succeeding, hath admired at?
Yea, since the World thou didst for sinning, drowne,
Why should such mercy to this Land be showne?
If thou a pious King to them hast given,
What loseth he, if then from thence to Heav'n
Translate him shall? From earthly Crownes, to weare
Those wreathes of Glory that immortall are?
And from a froward People, to have place
With Angells, and there triumph in thy grace?
If any man be found observing thee,
To him what discontentment can it be
To view my hand prevailing over those
Whome in my proceedings did oppose?
And see those Tyrants ruin'd, who have long
Committed violence, and offred wrong
To him, and his? what harme hath he I pray,
To passe through all that sorrow in one day,
And in thy blessed presence to appeare,
Who else might here have lingred many a yeare?
Of what can he complaine, if being borne
Above the reach of ev'ry future scorne,
Within thy heav'nly Mansion, he possesse
A perfect, and an endlesse happinesse?
Why may not IVSTICE glorifie thy Name,
As well as MERCY can extoll the same?
Why should thy former favours, being lost,
Oblige thee to defray a future cost
On Prodigals, and Vnthrifts, who had rather
Live Swineherds, than returne to thee their Father?
Why may not that reproach diverted be,
Which irreligious men will cast on thee
Although thou spare not hypocrites; and them
Who are the causers that thy Foes blaspheme?
What disadvantage can their fall effect
To thy pure honour? or, to thine elect,
Which may not be prevented (if thou please)
Although thou be not mercifull to these?
Sure, none at all: and, therefore, I will stay
My hand no longer; but breake off delay.
Thy Sword and Ballance, are with me in trust;
To punish Sin, I know it to be just;
They both arraigned, and condemned are;
My warrants, in thy written Word appeare:
Their crimes, for Vengeance, loudly crying be:
Thy Iudgements, ready mustred are, by Thee:
Thine eye doth speake unto me to be gone;
And, loe; I flye to see thy pleasure done.
As when a Mother on a sudden hearing
Her babe to shrieke, (and some disaster fearing
That may befall the childe) starts up and flyes
To see the reason of her Infants cries:
So quick, was IVSTICE; &, e're now, had brought
Her work, to something; and, this Land, to nought.
But, to prevent her purpose, MERCIE cast
Her arme about that angry Virgins waste;
Look'd sadly on her; hung about her; kist her,
And (weeping in her bosome) said, Sweet Sister,
I pray thee, doe not thus impatient grow,
Nor prosecute deserved Vengeance, so.
Thou art most beautifull; sincerely just;
Most perfectly upright in all their dost;
For which thine excellency, and perfection,
I love thee with an excellent affection.
And though thou frownest; yet thy frownings be
So lovely, that I cannot part from thee.
What though some Worldlings offer thee disgraces,
Shall they (Sweet heart) make loathed my embraces?
Shall thou, and I, (who nearer are then twinnes)
Fall out, or he divorced by their sinnes?
Oh never let it said, or muttred be,
That we in any thing can disagree.
For what's more lovely, or more sweet then this,
That we each other may embrace and kisse?
And by our mutuall workings, and agreeings,
Bring all Gods Creatures to their perfect beings.
Beleeve me (Deare) Heav'n doth not comprehend
That pleasure, which this pleasure doth transcend:
Nor is our Father better pleas'd in us,
Then when he sees our armes entwined, thus.
For should we jarre, the world would be undone,
And Heav'n, and Earth, into a Chaos runne.
What profit can it bring, or what content,
To see a Kingdome miserably rent,
With manifold afflictions? What great good
To us redoundeth by the death, or blood
Of any man? what honour can we have?
That praise, from those that in the silent grave
Lye raked up in ruines dead and rotten?
Or in the Land where all things are forgotten?
Seeke not thy Glory by their Overthrow,
That are pursued by too strong a Foe,
And over-match'd already; thinke upon
The pow'rfull hate of that malicious One.
Remember they were framed of the dust;
And that to Cloy againe returne they must.
When they are dead they passe away for ever,
Ev'n as that vapour which returneth never.
Oh; make them not the Butt of thy displeasure,
Nor give them of Gods wrath the fullest measure.
J grant this Realme is sinfull; But, what hath
That Realme, or people equalling thy wrath?
T'is honourable, when we stoope below
Our selves; that love or favour we may show;
Or to correct, with purpose to amend:
But if with such we Foe-like should contend,
It would appeare, as if some Empery
Did arme it selfe, to combat with a Fly.
When we correction, or forgivenesse daigne,
We may correct them, or forgive againe:
But in destroying quite, our selves we wound,
And to our Infinitenesse, set a bound;
For IVSTICE neither MERCY can have place;
In subjects, which we totally deface.
We must not seeke for purity divine
In dust and ashes; till we first refine
From earthly drosse the gold that we desire,
By using of the Bellowes and the Fire.
For till we purge it, what (alas) is good,
Or what can holy be in Flesh and Blood?
Who lookes that Figs on Thistles should be borne,
Or that sweet Grapes should grow upon a Thorne?
It cannot be. As therefore heretofore
God promised, (that he would never more
Contend with man) let us resolve the same;
And by some other meanes, their wildenesse tame.
Keepe, yet a while, this Army where it is:
And let us try to mend what is amisse,
(As erst we did) by sending jointly thither,
Our Favours, and Corrections, both together:
And if they profit not, there is a Day
In which thine Indignation shall have way.
As when a Father, who, in heat of wrath
To give a son correction purpos'd hath,
Enraged is, untill his lovely wife
Doth interpose her selfe with friendly strife;
But (pleased in the sweetnesse of her speech,
Who to forgive the Child doth him beseech)
Doth lay aside his whole displeasure, then,
And turne his anger into smiles agen;
So, IVSTICE was by MERCY wrought upon:
And she that would with so much haste be gone,
Forgot her speed; Her louing Sister ey'd
With calmer lookes; and thus to her reply'd.
Thou, and thy charmings have prevail'd upon me,
And to abate mine anger thou hast wonne me.
I therefore will not cast my plagues on all,
But on worst Livers, onely, let them fall.
Nay, nay, quoth MERCIE, thou must favour show
To most of them, or thou wilt overthrow
The lawes of Destiny; and crost will be
What God did from eternity decree.
For, some of these have not fulfilled yet
Their sinnes, nor made their number up complete.
Some, that are wandring in the wayes of folly,
Shall be regenerated, and made holy.
Of them some have morality, that may
Be helpfull to Gods children, in their way;
Some, must be left, as were the Cana'nites,
To exercise the faithfull Isr'elites;
Yea some, have in their loynes a generation
Vnborne, which must make up the blessed Nation.
And till that seed bud forth, those trees must stand,
Although they grow but to annoy the Land.
Jt seemes (quoth IVSTICE) I must then abide,
(However they offend) unsatisfi'd.
Vnsatisfi'd (said MERCIE) Is it that,
Sweet Sister, which your zeale hath aimed at?
Then, looke you there. And with that word, her eye
She plac'd on him, who sits in Majesty
At Gods right hand. Behold that Lambe (quoth she)
By him thou fully satisfi'd shalt be.
He poore was made, that He their debt might pay;
He base became, to take their shame away;
He entred bond, their freedome to procure;
He dangers try'd, their safeties to assure;
He scorned was, their honor to advance;
He seem'd a foole, to helpe their ignorance;
He sin was made, their errors to conceale;
He wounded was, that he their wounds might heale;
He thirsted, that their thirst might have an end;
He wept, that joy their sorrow might attend;
He lost his blood, that they their blood might save;
He dy'd, that they eternall life might have.
Nor canst thou any for their sins condemne,
(Since he hath over-paid the price for them)
If by partic'lar faith they shall apply
That pardon, which he granteth gen'rally.
And lest to that whole Kingdome thou deny it,
For want of application, I apply it.
VVhy then (said IVSTICE) I may quite dismisse
This hoast of Plagues which here assembled is.
Not so, replyed MERCIE: For no curse
Is greater, nor is any mischiefe worse
Then want of due correction: And if J
Should yeeld to that, it were not Clemency,
But cruell dealing; and my love no other
Then is the kindnesse of that cockring mother,
Who spares the rod (out of her pure affection)
And sends unto the Gallowes for correction:
As if she thought her children apt for learning;
Jf they could take a hanging for a warning.
I seeme to crosse thy workings, and then mine,
To those that neither know my wayes, nor thine:
But, as the motions in a Clocke doe tend
And move together to one purpos'd end,
Although their wheeles contrary courses goe,
And force the even ballance to and fro.
Ev'n so, although it may to some appeare,
That our proceedings much repugnant are;
Yet in our disagreeings, we agree,
And helpfull to our chiefe designe they be.
We therefore, from Gods Army will select
One Regiment, this people to correct.
Not his that is the Generall: for, he
Resisteth us if he prevailing be.
Nor Famine; For, (unlesse permit we shall
That she devoure, untill we starve up all)
She most unequally consumes the poore,
And makes the rich to be enriched more.
Nor will we send the Sword; for, that makes way
For ev'ry plague to follow; yea, doth lay
All open to confusion; and bestowes
The pow'r of God oft-times upon his foes.
But, we to punish them, will send from hence,
The dreadfull, and impartiall PESTILENCE.
For, she doth neither Rich, nor Poore preferre;
The foolish, and the wise, are one to her:
Nor eloquence, nor beauty, nor complexion,
Prevailes with her; Nor Hatred, nor Affection.
She seizeth All alike; she visiteth
The Palace, as the Cottage; and with death,
Or else with sicknesse, strikes at each degree,
Vnlesse our Supersedeas, granted be.
By meanes of her, in any State, or City,
Thou maist avenge, and I may show my pitty
With little noise; and both at once, fulfill
Our wishes, and accomplish all our will.
For, where a noysome word is seene to sprout,
She shall, at thy appointment, weed it out.
Or if a plant, or bud, or flow'r we see,
That's ripe for Heav'n, and may impaired be
By standing longer; we the same will gather,
To make a precious Posie for our Father.
And, as thou hast thy purpose, by their fall.
Or smart, whom she or wound, or slaughter shall:
Right so have J: For, if they wicked are
Whom she removes; the better shall they fare,
Whose Conversations truly honest be;
And from oppression live the longer free.
If righteous men this Judgements prey become,
It is appointed to secure them from
Some greater Plague, which must (perhaps) be sent
To scourge this Kingdome, ere it will repent;
Or (peradventure) that my hand may take them
From Earth, the Citizens of Heav'n to make them:
And some, who never else on God had thought,
Shall, (by her whip) unto his love be brought.
This pleased well, and IVSTICE did agree
With MERCY, that it should allowed be:
And, for the swift fulfilling of their minde,
The PESTILENCE, by warrant, was assign'd
Great Brittan to invade; and limited
Where to begin the Plague; how far to spread;
How many she should wound; how many slay;
How many grieve; how many fright away;
How long abide; and when her terme was done,
On what conditions (then) she must be gone.
Moreover lest her stroke should not amend us,
Gods Hoast of Plagues had warrant to attend us;
That if the Pestilence could not prevaile,
Another might our wicked Land assaile;
And then another, till we did repent,
Or were consumed in our chastisement.
The Prince of Darknes, (though he could not gaine
Permission, fully to unloose his Chaine)
His usuall pow'r obtain'd to worke despite
On some offenders, and to use the sleight
Of Lying-wonders: or by strong temptation
To seize upon the Sonnes of Reprobation:
Yea many times to buffet (for correction)
Ev'n those that have the seales of Gods election.
Dearth was commanded, that (to make us feare
A Scarcenesse) she should scatter here, and there,
A Floud, or Tempest; and at sometime bring
A droughty Summer, or a frosty Spring,
Or Mel-dewes, to remember us, from whom
The blessings of a plenteous yeare doe come.
Warre, (who had quite forgotten us almost)
Injoyned was to sit upon our Coast;
To saile about our Shore, to view our Forts,
To visit all our Havens, and our Ports:
And with her dreadfull sounds, to rouze and keepe
This Kingdome, from securities dead sleepe.
But was commanded, not to seize a hoofe
Of what was ours, till God hath made a proofe
How mollifi'd our stony hearts will be;
What fruits of true repentance he shall see;
What change will be effected in this Land,
By his correcting us with his owne hand;
And what oblations of true thankes, and love,
We render will upon this Plagues remove.
Wherein, if we doe faile his expectation,
We shall be made a miserable Nation.
The Sea that now doth close us, like a wall,
Shall be a Sea of terror; and it shall
Let in our foes upon us, or with flouds
O're-flow our borders, and devoure our goods.
Our wealthy Traffiques, and that forraine Trade,
(Whereby so proud, and wanton we are made)
Cut off shall be, and saile in ev'ry Coast.
Our num'rous Fleets (whereof so much we boast,
(And, in whose pow'r and multitude, I feare
Our trust, and hopes too much reposed are)
By Stormes, and Piracies, that shall pursue them,
Or want of meanes, and trading to renue them,
Shall waste away unheeded; till we see
Our harmes beyond our meanes of curing be.
Our Houses shall by strangers be possessed;
Our goodly Temples, which, (as yet) are blessed
With Gods true worship, shall be raz'd, or burned,
Or into dennes of theevery be turned.
Throughout those champain fields, & forrests, where
We hunted for our pleasure; we by Feare
Shall hunted be: and made a prey for them
Whom we (perhaps) did most of all contemne.
Our People, (on whose numbers we presume)
Shall by degrees be less'ned, and consume.
Our Nation (late renowned through the World)
Shall be unvalu'd, as old rubbish, hurl'd
In some by-corner, and quite round about us
Our Foes, our Neighbors, & our Friends shal flout us,
Our Peace, shall make us but effeminate.
Our Riches, and our plentifull estate,
Shall but enrich our enemies; and we
(That of our King so glad, and hopefull be)
Shall (for our sinnes, perchance) be quite deprived
Of those great comforts, which we have conceived.
For, either God may give an ill successe
To his best Counsells, for our frowardnesse;
Or leave us some distrustings in our heart,
To make us censure in an evill part
His gracious purposes; or give a pow'r
To some ill-willers of his peace, and our,
To sow the seeds of Discord, and divide
Our hearts, which now so lovingly are ty'd:
Or let some Politician worke upon
His Goodnesse; and so cunningly goe on,
That he shall never finde, how he, and his
Are injured, till all things are amisse:
Which God forbid; yea, grant (O Lord) that I
In these supposals may not prophecie;
As (out of doubt I shall) if any sin
(That may procure it) we continue in.
Yea, though our Projects may a while possesse
Our hearts with flatt'ring hopes of good successe;
Though in affaires of VVarre, and in our Fights
We thrive a while, as did the Benjamites;
Although a league with Baalam we began;
And Berodach the sonne of Baladan
Had sent us presents; and though he shall seeme
To have our health and welfare in esteeme;
Though to his Lords the treasures we declare,
Which in Gods Temple here among us are:
Yea, though we give those holy things, to buy
His love, and Babylonish amity:
It should but linger us along, till they
(Who seeke our overthrow) their snares doe lay;
Vntill they have enlarg'd their growing pow'rs,
And by their Policy, befooled ours;
Or, till our sinnes, or our securities
Have made us objects for their Tyrannies,
And, there enthrall'd us, where long since were hung
On willow trees, untuned, and unstrung,
The Harpes of Syon; and where Men contemne
The heav'nly Sonnets of Ierusalem.
Ev'n this shall be our lot, and worse then this,
If we continue still to doe amisse,
Or bring not forth the fruits of Penitence,
When God hath scourg'd us by the Pestilence.
But, if that stirre us to repenting shall,
He will not onely back againe recall
That raging Plague, to which he gave such pow'r
Within our peopled Cities to devoure:
But, he will also on this Realme bestow
New benefits, for entertaining so,
With lowlinesse, his fatherly correction;
And yeelding him our filiall affection.
Then, ev'ry one beneath his Vine shall sit
Without disturbance; and with pleasure eate
The profit of his labours. Men shall goe
In safety through the Kingdome, to, and fro.
Their Lands they shall enjoy in peace; and weare
The warmest fleeces, that their flockes do beare.
No sonnes of Belial, shall from them divert
Their Princes favour (in the smallest part)
Nor shall Seditions Lovers draw from him
Their loyalties, by misinforming them;
But God that blessed union shall maintaine,
Which ought 'twixt King and People to remaine.
He, then, will multiply the fruits encrease;
Preserve our plenty, sanctifie our peace:
And guide by Land and Sea, our preparations
Of lawfull warre, to seize upon those Nations
That are our foes, and his. Which, that He may
Vouchsafe unto us; let us ev'ry day
Produce of thankfulnesse some new effect:
Let us observe (with ev'ry due respect)
The progresse of that Plague sent lately hither;
How CLEMENCY & JVSTICE came together;
Relating to each other what we saw
To kindle love, or keepe our soules in awe;
And so record it, that (should we be rotten)
It may be still preserved unforgotten.
For, that we might his honour forth declare,
We both created, and preserved were.
To such a purpose, I doe thus employ
That scorned Faculty, which I enjoy;
And (for the compassing of my intention)
Have offred up the best of my invention;
And what that is (to those, who doe regard
Such paines) the following Cantoes have declar'd.
Behold (O Lord) my purposes from heav'n,
Accept of me the gift that thou hast given.
Permit not those, who spite or malice me,
To interrupt my Muse in praising thee.
Let none of those, who finde that I neglect
The way to wealth, which they too much affect,
Conceive, that I my Time have spent in vaine,
Because their Studies yeeld them greater gaine;
Let them perceive, though this endevour brings
Nor Riches, Honours, nor esteeme of Kings;
But rather wasts my Fortunes, and doth more
Increase my charge, and troubles, then before;
Let them (I say) conceive, and also know,
That I am highly pleas'd, it should be so;
And would not change the blessing of my Fate
With those, whom they doe hold more fortunate.
And let not that, which J have here comprised,
Become (through my unworthinesse) despised;
But grant it such a moderate respect,
That J may see my labours take effect
For their encouragements, who shall apply
To such goode ends, their gift of Poësie;
And let all those, who shall peruse my Story,
Receive some profit, and give thee, the glory.

The second Canto.

Let no fantastique Reader now condemne
Our homely Muse, for stooping unto them,
In plaine expressions, and in words, that show
We love not, in affected paths, to goe.
For, to be understood, is language used;
And speech to other ends as much abused.
Lines, therefore, over-darke, or over-trimm'd,
Are like a Picture with a Visour limm'd;
Or like Pomanders of a curious sent,
Within a painted Box that hath no vent;
Or like Peach-kernels, which, (to get them forth)
Require more cracking, then the fruit is worth.
Let no man guesse, my Measures framed be,
That wiser men, my little wit may see;
Or that I doe not hold the matter good,
Which is not more admir'd then understood:
For, chiefly, such a Subject I desire,
And such a plaine Expression, to acquire,
That ev'ry one my meaning may discerne;
And they be taught, that have most need to learne.
It is the usefull matter of my Rimes
Shall make them live. Words alter as the Times:
And soonest their fantastique Rhetoriques,
Who trim their Poesies with schooleboy-tricks.
That, which this age affects, as grave, and wise,
The following generation may despise.
Greenes phrase, and Lillie's language were in fashion,
And had among the wits much commendation;
But now, another garbe of speech, with us
Is pris'd, and theirs is thought ridiculous;
As ours (perchance) will be, whē Time (who changeth
Things changeable) the present phrase estrangeth.
Let no man therefore dreame, I will bestow
My precious Time in what will vary so;
Since that, which, with most ease I shall produce,
May have (for ought I know) the longest use.
Let no man thinke, I'le racke my memory
For pen and-inkehorne-termes, to finifie
My blunt invention; trimming it, as they
Who make rich clothes but for Saint George his day;
When they may better cheape a suite provide,
To fit that feast, and may dayes beside.
Nor let unlearned Censurers suppose
Our Muse a course unwarrantable goes,
In framing Objects representative,
Which may imprint, or in the soule revive,
True feelings of that wrath or love, which we
In God almighty, by Faiths eyes doe see.
For, though his holy Spirit, when he will,
Can easily the soules of mortals fill
With heav'nly knowledges, by wayes unseene;
Yet, he himselfe hath sometime pleased beene
By outward objects to employ the senses,
In reaching to the soule some excellencies
Conceal'd before. Yea, many times he suites
His Deity in our poore attributes;
And (that our weaknesse he may work upon)
Our usuall speech, and passions, he puts on.
If so; then we, that have no other way
Our hidden apprehensions to conuey
From Man to Man, but by the quaint creation
Of some Ideacs in our contemplation;
That so the senses may become inclin'd
To give some information to the mind:
Then we (I say) whose fluid memories
Would else let goe our ayrie fantasies,
May such a liberty with warrant use.
And I (no doubt) my selfe may well excuse,
If other while things bodilesse I cloath
With mortall bodies; and doe give them both
Our speeches, and our gestures. For, by this
A dull affection often quickned is.
Nor thus to doe, are Poets onely moved
But, these are straines Propheticall, approved.
To say, that God is angry; or that he
Will of our wickednesse avenged be;
Moves little: but, to paint his fury, so
That Men the dreadfulnesse thereof may know,
As if they saw it: or his love to make
So pleading of our cause, as if it spake
(Within our hearing) with such earnestnesse,
As friends would plead for friends in their distresse;
Doth much incite the Reader to attention,
And rouseth up the dullest apprehension.
Me thinks, I doe, (as with mine eye) behold
The reall sight of all that I have told:
Yea, that which I my selfe described here,
Doth touch mine heart with reverence, and feare.
I have perpetuall Visions of that rout
Of Plagues, and Iudgements, which doe rove about
To punish us. And, from that dreadfull hoast
I see (me thinkes) how to invade our Coast,
The Plague march'd hither, like a Regiment
That is for services of moment sent
From some great Armie. And, when I can bend
My troubled spirits truly to attend
Gods Iudgements, and his Mercies, as they goe
Their daily progresse; I can reach unto
Much pleasing thoughts; and oftentimes foresee,
What his intents, and their events will be:
For, when Mans heart is filled with his Feare,
The secrets of the Lord to him appeare.
Oh! what rich treasures doth my soule possesse,
When I doe contemplate the blessednesse,
The Wisedome, and the Way of God most high?
How farre above my selfe rais'd up am I?
How little want I, that the world can give?
What heights ascend I? what huge depths I dive?
How much contemne I dangers here below?
How certaine of Gods favours can I grow?
And with what sweetnesse is my brest inspired,
When (by the heat of Contemplation fired)
I sit lock'd up within a lonely roome,
Where nothing to disturbe my thoughts may come;
And where may enter neither sight, nor Notion
Of any thing, but what may stirre Devotion?
Sure, were it not, that I am cloth'd about
With flesh, that doth compell me to come out;
Or, knew I not the Christian Mans estate
Extended further, then to contemplate;
Or saw not them unthankfully precise,
Who Gods externall blessings quite despise;
Or fear'd I not, I never should have union
With God, unlesse I were in some communion
Of Saints on earth; whom I might sharers make
Of those sweet thoughts of him, which I partake;
Or, if I doubted not, I might with Lot,
Vpon the daughters of my braine begot,
Commit some spirituall incest, had I none
To spend the seed of my full Soule upon:
Or, if I found it not unnaturall,
To leape out of the world, till God did call;
And that fantastique wayes of selfe-contenting
Are but the certaine paths to selfe-tormenting;
If all these things I knew not; I could bide
Shut up, untill my flesh were Mummy-fi'd;
And (though the world should woo me) would disdain
(For ever) to unclose my doore againe.
For though (when I come forth) I lose agen
My Raptures; and have thoughts like other men;
Because my nat'rall frailties, and the fog
Of earthly Vanities, my soule doth clog:
Yea, though I can as hardly keepe those firings
Vnquench'd abroad, which are (in my retirings
Inflamed in me;) as a naked Man
Retaine that heat upon a Mountaine can,
Which in a close warme chamber he retaineth:
Yet (for my comfort) somewhat still remaineth:
And in my recollections I possesse
More happinesse, then I can well expresse.
I view contentments, which I cannot measure;
I have some tastings of immortall pleasure;
I glimmerings have of hidden mysteries;
My soule on glorious things doth fix her eyes:
And though some whited walls (who did attempt
To bring my Muse and Me, unto contempt)
Endevour still (with shewes of Pietie)
My best-approved paines to vilifie:
I can with scorne of their base envy, raise
My thoughts above their ignorant dispraise:
And pitty their dull sottishnesse, who prize
Their shadowes better, then realities.
For I have search'd their folly, and espy'd
That they have drown'd their wisdome in their pride;
Yea, by their partiall dealings, I now see
They judge mens merits, as their titles be:
And I have gotten those brave things in chase,
That shall advantage me, by my disgrace.
When, therefore, by my selfe I am enclosed,
And for an heavn'ly rapture, well disposed;
I doe not grudge mine enemies to spue
Their slanders on my name; or to pursue
My labours with reproach; nor prey to make
On all my fortunes: But all well can take,
I doe not then repine, although I see
That Fooles ennobled, Knaves enriched be,
And honest men unheeded: but I bide
As pleased, as I am at Whitsontide,
To see faire Nymphs in Country Townes rejected,
And sluttish Milkmaids by the Clownes elected
For Ladies of the May. And if I chance
Where any of those Hobby horses prance;
I can in sport, or courtesie, bestow
Those termes upon them, which I doe not owe.
For when on Contemplations wings I flye,
I then o're-looke the highest Vanity.
I see how base those fooleries doe show,
Which are admired, while I creepe below:
And by the brightnesse of a two-fold light
(Reflecting from Gods word to cleare my sight)
Faiths objects to her eyes, much plainer are,
Then those which to my outward fight appeare.
My towring Soule is winged up, as if
She over-flew the top of Tenariffe,
Or some far higher Mountaine; where we may
All actions of this lower World survey.
I am above the touch of malice borne;
I am beyond the reach of ev'ry scorne;
And could --- But what mean I? this seems a strain
Impertinent, Sweet Muse, come downe againe;
Soare not so high. For in these lofty flights
The Fooles below, doe thinke our Eagles, Kites:
The world, to flour such Raptures now is prone;
I will enjoy them (therefore) all alone:
Of their unhallow'd censuring take heed,
And in my former purpose, thus proceed:
When (as you heard before) the Court of Heav'n
Commission to the Pestilence had given
To scourge our sinnes, and signed her directions;
She tooke vp all her boxes of Infections,
Her Carbuncles, her Sores, her Spots, her Blaines,
And ev'ry other thing which appertaines
To her contagious practices; and all
Her followers she did about her call;
Appoint them to their places, and their times,
Direct them to the Persons, and the Crimes
They should correct, and how they should advance
Her maine Designement in each circumstance.
Then, on she marched; not as doth a Foe
Proclaiming Warre, before he strikes the blow;
But like an Enemy, who doth surprise
Vpon the first advantage he espies.
For (passing through the streets of many a Towne
Disguised like a Fever) she, (unknowne)
Stole into London; and did lurke about
The well fill'd Suburbs; spreading there (no doubt)
Infection unperceiv'd, in many a place
Before the bleare ey'd Searchers, knew her face;
And since they knew her, they have bribed beene
A thousand times, to let her passe unseene.
But at the length, she was discover'd at
A Frenchmans house without the Bishopsgate.
To intimate (perhaps) that such as be
Our spirituall Watshmen, should the more foresee
That they with discipline made strong the Ward,
Which God appointed hath for them to guard;
And chiefly, at this present, to have care,
Lest now, while we, and France united are
In bodily commerce; they bring unto us
Those Plagues which may eternally undoe us.
For, such like Pestilences soone begin;
And (ere we be aware) will enter in,
Vnlesse our Bishops, both betimes, and late,
Be diligent and watchfull at their Gate.
As soone, as e're the Wemen-spyes descry'd,
This Foe about the City to reside;
There was a loud All-arme. The Countrimen
Began to wish themselves at home agen.
The Citizens were gen'rally appall'd;
The Senators themselves to Counsell call'd;
And all (who might advise in such a case)
Assembled in their Common meeting place;
Where, what discretion publikely was used;
What was admitted of, and what refused;
What policies, and stratagems invented;
That mischiefes, comming on, might be prevented,
I cannot say: For I had never wit,
Nor wealth enough, to sit in Counsell, yet.
But if to judge of things it lawfull were
By their events; the propositions there
Were such as these. Most thought the surest play
To save their persons, was, to runne away;
But lest some higher pow'r might then forbid it,
They did not publish that, before they did it.
Some urged, that the Scavenger should keepe
The streets more cleane, and oft the channell sweep;
Some thought it fit, (and these no harme did thinke)
That ev'ry morning we should eate, and drinke.
Some (to allay the heat) did hold it meet
To sprinkle water often in the street.
Some did a little further nat'rallize,
And these unto the Ayre would sacrifize
(In evening fires) pure Frankincense or Myrrhe,
Sweet herbes, or odorif rous Iuniper;
Or (for default of those) Pitch, Rosin, Tarre,
And such perfumings as lesse costly are.
For if the Heart and Liver of a Fish
(Burnt by young Tobit in a Chafindish)
A Spirit from his chamber could expell;
They hoped these might purge ill ayres, as well:
Some others (not contented herewithall)
Did into consultation also call
The Priests of Æsculapius, and Apollo;
And held it fit their grave advice to follow:
Nor without cause. For, from the wise Physitian
We best shall know this Enemies condition.
And some there were of those, who did advise
Not onely to assume those remedies
Which Art prescrib'd; but also therewithall
Observed what was Metaphysicall.
Yea, some sincerely, and religiously
Vpon the soules infection had an eye,
As well as on the bodies: and these went
The surest way that sicknesse to prevent,
But there were others, who derided these,
And talked heath 'nishly of this disease.
They prated much of Humours, Inclinations,
Conjunction, planetary Constellations;
Of nat'rall causes, unbeleeved fictions;
Impostures, Fables, and meere contradictions
In that Philosophy, which they professe:
VVhich fill'd mens mindes with much unserlednesse.
Yet in their disagreeings, they agree'd
On that which might their common profit breed:
One had a rare Perfume of speciall note;
Another had a precious Antidote,
VVhich at Constantinople had been tride
VVhen there two thousand on a day have di'de.
A third, preferr'd a Mixture in a bag,
Of whose large vertues he did largely brag,
And said, the same they doe in Plague times, weare
At Rome, (and so I think when he was there.)
A fourth, by Diets, safety did assure.
A fifth, by Drinkes, the Peffilence would cure.
A sixth of Cordials, and Elixars prates;
And some of Treacles, and of Mithridates.
To offer up a portion of the blood
(To save the rest) for some, it seemed good.
For other some to purge: for all to take
Such meanes as might their purses heavie make.
They to the rich prescrib'd Preservatives
On costly termes: and, to prolong the lives
Of poorer men, their consciences abated
The value much: For, health, to them was rated
At some few handfuls of that herbe or grasse,
Which to be gotten, for the gathering was.
This being knowne, the Senators dismisse
Those men; and by advice it ordered is,
That some Instructions shall be published,
To further what was gravely counselled.
Moreover, that their discipline might cary
Some likenesse to proceedings military,
A band of Haiberts, mustred was, to guard
The people from the Plague, in ev'ry Ward.
And, if they found, by serious inquisition,
(Or, had but any probable suspition)
Where lodg'd it was (although but for a night)
That Host, exiled was from publike fight;
Close pris'ner him they kept both night and day,
As one that else their Citie might betray.
And, to compell that his unwelcome Guest
Should keepe within; his doore was crost, and blest:
And many VVatchmen, strengthned by command,
Did round about his dwelling, armed stand.
I doe not thus expresse, or mention this,
As if I thought those Orders were amisse:
But, that I might, hereby, the better show
What miseries, attended on this Foe;
And, that this Malady, on us did cerze,
With circumstances, worse then the Disease.
My Muse inspires not me so foolishly,
That I all naturall causes doe deny.
I doe not thinke, but to this Pestilence,
The Constellations, by their influence
Might somewhat adde: and that corrupted ayre,
Might helpe our healthy being to impaire.
I hold, that Diets, Meats, Complexions, Passions,
With such as these, and all their mitigations,
May helpe or hinder much in such diseases
As we endeavor shall; and as God pleases.
Nor doe I flout the wisedome, or the paine
Of those who fought this mischiefe to restraine:
Nor blame I their much diligence, or care;
But praise it; and could with it doubled were;
With some such observations, as would make
Their practices, the more successe to take;
And that their naturall meanes had hallowed bin,
With so much Faith, and penitence, for sin,
As might have brought more workes of Piety,
To sanctifie their outward Poluy
For those dull Naturalists, who think, this Foe,
Doth by meere nat'rall causes, come or goe,
Are much deceiv'd. Yea, in their hearts, they say,
There is no God, how ever gloze they may:
And as their cogitations are unholy,
So is their seeming wisedome, sottish solly.
They are the base Conjunctions, and Aspects
Of Sin, that this our Climate, so infects;
And neither Constellations, nor the Weather:
For, then we had beene pois'ned all together,
By this Contagion; and had breath'd the longer
Or shorter while, as nature had beene stronger,
Or weaker in us Nothing had beene free,
But birds and beasts had dy'd as well as we;
And this Disease had seiz'd on ev'ry Creature
Or more or lesse, as it partakes our nature:
It was non noysome Ayre, no Sewre, or Stinke,
Which brought this Death, as most among us thinke,
For, then those places where ill smells abound,
Had more infectious at that time beene found,
Then we perceive they were; yea, this Disease,
On ev'ry person delicate, would seize,
Without exception. And where Savours ill
Still bide, the Plague should there continue still:
Then, if they brought the same, they sure feed it,
And, keepe it alwayes there, as well as breed it.
Which God forbid; and teach us to discerne
His providence, and what thereby to learne.
Vaine thoughts have also they, who credit can
That, this Infirmity, at first, began,
By meanes of populousnesse. For, were it so;
Some Courts and Allies, many yeares agoe,
Had beene infected: And, these places, where
Throng'd up together, greatest numbers are;
From Visitation, had not free remained,
When open Streets, and Borroughs have complained.
And, let them not beleeve their fallacy,
Because great Cities, have most frequently,
This fearfull Sicknesse, or, afflicted be,
When little Townes and Villages, are free
For, as there is in great and popular places,
More sin, and more abundance of Gods graces:
So, it is just, that thither should be sent
The greater measure of his Chastisement,
That so, their eminence, might shew abroad,
As well the Iustice, as the Love of God;
Whose Iudgements being laid on Townes obscure,
Might small respect, and lesse effect procure.
As ignorant as these, I reckon those,
Who this Disease, infectious doe suppose
To ev'ry one: and, them, who credit not
That Sicknesse, by infection may be got:
For, these opinions can have no defence;
Since both will false be found, in common sense.
For, if we say, this Plague infects not any,
How commeth it, we daily see so many
Consum'd beneath one roofe in little space?
How comes it, that it creeps from place to place,
So orderly, as oftentimes we see,
In some close Lane or Street? How may it be
That twenty Villages (far distant from
Infected Places) tainted should become
Within some few dayes after their arriving
Who in contageous places had their living?
None being there, before they came, infected,
Nor any such disease neare-hand suspected?
How comes all this, unlesse the Maladie,
Hath in itselfe, as had the Leprosie,
A spreading Nature, and envenom'd that
Which of her poison can participate?
Beleeve it; as the Violet, or Rose,
(With pure and pleasing sweetnesse) where it growes
Perfumes the Aire, and sendeth Odours out,
Which keepe a certaine distance there-about;
And, more or lesse, affect the Passers-by,
As they have more or lesse capacity
In smelling them; Or, as the calmed aire,
Is either, more or lesse, corrupt or faire:
Right so, this Plague, ev'n naturally affects
A space of Aire about it; and infects,
(At such or such a distance) ev'ry one,
As he hath weaknesses, to worke upon:
Unlesse, that her malignitie be staid
By naturall meanes, or powre Divine alaid.
And yet, a false Position make they shall
Who thence infer, the Plague infecteth all,
Who breathe her tainted Aire. For, how did they
Escape it then, who long time, night and day
In places of infection were detain'd?
And in the bosome of this Pest remain'd,
Ev'n where they often had their eares and eyes,
Affronted, by the sad aspect, and cries,
Of Death and Dying men? How scaped he
That in the Church, obliged was to be
Among infectious people; and to speake
Till tired were his lungs; and spirits weake?
Ev'n when the peoples, thronging, and their heat
Did vapour up their breathings, and their sweat
For him to swallow? What preserv'd the Clarkes,
The Sextens, Searchers, Keepers, and those Sharks,
The shamelesse Bearers? (who were nigh become,
A rout too bad, to picke out hangmen, from?)
How scap't the Surgeon, that oft puts his head
Within the steame of an Infectious bed,
And, ev'ry day doth handle, search, and dresse,
Those Biles, that over-flow with rottennesse?
Or (which is more) how scapt those Babes, the Pest,
That were not only weake, but suckt the brest
Of Mothers deadly sicke, when they did weare
Those noisome Blaines, that most infectious are?
This often chanceth. Yea, this hath beene seene
When on the very brest, the sore hath beene.
Nay, I have heard (by credible relation)
That neare to Stratford-bow, this Visitation,
A little Infant was preserv'd alive,
Who sucked on the dying brests of five.
How this may be I know not; If I shall
Conclude with some, this Plague hath powre on al:
Nor can I finde a reason how it stinted,
Or how our totall ruine was prevented.
For, when it was at height; and when appear'd,
Most causes, that Infection should be fear'd;
Then, no man was confined, as before:
No Bill, or Crosse, was fixt on any doore;
We visited the Sicke; we shunned neither
The place nor person; but met all together.
Yet then, and (let us marke it) not till then,
This Plague, her fury did abate agen;
And constantly abate, though most refused
To keepe such Orders, as at first were used
Which manifesteth well, that (howsoe're
Malignant in it selfe, the Pest appeare)
Gods band restraines it; many a man protecting
Immediately: some, mediately directing
To such, or such a meanes of preservation,
That they might honour him in their salvation:
And, as he striketh some, that men might feare
His Iustice: So, he other some doth spare,
That they might love his Mercies; and perceive
That he can at his pleasure take, and leave.
For, if God saved none; some Athe'st, would not
Make doubt, perhaps, to publish that he could not;
And, scarce one man would be so neighbourly,
To helpe his brother in this malady.
Which Charity to further (and to shew
How safely, men their Callings may pursue
In ev'ry danger) we have had, this yeare,
Of Gods great Providence, faire token, here.
For, 'tis observ'd, that he hath few destroy'd
Who were in this mortality employ'd
About those Offices, which have to us
(In common sense) appear'd most dangerous.
Few Sextons, and few Surgeons have miscari'd,
Who in their callings at this want have rary'd.
And of those Market-folks, who at our need
Brought in provisions, this weake place to feed,
I cannot heare of one, who did become
Infected; or, who brought infection home.
Ev'n in that Parish where I did abide;
(And where, nigh halfe a thousand, weekly dy'd)
Not one of all that number perished,
That were the common Bearers of the Dead.
But, though from midnight, till the break of day,
They did infectious Carkasses convay
From sickly Dwellings, to those Pits of Death,
Which breathed out a most contagious breath,
With life and health, their service, God rewarded;
Ev'n though the most of them nought else regarded,
But that base gaine which might their want supply,
Or feed them in some wicked vanity.
How then, can we, that of this favour heare,
From any lawfull action flye through feare?
Or doubt of Gods protection, when we make
A dangerous attempt, for conscience sake?
And know, beside, that what we strive to do,
We are both called, and oblig'd unto?
Moreover, since the latter sort here named,
Are (for the greater part) in life defamed;
Such, who their needfull Offices abused;
Such, who nor outward meanes, nor inward used;
To keep their healths (but, grew the bolder in
The practices of ev'ry kind of sin)
Such, whom Gods Iudgements stupified more,
And made far harder hearted, then before.
Since those (I say) of such condition were,
And yet preserved in their Callings, here:
For what good use I pray can we suppose
Those men were so preserved; but that those
Who truly seeke Gods glory in their stay,
Might have the more assurance in their way?
And know, that if to such God please to give
This mortall life, they shall much rather live;
Or else (which is far better) if they dye,
Obtaine a life, with immortality.
Some Wiseman-woud-be, now, perhaps, will prate
That this is Claphamnisme: And, that the State
(In her good policies to stop the breach
Of this great Plague) is wrong'd by what I teach?
But, rather they injurious are to me
Who so affirme; and vaine their cavils be.
For, though to shew the powre Divine the more,
Our Muse declares, by what is gone before,
That Gods owne hand, our Citie did preserve,
When we scarce Meanes, or Order, did observe.
Let no man gather thence, that we maintaine,
All Meanes, or Civill Orders to be vaine.
For, of selfe-murther that man guiltie dies,
Who, meanes of health doth wilfully despise.
Yea, doubtlesse, there belongs a curse to them,
That orderly proceedings doe contemne.
And, whereas we our Orders did transgresse,
It was necessitie, not wilfulnesse,
That urged it; because, our common woe,
Did farre beyond the powre of Order, goe.
At rising of the Ploud we made a Bay;
But, at the height, it carri'd all away.
In humane Policie, we saw no hope.
But, as the stones and Timbers which doe stop
A Breach at first; when all is drowned o're,
Doe nothing else, but make the waters rore:
So, when our Sicknesse, and our Poverty,
Had greater wants than we could well supply,
Strict Orders did but more enrage our griefe,
And, hinder in accomplishing releefe.
Had ev'ry house beene lockt which we suppos'd
To stand infected, few had beene unclos'd,
Yea, our first Orders had we still observ'd;
The healthie Housholds would not halfe have serv'd
To keepe the Sicke. And who should then have heeded
Our private cares? Or got us what we needed?
As long as from each other, we refrain'd,
We greater sorrowes ev'ry day sustain'd:
Yea, whilst for none, but for ourselves we car'd,
Our brethren perisht, and the worse we far'd.
This made us from our Policies appeale,
And meete in Love, each others wounds to heale.
This, made vs from our civill Orders flie,
To make more practise of our Charitie.
And hereunto, perhaps, compell'd were we,
By meere necessitie, to let us see
Experiments, of that unmatched good,
Which floweth from a Christian Neighbourhood.
And learne what publike, and what private ease
It bringeth in a generall Disease:
And how it may a Common-wealth sustaine
When carnall Wisdome, and Selfe-love are vaine,
Or, we perchance from vulgar helpes were driven,
Lest Overmuch assurance might be given
To outward meanes: Or, left we us'd them so,
As if Gods powre were chained thereunto
Or else, it was permitted, to declare
That fruitlesse all our best endevours are
Without his blessing: That, no creatures have
A Vertue to preserve till he will save:
That, his immediate powre must countermand,
When any Plague hath got an upper hand:
And, that, such Mercy showne in such distresse,
Might binde us to the greater thankfulnesse.
But, lest what here precedeth hath not showne.
My purpose fully; be it also knowne,
That to restraine, or spurre the Pestilence,
There is both supernat'rall Providence
And Causes naturall. The first of these
Can worke without the later, if it please.
The later cannot any thing effect,
But, as the former shall the same direct.
And, though in ev'ry sicknesse, thus it is,
Yet, such hid properties are found in this,
Such oppositions in the Naturall Causes,
Such knots, and riddles; that it much amazes
The naturall man: because he seldome findes
(As he perceives in griefes of other kindes)
The Causes and Effects agree together;
For, there is much uncertainty in either.
On some, this Plague doth steale insensibly,
Their muddy nature, stirring secretly
To their destruction. Some, it striketh so,
As if a mortall hand had with a blow
Arrested them; and on their flesh hath seene
A palmes impression, to appearance, beene.
One man is faint, weake, sickly, full of feare,
And drawes his breath where strongst infections are,
Yet scapes with life. Another man is young,
Light-hearted, healthy, stout, well-temper'd, strong,
And lives in wholesome ayre, yet gets a fit
Of this Land Calenture, and dies of it.
Some are tormented by it, till we see
Their veines and sinewes almost broken be,
The very soule distracted, sense bereft,
And scarce the smallest hope of scaping left,
Yet soone recover. Othersome, againe
Fall suddenly; or feele so little paine
When they are seized, that they breathlesse lye,
E're any dying Symptomes, we espy.
Of some, an endlesse drowsinesse doth creepe:
Some others, cannot get one winke of sleepe.
This, useth ev'ry day preservatives,
Yet dies: another taketh none, yet lives.
Ev'n thus vncertainly this Sicknesse playes;
Spares, wounds, and killeth, many sev'rall wayes.
From this experience, let us not conclude,
As many doe among the multitude,
Who misconceiving (to no small offence)
The doctrine of Eternall Providence,
(Who from the truth of sober knowledge wandring,
And Gods Decroes, and Justice also slandring)
Doe so necessitate the Fate of man,
That, whatsoever he endevour can,
His paines is lost; and that foredoom'd, he must
At this or that set moment turne to dust:
And that no industry, no innocence,
No wilfull carelesnesse, or foule offence,
Nor any humane actions helpfull be
To life or death, but meerly Gods Decree.
Ev'n such there be. And, howsoever they
Preach Faith, or Workes, in show, yet, they denay
The pow'r of both; and secretly maintaine,
(By consequence at least) that meanes are vaine.
For, they affirme that ev'ry thing men doe,
They are by God predestinated to
Before all worlds; So, that our pow'r, or will,
Affecteth; nor effecteth good, or ill;
And that we are by doome inevitable
In ev'ry kind of action made unable.
Which Tenet, seemeth rather to arise
From those, who write of heathnish Destinies,
Then from a Christian. For, though true it be,
That, God Almighty, all things doth foresee,
And order so, and so dispose of things,
That, to perfection his owne worke he brings,
In spight of Satan, and of every deed
That may from his malignant brood proceed:
Yet, they have Actions naturally their owne,
Which God permits. He likewise hath bestowne
On us that are his children, grace, and powres,
Good Actions to performe, which we call ours
By Gods free gift. Moreover, he doth please
To promise blisse, or threaten plagues, for these,
According to their natures; that each one
May heed the better, what is to be done:
Be stirred up to put good workes in use,
Or else be left at last without excuse.
For, though I am assured we possesse,
By Nature, no inherent Righteousnesse;
I, naithelesse beleeve that ev'ry one
(Whose being, first, from Adams loines begun)
Received since our. Universall fall
One Talent, at the least, to worke withall,
With so much powre of working also, that
We may and should with God cooperate.
As Adam all men did of life deprive;
Ev'n so by Christ, were all men made alive:
Yea, ev'n as Moses did not let remaine
One hoofe in Ægypt which did appertaine
To Isr'ell; So beleeve I that not one
Was left unransom'd by Gods only Sonne:
But that all through the sea of bloud did come,
As well those other who doe wander from
Truths path in this lifes wildernesse; as they
Who come within the Land of Promise may.
And, though like him, who impudently, laid
Injustice to his Masters charge, and said;
He reaped where he sow'd not, though, I say;
There want not some among us, at this day,
Who like to him, doe most unthankfully
This grace of God in Iesvs Christ deny;
(Affirming, that he some injoynes unto
Much more, than he did give them power to)
Our Maker unto ev'ry soule that lives,
So much by vertue of Christs Passion gives,
That whosoever falleth, falls not by
Anothers, but his owne iniquitie;
And, by his actuall crimes, makes unforgiven
That Debt originall which was made even
By his Redeemer, who, that, backe will have,
(If we abuse it) which at first he gave.
Who ev'r wants powre to doe what God doth bid,
Lost in himselfe, that powre as Adam did:
Yet, we that have it, neither had that powre,
Nor keepe it can, by any strength of our;
But by his holy Spirit, who hath taught
That path of life wherein to walke we ought.
And, this is such a Mystery, that some
Which thinke they see, are blinde therein become.
Our guiltie Soules and Bodies were bereft
Of all good Faculties, and had not left
So much as Will, much lesse the powre to doe
What soule or Bodies health conduced to.
Their guilt Christ from them tooke; and by his might
Depraved Nature so much sets to right,
That unto ev'ry Soule, he gives the will
Which Adam had, of chusing good or ill.
And then both Life and Death, he doth propose
Before them so, that either may be chose.
To them, whom in his Church he doth afford
To live past Child-hood, He doth by his Word
(And by no other meanes) this tender make.
With Infants, and with Heathens, he may take
Some other course. But, surely, when, or how
He that effects; concernes not us to know.
When God doth make this tender (which is then
When he doth please, and no man knoweth when)
If any Soule by Sathans guile doth chuse,
What Gods good Spirit moves her to refuse,
She, then, to put in action doth begin
The haynous and impardonable sin
Against the Holy Ghost (which fearfull crime
Is made apparant to the world, in time,
Or more or lesse, by outward actions here,
As God shall please to let the same appeare)
And, after this refusall, ev'ry thing,
Which doth encrease of grace, to others, bring,
Doth make her grow more senselesse of her state,
Or else enrage, or make her desperate.
And, her freewill, in Adam lost before,
Is lost againe, by her, for evermore.
But, if she chuseth as the Spirit moveth,
The Lord, this Soule, without repenting loveth;
In her, preserving such affections still,
And such a portion of her first Freewill,
That though the frailties of her flesh doe seeme
To choake them often, in the worlds esteeme;
(And sometime in her owne) yet she for ever
Doth in her motion towards God persever,
Till she arive in him. Nor doth she cease
Of pious workes, her number to encrease:
But labours for assurance in election,
By reaching ev'ry day at more perfection.
And, far is it from God to take away
The guerdon of our Faith; or to denay
What he did by his Covenant, ordaine,
To be the wages of our Christian paine:
Or to command us what should profit nought;
Or, to neglect the workes that we have wrought.
For, since God heeds those things that are so small,
As birds alightings, and as haires that fall;
Makes use of ev'ry circumstance, and chaines
(To further those maine ends which he ordaines)
Ten thousand little trifling things together;
Not one omitting, none displacing neither,
Which may be pertinent his ends to further,
Or to effect them, in their timely Order.
How could so fond a crotchet be devised,
That God our serioust actions hath despised?
Or, that by his Foreknowledge, or Decree,
Our deeds should all annihilated be?
Or, that he should so oft incite us to
What he had giv'n to man, no pow'r to doe?
I dare not venture upon their distractions,
Who search the order of Eternall actions;
Nor doe I further seeke what God foreknowes,
Then he within his Word revealed showes;
Nor will I ever strive to pry into
His hidden counsells, as too many doe:
But their unwarrantable paths eschewing,
And, Gods disclosed purposes pursuing,
Search onely for the knowledge of those things
Which an effecting of his pleasure brings.
Since, if I follow them, it cannot be
That he would purpose any harme to me;
Or in his secret counsell ought ordaine
To make his publike will to be in vaine.
For, though, when Abram, Jsa'k thought to kill,
God's hidden purpose, and revealed will
Did seeme to crosse each other (And when he
Did threaten Niniveh destroy'd should be)
Yet, they appeare not opposite to those
Whose faith, such holy secrets can disclose.
Or were it so; from acts particular
None should conclusions generall inferre.
God neuer said, as yet, that I could heare,
Man, such a day shall perish, howsoe're
By faithfull workes for safety he endeauour.
But, all his promises and threatnings, euer
Were made conditionall; and haue fore-spoken
Our life, or death, as they are kept, or broken.
Nor is this any barre, or contradiction
To Gods free Grace; or to his firme Election,
Or never-ending Loue. Nor helpes it those
Who, perseverance of the Saints, oppose:
But, rather, maketh all those Doctrines good.
Yea, being rightly weigh'd and understood,
Gods iustice, and his mercy it unites,
Whom mens blind Cavills haue made opposites.
God knew the doome, and date of Adams crime,
Yet, he did fore-expresse no certaine time;
But, speaking of it, spake indefinitely,
And said, That day thou sinnest, thou shalt dye.
And sure, of all mens deaths (who e're gaine saies)
It is their sinne that setteth downe the daies.
For, till transgression forfeited our breath,
There was no peremptory day of death.
And, in affirming, where Gods Word is mute,
It is presumption, to be absolute.
Doe this, saith God, and liue; Doe that and perish.
Yet some, whose oversights too many cherish,
Dare contradict it; and affirme that wee
Good, bad, dead, liuing, damned, saued be
Eu'n from eternity, without respects,
To any causes, or to their effects.
And these imply, that (whatsoe're we doe,
Or leaue vndone) God fore-appoints us to
A certaine doome; which we shall striue in vaine,
With all our strength, to shunne, or to obtaine.
And wherefore then did God his Gospell send?
Why doth his Word exhort vs to amend?
Why doth he bid vs, this, or that to shunne?
Why hath he charged some things to be done?
If he no power hath giuen, or else by fate
Disableth all men to cooperate?
And leaues them neither good nor ill to doe
But what he fore-decreed long agoe?
Why threats he stripes? why promiseth reward?
If there be no compassion, no regard,
Nor meed for what is done. And what I pray
Is all Religion, if these truth doe say?
I know God reprobates, and doth foresee
Before all worlds, who reprobates will be.
But, none he forceth to be so accurst,
Saue those who haue his Grace rejected first
And vnto those, indeed, he powre denies
To worke his will, because they did despise
His profered Love; And just it is in him,
To make them blinde, who did the light contemne.
He doth eternally abhorre the crime;
But he the persons reprobates in time.
And None doth chuse, or personally reject
(Whatever some conceive) but with respect
Vnto his Covenant; which hath implide
Something to be perform'd on either side.
For, were it so, that God hath fore-decreed
What should befall unto us without heed
To any Covenant; and bar'd Salvation,
By an eternall doome of Reprobation,
(In such like manner as the fantasies
Of some (not well advisedly) devise)
What compasse we by striving therewithall?
Why spend we time, in rising up to fall?
Why linger we to act so many crimes?
To suffer over griefe so many times?
And live so many sev'rall deaths to taste,
To be nor worse, nor better at the last?
Or wherefore have we prayed, since we know
What must be, must be, though we pray not so?
I might be thought o're bitter, if as they
I should interrogate, who sharply say;
Why doe not these, who this opinion hold,
Goe hang themselves before that they are old?
Or in their Gardens, TIMON like, erect
Faire Gibbets for the Schollers of their Sect?
What tends their life unto? why should not they
Refuse to eate and drinke; and, wisely, say,
“God, for our end, a certaine day hath set,
“Which we shall reach, although we taste no meat.
Why doe they shun a danger in the street,
Since they shall live their time, what e're they meet?
If they to any place, desire to goe,
Why trouble they their feet to helpe thereto?
Since they are sure, that if decreed it were
They should come thither, they their paines may spare?
If thus I should have said, some men would deeme me
To be more bitter then did well beseeme me:
For, I confesse that on the quick they grated,
Who in this manner have expostulated
And I forbeare it. Yet, this generation
Hath some who need this tart expostulation;
With whom loud noises more prevaile by far,
Then doe those proofes, that Faiths and Reasons are.
I know to these Objections, most replies;
I know their strength, and where their weaknesse lies;
I know what holy Scriptures, men mistake,
Which proofes of their assertions seeme to make:
I know, how they their Arguments mis-lay,
From that of Esau, and the Potters clay:
I know what Times and Termes they misconceive,
And wherewithall themselves they doe deceive.
I know with what nick-names of heresie,
Some Readers will for this my Muse belye;
And that nor they, who call'd Arminians be,
Nor they who reprehend them, will with me
Be friends for this; for neither those nor these
Am I desirous to offend or please.
But to uphold the Truth, which is bely'd
Injuriously by most of either side.
I know their spight, their vineger, their gall;
I know what spirit most are led withall
Who spread the Doctrines which I have reproved,
And know such Reason never to be moved,
With favour to them that I dare to say,
It is the nearest and the straightest way
To all prophanenesse. It the bridle gives
To carnall liberties, and makes the lives
And hearts of many men so voyd of care:
From hence distractions; hence despairings are.
Hence mischiefes; hence selfe murthers doe arise;
Hence is it that such multitudes despise
Good discipline: yea, this contemned makes
The life of Faith, if once it rooting takes:
Disableth pious practices outright,
And where it roots, destroyes Religion quite.
Let no man then admit into his thought,
That God Almighty hath decreed ought
Which on his Iustice may infringement bring,
Or on his Mercy in the smallest thing:
Or that his Wisedome any thing ordaines
Without the meanes which thereunto pertaines:
Or thinke, because our sinne he doth permit
That therefore he necessitateth it:
Or that he wills those errours he foresees,
As he the workes of righteousnesse decrees:
Or, that our humane actions cyphers are:
Or, that within this world there ever were
Or shall, those persons be, whom God will call
Vnto account, untill he giue them shall,
At least, one Talent, which may serue vnto
The working of that worke he bids them doe.
Let no man dreame these dreames; nor censure this,
Till he hath well consider'd what that is
Which I deliuer. For in this darke way,
Our learnedst Clerkes doe sometimes runne astray,
Nor let them thinke that I concurre with all,
Who in appearance hold this Tenet shall:
Or that I differ from all men that may
In termes dissent from what I seeme to say.
For they that in expression disagree
In one well-meaning, oft united be.
And either (if that they in loue contend)
Shall then at length, obtaine their wished end.
Oh! labour this, all you that would be thought
GODS glory in your studies to haue sought;
That though offences come, they may not moue
Disunion; but Gods worthy ones approve.
And let us with a true sobriety,
So heed his Actions of eternitie,
That we may see in them a boundlesnesse,
Beyond our humane wisdome to expresse;
Leave quarrelling about his waies unknowne,
And take more heed hereafter to our owne.
For, though God pleaseth, other while, to use
Our vulgar Termes, some notions to infuse
Of his eternall workings, and apply
His deeds that way, to our capacity,
Disclosing them unto us one by one,
As if at severall times they had beene done,
(Because our shallownesse no meanes can find
To entertaine them in their proper kinde)
And though (respecting us who temp'ral be)
Wee say, that God Almighty doth foresee;
Foreknow us, and predestinate; yet sure,
His Essence no such termes can well endure
In proper sense; Because with him, no doome,
Word, Thought, or Act, is passed, or to come.
But all things present. Yea, all Times, and all
Those things which wee by severall names doe call,
Our Births, our Lives, our Deaths, and our Saluations,
Our free-elections, and predestinations,
Are all at once with God, without foreseeing;
Eu'n all in one-eternall-present-being.
Which few observing, many men have thought
That Gods eternall actions should be wrought
Like ours in Time, which is, as if they should
Endeavour how the world they might enfold
Within a Nut-shell. And while thus men strive
(According to their fancies) to contrive
An order in Gods Workings, they mistake them
Blasphemously, and orderlesse doe make them.
Yea, to define his actions, they neglect
That part which is their duty to effect;
Themselves and others losing in a path
Which neither profit, end, nor safety hath;
And, by disputing what from us is hidden,
Disturb the doing that which God hath bidden:
I have digrest enough; and some there are
Who think, perhaps, that I have gone too farre.
Yet, let it not be judg'd impertinent,
That I have so pursu'd this Argument.
For, want of minding what is here rehearsed,
Hath often times the Pestilence dispersed.
Yea, some who fondly said, that ev'ry man
Shall live his time decreed, do what he can;
And that each one at his sixt houre shall dye,
'Gainst which he seeks in vaine, a remedy:
Ev'n these, made much good means of health neglected
Much wise and wholsome counsell be rejected;
And caused, oft, in this our common wo,
That Death was brought and caried, to and fro.
But, lest in chasing them, I run astray;
Ile prosecute againe my purpos'd way.
The Pestilence doth show her selfe inclin'd
So variously, she cannot be defin'd.
She neither ceraine forme, nor habit wears,
But, partly metaphysicall appears,
And partly naturall. She oft may cary
Her Progresse on, by meanes that's ordinary;
But, rarely doth begin, or end her Arrant,
Save by an extraordinary Warrant.
It doth infect, and it infecteth not,
It is an arrow which is often shot
By Gods owne hand, from his far-striking bow,
Without the help of any meanes below.
It is Gods Angel, which to death can smite,
Miraculously, an army in a night.
It is a rationall Disease, which can
Pick, with discretion, here and there a man;
And passe o're those, who either marked are
For Mercy; or, a greater Plague to beare.
We see, it suting hath to Natures lawes,
A nat'rall motion, and a nat'rall cause;
For, as a Fire among great Buildings throwne,
Burnes Timber, melteth Mettall, cracketh Stone,
Defaceth Statues, makes moist places dry,
The Vaults below to sweat, the tyles to flye
And manifests his force, in sev'rall kindes,
According to the objects which he findes:
So, hath the Pestilence a nat'rall pow'r
To harden, fright, endanger, or devoure,
(And divers other changes to procure)
As she doth find a sev'rall temp'rature
In mind or body, fitting the rejection.
Or for the entertainment of Infection.
These things consider'd. They who shall desire
To scape from this Contagion, must acquire
A double Ward. For, doubtlesse, there is none
That can resist it with one guard alone.
In times of Danger, vainly we presume
Vpon our Iv'ry boxes of Perfume.
To little purpose, we defend our noses,
With Wormwood, Rue, or with our Radeliffe Posies
Of tarred Ropes. Small warrant for our lives,
Are all such bodily Preservatives,
As Cordiall waters, Gums, Herbes, Plants, and Rootes,
Our simple or compounded Antidotes.
Our Bœzar-stone; our med'cines Chymicall;
Or, that high-prized Iewell wherewithall,
For horne of Vnicorne, men cheated are:
Or, those unhallowed Charmes, which many weare.
For, these are far unable to withstand
The vigour of his incorporeall hand,
Who strikes for sinne, unlesse to these wee adde
A Plaister which of better things is made.
Yea Nature failes, unlesse adjoyne wee doe,
A med'cine metaphisicall thereto.
Moreover, fruitlesly devout are they,
And that they seeke to God they falsely say,
Who wilfully neglect, or else contemne,
That outward meanes, which Nature offers them,
And God provides, to cure, or to prevent,
The mischiefe of Diseases pestilent.
For, since wee fram'd of soules and bodies are,
God pleased is, that wee should have a care
To both of them; and labour how to finde,
What appertaines to either, in his kinde.
He therefore, who desireth a defence
Against this Arrow of the Pestilence;
A compleat Armour must from God procure,
And still be arm'd, his person to secure.
He must put on the Helmet of Salvation,
And shoe his feet with holy Preparation.
A Belt of Truth must for his loines be sought;
His Brest-plate must of Righteousnesse be wrought.
The Shield of Faith, his Target must become,
The darts of Sathan to secure him from.
Gods Word must be the Sword upon his thigh,
His Praiers, like continuall shot must flie;
And he should keepe for ever his abode,
Within the shadow of Almighty God.
Or else the Workeman looseth all his paine;
And he that watcheth, waketh but in vaine.
He also must expell out of the soule,
That filthinesse of sinne, which makes it foule.
He must avoid the crimes he lived in;
His Physicke must be Rue (ev'n Rue for sinne)
Of Herb of Grace, a Cordiall he must make;
The bitter Cup of true Repentance take;
The Diet of Sobriety assume;
His House with workes of Charitie perfume;
And watch, that from his heart in secrecie,
Arise no savours of Hypocrisie.
He must beleeve, God so doth love him, that
His everlasting good, is aimed at
In all he suffers; and, that, God doth know,
And marke his nature, and his temper so,
As that he will impose nor more, nor lesse,
Than shall be needfull for his happinesse.
For, such a Faith, will keepe him still content,
Still lowly, under ev'ry chastisement;
Still thankfull, whatsoever doth befall;
And Blessings make, of what we Plagues doe call.
He must, moreover with a holy Feare,
In all his Christian duties persevere;
Still watchfull, and at no time daring ought
Which may from God divert him in a thought:
(So neere as possibly, the powre of man,
So great a diligence endeavour can.)
For, round about him are a thousand Feares,
A thousand Dangers, and ten thousand Snares,
And, as a Traveller, who for his Bridges,
To passe deepe waters, having nought but ridges
Of narrow Timbers, dares not cast his eye
From off the Plancke, nor set his foot awrie;
Because beneath him, he beholds a Streame,
That runnes, and roares, and gapes to swallow him:
So, he that must an hourely passage make,
Through such like Plagues, as this whereof I speake,
(And many dangers waiting on him hath,
To catch him, if he slip his narrow Path)
Had need be carefull that he never stray,
Nor swarve in any thing beside the way.
Let, therefore, ev'ry man desire, at least,
This pow'r; that his desirings may be blest,
With such performances as he shall need,
Or, have his Will accepted for the Deed.
And, let him to his Calling ever stand:
For, whosoe're doth leave that place unmann'd
Wherein God sets him; forfeits that reward
(And is deprived of that Angell guard)
Of which his Muse doth prophesie, who sayes,
We shall preserved be in all our wayes.
Far is it from my nature, to reprove
With proud insultings, those whom feare did move
To step aside: For, good and pious men
Give way to nat'rall frailties now and then;
And, we whom God emboldned now to stay,
Hereafter, from lesse frights may run away.
Yea, sure I am, that if it doe not flow
From Love, and Pity, that their scapes we show,
God may, and will (our folly to deride)
Make them dare stand, where we shall seare to bide.
And therefore, hoping none amisse will take
What I have writ for truth and conscience sake;
(That men in times to come might looke into
This duty, and be heedfull what they doe)
I will affirme, that ev'ry one hath erred,
Who in his lawfull Calling, was deterred
So much, as in this danger to forsake it:
And, though a trifling matter many make it,
I know, the most apparant showes of terror
Are not excuse enough for such an error.
For, that we should not in such cases dread
The greatest perils: God hath promised,
That if we keepe our wayes, and him observe,
He will not onely, from this Plague preserve;
But, cause us without harme to walke among,
Ev'n Adders, Dragons, Lyons old and yong:
By which pernicious creatures, and untamed,
Is ev'ry danger meant that can be named.
These things we must observe, if we will hope
Gods extraordinary blow to stop;
And other circumstances must attend
Those meanes. But, they so nat'rally depend
On what precedes; that in well doing one,
VVe cannot leave the other part undone.
Such were those holy med'cines, which prevented
The Plague, at Niniveh, when she repented;
Such Isr'el used, and it saved them;
Such kept the Plague out of Ierusalem;
And when the bloody Angell came, had pow'r
To stop him in Araunah's threshing floore.
Thus Hezekiah was preserv'd; thus David
Was from the very same contagion saved:
And if unfainedly we practise thus,
He doth of safety also warrant us.
Yea (through this meanes) we shall be fortifi'd
VVith such a coat of proofe, as will abide
That murth'ring Arrow which in darknesse flyes,
From Gods owne Bow, unseene of mortall eyes.
And when we thus have done, attempt we may
To stop the Shaft, that flyes abroad by day;
I meane the nat'rall Sicknesse, which doth smite
By meanes, that is apparant to the sight.
For, as God striketh, oft, immediate blowes
By some immediate way: right so he showes
A nat'rall cure to those, whom he doth please
To warrant from the naturall Disease.
Thus, he for Hezekiah's health revealed
That Plaister, wherewithall his griefe was healed,
Thus from this Plague have many beene secured,
And many saved, who the stroke endured.
Here I could shew, what Med'cines may be tooke
To cure or to prevent the outward stroke;
To qualifie the Aire, what might be used;
What Diet should be taken, what refused;
What Symptomes doe attend on this disease;
What good, or ill, from Labour, or from Ease
Too much, or over-little, may be got:
But, to proceed in this presume I not.
For, to prescribe externall med'cines, here
To ev'ry man, too hard a taske it were;
Since they must often chang'd and mixed, be,
As we the sicknesse changeable doe see,
And as we finde the measure of infection,
The parties Age, his Temper, or Complection.
To those I therefore will commit this part,
Who are allow'd professors of that Art;
Advising all, that none their aid refuse,
Nor out of season, their assistance use.
For, if, before our peace with God be made,
We (seeking outward meanes) a cure have had;
That meanes shall be the meanes our death to fet:
That cure shall onely cure us, to beget
Another Plague: unlesse we have repented
Our solly, and the mischiefe, so, prevented.
Yea such, as take that course, doe sugar o're
Strong poysons, and skin up a festring sore;
Because those med'cines, and that watchfulnesse
(From which they did expect a good successe)
Not being with repentance sanctifi'd,
Nor (in their place) with faithfulnesse apply'd,
Corruptd grow; make what was evill, worse;
And (in the stead of blessings) bring a curse.
This Reason proves. For, since it is from Sin
Whence all our griefes, and sicknesses have bin:
We shall as vainly strive th'effects to stay,
Till we the Causes first remove away,
As if we went about to draine a River,
Before to stop the Springs we did endeavor.
And, as we neither should o're much rely
On outward helpes; nor take disorderly
The meanes of Health; tight so, beware we must
That we doe never use it with distrust.
For as, in seeking safety, most men use
Preposterous courses (whence much harme ensues)
Or else (when likely med'cines they have got)
Presume so farre, on what availeth not,
Without Gods blessing; that, from him they take
His due, and of his Creatures, Idols make:
So, some there be so fearfull, that their Feare
Corrupts their blood, where no infections were;
Begets that Plague within them which they shun;
And makes it follow, when they from it run.
No place, or counsell can of rest assure them;
No meanes their hope of safety can procure them:
But still they are distemper'd; ever taking
New courses, and new Med'cines alwayes making.
Of all they meet (if any meet they dare)
For some Receipt, their first enquiries are.
What e're he be that tells them, that, or this
Prevents the Plague; it straightwayes practis'd is.
They swallow downe hot Waters, Sirrups, Drinks,
Choake up their Chambers with Perfumes, & Stinks;
With Rue, and Wormwood cram their bowels up,
With Phisicke breake their fasts, and dine, and sup:
Yet, still despaire, as if that world of sluffe
(Which they devoured) were not halfe enough.
And, this their terror, doth to me appeare,
A greater Plague, then that which they doe feare.
Mistake me not; I doe not here condemne
The christian, and the filiall feare of them,
That are (with holy dread) employ'd about
Such meanes, as worketh true salvation out.
Nor blame it, when a moderate feare doth make
Alarums in us, Reason to awake.
For, while our Feare preserves a moderation,
It is a very necessary passion,
And stands for Centinell, to bid us Arme,
When any Foe doth seeme to menace harme.
Nor doe I checke that nat'rall Feare, which from
The knowledge of our weaknesses doth come:
For, want of that, is meere stupidity;
And such, can neither feele a Misery,
Nor taste Gods Mercies, with more profit, than
The brutish Creatures wanting Reason, can;
Who, of their paines, or pleasures, nought retaine
Much longer, then it doth in act remaine.
I count not each man valiant, who dares die,
Or venture on a Mischiefe desperately,
When, either heat of Youth, or Wine, or Passion
Shall whet him on, before consideration:
For, thus a Beast will doe, and hath (no doubt)
As much foresight in what he goes about;
As those blinde Bayards, who couragious be
In perills, whose events they doe not see.
Nor will I any man a Coward call,
Although I see him tremble, and looke pale
In dangerous attempts; unlesse he slacke
His just Resolves, by basely stepping backe.
For, as the greater part of men we find
To laugh and blush, by nature, much enclin'd:
So, many have a nat'rall inclination,
To trembling, palenesse, or some other passion,
Which, no Philosophy can take away,
Nor any humane wit, or strength, allay:
And if their Apprehension proveth better
Then other Mens; their Passions are the greater;
Because their searching wits finde perills out,
Whereof the Dullard (never having doubt)
Hath boldly ventur'd on them, and out dar'd,
What being heeded, him to death had scar'd.
Give me the Man, that with a quaking arme
VVakes with a stedfast mind through greatest harm;
And though his flesh doth tremble, makes it stand
To execute what Reason doth command.
Give me the Soule, that knowingly descries
All dangers, and all possibilities
Of outward perills; and yet doth persever
In ev'ry lawfull action, howsoever.
Give me that Heart, which in it selfe doth warre
VVith many frailties (who like Traytors are
In some besieged Fort) and hath to doe
VVith outward Foes, and inward Terrors too;
Yet of himselfe, and them, a conquest makes,
And still proceeds in what he undertakes.
For, this is double-valour; and such men
(Although they are mis-censur'd now, and then)
Enjoy those mindes that best composed are;
In lawfull quarrells are without compare;
And (when the Coward, hoodwink'd goes to fight)
Dare charge their sternest Foes with open sight.
Let no Man therefore glory, or make boast
Of Courage, when they feele their Dread is lost,
Or thinke themseles the safer, when they finde
Their Feare is gone, whilst Perill slayes behinde;
Especially, when they besieg'd appeare,
With such like Plagues, as this, we treat of here.
For that endangers, rather then secureth;
Since Custome, or else Ignorance procureth
That brutish fearlesnesse: And, where we see
Such hardinesse, Gods judgements fruitlesse be.
There is required, yet, one Caveat more
To perfect that, which hath beene said before;
Ev'n this; that we grow watchfull, lest the while
We trust in God, we doe our selves beguile
With fruitlesse confidence, and on his grace
(Beyond his warrant) our assurance place.
For, many thousands wondrous forward are
In Gods large promises to claime a share;
Who, those conditions never mused on,
Which he doth ground his Covenant upon.
And as the Iewes (from whom they take example)
Bragg'd of their outward worship, and their Temple,
As if Gods League extended unto all,
Who could themselves, the sonnes of Iacob, call,
Without respecting their partic'lar Way:
So, we have some among us, that will say,
They trust in God; and that, in this infection,
They full assurance have of his protection:
Because they formally his Truth professe;
Performe externall workes of Holinesse;
Or visibly, with such, partakers are,
With whom the Pledges of Gods love appeare.
But, they that on these outward workes rely,
Without true faith, and true sincerity;
Commit those guilded sinnes, whose glosse will weare,
And leave their naturall corruptions bare:
Yea they, of their professions, idols make;
And, will the Covenant of God mistake,
Vntill in his conveyances, they see
What duties, on their parts, required be.
God promiseth (indeed) all such to save,
Who in his holy Church their dwelling have;
And that he will vouchsafe them his defence
From dangers of the noysome Pestilence:
But they must love him, and inuoke him, then,
Or else the Bargaine is unmade agen.
Thus much inferres the Psalmist, in that Ode,
Which prophecies the saving Grace of God.
Those, therefore, too too much on them assume,
Yea, (foolishly) of mercy they presume,
Who boast of Gods protection, and yet tread
Those paths, which to a sure destruction lead.
I doe not meane, when any man mis-does
Through frailty, or unwillingly mis-goes:
But when, with liking, and without remorse,
He wilfully pursues a wicked Course.
For, such, their confidence on God, bely,
Depending on their owne security;
And cannot see those dangers they are in,
Because their Consciences have seared bin.
How many thousands in the Grave are laid,
Who, in their life-times, impudently said
They should be safe in God? yet never tooke
His counsell, nor one vanity forsooke
For love of him? How many have I heard
Presumptuously affirme, they never fear'd
The danger of Gods Arrowes? though they flew
At noone, at midnight, and so many slew
In ev'ry street? yea, shamelesly professe
Their trust in God, to cause their fearlesnesse,
Yet, nothing for the love of him endevour?
How boldly have I seene them to persever
In ev'ry sin, when Gods fierce Angell stood,
Ev'n just before them, all embru'd in blood;
And slaught'ring roūd about thē neighbors, brothers
Their friends; their kinsmē, children, fathers, mothers,
And some of ev'ry sort? Nay, I have heard
Of such, who were not any jot afear'd
To bargaine for their Lust, in times to come,
VVithin the compasse of the selfe-same roome,
VVhere (at that instant) they beheld their wives
Lye newly dead; or lab'ring for their lives.
They waste Gods Creatures in luxurious diet;
Consume their times in wantonnesse, and riot;
They feasts, and merriments, in Tavernes keepe,
VVhilst others in the Temples, fast, and weepe;
They persecute their brethren, and the poore;
Performe no good; forbeare no sin the more;
And live so carelesly, as if they thought,
That, when the greatest wickednesse they wrought,
It prov'd, their trust in God to be the greater;
And, that lewd works, shew'd forth their faith the better;
Or else that God the more obligement had,
Because he was so good, and they so bad
Ev'n such there are. And these make boastings will,
Of trust in God, yet such continue still.
Alas, it is but vaine to say Lord, Lord,
Or to professe a confidence in word,
Where lively Faith appeares not: for, God granteth
Protections unto none, but whom he planteth
Within his Vineyard; wherein growes no tree,
But in some measure, it will fruitfull be;
Or else, a storme shall come, which down will shake it,
With whatsoever, carnall props, we stake it.
No high-presuming Cedars, nor stiffe Oakes,
Are those whom God exempteth from the strokes
Of his tempestuous wrath: but, that which bendeth
To ev'ry blast, which he in Iudgement sendeth,
As doth a bruised, or low-stooping Reed,
Which, by the bowing, is from breaking free'd.
Yea those, who really within the shade
Of his defence, have their abidings made;
Those onely, may depend on his protection,
Amid the ragings of this hot Infection.
And who are these, but such, as (when they see
The threatned Plague) afraid, and humbled be?
Such, as through hearty love, ashamed grow,
That they so good a God displeased so:
Such, as are sory for their passed crimes,
And truly purpose, in all future times
A better life: Such, who, for conscience sake
(And not through servile feare) themselves betake
To pious exercises: such, who strive
To mortifie their lusts, and how to live
As worthy their free-calling: such, as they,
Who ev'ry houre, doe labour, watch, and pray,
Their duties to performe; and dare not peepe
Abroad at morning, or at ev'ning sleepe,
Till they the sacrifice of thankes have paid,
For favours past; and begg'd for future aid.
Such, as on Gods owne pleasure can rely,
And, in his Faith resolved are to dye.
Such, as have Charity; and working are
Their safeties with continuall joy, and feare:
Ev'n such as these, securely may repose
When twenty thousand dangers them enclose.
On these, Gods Angells wait; and these they shall
From stumbling keepe, when many Millions fall.
From ev'ry kinde of harme they shall be free,
And sleepe, where feares, and mischiefes thickest be:
Yea, though that seize them, which the Plague we cal,
It shall to them become no Plague at all;
But rather be their furth'rance, to acquire
That perfect happinesse, which they desire.
Let no man, therefore, in this Visitation
Tye God unto the temp'rall preservation;
Or be discouraged, if he shall please
To exercise him under this Disease,
Supposing, he inflicteth it on none
(As some fooles thinke) but Reprobates alone.
For he did Hezekiah thereby strike;
He, by this Malady, or some such like,
Afflicted holy David, his Elected;
Whose Reprobation is of none suspected.
And though just men from temporall infection
Shall finde more certainty of Gods protection,
Then others doe: yet sure, that Pestilence
(From which God promis'd absolute defence)
Is not that sicknesse which the body slayes;
But that, which death unto the soule conveyes.
Our earthly griefes, to heav'nly joyes doe reare,
And why should any Man or grudge or feare
A mortall wound, so he might gaine thereby
A body cloth'd with immortalitie?
Or why should we repine, in missing that,
Which (to our dammage) we had aymed at;
When God doth give us more then we desired;
And lifts us higher, then our hopes aspired?
To him due praises, rather, let us give,
Whose love to us, is better, then to live.
But, I have said enough to this effect,
And if, what I have spoken, have respect,
We shall (I hope) hereafter well discerne,
What, by this Iudgement, we are bound to learne,
How much to trust; how much to hope, or feare;
What outward meanes, or inward helpes there are,
VVhereby, this heavy Plague may be prevented,
Or entertained, with a brest contented.
So few (as yet) have thus prepared bin,
That now of late it quickly rushed in
In spite of all our Halberds, and our Watches.
And as a Flame (which in a Tempest, catches
On some full Barne) is blowne about the Village,
And fireth, here, the hopefull fruits of Tillage;
A Cottage there; on th'other side the way
A well-sill'd Stable, or a Ricke of Hay;
Another yon; close by, doth menace harme
Ev'n to the Church; forthwith consume a Farme;
Some dwellings (now, and then) doth overgoe;
Anon laves waste a dozen in a row;
And still increase, goe forward, and returne,
Vntill the Towne in ev'ry quarter burne:
So rag'd the Pestilence. And, as we see
Those workmen, who, repairing breaches be
In Thame, or Trent, at first the Banks doe raise;
Shut close the Sluces, strengthen up the Bay's,
And labour seriously with much good hope,
VVhile they perceive but some few gaps to stop:
But, when they see the Flood prevailing more,
(Ten breaches made, for ev'ry one before)
And all endeavors faile; they worke forsake,
Leaving the waters their owne course to take:
So, when this Floud began; we had a thought
To keepe it backe; and to that purpose wrought:
But, when we saw it rise beyond our pow'r,
VVe gave it way at pleasure to devoure.
At first, the publique Officers did show
Their skill in curbing this encroaching Foe,
Not sparing to be prodigall of paine,
The spreadings of Infection to restraine;
And ev'ry private family beside,
Against this danger did for armes provide,
Their Yards, and Halls, were smoked with perfume,
To stop the stinkes, which thither might presume,
Their Chambers furnisht were with Antidotes,
With Viols, Boxes, Glasses, Gallipots,
All filled with munition of defence
(As they suppos'd) against the Pestilence.
Some did in Meats their meanes of safety thinke;
Some Epicures did arme themselves with Drinke;
Some, foolishly did build up monstrous hopes
Vpon the smoking of Tobacco shops;
(But this disease, without a Conscience making
Of their presuming on Tobacco taking,
Came thither too, and frequently did cary
Good-fellowes from their smoaking Sanctuary.)
Some, one, and some another course devised;
Yet, ev'ry day more places were surprised.
Which, when we saw, and how it overcast
All temp'rall force; we thought upon (at last)
The helpe of God: and then we did repaire
To crave his ayd in Fasting, and in Prayer,
Then some, through servile terror; some, for fashion,
And some, out of a true humiliation,
Emplored ayd from heav'n; and show'd in teares
Their Hope, their true Repentance, and their Feares:
But, whether God did for a while contemne
Out suit, because we gave not eare to him,
When first he call'd: or, whether he thought fit,
(That we the longer might remember it)
To fright us somewhat more: or whether we
Brought not such hearty penitence, as he
Expected from us: or appointed were
Some further tryalls of our Faith to beare:
Sure, some such cause there was; and for that cause,
God did not onely seeme to make a pause
In answ'ring our Petition; but, to chide
More sharply, and to throw it quite aside.
For with a doubled, and redoubled stroke
The Plague went on; and, in (among us) broke
With such unequall'd fury, and such rage;
As Brittan never felt in any age.
With some at ev'ry turning she did meet.
Of ev'ry Alley, ev'ry Lane and Street
She got possession: and we had no way,
Or passage, but she there, in Ambush, lay.
Through Nookes, & Corners, she pursu'd the Chase,
There was no barring her from any place:
For in the publique Fields in wait she laid;
And into private Gardens was convaid.
Sometime, she did among our Garments hide;
And, so, disperse among us (unespy'd)
Her strong Infections. Otherwhile (unseene)
A Servant, Friend, or Child betraid hath beene,
To bring it home; and men were fearfull growne
To tarie, or converse, among their owne.
Friends fled each other; Kinsmen stood aloofe;
The Sonne, to come within his Fathers roofe
Presumed not; the Mother was constrain'd
To let her child depart unentertain'd.
The love, betwixt the husband, and the wife,
Was oft neglected, for the love of life;
And many a one their promise falsifi'd,
Who vow'd, that nought but death should thē divide.
Some, to frequent the Markets were afraid;
And some to feed on what was thence purvay'd.
For on young pigs such purple spots were seene,
As markes of Death on Plague-sicke men have been,
And it appeared that our suburbe-Hogs
Were little better, then our Cats, and Dogs.
Men knew not, whither they might safely come,
Nor where to make appointments, nor with whom.
Nay, many shunn'd Gods-house, and much did feare
So farre to trust him, as to meet him there.
In briefe, the Plague did such distruction threat,
And Feares, and Perils were become so great,
That most mens hearts did faile; and they to flight
Betooke themselves, with all the speed they might:
Not onely they, who private persons were,
But, such as did the publique Titles beare.
The Maior startled, and some say was gone:
But, when his Charge he truly thought upon,
It settled him; and he at Helme did 'bide
Vntill his roome was orderly supply'd.
And (let me doe him right) it since appeared,
That, with good Diligence his Course he steered.
For, on his backe were many burthens laid;
The Country of provisions us denay'd;
The greater part with sicknesse waxed froward;
Much want did make the poorer sort untoward;
That when I call to minde his heavy taske,
And little helpe; me thinkes it praise doth aske.
Most of his gowned-Brethren him forsooke,
And to their Country Bow'rs themselves betooke;
Where, how they pray'd, or what they sent by gift,
To feed the Poore; I leave it to the shrift
Of their owne consciences; which best can tell,
What things they have performed ill, or well.
Physitians were afraid, as well as these,
And neither Galen, nor Hippocrates
Could yeeld them any warrant for delay;
And therefore (with the first) they went away.
Some Leaches of the Soule, (who should have staid)
Were much (nay somewhat over-much) afraid,
And had forgotten so, how to apply
Their heav'nly Cordials of Divinty,
Against the feare of Death; that when most dangers
Beset their Flocks; they left them unto strangers.
Nay, some there were, who did among us teach,
That Men should flie; & that, which they did preach,
They taught the people by example too.
Pray God, in other things they may do so.
Few staid, of any calling or degree,
VVho to their Country-friends might welcome be;
Or, of themselves were able to provide
A place of Harbour, where they might abide.
Yea some, (to scape uncertaine Death) did flie
Into the Iawes of certaine Beggery,
By leaving of their Callings; and are flowne
So far, and high a flight out of this Towne,
On borrow'd-feathers; that their Neighbours feare,
They never more will in their shops appeare.
Those of our wanton Gentry, that could brooke
No Ayre, but Londons; London quite forsooke;
And all that Crew of Spend-thrifts, whom (untill
This Plague did fright them) nor Star-Chamber Bill,
Nor strictest Proclamation, could compell
Vpon their owne Inheritance to dwell;
Were now, among their racked Tenants faine
To seeke for shelter; and to ayre againe
Those musty Roomes, which their more thrifty Sires
Kept warme and sweet with hospitable Fires.
God grant, that where they come, they may do good,
Among their Tenants, by their neighbourhood.
Of some we hopefull are, they will be such;
And of some others we doe feare as much,
That by their presence they will plague them more,
Then by their willing absence heretofore.
In many a mile you scarce could find a Shed,
Or Hovell, but it was inhabited,
(Sometime with double Families) and Stalls
And Barnes were trimmed up in stead of Halls.
Those Burgesses, that walk'd in Gownes, and Furs,
Had got them coats, and swords, and boots, & spurs;
And, till you saw them ride, you would have sworne,
That, they, for horsemen, might have serv'd the turn.
Those Dames, who (out of daintinesse, and Pride)
The rusticke plainnesse did (erewhile) deride,
(And, at a better lodging, Fob, would cry)
Beneath a homely roofe were glad to lye;
And fawne on ev'ry Child, and ev'ry Groome,
That, so they might the welcomer become.
Those, who in all their life-time never went
So far, as is the nearest part of Kent:
Those, who did never travell, till of late,
Halfe way to Pancridge from the City gate:
Those, who might thinke, the Sun did rise at Bow,
And set at Acton, for ought they did know:
And dreame, young Partridge sucke not, but are sed
As Lambes, and Rabbets, which of eggs are bred:
Ev'n some of these have journeyes ventur'd on
Five miles by Land (as farre as Edmunton.)
Some hazarded themselves from Lyon-Key
Almost as far as Erith downe by Sea:
Some row'd against the streame, and stragled out
As far as Hounslow-heath, or thereabout:
Some climbed High-gate-hill, and there they see
The world so large, that they amazed be;
Yea some are gone so farre, that they doe know
Ere this, how Wheat is made, and Malt doth grow.
Oh, how they trudg'd, and busled up and downe,
To get themselves a furlong out of towne.
And how they were becumbred, to provide,
That had about a mile or two to ride.
But when whole housholds further off were sent,
You would have thought the Master of it, meant
To furnish forth some Navy, and that he
Had got his neighbours venturers to be.
For all the neare acquaintance thereabout,
By lending somewhat holpe to set them out.
What hiring was there of our hackney Jades?
What scouring up of old, and rusty blades?
What running to and fro was there to borrow
A Safegard, or a Cloake, untill the morrow?
What shift made Iack for girths? what shift made Gillian
To get her neighbors footstoole, & her pillian,
Which are not yet return'd? How great a pother
To furnish, and unfurnish one another
In this great voyage did there then appeare?
And what a time was that for Bankrupts here?
Those who had thought (by night) to steale away,
Did unsuspected shut up shop by day;
And (if good lucke it in conclusion prove)
Two dangers were escap'd at one Remove:
Some hired Palfroyes for a day, or twaine,
But rode so far, they came not backe againe.
Some dealed by their neighbours, as the Jewes
At their departure did th'Ægyptians use:
And some, (with what was of their owne, content)
Tooke up their luggage, and away they went.
And had you heard how loud the Coaches rūbled;
Beheld how Carres, and Carts together jumbled;
Seene how the wayes with people thronged were;
The Bands of Foot, the Troupes of Horsemen there;
What multitudes away by Land were sent;
How many thousands forth by Water went;
And how the wealth of London thence was borne;
You would have wondred; and (almost) have sworne
The Citie had beene leaving her foundation,
And seeking out another situation;
Or, that some Enemy with dreadfull pow'r,
Was comming to besiege, and to devoure.
Oh; foolish people, though I justly might
Authorize thus my Muse to mock your flight,
And still to flout your follies: yet, compassion
Shall end it in a kinde expostulation.
Why with such childish terror did you try
To run from him, from whom you cannot flye?
Why left you so the place of your abode,
Not hasting rather to goe meet your God
With true repentance, who for ever hath
A mercy for us in his greatest wrath?
Why did you not your lawfull callings keepe?
But straggle from your folds like wandring Sheepe,
That had no Shepheard? And, oh, why, I pray,
You Shepheards, have you caused them to stray?
Your Neighbours why forsooke you in distresse?
Why did you leave your brethren comfortlesse?
When God did call for Mourning, why so fast
Did you to seeke for mirth, and pleasures, hast?
And take away from other, when you fled,
What, in their need, should them have comforted?
If Death be dreadfull, stay, and learne to die;
For, Death affects to follow those that flie.
Had you not gone, you might for ever after
Have said, That Sorrow profits more then Laughter.
You should have known that Death hath limits here,
And loosed was, where he did bound appeare:
That many were preserved in the flame,
And many burnt, that came not nigh the same.
Yea, some of you, before from hence you went,
Had, of these Truths, got some experiment.
What Folly then, or Frenzy you bewitches,
To leave your houses, and goe dye in ditches?
Forgoe the Comfort, which your Citie yeelds,
To venture for a lodging in the fields?
Or (which is worse) to travell farre, and finde
Those prove ungentle, whom you hoped, kinde?
A Plague so bitter, That might Plagues be chused
I would be Plague-sicke, rather then so used.
Did you suppose the Pestilence would spare
None here, nor come to seaze on any there?
All perish'd not, that did behinde you stay;
Nor did you all escape, who fled away.
For, God your passages had so beset,
That Hee with many thousands of you met.
In Kent, and (all along) on Essex side
A Troupe of cruell Fevers did reside:
And round about, on ev'ry other Coast,
Of severall Country-Agues lay an hoast.
And, most of them, who had this place forsooke,
Were eyther slaine by them, or Pris'ners tooke.
Sometime the Pestilence her selfe had bin
Before them in their Lodging, at their Inne;
And hath arrested them upon the Bed,
Brought many sicke away, and meny dead.
Sometime (againe) she after them hath gone,
And when (perchance) she was not thought upon:
Among their friends, and in their merriment,
Hath seiz'd them, to their greater discontent.
She divers apprehended on the way,
Who to so many mischiefes were a prey;
That poorest beggers found more pitty here,
And lesser griefe, then richer men had there.
I doe not meane concerning that neglect,
That barbarous, unmanly disrespect
Their bodies had among the clownish crew,
When from the tainted flesh the spirits flew.
For, if their carcasses they did contemne,
What harme, or what disease was that to them?
What paine, or torment was it, if that they
(Like carrion) in the fields, unburied lay?
What felt they, being dragged like a Log,
Or hurl'd into a Saw-pit like a Dog?
What disadvantage could that Doctor have,
Who (learnedly) was drawne into his grave
By naked men? since those things doe disgrace
The living rather, and doe wrong the place
That suffers, or allowes that barb'rousnesse
To shame the Christian Faith, which they professe.
Alas; my heart as little can bemone
A mangled carcasse, as a broken stone,
It is a living body, and the paines,
Which I conceive a broken heart sustaines,
That moveth me: their griefe, in life-time was,
And, whilst they liv'd, their sorrowes did surpasse
These fained ones, as Death, and loathed Care,
By Life, and true Content, excelled are.
Some, who forsooke faire houses, large, and high;
Could scarcely get a Shed to keepe them dry;
And such, who many beds, and lodgings had,
To lye on straw without the doores were glad.
Some over tyr'd with wearinesse, and heat,
Could not, for money, purchase drink, or meat;
But cruelly of succour were deny'd,
Till, through their faintnesse, they grew sick & dy'd.
Some, who in London had beene waited on
With many servants, were enclos'd alone
In solitary places; where they might
Find leasure, to repent them of their flight.
And, when they had supplyes at any need,
The bringers did (like those that Lyons feed)
Ev'n throw it at them; or else some where set it,
Where (after their departures) they might set it.
And many a one (no helper to attend him)
Was left to live, or dye, as God should friend him.
Some, who unwisely did their homes forsake,
That triall of the Country they might make;
Have brought their lives to miserable ends
Before they could arive among their friends.
Some, having reach'd the places they desir'd,
(With no meane difficulty, weake, and tyr'd)
Have missed welcome, where they sought reliefe;
And, strucken by unkindnesse, dy'd with Griefe.
The sickly Wife, could no assistance have
To bring her Husbands body to the grave.
But was compelled, with a grieved heart,
To act the Parsons, and the Sextons part.
And he, that wanted strength to beare away
His mate, who dead within his presence lay;
VVas faine to let the flinking body lye,
Till he in death should beare him company.
Ah me; what tongue can tell the many woes,
The passions, and the many griefes of those?
What mortall pen is able to expresse
Their great temptations in that lonelinesse?
What heart can thinke, how many a grieuous feare
To those distressed people may appeare,
Who are with such afflictions over-taken?
Of ev'ry Creature in the world forsaken?
Without a Comforter left all alone,
Where to themselves they must themselves bemone,
Without a remedy? And where none may
Or know, or pitty, what they feele, or say.
Me thinkes to muse on those who suffer'd thus,
Should bring to minde the mercy shewed us,
And make our pennes and voyces to expresse
The love of God, with hearty Thankfulnesse.
For when no sorrowes of mine owne I had,
The very thought of those hath made me sad.
And were it not that God hath given me
Some tryalls of those Comfortings, which Hee
For men in their extremities provides,
And from the knowledges of others hides:
Or felt I not, how prevalent Gods pow'r
Appeares in us, when there is none of our:
What liberty hee giue's, when wee doe fall
Within the compasse of an outward thrall:
And what contentments He bestowes on them,
Whom others doe neglect, er else contemne:
Yea, had I not beleeued him who sayes,
That God doth knowledge take of all our wayes;
That He observes each rubb within our path,
With ev'ry secret sorrow, which it hath;
That he is nearest then, when we bemone
His absence, and suppose him furthest gone;
And often in us dwels, when Those abroad
(With most insulting) say; Where is their God?
Had this beene hidden from me: I had here
For ev'ry line I writ, dropt downe a teare;
And in a floud of sorrowes drench'd mine eyes,
When first I mused on these miseries.
But I have knowne them, to my great content;
And felt so oft, what comforts God hath lent,
When of all outward helpes we are deprived;
That (could the same of all men be beleeved)
It would be thought, true Pleasures were possessed
Of none, but men forsaken, and distressed.
How ever; though such mercy God bestowes,
And brings men comfort in their greatest woes;
Let none of us presume, (as some have done)
Without our Circle, foolishly to runne;
Nor leave our proper station, that we may
Goe seeke our fortunes in an uncouth way.
Conceive me right; I doe not here deny,
Or call in doubt the lawfulnesse, to flye:
Nor am I of their counsell, who despise
All such as fled: nor, judge I too precise
Those, who the Person, or the Place avoid,
Which is with any noysomnesse annoy'd,
For, when the causes of remove, are just,
We then may flye the Plague; nay, then we must;
Since, those who will not, (in such cases) goe,
Tempt God, and saile in what they ought to doe.
If that a King, or Prince, should live within
A City much infected, it were sin.
For he (no doubt) hath some Vice-gerent there
Who, in his absence, may supply his care:
Or, if that Place were certaine of decay
By his departure; yet he might not stay.
The Reason is; there many thousands are
Of Townes, and Cities, that in him have share.
Who, would conceive, it were unjustly done,
That he should venter all their wealth in One.
And make great Kingdomes hazards to endure,
The welfare of one City to procure.
So, Counsellers of State, and he, whose Charge
Extends throughout the Common wealth at large,
VVith ev'ry other Magistrate beside,
(Except his pow'r to some one place be ty'd)
Must shun the Plague; because that such, as he,
Sworne servants to the whole Weale-publique be.
And since the safest Physicke and defence
For Children, in the times of Pestilence,
Is to remove them: they unwisely do,
VVho, having wealth, and friends to send them to,
Neglect the meanes, by being over nice;
Or grudging at the charge, through avarice.
Moreover they, whose calling seemes to lye
VVithin two sev'rall places, equally,
(Till some plaine causes hinder) may be free
To live where safety best appeares to be:
Vnlesse their secret conscience doe gaine-say;
And who can judge of that, but God, and They?
Yea, Men, on divers good occasions mo,
May from the places of Infection goe.
For there be times of stay, and times of going,
VVhich, ev'ry one (that is discreet) well knowing,
Doth censure no partic'lar Man, at all:
But calling unto mind, that blessed Paul
VVas once ev'n in a basket forth convay'd
From his Pursuers; yet no iot afraid
(At other seasons) to continue there,
VVhere bloody persecutions hottest were.
And if my words have done my meaning right,
My Muse denyes not, but alloweth flight:
Provided alwayes, that Men doe not flie
From Casuall Plagues, to Plagues with Certainty:
From those with whom the bands of Charity,
Of Duty, Friendship, or Affinity,
Or of their Calling, doth require a stay.
Provided also, when they part away,
That as God blest them hath, they somewhat finde,
To comfort those, who must abide behinde;
And, that they trust not to their Flight, as tho,
That, of it selfe could save: but, rather know,
And use it as the gracious meanes of him,
Who saves; and, not as that which saved them.
Let them consider likewise, that the Sin
Was partly theirs, which did the Plague begin;
And, in their absence (with a Christian feare)
Make sute for those, who must the burthen beare.
From which they scape: yea, let them all confesse
Their sins with penitence and humblenesse;
Avoiding ev'ry pleasure, where they live,
Which out of minde, their Brethrens cares may drive;
Lest God pursue them whither they are fled;
There seize upon them to their greater dread;
Or from them take away all due correction,
Which Plague were greater then this great Infection.
For, when his Iudgements, God, in wrath, removes,
His Mercy, then, the greater Iudgement proves.
There be, I know, some people gone away,
Who minding our afflictions, night and day,
Have much bewayled our distressed case,
And sent up earnest prayers for this Place:
For, of their Piety good fruits are seene,
And, by their hands, the poore refresht have beene.
These, from this Den of Slaughter, were (no doubt)
By Gods especiall favour called out,
Who, for their sakes, I hope, those townes will spare,
To which, for shelter, they escaped are,
As he did Zoar. And I wish they may
Obtaine their lives, and safeties for a prey.
But, there be some; (and would to God, that some
Were but a little one) who parted from
Our City walls, as if they had not gone
With Vengeance at their heeles; or waited on
By feares and dangers; but, so finifi'd,
As if their meaning was, to shew their pride
In Country Churches, for a weeke or twaine,
Ride out like Cockneies, and come home againe:
The sorrowes of their brethren they forgot;
In holy duties they delighted not:
In drunken meetings they their leasure spent;
In idle visits; foolish merriment:
And, to their Country-friends they caried downe
Those sinnes that are too common in this Towne.
VVhich (if they practise there, as here we doe)
VVill bring their wages, also, thither too.
These giddy Runnawayes, are they that were
Beginners of that great unmanly feare,
VVhich did first author of disorder prove.
These, caused that improvident Remove,
VVhich did both wrong the welfare of the Citie,
Distract the Country, make it voyd of pitie;
And, give occasion of those Tales which Fame
Hath now dispersed, to our common shame.
For, if their flight had timely beene provided,
(VVith Conscience and Discretion truly guided)
Their profit here at home had beene the greater,
And, friends abroad, had entertain'd them better.
And, yet I take small pleasure to excuse
Those Pesants, who so grosly did abuse
Their Manhood and Religion, in denying
The dues of Charity, to people dying.
For, though their folly might their fall deserve,
Yet we our Christian pitie should preserve,
Our brother in extremities releeving;
Not adding sorrowes to encrease his grieving,
Nor taking notice of his evill deeds,
So much, as of that comfort which he needs:
Till, he refreshed by a friendly hand,
His errors, by our love, may understand.
And, sure, there was a meanes to succour strangers
In their distresse, and to escape the dangers
Of that Infection, (which so much was feared)
Had Vnderstandings eye beene better cleared;
And, that Selfe love, and Avarice, removed,
Which kept good paths unseene, and unapproved.
But, since that easie knowledge hath beene hid,
By wilfull blindnesse, well enough I did,
If, here, I (Satyrizing) should expresse
The Countries folly, and forgetfulnesse.
And yet, I will not write, to their disgraces,
What of some Persons, and particular Places
Hath rumor'd beene: lest I should spirt a blot
So blacke, as that it would not be forgot
In future Ages; but, make Times-to-come,
Suspect, they had deny'd their Christendome.
For, should our Muse (who, if she list thereto,
Cares not who frownes, or frets, at what we doe)
Should she put on that straine of Bitternesse,
With which their cruelty we could expresse:
Should we in our description of their Feare,
Cause all their Indiscretion to appeare:
Should we illustrate here, the true Relations,
Of what hath past in many Corporations;
What uproares in some Townes have raised beene,
When Londoners, approaching them, were seene:
How master Maior was straightway flockt about;
How they to Counsell went to keepe them out;
How they their watches doubled, as if some
Had brought them newes that Spinola would come:
And what ridiculous actions past among them;
Some few, perhaps, wold think that we did wrōg thē;
And, they would subjects be of scorne, and laughter,
For all their evill willers, ever after.
Or, should we tell what propable suspition
Appear'd, sometime, of wisedome and discretion,
In goodman Constable; when, in a standing,
To wind-ward from the Rode (& there commanding
Browne bills, and Halberts) he examined
Such Travellers, as from the City fled:
And (at the very lookes of them affrighted)
Sent feeble women, weary and benighted,
(Without or meat or drink) to try the fields
What Charity, their better nature yeelds.
If this we told, it might goe hard, when we
Should apprehended in their Watches, be.
Or, should we shew, what policies did please
The wisdome of some rustick Iustices;
Describe that wondrous witty stratagem
Which for a while was practised by them
To starve the Plague; how Christianly they sought
That no provisions hither might be brought;
Should we produce their Orders, which of late
Were put in ure, and wisemen laughed at:
Or, publish to the world what we have heard
Of their demeanors, when they were afeard:
How they were fool'd by some of them that fled:
What course was taken to interre their dead:
How, he who for that worke could hired be,
Was for his labour, chained to a tree
A full month after: how, they forced some
From their sweet wholsome houses forth to come;
And (being sick and weake) to make their bed
Within a paltry new erected Shed,
Compos'd of clods; which neere some Common side
Their charitable Worships did provide:
Or, should I on some other matters touch
VVhich I have heard; it would enlarge too much
This booke: and some of those, perhaps, perplex,
VVhom I desire to counsell, not to vex.
But, I from aggravations will forbeare,
And, those their oversights, at this time, spare.
For, some (although most others did not so)
Their love and Christian piety did show,
In counselling, in cherishing, in giving,
And, in the wisest manner of releeving.
Beside; I love the Country, as I pitie
The sorrowes and afflictions of the Citie.
And (since they both are guilty) being loth
To side with either; I the faults of both
Have shewed, so, that neither I abuse.
Now, they that like it may; the rest may chuse.

The third Canto.

How childish is the World! and what a path
Her Throng of braine-sick Lovers trodden hath!
Like brutish herds they troupe along together,
Both led, and leading on, they know not whither.
Much hoping, where no ground of Hope appeares,
Much fearing, where indeed, there are no feares.
In those things pleased, which true Mirth destroy:
For that thing grieved which procureth Ioy:
Most shunning, what might bring most gain unto thē;
And seeking most, for what would most undoo them.
How few are so cleare-sighted, as to see
What pleasures mingled with afflictions be?
Or what contentments doe concealed lye.
Behinde the seeming dangers which they flye?
How few have, by experience, understood
That God hath sent their troubles for their good?
How few consider, to what fearfull ends,
The faire smooth way, of easefull Pleasure tends?
And, therefore, oh! how few adventure dare
Where Mournings, rather then where Laughters are?
Though God himselfe prefer the house of Griefe,
Before vaine Mirth; and Pleasures of this life
Hath termed Thornes, that choke the heav'nly seed:
Yet few of us have taken so much heed
Of what the sacred Volume doth record,
(And, flesh and blood) distrusteth so the word
Of his firme Truth) that blindly we pursue
Our owne vaine counsels, and his Tract eschew.
'Tis therefore doubtfull, it would vaine appeare,
If I should labour to discover here,
How many secret pleasures I have seene
While in the Cels of Mourning I have beene.
And, what contentments God bestowed hath,
When I have walkt the solitary path
Of Disrespect; (assaulted by those feares,
Which oft affront us in this Vale of teares)
Or what prevailing hopes I have possessed,
When I, beyond all hope, have seem'd oppressed.
For, vulgar men, doe such expressions hold
To be but idle Paradoxes, told
By those, who grown distemper'd, through some grief
Vent melancholy passions, past beleefe.
And as our Vpland Pesants, from the shores
Beholding how the Sea swels, fomes, and rores,
Iudge foolishly, that ev'ry Seaman raves,
Who talkes of mirth and safety on the waves:
So, they will fondly passe their doome on me,
Who strangers to the Seas of Sorrow be.
But, though the world allow not what I say,
Yet, that the Love of God, proclaime I may;
That, I may justifie him in his Word;
That for mine owne availe I may record
What I have seene: and that experience might
Encrease my hopes, and hope put feare to flight,
In future suffrings: here I testifie,
(And Heav'n is witnesse, I affirme no lye)
My soule did never feele more ravishment,
Nor ever tasted of more true content,
Then when my heart, nigh broke with secret paine,
Hath borne as much as e're it could sustaine;
And strugled with my passions, till it had
Attained to be excellently sad.
Yea, when I teares have powred out, where none
Was witnesse of my griefe but God alone,
He hath infused pleasures into me,
Which seldome can in publike tasted be.
Such Griefe is Comforts Mother. And I mow
Oft times with mirth, what I in teares did sow,
Before my eyes were dryed; I have had
More cause of singing then of being sad.
The Lampe in darkest places gives most light;
And truest Ioyes arise from Sorrowes night.
My Cares are Blessed Thistles, unto me,
Which wholesome are, although they bitter be:
And though their leaves with pricks be overgrowne,
(Which paine me) yet their flowres are full of down,
Whereon my head lyes easie when I sleepe:
And I am never saddest when I weepe.
Yet, long it was before I could attaine
This Mystery: Nor doth it appertaine
To all. For, ev'n as Sarah had not leave
Within her body Isack to conceive,
(VVhich laughter signifies) untill in her
Those customes failed which in women are:
So, in our soules, true Ioyes are not conceived,
Till we by some afflictions are bereaved
Of carnall appetites, and cease from such
Vaine pleasures as affect us overmuch.
To little purpose doe they looke for these
Conceptions, who are evermore at ease.
Such comforts are of those but rarely found,
VVhose wheele of Fortune never runneth round.
No soule can apprehend what maketh glad
The grieved heart, but his that griefe hath had,
And various interchanges: nor can he
VVho knowes the joyes that in such sorrowes be
As these I meane, a true contentment take
In any merriment, this world can make:
(No not in all her pleasures) if among
Her sweets, there should be sharpnesse wanting long.
For (being fearfull that his bodies rest
The soules true peace might secretly molest)
His mirth would make him dull: his being jolly
(As worldlings are) would make him melancholy:
And (if no other cause be thought upon)
Would grieve, because the sense of griefe were gone.
Whilst I have gallopt on in that Career,
Which youth, in freedome, so affecteth here;
And had the most delightfull blandishment,
My youth could yeed me for my hearts content:
When I in handsome robes have beene araid,
(My Tailor, and my Mercer being paid)
When daily I on change of dainties fed;
Lodg'd, night by night, upon an easie bed,
In lordly Chambers; and had therewithall
Attendants forwarder then I to call,
Who brought me all things needfull: when at hand,
Hounds, Hawkes, and Horses were at my command:
When chuse I did my walks, on hills, in vallies,
In Groves, neere Springs, or in sweet garden allies;
Reposing either in a naturall shade,
Or in neat Atbors, which by Art were made:
When I might have requir'd without deniall,
The Lute, the Organ, or deepe-sounding Viole,
To cheere my spirits; with what else beside
Was pleasant: when my friends did this provide
Without my cost or labour: Nay, when all
Those pleasures I have shared, which befall
In praises, or kinde welcommings, among
My dearest friends; my soule retain'd nor long
Nor perfect rest, in those imperfect things:
But, often droupt amid their promisings,
Grew dull, and sickly: and, contrariwise
Hath pleased beene in want,, and miseries.
For, when long time, ev'n all alone they laid me,
Where ev'ry outward comfort was denayd me;
To many cares and wants unknowne obtruded;
From fellowship of all mankinde excluded;
Expos'd to slandrous censures, and disgrace;
Subjected to contempts, and usage base;
With Tortures threatned, and what those attends;
By Greatmen frown'd on; blamed of my Friends;
Insulted on by Foes; and almost brought
To that for which their malice chiefly sought:
Ev'n then, my spirits mounted to their height,
And my Contentment flew her highest flight.
In those diseasings, I more joy received,
Then can from all things mortall be conceived.
In that contemn'd estate, so much was cleared
My Reasons eye; and God so bright appeared
To my dim-sighed Faith; that, lo, he turned
My Griefes to Triumphs Yea, me thought, I scorned
To labour for assistance from abroad,
Or beg for any favour, but from God.
I fear'd not that which others thought I feared;
Nor felt I paine, in that which sharpe appeared:
But, had such inward quiet in my brest,
Till outward ease made way to my unrest;
That, all my Troubles seemed but a Toy.
Yea, my Affliction so encreast my Ioy,
That more I doubted losse of my content,
By losing of my close imprisonment,
Then ever I can feare the bodies thrall,
Or any mischiefe which attend it shall.
For, as if some Antipathy arose
Betwixt the pleasures of the world, and those
Enjoyed then; I found true Ioyes begin
To issue out, as they were entring in.
Til others brought me hopes of my Release,
I scarcely held it worth my hopefulnesse.
I had no frighting dreame; no waking care:
I tooke no thought for mear, nor what to weare;
I sleighted frownes, and I despis'd the threat
Of such as threatned, were they meane or great.
I laught at dreadfull Rumors, and disdained
Of any suffrings to have then complained.
I valued not a jot the vulgar doome,
Nor what men prated might of me become.
I minded no such trifles, wherewith you,
And I, and others, are oft busied now:
But, being, as it were exiled, then,
From living in the world, with other men,
Twixt God, and mine owne Conscience, to and fro,
My thoughts, in a quotidian walke, did go.
With Contemplations, I was then inspired,
Beseeming one that wholly was retyred
I thought, like him, that was to live alone;
I did like him, that had to doe with none.
And, of all outward actions left the care
Vnto the world, and those who lived there.
Not hath God onely pleased beene to show
What comforts from a private griefe may flow,
But, that a new experience might be taught me,
He to the house of Publike-sorrow brought me
In this late Pestilence. And, there I saw
Such inward joy commixt with outward awe;
Things bitter with such sweetnesses allaid;
Such pleasures, into sorrowes cup convaid;
Such firme-assurance, in the greatest dangers;
Such friendlines, when others friends were strangers;
Such freedome on restraint; such ease in paine;
Such life in death, and ev'ry feare so vaine,
(Which outwardly affrights) that Pleasures Court
Would halfe be robbed of her large resort,
(And stand lesse visited,) if men could see
What profits in the Cels of Sorrow be.
For, he that knew what wisdome there is had,
Would say that mirth were foolish, laughter mad:
That ease perpetuall bringeth endlesse paine:
That carnall joy arives at hope in vaine:
That, from all outward perils to be free,
May prove most perillous: that, health may be
The deadl'est sicknesse: that, our pleasures are
But pit-falls: our security a snare;
And, that sometimes those things to which we run,
May bane us more, then those we seeke to shun.
I found it so. And, in my blamed slay,
(Whilst others from the Plague made haste away)
I gained some renewings of that rest,
Whereof I had beene formerly possest.
It forced folly, further to depart:
It brought Gods mercies nearer to my heart:
Brave combats in my soule did then begin,
Which I tooke courage from, and pleasure in.
New trialls of my Frailty did befall;
And, of Gods love, I had new proofes withall.
In all my discontentments, such contents,
And of Gods workings, such experiments
Vouchsafed were; that crowned should I live,
With all those glorious wreathes that Kings can give,
And had by them obtain'd each happinesse,
Which worldlings in their greatnesse doe possesse;
I would not sell the comfort of my slay
For that, and all which those imagine may.
Nor doe I over-prise the same, altho,
The ignorance of some will think I doe:
For, it hath left within me, ever since,
Of Gods firme love, so strong a confidence,
That, whatsoever accidents betide,
I hope to stand the better fortifi'd
Whilst here I live: and that no time to come
Can send me to a place, so perilsome,
That I shall feare it; or, to undergoe
The dreadfull'st perills man can fall into;
If that my calling doe oblige me to it,
Or God, in Iustice, make me undergoe it.
In other cases, I expect no more,
But, rather, lesse imboldning then before.
For, he that any dangerous taske assumes,
Without good warrant, foolishly presumes;
Tempts God; and justly perisheth, unlesse
The veile of Mercy hide his wilfulnesse.
Yea, they who over desp'rately have dar'd
Bold things at first; at last have basely fear'd,
Repenting their foole-hardinesse, in vaine,
When hope was lost, of turning back againe.
For, though from dangers, griefes, and miseries,
Far greater comforts oftentimes arise,
Then from prosperity (if we attend
Gods pleasure, and accept what he doth send)
Yet, of themselves, nor paines, nor pleasures can
Felicitate; nor is the wit of man
So perfect, that precisely he doth know
His owne just temper, or his nature so,
As to appoint himselfe, what will be needing
Of weale, or woe, (nought wanting, or exceeding)
And therefore, as some man hath by affecting
Ease, wealth, or temp'rall fame, (without respecting
Gods pleasure) often perished by that
Which his unbounded will hath reached at;
So, they who shall that ease or wealth contemne
(Which God by lawfull meanes doth offer them)
And they, who shall unthankfully refuse,
Of any outward blessing, meanes to use,
(Through discontent, selfe trust, or wilfull pride)
When they might honestly those meanes provide;
Ev'n both of these are guilty of offence,
Against the wise eternall Providence:
And are in danger to be left of God,
In those misleading paths which they have trod.
These things I mused; and in heart revolved
A thousand more, before I was resolved
To keepe in London, where men draw no breath
But that which menaced the bodies death.
And, seeing, many have condemn'd the fact.
As an unwarrantable, foolish act:
Since, it may teach them to forbeare to give
Their Verdict, till they Evidence receive:
Since, thus to mention it, a meanes may be,
To build againe the like Resolves in me
When future perill so requireth it;
And when, perhaps, this minde, I may forget:
Yea, since the manner of it, may, perchance,
Deliver others from some ignorance,
And help their Christian Resolutions out,
When they are thrall'd with carnall feare, or doubt:
Ev'n for these causes, (and to glorifie
The pow'r of God in this my victory)
I will relate what Reasons made me stay:
What hopes they were, which drove my feares away:
And, with what circumstances, I obtained
That knowledg, which my shaking Faith maintained.
When I perceiv'd the PESTILENCE to rage
In ev'ry street, nor sparing sex, nor age;
How from their City-hive, like Bees in May,
The fearfull Citizens did swarme away:
How fast our Gentry hasted to be gone:
How often I was urg'd and call'd upon,
To beare them company: what safeties were
By absence promist; what great terrors here
My death did menace: how, by timely flight
I might behold my Country with delight:
How nothing could be gotten by my stay,
But wants, and new afflictions ev'ry day:
With such like disadvantages, which brought,
A hundred other musings to my thought.
They made it seeme, a while, well worth reproving,
To stay, a minute, longer from removing.
But, then my Conscience also did begin
To draw such pow'rfull Motives, from within;
And, to propose before my understanding
Such Reasons, my departure countermanding,
As made me stagger, and new doubts to make,
What course it best behoved me to take.
At first, I thought by counsell from the Wise,
To build up my Resolves, and to advise
By their opinions what I should pursue;
But, of the gravest I perceiv'd so few
Who could advise themselves; that I grew more
Divided by their counsels, then before.
I saw such foolishnesse, and such distractions,
Appeare among them in their words and actions;
That I perceiv'd they had enough to doe,
Their owne particulars to looke unto.
Then, guided by example would I be;
But, that I quickly found no Rule for me;
For, they who in opinion do consent,
Oft differ, in the active President.
And some, who have a tongue the truth to say,
Have wanted grace to walke the safest way.
Beside, mens actions, which indifferent are,
May foolish, wife, or bad, or good appeare,
As their unknowne occasions are who doe them;
And, small respect is to be had unto them,
By way of President, till we can finde
Their outward motives, and their secret minde:
This heeding; and still waxing more molested,
With diff'ring thoughts, and reasons undisgested,
I knew no better way, then to repaire
For counsell unto God, by humble Pray'r;
Beseeching his direction, how to take
That course, which for his glory most should make.
And he (I think) was pleased to suggest,
That if I askt my Conscience what was best,
His Word and Spirit would informe her so,
That she should shew me what was best to do.
Then, from the noise of other mens perswasions,
(From selfe-conceit, and from those vaine occasions,
Which bring disturbances) I did retire,
Gods pleasure, of my Conscience, to enquire.
Who, finding in my brest a strong contention
Twixt Faith and Reason; and, how their dissention
Was first to be composed (that I might
The sooner understand the truth aright)
She call'd a Court within me; snmmon'd thither
Those Pow'rs, and all those Faculties together,
Which Tenants are in chiefe unto the Soule:
Their faulty inclinations did controule:
And, that she might not without profit chide,
Some ill advised courses rectified.
Then will'd she FAITH and REASON to debate
Their Cause at large: and, that which they, of late,
Had urg'd confusedly within my brest,
She will'd them, into Method, to digest:
That so, my Iudgement might the better see,
To whether part I should enclined be
They both obey'd. And, REASON (who suppos'd
Delay bred danger) hastily compos'd
Those many strong perswasions, wherewithall
She did my person from the City call;
Before my Conscience, them in order laid,
And (as halfe angry) thus me thought she said.
What meanest thou, thus fondly, out of season,
To shew thy boldnesse in contempt of Reason?
Why art thou alwayes these mad courses taking?
Thy Lines, and Actions, Paradoxes making?
Why thus pursu'st thou what to ruine tends,
To glad thy foes, and discontent thy friends?
By making wilde adventures, to the blame
Of thy blinde Faith, and my perpetuall shame?
Is't not enough, that by thy little caring
To humor Fooles, and by thy over daring
To beard proud Vices, thou hast lately crost
Thy way to riches, and preferment lost?
Is't not enough, that when thou dost become
The scorne of Fooles, thou wert delivered from
A masked Hate, ev'n in that day, and place,
Which Malice had assign'd for thy disgrace?
And sawst the shame of that unjust Intention
Alight on him who plotted that Invention?
Is't not enough, that thou escaped hast
Through many wants and perils undisgrac'd,
When thy advent'rous Muse drew downe upon thee
Those Troubles which were like to have undone thee?
Suffice not these, unlesse thou now assay
A needlesse act? and foole thy life away
By tempting Heav'n, in wilfull staying there,
Where, in thy face grim death doth alway stare?
Looke what thou dost, and will observe thine errors,
For, thou art round about, enclos'd with terrors.
And if thou be not stupid thou maist see
That there is cause thou shouldst affrighted be.
Dost thou not smell the vapours of the Grave?
Dost thou not heare thy plague-sicke neighbours rave?
Dost thou not tast infection in the Aire?
Dost thou not view sad objects of despaire?
Dost thou not feele thy vitall pow'rs assailed?
Dost thou not finde thy spirits often quailed?
Or with thy judgement hast thou lost thy sense,
That thou dost make no greater speed from hence?
Marke there, how fast with Corpses they do throng?
See yonder, how the Shadowes, passe along.
Behold, just now, a man before thee dies:
Behinde thy back, another breathlesse lies.
That Bell, now ringing, soundeth out the Knell
Of him, whom thou didst leave, last ev'ning, well.
Lo, he that for his life, lyes gasping, there,
Is one of those who thy companions were
This very morning. And, see, see, the Man
That's talking to thee, looketh pale, and wan,
Is sick to death; and, if thou doe not run
For helpe, will die before his tale be done.
Yet, art thou not afraid? I prethee, tell
Why mightst thou not have beene that man as well?
Though he this minute hath prevented thee,
Why maist not thou, the next that followes be?
Why shouldst not thou as quickly drop away,
Since, flesh and blood thou art, as frail as they?
What can thy speedy dissolution hinder,
Since thy complexion is as apt as tinder
To take that Flame? And, if it seize thee must,
What art thou better, then a heap of dust?
There is no Constitution, Sex, Degree,
Or Age of man, from this contagion free.
Nor canst thou get an Antidote to fit
For all Infection, though, perhaps, thy wit
Could learne thy temper so, as not to wrong
Thy health, by things too weak, or over strong.
For, men oft change the temper they should hold,
Are sometime hot; sometime againe are cold;
One while are sprightly, otherwhile are dull;
Are now too empty, and anon too full:
That, tis a doubtfull, and a curious act,
To adde a just proportion, and substract
(In using outward meanes of preservation)
According to the bodies variation.
And, many, therein failing, lose their lives,
By wrong, or misapply'd Preservatives.
Thou shalt have, therefore, but uncertaine hopes
From Druggists, or Apothecary shops.
To warrantize thy health, if thou on those
In staying here, thy confidence repose.
And sure, thou neither harbor'st such a thought,
That, thou of any better stuffe art wrought
Then other men: nor trustest unto Charmes,
To keepe off this Disease from doing harmes:
For, those unhallowed Med'cines, and impure,
Breed greater Plagues, then those they seeme to cure.
Nor art thou, of that Brotherhood, which sees
The Booke of Gods particular Decrees;
And Gypsie like (by heathnish Palmistry,
Or by the lines of Phisiognomy)
Conjectures dareth not alone to give,
Who of this Plague shall dye, or who shall live:
But also wickedly, presumes to tell
Which man shall goe to heav'n, and which to hell:
Of these I know thou art not. For, as yet
I hope thou hast not so forgone thy wit:
To credit their illuding prophanations,
Which are but fantosmes of illuminations
Begot in these late Ages (by mischance)
Betwixt much pride, and zealous ignorance.
Thou dost not think thy merits greater are
Then other mens, that God thy life should spare.
Nor canst thou hope thy safety to possisse,
For that thy follies or thy sinnes are lesse.
Since if thou hadst but one time beene mis-led,
Thy life for that one time were forfeited.
And, this Disease, with outward marks, doth strike.
The Righteous, and the Wicked, both alike.
Then, since thou art a Sinner, and art sure,
That sinne did first this Pestilence procure:
Since thou maist also justly say with griefe,
That, thou of all transgressors art the chiefe:
Since thy offences some of those have bin,
Which holpe to bring this great Infection in:
Nay; since it may be (if thou search thy heart)
That thou a principall among them art,
Who from the Ship must Ionas-like be throwne,
Before this Tempest will be over blowne:
Why doth it not thy guilty soule dismay,
And make thee hasten more to flye away?
It may be thou dost vainly hope for Fame;
By doing this. Oh! what availes the same,
When thou art raked up quite void of sense,
Among the slaughters of the Pestilence?
What will it profit when thou sleep'st in clay,
Some, few should praise, and some lament thy stay?
Some heed it not? Some make a mocke thereat?
Some deeme thee foolish, others desperate?
Some, judge thy tarying might for trifles be?
Some, for thy best intention slander thee?
Or with base trash thy breathlesse Muse belye?
Or, mis-report thy dying, if thou dye?
For, if thou chance to perish in this Place,
These wayes, and other meanes to thy disgrace,
Thy Foes will finde; and in thy fall contented,
Accomplish what, thy life might have prevented.
But say to scape alive thy Lott it be;
A troupe of other perils wait on thee.
Thou know'st not what extremities may fall,
Nor how thy heart may struggle therewithall.
Such Poverty upon this Towne may seize,
E're God asswage the rage of this Disease,
That meanes may saile thee; and before supply
Thy friends can send thee, thou maist famisht lye:
For they who now affect thee, and with whom
Thou shalt, perhaps, to live resolv'd become,
Ev'n they may perish in this Pest, and leave thee
To strangers whose affections will deceive thee:
In time of health, but slenderly befriend thee:
In sicknesse, to a lonely Roome commend thee:
Make spoile of what is thine, and senslesse be
Of helping, and of all regard of thee.
And then it will, perchance, afflict thy mind
That thou unto thy selfe wert so unkinde,
As to neglect that wholesome Country Ayre,
Whereto thy friends invited thy repaire.
Thou maist remember, when it is too late,
Those pleasures, and that happy healthy state
Thou mightst have had: And with how much respect
Thou shouldst have liv'd with those that thee affect;
A comfort to thy Parents, who with feare,
Due sorrow for thy needlesse lingring here:
For, them thou leavest, and some friends beside,
(To live, 'twixt hope and feare, unsatisfi'd
By this thy doing) whom thou dost abuse,
If that which may discomfort them thou chuse.
And, when they shall thy wilfulnesse condemne,
With what good Reasons wilt thou answer them?
Thy Dwelling is not here; nor is thy stay
Compelled by Affaires that urge it may.
Thou hast nor publike neither private charge;
But, maist in any place, goe walke at large.
The world conceiveth not the least suspition,
That thou art either Surgeon, or Physitian,
(Whose Art may stand this place in any steed;)
Or that thy friends will thy attendance need.
For thou canst neither Broths nor Caudles make,
Nor drenches good enough for horse to take.
Thou hast no Calling, that may warrantize
This boldnesse: neither can thy wit devise
How thou wilt answer God, for daring thus
An act so needlesse, and so perillous.
Consider well, that there are paines in death;
Consider, that when thou hast lost thy breath,
Thy Flesh, the deare companion of thy Soule,
Shall be rejected as uncleane, and foule,
And, lodge within a Grave, contemn'd and vile,
Which might have liv'd esteemed, yet a while.
Consider, that thou hast not an estate
Of being, which is base or desperate;
But such, as few on earth possesse a better,
Though each one, that hath ought, enjoyes a greater.
Consider, that thou dost endanger now
The blessing of long life. Consider, how
Thou mightst have lived to a larger measure
Of riches, of preferment, or of pleasure;
And profited thy Country, whereunto
Thy Death, or Sicknesse, will no service do.
Nay, if thou now miscarry, where will be
Those honest hopes which late possessed thee?
To those thy Studies who an end shall adde,
Which but a while agoe, beginning had?
And, being left unfinisht, make the paine
And houres, upon them spent, to be in vaine?
With somewhat thou endued art, whereby
Thou maist thy blessed Maker glorifie;
Thy selfe advantage, and a joy become
To such as well affect thee; and 'gainst whom
(If thus thy selfe thou separate) thou shalt
Commit a most inexpiable fault.
Oh! therefore, I beseech thee, wary be,
To thinke what service God requires of thee:
Think, what thou wist thy selfe; and call to mind,
That some wel-willers thou maist leave behinde,
Whose hopes thou should'st not wilfully bereave,
(Whose loves thou should'st not unrequited leave)
By hazarding thy Life, which is a debt
To their deservings. For, thou know'st not, yet,
How that may grieve thy soule, or fill thy head
With troubled fancies, on thy dying-bed.
I cannot make discovery, by all
My faculties, and pow'rs rationall,
What worke thou maist imagine should be done
That's worthy of the hazard thou dost run.
Nor can, as yet, my understanding reach
(What hope soever Faith may please to preach)
To those Felicities; which after death
Her supernaturall Doctrines promiseth.
Nor finde I such assurances, as may
Preserve thee unaffrighted in thy stay.
For when within my Naturall Scale J place
Those Arguments, and Promises of Grace,
Which Faith alledgeth; they so ayrie prove,
That they my Ballance very little move.
Yea, such transcendent things declareth she,
As they me thinks should so distemper thee,
That doubts and terrors rather should possesse
Thy Soule, then hopes of reall happinesse;
Since what in Death, or after Death shall come,
Are things, that Nature is estranged from.
Fly therefore, this great perill. Seeke a place
Where thou maist plead more safely of thy Case:
And, since thy God, with Reason, thee doth blesse,
Now, most thou need'st it, be not reasonlesse.
All this (and what the carnall wit of man
Object, in such an undertaking can)
Did REASON urge, to make my stay appeare
An act improvident, and full of feare:
And what her seeming rightfull cause advances,
Was utt'red with such dreadfull circumstances,
That she did halfe perswade me to confesse,
My Resolution would be foolishnesse.
But, when my REASON had no more to speake,
My FAITH began: & though her strength was weak,
(Because my frailties had enfeebled her)
Yet, then I felt her with more vigour stir,
Then in lesse perills. For, she blew aside
Those fogs wherewith my heart was terrifi'd:
Made cleare my Iudgement: and (as having waigh'd
The speech foregoing) thus, me thought, she said.
How wise is REASON in an Ethnicke Schoole,
And, in divine proceedings, what a foole?
How many likely things she musler can,
To startle and amaze a naturall man,
Which, when I am advis'd withall, are found
But pannick feares, and terrors without ground!
And yet, how often doth blinde Ignorance,
Above my reach her shallownesse advance?
Or else of madnesse, wickedly condemne
My wisdome, and my safest paths contemne?
Yet be not thou (my Soule) deceived by
The foolishnesse of humane Sophistry.
But, since by thy Afflictions, thou hast got
Experience, which the world attaineth not;
Give heed to me, and I will make thee know
Those things which carnall Reason cannot show.
Yea make thee by my pow'r more certaine be
Of that which mortals can nor heare nor see,
Then of the plainest objects that appeare
Vnto the sense of corp'rall eye or eare:
And though my promise, or my counsell seeme
To vulgar Iudgements, but of meane esteeme,
Ile so enable thee those seares to bide,
Wherewith the worldly-wise are terrifi'd;
And, teach thee such contentednesse to gaine,
Though in Deaths gloomy shades thou dost remaine:
That, thou (without all doubtings) shalt perceive,
Thou shouldst not this afflicted Citie leave.
And Flesh and Blood, with wonder, shall confesse
That Faith hath pow'r to teach men fearlesnesse,
Jn perils; which do make their hearts to ake,
Who scoffe at her, and part with Reason take.
It cannot be denyed that this Place
Yeelds dread enough, to make the boldest face
To put a palenesse on, unlesse the minde
Be over much to senslesnesse enclinde:
Because, we nat'rally abhor to see
Such loathed objects of mortality.
'Tis also true, that there is no defence
To guard the body from this Pestilence,
Within the compasse of mans pow'r or wit:
Nor can thy merit so prevaile with it,
But that (for ought thou knowest) thou maist fill
The growing number of Deaths weekly-Bill.
And what of that? whilst I befriend thee shall,
Can such a common danger thee apall?
Shall that, which heath'nish men, and women beare,
(Yea tender infants) without shewes of feare,
Amate thy spirit? shall the drawing nigh
Of that, from which thou hast no meanes to flye,
(And which thou walkest toward, ev'ry day,
(With seeming stoninesse) fright thee now away?
Is Death so busie growne in London streets,
That he with no man in the Country meets?
Beleevest thou, the number he hath slaine
Hath added any thing unto the paine?
Or, hast thou lately apprehended more
Deaths fearfull gastlinesse, then heretofore,
That in this time of tryall thou shouldst finde
Thy Soule to slavish Cowardice enclinde?
Death is that Path, which ev'ry man must tread;
And, when thou shalt descend among the dead,
Thou go'st but thither where thy fathers be,
And whither, all that live shall follow thee.
Death is that Haven, where thy Barke shall cast
Her hopefull Anchor, and lye moored fast,
Exempted from those furious windes and seas,
VVhich in thy heav'nly voyage, thee disease.
Death is the Iaile-deliv'ry of the Soule:
Thy joyfull yeare of Iubilee: thy Goale:
The Day that ends thy sorrowes, and thy sins;
And that, wherein, best happinesse begins.
A lawfull act, then wherefore shouldst thou feare
To prosecute; although thy death it were?
Full oft, have J enabled thee to bide
The brunt of dreadfull stormes, unterrifide,
And, when thy dastard Reason (not espying
That heav'nly Game, at which thy Faith was flying)
Disheartned grew; J did thy body free
From ev'ry perill which enclosed thee:
So working, that those things thy praise became,
Which Malice had projected for thy shame;
And, common Reason, who suppos'd thee mad,
Did blush to see how little wit she had.
Yet, now againe, how foolishly she tryes
To cast new fogs before thy Iudgements eyes?
What childish Bug-Beares hath she mustred here,
To scar thy senses with a causelesse feare?
Of those loath'd Objects wherefore doth she tell,
Which vex the sight, the hearing, and the smell?
Since, when the utmost of it shall be said,
All is but Death; which can but strike thee dead.
And when that's done, thou shalt (by me revived)
Enjoy a better life then thou hast lived.
If those hobgoblin terrors of the grave,
(Wherewith meere nat'rall men affrighted have
Their troubled soules) deterre thee from that path,
Whereto the will of God injoined hath;
To thee (oh! Soule) how dreadfull would it be
If WARRE, with all her feares enclosed thee?
Nay, if such common terrors thee amaze,
How wouldst thou quake, if in a generall blaze,
The world should flame about thee? (as it may,
Perhaps, before thou see another day)
Sure, if these Scar-crowes do deterre thee so,
Thou scarce wilt welcome (as thou oughtst to do)
That Moment when it comes; nor so rejoyce,
As they, who long to heare the Bridegroomes voice.
Here therefore stay, and practise to inure
Thy soule to tryalls; that thou maist endure
All changes, which in after times may come:
And wait with gladnesse, for the Day of Doome.
Seeke here, by holy dread, to purge away
Those Crimes which heape up terrors for that day.
Endure the scorching of this gentle fire,
To purifie thy heart from vaine desire.
Learne here, the death of righteous men to dye;
That thou maist live with such eternally.
Here, exercise thy Faith, and watch, and pray,
That when thy body shall be mixt with clay
The frightfull Trumpet, whose amazing sound
Shall startle Hell, and shake earths massie Round.
May make thee leape with gladnesse from thy grave,
And no sad horrors in thy Conscience have.
What canst thou hope to purchase here below,
That thou shouldst life unwillingly forgoe?
Since, there is nothing which thou canst possesse,
Whose sweetnesse is not marr'd with bitternesse:
Nor any thing so safe, but that it may,
To thee, become a mischiefe, many a way?
If honourable thou mightst live to grow,
That honor may effect thy overthrow.
And (as it makes of others) make of thee
A thing as blockish, as bruit creatures be.
If Rich; those Riches may thy life betray;
Choake up thy vertues, and then flye away.
If Pleasure follow thee; that pleasing vaine
May bring thy soule to everlasting paine:
Yea, that which most thou longest to enjoy,
May all the pleasures of thy life destroy.
Seeke therefore true contentment where it lies,
And feare not ev'ry Babies fantasies.
Jf Life thou love; Death is that entring in
Where life which is eternall doth begin.
There, what thou most desirest is enjoy'd;
And, Death it selfe, by dying is destroy'd.
Though length of life, a blessing be confest,
Yet, length of dayes in sorrow is not best.
Although the Saylor, sea-roome doth require,
To reach the harbour is his chiefe desire:
And, though 'tis well our debts may be delay'd,
Yet, we are best at ease when they are paid.
Jf Titles, thou aspire unto: Death brings
The Faithfull, to become immortall Kings:
Whose glorie passeth earthly pomp, as far
As Phœbus doth outshine the Morning-star.
Desirest thou a pleasant healthfull dwelling?
By Death thou gain'st a Country so excelling;
That, plenty of all usefull things is there,
And all those objects that delightfull are.
A golden pavement thou shalt walke upon;
And lodge in Buildings wall'd with precious stone.
If in rich Garments to be cloath'd thou seeke,
The Persian Monarks never had the like:
For, Puritie it selfe thy Robe shall be;
And like the Stars, thy Crowne shall shine on thee.
Hast thou enjoyed those companions here,
VVhose love and fellowship delightfull are?
Thou shalt, when thou from sight of those art gone,
Of that high Order be installed one,
VVhich never did false Brother entertaine;
VVhereof, ev'n God himselfe is Soveraigne:
And in whose company thou shalt possesse
All perfect, deare, and lasting friendlinesse.
Yea, there ev'n those whom thou on earth hast loved
In life time (with such love as is approved)
Thou shalt enjoy againe: and not alone
Their friendship; but the love of ev'ry one
Of those blest men and women, who both were,
And are, and shall be, till our Judge appeare.
Hath any mortall beauty pleas'd thee so,
That, from her presence thou art loath to goe?
Thou shalt in stead of those poore imperfections,
VVhereon thou setlest here unsure affections.
The Fountaine of all Beauties, come to see
(Within his lovely bosome lodged be)
And know (when thou on him hast fixt thine eyes)
That, all earths Beauties are deformities.
To these, and happinesses, greater far
Then by the heart of man conceived are,
Death maketh passage. And, how grim soe're
He may to those that stand aloofe appeare;
Yet, if thou bide unmoved in thy place,
Till he within his armes doe thee embrace;
Thou shalt perceive that who so timely dieth,
Enjoyes contentments which this life denyeth.
Thy feare of painfulnesse in death is vaine;
In Death is ease; in Life, alone, is paine.
Man makes it dreadfull by his owne inventions,
By causelesse doubts, and groundlesse apprehensions.
But, when it comes, it brings of paine, no more
Then Sleepe, to him that restlesse was before.
Thy Soules departure, from the Flesh, doth maze,
And thee afflicteth more then there is cause:
For, of his sting, thy Saviour, Death despoiled:
And, feares, and dangers from the Grave exiled.
Thou losest not thy Body when it dyes;
Nor doth it perish, though it putrifies.
For, when the time appointed, it hath laine,
It shall be raised from the dust againe,
And, in the stead of this corrupted one,
Thy Soule, a glorious Body shall put on.
But hadst thou not a Faith which might procure thee
Such comforts, and such life in death assure thee:
Or, though thou shouldst, by dying, be possest
Of nothing else, but of a senselesse rest:
Me thinkes thy carnall Reason should, for that,
Perswade thee rather to be desperate,
And stay, and seeke for Death, e're languish in
Perpetuall sorrowes, such as thine have bin.
For, if to God-ward, joy thou feelest not,
What comfort to the world-ward hast thou got,
Which may desirous make thee to delay,
Or linger out thy life another day?
'Tis true that God hath given thee a share
In all those Pleasures, that good pleasures are;
And (to the Givers glory be it spoken)
He hath bestow'd on thee as many a token
Of his abundant love, as he bestowes
On any, with so few external showes.
For ev'n of outward things he doth impart
As much as fits the place in which thou art;
With full as many pleasures as may serve,
Thy Patience, in thy suffrings, to preserve:
And, when for Rest, and Plenties, thou art fitter,
I know, he will not make thy cup so bitter.
But if thou live for outward pleasures meerly;
By living thou dost buy them over dearly.
For (if thy peace in God were set aside)
So many wayes thou hast beene crucifi'd,
That some would think thy Fortune (if they had it)
Most bitter; though most sweet thy hopes have made it.
Here, but a Pilgrimage thou dost possesse,
In wandring, and perpetuall restlesnesse.
Like Travellers, in sunshine and in raine,
Both dry and wet, and dry and wet againe.
With rest, each Morning, well refresht and merry,
And, ev'ry Ev'ning, full of griefe, and weary.
To Vanity, in bondage thou dost lie,
Still beaten with new stormes of Misery;
And, in a path to which thou art a stranger,
Assaulted with variety of Danger.
His Face, sometime, is hid, whence comforts flow,
And, men and devills, seek thy overthrow.
Sin multiplies upon thee, ev'ry day:
Thy vitall pow'rs, will more and more decay:
Wealth, honor, friends, and what thou best dost love,
Doth leave, deceive thee, or thy torment prove;
Mans very Body burthens him; and brings
Vnto it selfe a thousand torturings.
Thy Heart, with many Thinkings is perplext:
Yea, by thine owne Affections thou art vext:
And (though by overcomming them at last,
Thy soule hath comfort when the fight is past,)
Thou hast perpetuall conflicts, which require
Continuall watchfulnesse: for, no Desire
Or nat'rall Passion, ever did molest
The heart of Man, that strives not in thy brest.
Jn ev'ry Pleasure, somewhat lurks to scar thee,
In ev'ry Profit, somewhat to ensnare thee:
Whole armies of Afflictions swarme about thee,
Some fight within thee; some assaile without thee:
And, that which thou conceivest shall releeve thee,
Becommeth oft another meanes to grieve thee.
Yea, thine owne thoughts, thy speeches, and thine actions,
Occasion discontentments, and distraction:
And all the portion which thou dost inherit,
Yeelds nought, but perturbations of the spirit.
In Childhood, all thy pleasures were but toyes;
In heat of Youth, as fruitlesse were thy joyes:
Thy riper yeares, do nought but ripen care:
And, imperfections, thy perfections are:
If Old thou grow, thy griefes will aged be;
And, Sicknesse, till thou dye, wil live in thee.
Thy Life's a Warfare, which must quite be done,
E're dangers vanish, or the Field be won.
It is a Voyage full of wearinesse,
Till thou thy wished harbor dost possesse:
And, thou of no externall Ioy canst boast,
That may not e're thy dying day be lost.
But, truth to say, what thing dost thou possesse,
Which others thinke to be a happinesse?
The world allowes thee little that is hers,
And thee to very small esteeme prefers.
Among her Minions: but, in ev'ry place
Endeavors to affront thee with disgrace;
Deprives thee of thy labours, and bestowes
On Parasites, on Fooles, and on thy Foes,
Thy due: and with a spightfull enviousnesse,
Thy best approved Studies doth suppresse.
Behold, a frothy Masque, an idle Song,
The witlesse jesting of a scurrilous tongue,
The capring Dancer, and the foining Fencer,
The bold Buffoone, the slye Intelligencer;
Those foolish raving fellowes, whose delights
Are wholly fixed on their Curs and Kites;
The Termly Pamphleters, whose Dedications
Doe sooth and claw the times abominations:
Ev'n such like things as these can purchase grace,
And quickly compasse Pension, Gift, or Place;
When, thy more honest Labours are abused,
Contemned, sleighted, or at best refused.
If such a one as these forenam'd, resort
To set abroach his qualities in Court,
He findes respect, and as an usefull man,
His Faculty, some place afford him, can.
He soone hath entertainment. Or if not,
Yet, something may for his availe be got.
A base Invention, that scarce merit may
The reputation of a Puppet-play,
Some spangled Courtier, or some foolish Lord,
Admires, affects, and of his owne accord
Prefers it to the Prince, or to the King,
As an ingenious, or much usefull thing.
And (ten to one) if then the Author can
But humor well his Lordship, or his man
(That rules his Honors wisdome) it may gaine him
Some such like Lord as that to entertaine him,
For his companion; yea, the privy purse
May open to him: and, he fareth worse
Then many a Foole hath done, unlesse e're long,
He purchaseth to be enroll'd among
The best Deservers; and arise to be
Superior to a better man then be.
Twixt these and thee what distances appeare?
And, twixt your Fortunes what a space is there?
When thou hadst finished a Worke divine,
(As much for others profit, as for thine)
Thou scarcely found'st a man, to make thee way
Thy Present, at thy Soveraignes feet to lay.
And when thou didst: No sooner laid he by
What tendred was, but some injurious eye
Did quickly take thereof a partiall view,
And with detracting Censures thee pursue.
Yea, those meere Ignorants, whose courtly wit
Can judge of nothing, but how cloathes doe fit;
How Congees should be acted; how their Boy
Observe them should; or some such weighty toy:
Those Shreds of Complement, patcht up for things
To fill vast Roomes in Palaces of Kings,
(As Antiques doe in Hangings) more for show;
Then any profit, which from them can flow.
Ev'n those (scarce worth our laughing at) have past
Their doomes on that which thou presented hast;
As if they understood it: and, as those,
By chance did censure, so the Censure goes.
Js these, or any such like Mountebanks,
By slavish fawning, or by picking thanks;
By homeliest services, (or worse) by cheating;
Extorting from the poore, or by defeating
Men honestly disposed, (or, by any
Of those ill meanes, whereof this age hath many)
Can, out of heggery, their fortunes reare,
To hundreds, or to thousands by the yeare:
They thinke themselves abus'd, if any grutch
Or murmur, as if they had got too much.
But, though thou from thy childhood wert employ'd
In painfull studies, and hadst not enjoy'd
So much externall profit, as would pay
The charges of thy Troubles, for a day:
(Nay, rather, hindrance hadst, and punishment,
For that, which gave most honest men content)
Yet (marke their dealing) when but hope there was
Of gaine to thee (which never came to passe)
And though that gaine were lesse then Traders can
Allow sometimes unto a Iourney-man:
Yea though it were to no mans prejudice;
(But many profiting) and did arise
By thine owne labours: that small yearly summe
Expected for, nought, yet, but losse doth come)
Was grumbled at; as if it had beene more
Then any ever gained heretofore;
And would the Common-weale have prejudised,
Had none, thereof, to frustrate thee, devised.
Some, therefore (whose maliciousnesse is yet
Vnanswer'd for) themselves against thee set;
And, by the dammage of their owne estate,
Have labour'd, thee and thine to ruinate.
Some others, as injuriously, as they,
Laid causelesse Nets, to snarle thee in thy way:
And have procured, for thy best intents,
Reproofes, Contempts, and Close Imprisonments;
(As rigorous as ever were inflicted,
Of those that for High Treason stood convicted)
Yea, that which might an honest wealth have won thee,
Was that, whereby they sought to have undone thee.
Foule Scandals, thy best actions have attended.
And (as if on thine Jnfamy depended
The Kingdomes glory) Pamphlets false and base,
Yea, publike Masques, and Playes, to thy disgrace,
Were set abroach; till justly they became,
To those that made, and favour'd them, a shame.
Jn Rimes, and Libels, they have done thee wrongs;
Thou hast beene mention'd in their drunken Songs,
Who nothing worse unto thy charge could lay,
But, that, thou didst not seeme so bad as they.
Meere Strangers, who are quite unknowne of thee,
(Although they see not what thy manners be)
Take pleasure to traduce thee, and to draw
Those things in question, which they never saw.
Nay, at their publike meetings, few forbeare
To speake that scandall, which they thinke, or heare.
Ev'n since this Plague began, and whilst thy hand
Recording was that Iudgement on this Land;
Thou art inform'd, that, Westward from this place
(Some scores of miles) a generall rumor was
Both of thy biding here, and of thy death.
And, they who said, thou hadst expir'd thy breath,
(Supposing, as it seemes) it could not be
That God from this Disease would shelter thee)
Reported also, that, of Grace forsaken,
And, by the sin of Drunkennesse o'retaken,
Thou brok'st thy neck. It may be those men thought,
That when the Plague thy life to end had brought,
They should have added somewhat, to have slaine
The life of good Report, which might remaine.
Nor was that ayme quite void. For, (though of all
Grosse sins, the staine of that, least blur thee shall)
Some straight beleev'd what malice did surmise;
Condemn'd thy Vertues, for Hypocrisies.
Made guilty all thy Lines of evill ends;
Vs'd thee, as Iob was used by his friends;
Did on thy Life unchristian Censures passe;
Affirm'd, thy Death had showed what it was;
And, many a one that heard it, shall not know
Vntill his dying day, it was not so.
But, then they shall perceive, that most of that
Is false, which men of others use to prate.
But, wonder it is none, that thou among
Some Strangers, in thy Fame hast suffred wrong:
For, lo, thy Neighbours (though they privy be
To no such act as may disparage thee,
But unto many rather, which in show,
Appeared from a Christian minde to flow)
Ev'n they, in private whisp'rings, many times
Have taxed thee as guilty of those crimes
Thou never perpetratedst, but dost more
Abhor them, then do Mizers to be poore.
And from those blots the more thy life is free,
The more is theirs defilde, by slaundring thee.
In wicked Places (where yet never came
Thy foot) some acted follies in thy name:
That others present, knowing not thy face,
Might spread abroad of thee, to thy disgrace,
VVhat others did. And, such a mischiefe, none
But perfect Malice, could have thought upon.
Thy very Prayers, and thy Charities
Have wicked beene, and judg'd hypocrisies.
When thou wert best employed, thou wert sure
The basest imputations to endure.
When thy intentions have beene most sincere,
Mens misconstructions alwayes harshest were;
And, when thy pioust action thou hadst wrought,
Then, they the greatest mischiefe on thee brought.
The best, and most approved of those Laies,
By thee composed for thy Makers praise;
Have lately greatly multipli'd thy Foes,
And, not procur'd alone the spight of those
Whom brutish Ignorance besets among
The misconceiving and illiterate throng:
But, they who on the seats of Iudgement sate,
Thee, and those Labours have inveighed at.
The Learned, who should wiser men have beene,
Did censure that which they had never seene.
Ev'n they, who make faire shewes of sanctity,
(God grant, it be not with hypocrisie)
With spightfulnesse, that scarce can matched be,
Have shamefully traduced that, and thee.
Nay, of the Clergy, some (and of the chiefe)
Have with unseemly fury, past beleefe,
So undervalu'd, and so vilifi'd
Those Labors (which the tryall will abide,
When their proud spleene is wasted) that, unlesse
God had, in mercy, curb'd their furiousnesse,
(And by his might abated, in some measure,
That pow'r of acting their imperious pleasure)
Their place, and that opinion they had gained,
Of knowledge, and sincerity unfained,
Had long ere this, no doubt, made so contemn'd
Those Lines, and thee; that thou hadst beene condemn'd
VVithout a triall. And so true a feeling
Hadst gain'd ere now, of base and partiall dealing,
That, Discontent might then have urg'd thy stay,
In hope this Plague, would that, have tooke away:
But, thou by others, hast receiv'd the stings
Of Malice, otherwayes, in other things.
Those men, whose over-grosse and open crimes,
Are justly taxed in thine honest Rimes,
Have by the generall notice of thy name,
Sought how to bring thee to a generall shame,
By raising causelesse rumors to be blowne
Through ev'ry quarter where thy lines are knowne.
For, there's no place without an enuious care,
And slandrous tongues be ready ev'ry where,
To cast, with willingnesse, disgrace on those,
Of whom, some good report, beforehand, goes.
And since thou canst not answer ev'ry man,
As he that's knowne in some few Townships, can;
The falsest Rumors Men divulge of thee,
Doe soone become a common Fame to be.
Moreover (that lesse cause there may appeare,
Why thou shouldst life desire, or dying feare)
The most affected thing this world containes,
Hath tortur'd thee with most heart-breaking paines.
For, they whom thou hast loved: they to whom
Thou didst obliged many wayes become:
Yea they who knew thy faithfulnesse; ev'n they,
Have made their outward kindnesses the way
To make thee most ingratefull seeme to be,
Yea, they have heaped more disgrace on thee,
More griefes, and disadvantages, then all
Thy Foes together, bring upon thee shall.
And long pursued have, to thy vexation
Their courses with harsh trickes of aggravation;
Yet still pretending Loue: which makes the curse,
Of this Affliction twenty times the worse.
I will not say that thou afflicted art
In this (by them) without thy owne desert:
For who perceives in all how he offends?
Or thinks, that God correction causelesse sends?
Nor will I say this injury proceeds,
From any Malice. For, perhaps, it breeds
From their distemper'd love. And God to show
Some needfull secret (which thou best maist know
By this experiment) a while doth please,
To make thy late Contentments thy Disease.
Thy first Acquaintance, who did many a yeare
Enjoy thy fellowship (and glad appeare
To seeme thy friends) have wearied out their love,
By length of time; and strangers now doe prove.
Thou also seest, thy new acquaintance be
Worne out as fast as gotten. For, to thee
Most come, for nothing but to satisfie
Their idle fruitlesse curiositie:
And, having seene, and found thee but a man,
Their friendship ended, just as it began.
Nay, they who all thy course of life have seene,
And (in appearance) have perswaded beene,
So well of thy uprightnesse, as if nought
Could move in them, of thee, one evill thought:
These, by a little absence, or the sound
Of some untrue Relation (wanting ground)
Doe all their good opinion sometime change;
Suspect thy manners, and themselves estrange,
So unexpectedly, and without cause,
That what to judge of them it makes thee pause,
For they that vertuous are, but in the show,
Doe soone suspect, that all men else, are so.
These things are very bitter unto such
Whose hearts are sensible to ev'ry touch
Of kindnesse, and unkindnesse; and they make
Life tedious, where they deepe impression take.
But, many other griefes thy Soule doe grinde;
And thou by them, art pained in a kinde
So diffring from the common sense of others,
(Although thy patience much distemper smothers)
That Reason might me thinkes contented be,
Thou shouldst pursue thy Death to set thee free.
I speake not this, as if thou didst repine
At these, or any other lots of thine:
Nor to discourage thee, because the World
So little of her Grace on thee hath hurl'd.
For, I would have thee scorne her love; and know
That whether she will favour thee or no,
I wil, in thy due season, make thee rise
To honor, by that way which men despise:
Ev'n to those honors, which are greater then
The greatest that conferred are, by men.
And, this I mention, in reproach of them
Whose Pride, thy humble Musings, doth contemne:
And to remember thee, how vaine it were,
To seeke for life, where such harsh dealings are.
And, as J would not have thee wish to live
For love of any thing, this world can give:
So, J am loath her troubles should have pow'r
To make thee seeke to shorten life an houre.
But rather in contempt of all her spight,
To lengthen it, untill pale Envie quite
Consume her selfe; and thou at last be sent
From hence, victorious, crowned with content.
J therefore, here, perswade thee not to stay,
That vainly thou mightst foole thy life away:
Or, that some poore applauses may be got;
Or, for such trifling ends as profit not;
And, whereof, Reason her dislike infers:
For, my opinion jumps in that, with hers.
I doe not counsell thee to cast aside
That care, which teacheth wisely to provide
For wholsome Antidotes: Or to observe
Such courses, as are likely to preserve
Thy body sound: nor is it my intent,
Thou shouldst employ, by way of complement,
Thy time in visiting infected friends;
When to their comfortings it little tends.
Nor am I pleas'd in him that so presumes,
Or such a franticke foolishnesse assumes,
As desperately to thrust himselfe among
The noisome breathings of a sickly throng,
When such a danger nothing may availe:
And, where the meanes of life will surely faile.
Nor would I now betray thee to thy sin;
Or worke thy losses, that thy foes may win;
Or make thee tempt thy God; or grieve thy friends;
Or barre thy Labors of their wished ends:
Nor canst thou thinke thy Reason well hath said,
To cast such stumbling-blockes, as she hath laid:
For, just and comely things, I doe advise;
And, seeke not Mischiefes, but their Remedies.
A carnall Wisedome sayes she seeth not
What knowledge and assurance may be got
Of those eternall things, that objects are
Of Christian hope. But, wherefore shouldst thou feare
What Flesh and Blood blasphemously hath said?
Since, into thee already are convaid
Both Notions, and the reall sense of that
Which they, who would not see, doe stumble at?
Meere humane Reason cannot reach to know
Of many thousand Creatures here below,
The secret natures: Doe not wonder than,
That few celestiall things perceive she can:
But call to minde, that to be fleshly wise,
Is to be foolish in Truths Mysteries.
Give God the praise, who hath on thee bestowne
A better apprehension then thine owne.
Remember still, to cherish this beleefe;
Let Prayer daily fet thy Faith releefe:
And be assur'd that I advise thee best,
What e're thy carnall Reason shall suggest.
If thou suppose that thou hast ought begun,
Which may thy Country profit, being done,
Or honor God: proceed thou in his name,
With cheerfulnesse, and finish up the same.
For God will either give thee life to doe it,
(If cause there be) or call another to it
Of better gifts. And, if thou grudge at this,
Thou seekest thine owne honor, more then his:
And, though a pious purpose thou pretend,
Thy holy shewes have some unholy end.
Say, thou among the multitude must fall;
Say, they that hate thee, thereof triumph shall;
Or others (out of levity) contemne
Thy course; or thee unjustly should condemne,
As Reason pleads? what prejudice to thee
Would this be more, then such mens praises be?
What harme is this to thee when thou art gone?
And hast no sense of my wrong that's done?
What needst thou care, if all the world suppose
To hell thou sinkest; if thy spirit goes
The way to heav'n? And in that narrow path
A blessed being, unperceived hath?
Pursue brave Actions, as a Christian ought,
And, care not thou what shall of them be thought:
(Except to rouze up other men it be,
By making them perceive what rouzed thee)
When thou dost walke uprightly, walke thou on,
And scorne to looke aside, who looks thereon:
For, he's a foole (if not an hypocrite)
That in well-doing feeleth no delight,
Vntill some witnesse of his deeds he know,
Or feele some praises his proud sailes to blow,
Nay, he that cannot in a vertuous deed,
(Wherein, his Conscience, warrants to proceed)
Persist without returning, though he should,
Of all the world together, be controul'd;
Or, if he thought it not a favour too
That God would call him such a worke to doe;
(Yea though that for his paines, he should become
Abhorr'd of all men, till the Day of Doome)
Ev'n such a Man is farre below that height,
To which by perfect Vertue climbe he might;
And lose he doth, by feares that are in vaine,
The bravest honor that his Faith can gaine.
Thy Reason sayes, that thou a sinner art;
And, thereupon doth urge thee to depart.
But wherefore should the guilt of sin affright
From staying, rather then from taking flight?
For, if thou shalt remove away from hence,
Thy guilt retaining, by impenitence,
God hath not so his Plagues confined hither,
But that they may pursue thee any whither.
And whereas here, the danger, and the feare,
Encompassing this place, might so deterre,
So mollifie, and awe thy heart within thee;
So move, and to amend thy life, so win thee,
That God shall clense thy soule of ev'ry staine;
And reconcile thee to himselfe againe:
Perhaps, the wicked vaine security,
That will attend thee whither thou shalt flye,
May make the measure of thy sinnes compleater,
Thy comforts fewer; thy afflictions greater;
When least thou fearest, most of all disease thee;
And keepe off this, that some worse thing may seize thee:
And, though thy Reason urge thee to beeleve,
Thy friends may wronged be, or too much grieve,
By this adventure: I, thy Faith, assure thee,
That if my Motives may to stay procure thee,
(For such good purposes as I propose)
Thy God shall pay thy friends what ere they lose;
Make some (by fearing what thy dangers are)
Of their owne wayes to take the greater care:
Keepe others (by preserving of them sad)
More watchfull, that might else lesse heed have had:
And, stirre up thee for them, and them for thee,
So zealous in continuall vowes to be,
As will (perchance) worse perils drive away,
Then those, which are so feared, in thy stay.
Oh! God, how many soules, by fleeing hence
Scape this, and catch a deadlier Pestilence!
How many hearts whom Feare doth somewhat strike
With sorrowes, which begins Repentance-like,
(And might by staying here, accomplish that,
Which ev'ry true Beleever aimeth at)
Will fall from those beginnings, by their flight,
And lose the feeling of Gods Iudgements, quite?
How many! by wrong seeking to prevent,
Their heav'nly Fathers loving chastisement,
Incorrigible in their lives will grow?
And bring themselves to utter overthrow?
And oh! what multitudes, by staying here,
Shall change their dread, into a filiall feare?
Their feare to love, and love, and laud thee too,
For sending that, which they abhorred so!
Like them, who in the Deeps employed be,
Here, thou the wondrous works of God shalt see.
That thou maist tell the world what he hath done;
And sing the praise of that Almighty-One
To this, and future ages. And for what
Did he thy Soule and Body first create?
For what redeeme thee? For what end infuse
That Faculty, which thou dost call thy Muse?
For what, but for his honor, to declare
Those Iudgements and his Mercies which will here
Be showne unto thee? and to sing the Story
Of what thine eye beholdeth to his glory?
For, if not here, then where? Or if not now,
Then, at what other time expectest thou
So faire an oprortunity, to show
With how much readinesse thou couldst bestow
Thy life, and all thy faculties, on him
(And, for his service) who bestowed them?
What nobler Subject can the world afford,
For thee, or for the Muses to record,
Then will those Iudgements, and those Mercies be,
Which God will in this place disclose to thee?
If Reason seeke some purpose in thy stay,
Me thinks, this purpose please thy Reason may:
For, though those men who love their owne vaine praise,
Have little care of their Creators waies,
And finde small pleasingnesse in those Relations,
Which are compos'd of such like Observations;
Yet, all the glorioust acts of greatest Kings,
Are triviall, worthlesse, base, and foolish things.
Respecting these. And, though some nicer wits
Scarce think that such a Subject well befits
Their artfull Muses. Yet, twixt this and that
Whereon they love to plod and meditate,
There's much more diff'rence, then betweene their Laies
And those which they doe most of all dispraise:
And they who live (the time) I hope shall see,
These Poems, much, more prized then they be:
Yea, though it may appeare to common Reason,
An act impertinent, and out of season,
For such an end as this to make thy stay:
Let not her carnall Sophismes thee dismay.
For since thou seest a vaine Historian dares
His person to adventure in the warres,
That he (for fame, or hire) may write a story
Of what is done to his Commanders glory:
This action, wherefore shouldst thou startle from,
As if thy Iudgement it would mis-become?
If just it be, our safeties to contemne,
In such a case (if that be good in him)
How much more just, is thy adventure, then
Who sing'st the praise of God, and not of men?
How much more safely walkest thou, then they?
How much more glory, and how much more pay,
Can thy great Captaine give thee? And how small
Should be thy feare? Jf thou should'st feare at all.
Nor to thy God, or to thyselfe alone,
Will acceptable services be done
By staying here: but, peradventure some
That living are, and some, in time to come,
May reap advantage by it, and confesse,
That thou wert borne for them; and didst possesse
And use thy life, not for thy selfe alone,
But that to others profit might be done.
The gen'rall notice which men take of thee,
Will make thy actions more observed be
Then those of twenty others, who doe seeme
Jn their small circuits, men of great esteeme:
And, when hereafter it is knowne abroad,
To what good purposes thou mad'st abode
In this afflicted City: on what ground,
Thy blamed resolution thou dost found:
How sensible thou wert of ev'ry seare,
And of each perill thou adventredst here:
How many friends thou hadst to flye unto:
How much elsewhere thou mightst have found to do;
What Censures thou shouldst hazzard, in thy stay:
VVhat pleasures wooed thee to come away:
How, thy continuing here was not by chance
By discontent, or humorous ignorance:
How, no compulsion, no perswading Friend,
No office, hope of gaine, or such like end
Necessitated thee. Yea, when by such,
VVho are to feare enslaved evermuch,
All this is heeded well; And when men shall
Consider it, comparing therewithall,
VVhat causes moved thee; what meditation
Confirm'd thy stay; what kinde of conversation
Thou daily practisedst; and what good use
They may from thy experiments produce;
It will perchance occasion some to learne
Those things, which yet they doe not well discerne:
Help, in good Resolutions, some to arme:
Some weake ones in temptations much confirme:
To some become a meanes to make them see
That men despised, may enabled be,
By Faith, to keepe their place undaunted there,
Where men of better seeming gifts doe feare.
And peradventure thou maist compasse that
Which likelier men in vaine have aymed at.
For, though it may be said this place hath store
By Calling and by Gifts, adapted more
For such a taske; and that there may be some,
That have no warrant for departing from
These noysome streets, who well enough may take
This paines; and thereof thee excused make.
Yet, shall not that excuse thee. For, all they
Have Callings, which employ them wholly may.
Yea, they whose wits are abler, think not on
That worke, perchance, as needfull to be done.
Or if they doe, perhaps, they may expire
Before they have performed it; or tire.
And though they should make perfit their designes:
Yet their obscurity, may barre their Lines
From taking that effect, which if thou write,
Thy being far more knowne, accomplish might.
For, Fame prevailes with many (now adaies)
And, if uncouth'd, unkist (as Chaucer saies.)
Or grant that many had the same attempted,
(And men of note) yet wert thou not exempted.
For, best it is, when such like things as these
Confirmed are by many witnesses.
Beside, if those assurances which thou
Shalt publish (and thy Faith shall well allow)
Affirmed were by none but such as they
Who might not from this place depart away
Without much losse, or blame: meere naturall men
Might have contemned all those counsels, then,
And all those just reproofes, that may, by thee,
Or any other man objected be,
Against their slavish Feares: and may reply,
That no man staid, but he that could not flye:
Or that none durst become a voluntary,
In such a Fire, for conscience sake, to tarie:
And, that no mortall man had pow'r obtain'd
To bide such brunts, till outwardly constrain'd.
Whereas thy free abiding here, will move
Much better thoughts: thy constancy approve;
Procure the more beleefe to thy Relations;
The more effectuall make thy good perswasions:
And stop their mouthes, who might some other way
Thy paines have wrong'd, had ought procur'd thy stay.
Oh! far, far be it, that Lust, Avarice,
The strong distempers of some hatefull Vice,
A stupid Melancholy, or the tumors
Of some wilde Passion, or fantasticke Humors,
Should fixe more stoutnesse in the heart of man,
Then temperate, and pious knowledge can.
Far be it, that old women, for their pay,
Or Sextons for as little have, as they,
We in the walks of Death should walking see
Without all feare; yet, they deterred be,
Who boast of knowledge; and have sung, and said,
That though in Deaths black shadowes they were laid,
They would without dismay continue there;
Because Gods Rod, and Staffe, their keepers are.
Oh! let not this be so: And be it far
From proving true; that they who studious are
Of Wisdome, and of Piety, should shrinke,
Where he, whose head peece is but arm'd with drinke,
Sits fearlesse: Or, that Vse, or Custome shall
Embolden more, then Christian Faith, and all
The Morall Vertues: Or, that thou shouldst yeeld
To carnall Reason, and forgoe the Field.
Moe Arguments I could, as yet, expresse,
To prove thy staying hath much usefulnesse:
As that it were unkindnesse to forsake
Those persons here, who comfort in thee take.
For, some professe already, that they bide,
By thy example, greatly fortifi'd,
(In their compelled stay) by seeing thee
So willingly, their griefes companion be.
Yea, many a one, observing thee to stay,
Confesseth, he doth shame to flye away.
Thereby, those Resolutions they have got,
Which very lately they embraced not;
And might, perhaps, if now thou shouldst depart,
Become afraid, because thou fearfull art.
Me thinks, it is unmanlinesse to flie
From those, in woe, whom in prosperity
Thou lovedst: yea, tis basenesse, not to share
In ev'ry sorrow which thy friends doe beare,
As well as in their pleasures, if they be
Such friends, as some of thine doe seeme to thee.
Here, thou hast long continu'd. On the bread
Of Dainties, in this City thou hast fed.
Here, thou hast laught and sung; and here thou hast
Thy youthfull yeares, in many follies past;
Abus'd thy Christian-liberty, and trod
That Maze, which brings forgetfulnesse of God.
Here, thy example, some corrupted hath;
Here, thou hast moved thy Creators wrath:
Here, thou hast sinned; and thy sinnes they were,
Which holpe to bring this Plague now raging here.
Here, therefore, doe thou fast: here, doe thou mourne,
And, into sighes, and teares, thy laughter turne.
Here, yeeld thy selfe to prison, till thou see
At this Assize, how God will deale by thee:
Ev'n here, the time redeeme thou: here, restore
By good examples, these whom heretofore
Thou hast offended: here, thy selfe apply
Gods just incensed wrath to pacifie.
Here, joyne in true Repentance, to remove
That Storme which now descendeth from above.
And then, or live or dye, this Place, to thee
A place of Refuge, and of joy shall be.
Nor Sin, nor Death, nor Hell, not any thing
Shall discontentment, feare, or perill bring
Which to thy Soule or Body, shall become
A disadvantage; but helpe save thee from
Destruction: Ioyes, as yet, unfelt, procure:
In all temptation, make thy minde secure:
Discover plainly how thy Reason failed;
And, make thee blesse the time, thy Faith prevailed.
But, thou dost want a Calling (REASON cries)
Thy staying in this place to warrantize.
And, that untill thereof thou dost obtaine
The full assurance, all my speech is vaine.
Jndeed, the glorioust worke we can begin,
Vnlesse God call us to it, is a sin.
And therefore, ev'ry man should seeke to know
What, God, and what vaine Fancy cals him to.
For, Pride, and over-weening Arrogance,
The Devill, or a zealous Ignorance,
Suggests false warrants; and allureth men
To dangerous adventures, now and then:
Yea, maketh some, from Gods commands to fall,
And take employments at the Devils call.
To judge thy Calling, then, learne this of me,
That, some Vocations ordinary be,
Some extraordinary If thou take
An ordinary Calling, thou must make
The common entrance, which that pow'r doth give
Within whose Iurisdiction thou dost live:
Else (whatsoever Cause thou dost pretend)
Jt is Intrusion: and, thou shalt offend.
If thou conceivest thou some Calling hast
Jn Extraordinary; see it past
By Gods allowance, from Gods holy Writ,
Before such time as thou accept of it.
And, then, beware that nothing force thee back,
Or, make thee in thine Office to be slacke.
In briefe; a Calling extraordinary,
To justifie it selfe, these Markes must carie;
And, if it faile of them, but in the least,
Thy Conscience is deluded in the rest.
Gods glory will be aymed at, in chiefe:
It will be grounded on a true beleefe:
It doth not Gods revealed will oppose:
No step that erres from Charity it goes:
It seeketh not, what cannot be enjoy'd:
It makes no ordinary calling void:
Some cause not frequent must invite thereto:
And (to accomplish what thou hast to doe)
Some Gift, that's proper for it, must be given,
And then, thou hast thy Calling seal'd from heaven.
Approve thy selfe by these, and thou shalt see,
That, God, no doubt, hath truly called thee,
To this adventure. For, thy heart intends
His praise in this, above all other ends.
Thou dost beleeve, that (whether live or dye)
Thy stay shall somewhat adde, to glorifie
Thy blessed Maker; and that something shall
To thine, and others profits, here, befall.
Thy Iudgement, to thy Conscience nought discloseth,
Wherein it Gods revealed Will opposeth:
It well agrees with Charity, and tryes
To compasse no impossibilities.
Nor binders it, nor calls it thee from ought
Which is more necessary to be wrought.
A Cause not ordinary now requires
Thy presence here; and, God himselfe inspires
Thy Brest with Resolutions that agree
To such an action. Gifts, which none but he
Can give, he gives thee; such, as are by Nature,
Not found in any subcœlestiall Creature,
But, meerly of his Grace: and, such, as none
Can counterfeit, by all that may be done.
And, whence are all these Musiags here exprest?
Whence come these combatings within thy brest
Twixt Me and Reason? who is it that makes
Thy heart so fearlesse, now such horror shakes
The soules of others? what embolden can
The frightfull spirit of a naturall man,
In such apparant dangers to abide?
And yet, his Reason nothing from him hide,
That seemeth to be dreadfull; neither leave him
Such Aymes, or such like Passions to deceive him,
As harden others? Who, but he, that giveth
Each perfit Gift, these Gifts to thee deriveth?
And sure he nought bestowes, but therewithall
He sends occasions that employ it shall.
Few Officers shall want a doubtfulnesse
That they their places doubtfully possesse,
Jf this be doubtfull; whether God (or no)
Hath called thee to what Jbid thee doe.
For, outward Callings, most men doe, or may
Intrude upon, by some sinister way:
By Symony, by Bribery, by Spoiles,
By open Violence, or secret Wiles.
And therefore (though the Seales of Kings they gaine
To strengthen what unduly they obtaine)
Some doubting of their Callings may be had
To God ward, though such doubts be rarely made.
But, for thy Calling thou Commission hast
So firme; and it so many Seales hath past,
That nothing should induce thee to suspect
Thy Warrant, or distrust a good effect.
God, from thy Cradle, seemes to have ordain'd thee
To such a purpose: for, he yearly train'd thee
Through sev'rall cares, and perils, so inure
Thy heart, to what he meant thou shouldst endure:
Else why shouldst thou (whose actions honest were
To Man ward, though to God ward foule they are)
Be more for that afflicted, which doth seeme
(To some) a worke deserving good esteeme,
Then are a multitude in these our times,
Convicted of the most notorious crimes?
Why, at thy very birth, did he infuse
Thy Soule with naturall helpes to forme thy Muse,
Which is a Faculty not lent to many,
Nor by meere Art attained to, of any?
To thee, why gave he Knowledge, such a way
As others lose it by? And why I pray
Did he bestow upon thee so much Fame
For those few childish lines that thou didst frame
In thy minority? Why did he then
(When scarce a man) enroule thy Name with men?
And make thee to be prais'd and priz'd before
Those men whose Yeares, and Sciences are more?
What was there in thy Poems? what in thee,
That seem'd not worthy of contempt to be,
Much more then of applause? And what hast thou
From scorne to save thee, but Gods mercy now?
Beleeve it, be divulgeth not thy Name
For thine owne honor: But to make the same
A meanes of spreading his. From perills past
He sav'd not thee, for any worth thou hast,
But, to declare his Mercies At this season,
He moves this plea betwixt thy Faith and Reason,
Not to be passed over, as in vaine;
But, in thy Brest, true courage to maintaine.
Thy Muse he gave thee, not to exercise
Her pow'r in base and fruitlesse vanities,
Or to be silenc'd: but, to magnifie
The wondrous workings of his Majesty.
And, as the seales of Kings authorize those
To whom they doe their Offices dispose,
So, these are Signes which force enough dee cary
To seale this calling extraordinary:
And, they who sleight the same will in some measure
Incur the King of heavens high displeasure.
More might be said (hereof to make a proofe)
But, more to say, were more then is enough.
Of this, no further, therefore, J'le dispute;
But, bid thee stay, thy Place to execute.
When FAITH had made this pleading in my brest
My REASON was perswaded to protest
Her full assent, to what the first gainsaid,
Which, that it might be constantly obey'd,
My Conscience, in her Court, did soone decree;
And, all my thoughts were then at peace in me.
From that time forward, neither Friend, nor Foe,
Could startle me in what I meant to doe.
No vaine desires within me did controule
My purpose: no distrusts did fright my soule:
Nor seemed it, so dangerous, to stay,
As (knowing what I knew) to flye away.
For, though these Arguments, and such as these,
Can never fit in all mens Consciences,
The just Meridian (seeing, variations,
In manifold respects, make alterations)
Yet, mine they suted with; and may, and shall
Be some way usefull, to my Readers all.
I wisht it so; For, I was then inspired
With love to all; and all mens weale desired.
Me thought, I pitied those, who should not see
What God within this place did show to me:
And should have grieved to have beene constrained,
Within the City, not to have remained.
For by my selfe, when I to censure brought
My present Lott; it pleas'd me: and, me thought,
That, God vouchsafed to employ me so,
And furnish me for what I was to doe,
With such a healthfull body, and a minde
To act his will so readily enclin'd;
It seem'd more comfort, and more honour far,
Then if a Monarkes Favorite I were,
Or might for temporall respects become
The noblest person of all Christendome.
And, if I shall not still this minde embrace,
A dog halfe hanged is in better case.
For, when that favour I doe value lesse,
I shall grow senselesse of all happinesse.
Oh! God, how great a blessing, then, didst thou
Confer upon me? And what Grace allow!
Oh! what am I, and what my parentage?
That Thou of all the Children of this Age
Didst chuse out me, so highly to prefer,
As of thy Acts, to be a Register?
And give me Fortitude and Resolution,
To stay, and view thy Judgements execution?
That, I should live to see thy Angell here,
Ev'n in his greatest dreadfulnesse appeare?
That, when a thousand fell before my face,
And at my right hand (in as little space)
Ten thousand more, I should be still protected
From that contagious blast, which them infected!
That, when of Arrowes thou didst shoot a flight
So thick by day, and such a storme by night
Of pois'ned shaft, I, then, should walke among
The sharpest of them; and yet passe along
Vnharm'd? And that I should behold the path
Which thou dost pace in thy hot burning wrath,
(Yet not consume to Ashes) what a wonder
To me it seemes, when thereupon I ponder!
How great a grace it was, whose tongue can say,
That I who am but breathing dust and clay,
Should waking (and in all my senses, well)
Walke downe the Grave almost as low as hell,
Yet come againe unscarred? and have leave
To live and tell what there I did perceive!
Yea come (as from the dead) againe to show
The faithlesse world what terrors are below!
(And justifie, that though a man be sent
Ev'n from the Grave to move men to repent,
No Faith would in those hearers be begot,
Who Moses and the Prophets credit not.)
How great a Mercy was it, that when I
Was thought in dangers, and in griefes to lye,
That, for my Shepheard I had thee my God?
And in the path of best contentments trod?
That I, on sweetest Pleasures banqueted,
When other men did eate Afflictions bread?
That, I had perfect joyes ev'n in my teares?
Assured safety in my greatest feares?
A thousand comforts, whereof they who lived
In better-seeming states, were quite deprived?
And much content, which they will never know,
Who keep those paths in which the Vulgar go.
What matchlesse benefits were these! & whence
Canst thou, that gav'st them, have thy recompence,
But from thy selfe? Or who but thou alone:
Can give me heart enough to thinke upon
These Graces as I ought? Oh! therefore, daigne
To make my brest sufficient to containe
That measure of due thankfulnesse, which may
Accepted be, for what I cannot pay.
And, suffer not my frailties, or my sin
To hide againe, what thou dost now begin
To make me see; but grant to me thy grace,
For ever, to behold thy cheerfull face.
Nor Oile, nor Corne, nor Wine can glad me so:
Nor shall their brutish lovers ever know
What joyes within my brest begotten be,
When thy pleas'd countenance doth shine on me.
Let those who of great Kings affections boast,
(And for their favours are engaged most)
Those, who possesse (their starveling soules to please)
Sweet Gardens, Groves, and curious Palaces,
Rich Iewels, large Revenues, princely Stiles,
The flatteries of Lords, and female smiles,
The pleasures of the Chamber, and the Fields,
All those which dainty fare, or Musique yeelds,
The City or the Court; and all that stuffe
Of which their hearts can never have enough:
Let these, and those who their desires approve,
With such entising Objects fall in love:
Let them pursue their fancies, till they finde
What sorrowes and disgraces come behinde:
And let them surfet on them, till they see
By tride experience, what their fruit will be.
I never shall envy their happinesse;
Nor cover their high fortunes to possesse,
If thou preserve me still in thy protection,
And cheere my spirit by thine eyes reflection.
For then I shall not feare the scornes of such:
My cares, or wants shall never grieve me much:
I shall not need to crouch and sue to them,
Who thee, and me, and vertue shall contemne.
I shall nor shrinke nor startle, when I heare
Those evill tidings, which men daily feare.
Nor leave my standing, though that in the roome
Of this great Pestilence, a Warre should come.
Or (which were worse) another Fiery-triall,
To force us, of thy Truth to make denyall.
And, in these fearfull times, no temporall blisse
Would seeme a greater priviledge then this,
To those, who now with trembling soules, expect
What our proceedings will at last effect.
Yea, they, perhaps, who now are stupifi'd,
Will praise my lot, whē they their chance have try'd.
But (though ev'n all men living should despise
The comfort of it) I the same will prise.
I praise thee for it, LORD, and here emplore
That I may praise thee for it, evermore:
That these expressions of thy love to me,
May helpfull also to thy praises be
In other men: And (if it may be so)
In other times, and other places too:
And, that the shewing how I did compose
The warre which twixt my Faith and Reason rose,
May teach some others how they should debate
Such doubts within themselves; and arbitrate
(Within their Court of Conscience) what is fit
To be concluded, and so practise it.
For, why so largely, I have this exprest,
That, was not, of my purposes, the least.
I beg moreover, that I may pursue
To utter that which I have yet to shew.
And, that nor Sloth, nor Want, nor any Let,
May to these Poemes their last period set,
Till I have made my Readers to conceive,
That this was undertaken by thy leave:
And, that my Censurers may come to say,
There was an usefull purpose in my stay:
Or shew me what they did; or, what I might
Have done to better uses in my flight.
I lastly, crave (which is, I trust, begun)
That, I the way of thy Commands may run,
The remnant of my Talent, and my dayes,
Employing in good actions, to thy praise:
That, I, for ever, may those paths refuse
Which may unhallow, or pervert my Muse:
And that, when this is done, I may not fall
Through Pride or Sloth; as if this act were all:
But, humbly strive such other workes to doe,
As thou requir'st, and I was borne unto.
Yea furnish me with ev'ry thing by which
I best may serve thee, and I shall be rich.
This beg I, Lord; and nothing else I crave,
For, more then that, were lesse then nought to have:
I beg of thee, nor Fame, nor mortall praise,
Nor carnall pleasures, nor yet length of dayes,
Nor honors, nor vaine wealth, but, just what may
The Charges of my Pilgrimage defray.
Oh grant me this; and heare me when I call:
For, if thou stand not by me, I shall fall.

The fourth Canto.

When Conscience had allowed my Commission,
For staying, & declar'd on what condition;
I did not onely feele my heart consent
To entertaine it, with a full content,
But also, found my selfe prepared so
To execute the worke I had to do,
That without paine (me thought) I was employ'd,
And all my Passions to good use enjoy'd.
For, though God freed my soule from slavish feare,
Yet, so much awe he still preserved there,
As kept within my heart some naturall sense
Oft is displeasure, and of penitence
He gave me Ioyes, yet left some Griefe withall,
Lest I into security might fall;
Or, lose the fellow-feeling of that paine,
Whereof, I heard my neighbours to complaine.
He lent me health: yet, ev'ry day some twitches
Of pangs unusuall; many qualmes, and stitches
Of short continuance, my poore heart assailed,
That I might heed the more what others ayled.
He kept me hopefull: and yet, now and then,
His rods (wherewith, in love, he scourgeth men)
Did make me smart; lest else I might assume
The liberty of Wantons, and presume.
My ordinary meanes was made their prey,
Who seeke my spoile, and lately tooke away.
Yet, me with plenties, daily did he feed,
And I did nothing want, which I could need.
Which God vouchsafed to assure to me,
That when unusuall workes required be;
He will (e're we shall want what's necessary)
Supply us by a meanes, not ordinary.
By many other signes, unmention'd here,
Gods love, and providence, did so appeare,
And so me thought ingage me, to remove
What ever to his work a let might prove;
That (so farre forth as my fraile nature could
Admit, and things convenient suffer would)
My owne Affaires aside, a while I threw,
And bent my selfe, with heedfulnesse, to view
What, worth my notice, in this Plague I saw,
Or, what good uses I from thence might draw.
But, farre I needed not to pace about,
Nor long enquire to finde such Objects out.
For, ev'ry place with sorrowes then abounded,
And ev'ry way the cryes of Mourning sounded.
Yea, day by day, successively till night,
And from the evening till the morning light,
Were Scenes of Griefe, with strange variety,
Knit up, in one continuing Tragedy.
No sooner wak'd I, but twice twenty knels,
And many sadly-sounding passing-bels,
Did greet mine eare, and by their heavy towles,
To me gave notice, that some early soules
Departed whilst I slept: That other some
Were drawing onward to their longest home;
And, seemingly, presag'd, that many a one
Should bid the world good-night, e're it were noone.
One while the mournfull Tenor, in her tones
Did yeeld a sound as if in deepe for grones,
She did bewaile the sorrow which attends
The separation of those loving friends,
The Soule and Body. Other while, agen,
Me thought, it call'd on me, and other men
To pray, that God would view them with compassiō,
And give them comfortable separation.
(For, we should with a fellow-feeling, share
In ev'ry sorrow, which our brethren beare)
Sometime my Fancy tuned so the Bell,
As if her Towlings did the story tell
Of my mortality, and call me from
This life, by oft, and loudly sounding, Come.
So long the solitary nights did last,
That I had leasure my accounts to cast;
And think upon, and over-think those things,
Which darknesse, lonelinesse, and sorrow brings
To their consideration, who doe know,
From whence they came, and whither they must go.
My Chamber entertain'd me all alone,
And in the roomes adjoyning lodged none.
Yet, through the darksome silent night did flye
Sometime an uncouth noise; sometime a cry,
And sometime mournfull callings pierc'd my roome,
Which came, I neither knew from whence, nor whom.
And, oft betwixt awaking and asleepe,
Their voices who did talke, or pray, or weepe,
Vnto my listning eares a passage found,
And troubled me, by their uncertaine sound.
For, though the sounds themselves no terror were,
Nor came from any thing that I could feare;
Yet, they bred Musings; and those musings bred
Conjecturings, in my halfe sleeping head:
By those Conjectures into minde were brought
Some reall things, before quite out of thought;
They, divers Fancies to my soule did shew,
Which me still further, and still further drew
To follow them; till they did thoughts procure
Which humane frailty cannot long endure:
Ev'n such, as when I fully was awake,
Did make my heart to tremble, and to ake.
And, when such frailties have disheartned men,
Oh! God, how busie is the Devill then?
I know in part his malice, and the wayes
And times, and those occasions which he layes
To worke upon our weaknesse; and there is
Scarce any which doth shew him like to this.
I partly also know by what degrees
He worketh it; how he doth gaine or leese
His labours; and some sense I have procur'd,
What pangs are by the soule that while endur'd.
For, though my God, in mercy, hath indu'd
My Soule with Knowledge, and with Fortitude
In such a measure, that I doe not feare
(Distractedly) those tortures which appeare
In solitary darknesse: yet, some part
Of this, and of all frailties in my heart
Continues he; that so I might confesse
His mercies with continuall thankfulnesse,
And, somewhat (evermore) about me beare,
Which unto me my frailties may declare.
Yea (though without distemper, now it be)
So much of those grim feares are shewed me,
Which terrifi'd my childhood, and which make
The hearts of aged men, sometimes to quake;
That I am sensible of their estate;
And can their case the more compassionate,
Who on their beds of death doe pained lye,
Exil'd from comfort, and from company,
When dreadfull Fancies doe their soules afright,
Begotten by the melancholy night.
Glad was I, when I saw the Sun appeare,
(And with his Rayes to blesse our Hemisphere)
That from the tumbled bed I might arise,
And with more lightsomnesse refresh mine eyes:
Or with some good companions, read, or pray,
To passe, the better, my sad thoughts away:
For, though such thoughts oft usefull are, and good;
Yet, knowing well, I was but flesh and blood,
I also knew mans naturall condition
Must have in joyes, and griefes, an intermission,
Lest too much joy should fill the heart with folly,
Or, too much griefe breed dangerous melancholy.
But, when the Morning came, it little shewed,
Save light, to see discomfortings renewed:
For, if I staid within, I heard relations
Of nought but dying pangs, and lamentations.
If in the Streets I did my footing set,
With many sad disasters there I met.
And, objects of mortality and feare,
I saw in great abundance ev'ry where.
Here, one man stagger'd by, with visage pale:
There, lean'd another, grunting on a stall.
A third, halfe dead, lay gasping for his grave;
A fourth did out at window call, and rave;
Yonn came the Bearers, sweating from the Pit,
To fetch more bodies to replenish it.
A little further off, one sits, and showes
The spots, which he Deaths tokens doth suppose,
(E're such they be) and, makes them so indeed;
Which had beene signes of health, by taking heed.
For, those round-purple-spots, which most have thoght
Deaths fatall tokens (where they forth are brought,)
May prove Life tokens, if that ought be done,
To helpe the worke, which Nature hath begun.
Whereas, that feare, which their opinion brings
Who threaten Death; the want of cordiall things
(To helpe remove that poison from the heart,
Which Nature hath expelled thence in part)
And then, the Sickmans liberty of having
Cold drinks, and what his appetite is craving,
Brings backe againe those humours pestilent,
Which by the vitall pow'rs had forth beene sent.
So by recharging him that was before
Nigh spent, the fainting Combatant gives o're:
And he that cheerfully did raise his head,
Is often, in a moment, strucken dead.
Feare also helps it forward. Yea, the terror
Occasion'd, by their fond and common error,
Who tell the sicke, that markt for Death they be,
(When those blew spots upon their flesh they see)
Ev'n that hath murthred thousands, who might here
Have lived, else, among us, many a yeare.
For, if the Surgeons, or the Searchers, know
Those markes, which for the markes of death do goe,
From common-spots, or purples, (which we must
Confesse, or else all kinde of spots distrust)
Then, such as we Death-tokens call, were seene
On some, that have long since, recover'd beene.
Before I learned this, I fixt mine eyes
On many a private mans calamities,
And saw the Streets (wherein a while agoe
We scarce could passe, the people fill'd them so)
Appeare nigh desolate; yea, quite forlorne
And for their wonted visitants to mourne.
Much peopled Westminster, where late, I saw,
So many rev'rend Iudges of the Law,
With Clients, and with Suitors hemmed round:
Where Courts and Palaces did so abound
With bus'nesses: and, where, together met
Our Thrones of Iustice, and our Mercy-seat;
That place, was then frequented, as you see
Some Villages on Holy-dayes will be
When halfe the Towneship, and the Hamlets nigh
Are met to revell, at some Parish, by.
Perhaps, the wronging of the Orphans cause,
Denying, or perverting of the Lawes
There practised, did set this Plague abreeding,
And sent the Terme from Westminster to Reading.
Her goodly Church and Chappell, did appeare
Like some poore Minster which hath twice a yeare
Foure visitants: And, her great Hall, wherein
So great a Randevow had lately bin,
Did look like those old Structures, where long since
Men say, King Arthur kept his residence,
The Parliament had left her, to goe see
If they could learne at Oxford to agree;
Or if that ayre were better for the health
And safety of our English Common-wealth.
But there, some did so counsell, and so vrge
The Body politike to take a purge,
To purifie the parts that seemed foule:
Some others did that motion so controule,
And plead so much for Cordialls, and for that
Which strengthen might the sinnewes of the State,
That all the time, the labour, and the cost,
Which had bestowed beene, was wholly lost.
And, here, the empty House of Parliament
Did looke as if it had beene discontent,
Or griev'd (me thought) that Oxford should not be
More prosperous, yet; nor could I any see
Resort to comfort her: But, there did I
Behold two Traytors heads, which perching high,
Did shew their teeth, as if they had beene grinning
At those Afflictions which are now beginning.
Yea, their wide eye holes, star'd, me thought, as tho
They lookt to see that House now overthrow
It selfe, which they with Powder up had blowne,
Had God, their snares, and them, not overthrowne.
White Hall, where not three months before I spi'd
Great Britaine in the height of all her pride,
And, France with her contending, which could most
Outbrave old Rome and Persia, in their cost
On Robes and Feasts: Ev'n that lay solitary,
As doth a quite-forsaken Monastery
In some lone Forrest; and we could not passe
To many places, but through weeds and grasse.
Perhaps, the sinnes, of late, committed there,
Occasions of such desolation were.
Pray God, there be not others, in the State,
That will make all, at last, be desolate.
The Strand, that goodly thorow-fare betweene
The Court and City (and where I have seene
Well nigh a million passing in one day)
Is now, almost, an unfrequented way:
And peradventure, for those impudencies,
Those riots, and those other foule offences,
Which in that place were frequent, when it had
So great resort; it is now justly made
To stand unvisited. God grant it may
Repent; lest longer, and another way
It stand unpeopled, or some others use
Those blessings, which the owners now abuse.
The City-houses of our English Peeres,
Now smoakt as seldome, as in other yeares
Their Country-palaces: and, they perchance
Much better know then doth my ignorance,
Why so it came to passe. But, wish I shall
That they their wayes to minde would better call;
Left both their Country, and their City-piles,
Be smoaking seene, and burning, many miles.
The Innes of Court I entred; and I saw
Each Roome so desolate, as if the Law
Had out-law'd all her Students; or that there
Some fear'd arrestings, where no Sergeants were.
Most dreame, that this great fright was thither sent
Not purposely, but came by accident;
And so, but little use is taken from
Gods Iudgements, to amend the times to come.
Yet, I dare say, it was a warning given
Ev'n by appointment: and decreed in heaven:
To signifie, that if our Lawyers will
In their abusive wayes continue still,
The cause of their profession quite forgetting,
And to their practices no limits setting,
Till they (as heretofore the Clergy were)
Are moe in number then the Land can beare.
Their goodly Palaces shall spew them forth,
As excrements that have nor use nor worth;
And, be disposed of, as now they see,
The Priories, and Monasteries be.
It griev'd me to behold this wofull change,
And places so well knowne, appeare so strange.
But, oh poore LONDON! when I lookt on thee,
Remembring therewithall, thy jollity
Erewhile; and how soone after I did meet
With griefe and sad complaints in ev'ry street.
When I did minde how throng'd thy Gares have bin
And then perceiv'd so few past out or in.
When I consider'd that abundant store
Of wealth, which thou discover'dst heretofore:
And, looking on thy many empty stalls,
Beheld thy shops set up their wooden-wals:
Me thought, thou shouldst not be that London, which
Appear'd of late so populous, and rich;
But, some large Burrough; either falling from
Her height; or, not unto her greatnesse come.
If to thy Port I walkt; it mov'd remorse,
To see how greatly, Trade and Intercourse
Decayed there; and what depopulations,
Were made in thy late peopled habitations.
Thy Royall Change, which was the Randevow
Wherein all Nations met, the whole world through,
Within whose princely walls we heard the sound
Of ev'ry Language spoke on Earths vast Round;
And where we could have known what had bin done
In ev'ry forraine Coast below the Sun:
That Place, the City-Merchant, and the Stranger
Avoyded as a place of certaine danger:
And feared (as it seemes) they might have had
Some bargain ther, that would have spoild their trade
Thy large Cathedrall, whose decaying frame
Thou leavest unrepaired to thy shame,
Had scarce a Walker in her middle Ile;
And, ev'ry Marble of that ancient Pile,
Did often drop, and seeme to shed forth teares,
For thy late ruine, though thou sleightest hers.
The time hath been, that once a day, from thence,
We could have had a large intelligence
Of most occurrences, that publique were.
Yea, many times we had relations there,
Of things, whose foolish actors never thought
Their deeds to open scanning should be brought.
There, heard we oft made publique by report,
What Secresies were whisper'd in the Court.
The Closet-Counsels, and the Chamber work,
Which many thinke in privacy doth lurke.
There heard we what those Lords, and Ladies were,
Who met disguised, they know when, and where.
There heard we what they did, and what they said;
And many foolish plots were there bewraid:
There, heard we reasons, why such men were made
Great Lords and Knights, who no deserving had,
In common-view: and how great Princes eyes
Are dazled and abus'd with fallacies.
There heard we for what Gifts most Doctors rise,
And gaine the Churches highest dignities.
The truest causes also there were knowne,
Why men advanced are, or pulled down.
Why Officers are changed, or displaced;
Why some confined are and some disgraced;
And what among the wise, those men doe seeme,
That are great Statesmen, in their owne esteeme.
There we have heard, what Princes have intended,
When they to doe some other thing pretended.
What Policies, and Projects, men pursue,
With publique aymes, and with a pious shew.
Why from the Counsell one is turned out;
What makes another counterfeit the gout,
And many other mysteries beside,
Which hardly can the mentioning abide.
But those Athenian Merchantmen were gone,
Who made exchange of Newes; and few or none
To heare or make reports remained there.
Yea they who scarce a day (as if they were
Of Pauls the walking Statues) staid from thence
Since LONDON felt the last great Pestilence,
Ev'n they were gone; and those void Iles did look
As if some properties had them forsooke.
Our Theaters, our Tavernes, Tennis-courts,
And Gaming houses whither great resorts
Were wont to come; then, seldome were frequented:
Not that such vanities we much repented;
But, lest those places, which had follies taught us,
Might some reward, unlooked for, have brought us.
Where we with Pestilences of the soule
Each other had polluted and made foule,
Our bodies were infected; and our breaths,
Which had endanger'd our eternall deaths,
(In former times) by uttring heresies,
By scandals, and by basest flatteries,
Or wanton speeches; putrifide the Ayre,
The blood ev'n at the fountaine did impaire,
To coole our lust: And they that were the blisses
Of some mens lives, did poison them with kisses.
The Markets which a while before did yeeld
What ayre, seas, rivers, garden, wood, or field,
To furnish them afforded; now had nought,
But what some few in secret thither brought.
For (as a foresaid) it was ordred so,
That none should with provisions, come or goe.
So, like a Towne beleaguer'd thou didst fate,
In some respect: And, but that God had care
By making others feele necessities
Which forced them to minister supplies;
Thou hadst beene famisht, or beene faine to bring
Provisions in by way of forraging:
And then their foolishnesse, had brought upon
Those men, two mischiefes, who did feare but one.
Hereafter therefore, practise well to use
Those plenties thou didst heretofore abuse;
Lest God, gaine bereave thee of thy store,
And never so enlarge his bounty more.
For, to correct thy Surfets, and Excesse,
Thy sleighting of the poore, thy thanklesnesse,
And such like sinnes; God worthily restrained
Those plenties which thy pride and lust maintained.
Thy Dwellings, from whose windowes I have seen
A thousand Ladies, that might Queenes have beene
For bravery, and beauty: And, some far
More faire then they that fam'd in Legends are.
Those stood unpeopled, as those houses doe
Which Sprights, and Fairies doe resort unto.
None to their closed wickers made repaire;
Their empty gasements gaped wide for ayre;
And where once foot clothes and Caoches were
Attending; now stood Coffins, and a Biere.
Yea Coffins oftner past by ev'ry doore,
Then Coaches, and Caroches, heretofore.
To see a country Lady, or a Knight
Among us then, had beene as rare a sight
As was that Elephant which came from Spaine,
Or some great Monster spewd out of the Maine.
If by mischance the people in the street,
A Courtier, or a Gentleman did meet,
They with as much amazement him did view,
As if they had beheld the wandring Iew.
And, many, seeing me to keepe this place,
Did looke as if they much bewaild my case,
And halfe belee'vd that I was doomed hither,
That (since close-prison, halfe a yeare together,
Nor private wrongs, nor publique dis-respect,
Could breake my heart, nor much the same deject)
This Plague might kill me, which is come to whip
Those faults which heretofore my pen did strip.
But here I walkt in safety to behold
What changes, for instruction, see I could.
And, as I wandred on, my eye did meet,
Those halfe built Pageants which, athwart the street,
Did those triumphant Arches counterfeit,
Which heretofore in ancient Rome were fet,
When their victorious Generalls had thither
The spoile of mighty kingdomes brought together.
The loyall Citizens (although they lost
The glory of their well-intended cost)
Erected those great Structures to renowne
The new receiving of the Sov'raigne Crowne
By hopefull CHARLES (whose royall exaltation,
Make thou oh! God, propitious to this Nation.)
But when those works, imperfect, I beheld,
They did new causes of sad musings yeeld,
Portending ruine. And, did seeme, me thought,
In honor of Deaths trophees to be wrought;
Much rather, then from purposes to spring
Which aymed at the honor of a King.
For, their unpolisht forme, did make them fit
For direfull Showes: yea, DEATH on them did sit.
His Captives passed under ev'ry Arch;
Among them, as in Triumph he did march;
Through ev'ry Street, upon mens backs were borne
His Conquests. His black Liveries were worne,
In ev'ry House almost. His spoyles were brought
To ev'ry Temple. Many Vaults were fraught
With his new prizes And his followers grew
To such a multitude, that halfe our Eugh,
And all our Cypresse trees, could hardly lend him
A branch for ev'ry one who did attend him.
My Fancy did present to me that houre
A glimpse of DEATH ev'n in his greatest power.
Me thought I saw him, in a Charret ride,
With all his grim companions by his side.
Such as Oblivion, and Corruption be.
Not halfe a step before him, rode these three,
(On Monsters backt) Paine, Horror, and Despaire:
Whose fury, had not Faith, and Hope, and Pray'r,
Prevented, through Gods mercy none had ever
Escap'd Destruction by their best endevour.
For, next to Death, came Iudgement; after whom,
Hell with devouring Iawes, did gaping come,
To swallow all: But, she at One did snap,
Who now, for many, hath made way to scape.
Death's Carr, with many chaines, & ropes, & strings,
And, by a multitude of severall things,
As Pleasures, Passions, Cares, and such as they,
VVas drawne along upon a beaten way,
New gravell'd with old bones: and, Sin did seeme
To be the formost Beast of all the Teeme:
And, Sicknesse to be that which haled next
The Charret wheele; for, none I saw betwixt.
Time led the way; and, Iustice did appeare,
To sit before, and play the Charioteer.
For since our Sin to pall on Death begun,
The whip of Iustice makes the Charret run.
There was of Trumpets, and of Drums the sound;
But in loud cries, and roarings it was drown'd.
Sad Elegies, and songs of Lamentation
Were howled out; but, moved no compassion.
Skulls, Coffins, Spades, and Mattocks placed were
About the Charret. Crawling Wormes were there
And whatsoever else might signifie
Deaths nature, and weak mans mortalitie.
Before the Charret, such a multitude
Of ev'ry Nation in the world I view'd,
That neither could my eye so farre perceive,
As they were thronging; nor my heart conceive
Their countlesse number. For, all those that were
Since Abel dy'd, he drove before him there.
And, of those thousands, dying long agoe,
Some here and there, among them, I did know,
Whose Vertues them in death distinguished
(In spight of Death) from others of the dead.
I saw them stand, me thought, as you shall see
High spreading Oakes, which in fel'd Copses be,
O're-top the shrubs; and, where scarce two are found
Of growth, within ten thousand rod of ground.
Of those who dy'd within the Age before
This yeare, I scarce distinguished a score
From Beasts, and Fowles, & Fishes. For, Death makes
So little difference twixt the flesh he takes,
That, into dust alike he turnes it all.
And, if no vertue make distinction shall,
Those men who did of much in lifetime boast,
Shall dying, in the common heap be lost.
But, of those Captives which my fantasie
Presented to my apprehensions eye
To grace this Monarhcs Triumph; most I heeded
Those troups, which next before the Carr proceeded,
Ev'n those which in the circuit of this yeare,
The prey of Death within our Iland were:
It was an Army royall, which became
A King, and loe, King JAMES did lead the same.
The Duke of Richmond, and his onely brother
The Duke of Lenox, seconded each other.
Next them, in this attendance follow'd on
That noble Scot, the Marquis Hammilton,
Southampton, Suffolke, Oxford, Nottingham,
And Holdernesse, their Earledomes leaving, came
To wait upon this Triumph. There I saw
Some rev'rend Bishops, and some men of Law,
As Winchester, and Hubbard, and I know not
Who else; for to their memories I owe not
So much as here to name them: nor doe I
Vpon me take to mention punctually
Their order of departing, nor to sweare
That all of these fell just within the yeare.
For of the time if somewhat I doe misse,
The matter sure, not much materiall is.
Some Barons and some Viscounts, saw I too,
Zouch, Bacon, Chichester, and others moe,
Whose Titles I forget. There follow'd then
Some Officers of note; some Aldermen;
Great store of Knights, and Burgesses, with whom
A couple marcht, that had the Sheriffdome
Of London that sad yeare: the one of which
In Piety and Vertue dy'd so rich,
(If his surviving fame may be beleeved)
That for his losse the City much hath grieved.
To be an honor to him, here, therefore
I fixe the name of Crisp, which name he bore:
And I am hopefull it shall none offend,
The Muses doe this right unto their friend.
Some others also of great state and place,
To me nor knowne by office, name, nor face,
Made up the concourse. But, the common Rabble
To number or distinguish, none was able.
For, rich and poore, men, women, old and yong,
So fast and so confusedly did throng;
By strokes of Death, so markt, so gastly wounded,
So thrust together, and so much confounded
Among that glut of people, which from hence
Were sent among them, by the Pestilence,
That possible it was not, to descry
Or who or what they were who passed by.
Yet, now and then, me thought, I had the view
Of some who much resembled those I knew.
And, faine I would the favour have procured
To keepe their Names from being quite obscured
Among the multitude. But, they were gone
Before the meanes could well be thought upon.
And passe they must for aye, unknowne of me:
For, this was but a waking Dreame, I see.
These Fancies, Melancholy often bred:
Yea, many such like Pageants in my head
My working apprehension did beget,
According to those objects which I met.
Some, full of comfort, able to relieve
The heart whom dreadfull thoughts did over-grieve.
Some full of horror; such as they have had
(It I mistake not) that grow desp'rate mad.
Some, like to their illusions, who in stead
Of being humbled in this place of dread,
Are puffed up by their deliverance:
And being full of dangerous arrogance,
Abuse their soules, with vaine imaginations,
Ill-grounded hopes, suggested revelations,
And such like toyes, which in their hearts arise
From their owne Pride, and Sathans fallacies.
Some, such as these I had; and other some,
Which cannot be by words expressed from
My troubled heart. And, if I had not got
Gods hand, to help untie their Gordian knot;
His presence, my bold reas'nings to controule;
To curb my passion; to informe my soule;
My faith to strengthen; doubtings to abate;
And so to comfort, and to arbitrate,
That I might see I was of him beloved,
(Though me with many secret feares he proved)
Sure, in my selfe, some Hell I had invented,
Wher endless thoughts, & doubts, had me tormented.
But, God those depths hath show'd me, that I might
See what we cary in our selves to fright
Our selves withall And what a hell of feare
Is in our very soules, till he be there.
Ev'n when I had the brightnesse of the day,
To chase my melancholy thoughts away,
I was to musings troublesome disposed,
As well as when the darknesse me enclosed;
That, by experiments, which reall are,
Those horrors which to others oft appeare
(And are not demonstrable) might in part
Be felt in me, to mollifie my heart;
To stir up hearty thankfulnesse; and make
My soule, in him the greater pleasure take.
For frō those prospects, & those thoughts that grieve me,
I, those extractions make that much releeve me.
And when my inward combatings are past,
It giveth to my joyes the sweeter tast.
But leaving this, I will againe returne
To that for which the people soonest mourne.
I lookt along the Streets of chiefest trade;
And, there, perpetuall Holiday they made.
They that one day in sev'n could not forbeare
From trading; had not one in halfe a yeare.
And, all which some had from their childhood got,
The charges of their flight defrayed not.
To make the greedy Cormorant regard
The Sabbath more, and of ill gaines affear'd.
False wares, false oathes, false measures, and false weights,
False promises, and falsified lights,
Were punisht with false hopes, false joyes, false fears,
False servants, and false friends, to them, and theirs.
They who of late their neighbours did contemne,
Had not a neighbour left to comfort them,
When neighbourhood was needfull Such as were
Selfe-lovers, by themselves remained here;
And wanted those contentments, which arise,
From Christian Love, and mutuall Amities.
Most Trades were tradefaln, & few Merchāts thriv'd,
Save those men, who by Death and Sicknesse, liv'd.
The Sextons, Searchers, they that Corpses carie,
The Herb-wife, Druggist, and Apothecarie,
Physitians, Surgeons, Nurses, Coffin-makers,
Bold Mountebanckes, and shamelesse undertakers,
To cure the Pest in all; these, rich become:
And what we pray to be delivered from
Was their advantage. Yea, the worst of these
Grew stout, and fat, and proud by this disease.
Some, vented refuse wares, at three times more,
Than what is best, was prized at before.
Some set upon their labours such high rates,
As passed Reason: so, they whose estates
Did faile of reaching to a price so high,
Were faine to perish without remedy.
Some, wolvishly, did prey upon the quick,
Some, theevishly, purloyned from the sick.
Some robb'd the dead of sheets, some, of a grave,
That there another guest may lodging have:
Yea, Custome had so hardned most of them,
That they Gods Iudgements wholly did contemne.
They, so hard-hearted, and so stupid grew,
So dreadlesly their course they did pursue,
Yea so they flouted, and such jests did make
At that, for which each Christian heart did ake,
That greater were the Plague their mind to have,
Then of the Pestilence to lye and rave.
Now muse I not at what Thucidides
Reporteth of such wicked men as these,
When Athens was depopulated nigh
By such a Pestilence. Nor wonder I,
That when the Plague did this time sixty yeare
Oppresse the Towne of Lyons, that some there
Were said to ravish women, ev'n when death
Was drawing from them their last gaspe of breath.
And when infectious Blaines on them they saw,
Which might have kept their lustfull flesh in awe.
For man once hardned in impenitence,
Is left unto a reprobated sense.
Till God shall sanctifie it, weale, nor woe,
Can make us feare him as we ought to doe.
His love made wanton Isr'el spurne at him;
His plagues made Phar'oh, his sharpst rod contemn:
And as the Sun from dunghils, and from sinks,
Produceth nothing but ranck weeds, and stinks;
Yet makes a Garden of well-tilled ground,
With wholesome fruits, and fragrant flowres abound:
Or, as in bruising, one thing senteth well,
Another yeelds a loathsome, stifling smell;
So, Plagues and Blessings, their effects declare,
According as their sev'rall objects are.
Indeed, my young experience never saw,
So much security, and so much awe
Dwell both together in one place, as here
In this mortality, there did appeare.
I am perswaded, time and place was never
In which afflicted men did more endevor
By teares, vowes, prayers and true penitence,
To pacifie Gods wrath for their offence.
Nor ever was it seene, I think, before,
That men in wickednesse presumed more.
Here you should meet a man with bleared eyes,
Bewailing our encreasing miseries;
Another there quite reeling drunk, or spewing,
And by renewed sins, our woes renewing
There sate a peece of shamelesnesse, whose flaring
Attires and looks, did show a monstrous daring:
For, in the postures of true impudence,
She seem'd as if she woo'd the Pestilence
Yonn talkt a couple, matter worth your hearing:
Hard by, were others, telling lyes, or swearing.
Some streets had Churches full of people, weeping:
Some others, Tavernes had, rude-revell keeping:
Within some houses Psalmes and Hymnes wer sung:
With raylings, and loud scouldings, others rung.
More Charity, did never, yet, appeare:
Nor more maliciousnesse, then we had here.
True piety was eminently knowne;
Hypocrisie as evidently showne.
More avarice, more gapers for the wealth
Of such as dy'd; no former times of health
Afforded us; nor men of larger heart,
Things needfull for their brethren, to impart.
Their masters goods, some servants lewdly spent,
In nightly feastings, foolish merriment,
And lewd uncleannesse. Other some againe,
Did such an honest carefulnesse retaine,
That their endeavors had a good successe,
And, Man, and Master met with joyfulnesse.
Yea, Good and Evill, penitence and sin
Did here so drive each other out and in;
That in observing it, I saw, me thought,
In sight of Heav'n, a dreadfull Combat fought
Concerning this whole Iland, which yet lyes,
To be Gods purchase, or the Devils prise.
Vice wounded Vertue; Vertue oft compeld
The strongest Vices to forsake the field.
Distrust rais'd up a storme, to drive away
Sure-helpe, our ship, which at Hopes anchor lay;
And brought supplies with ev'ry winde and tyde,
Whereby this Land was fed and fortified.
The Fort of Faith, was plaid on by Despaire:
But then the gun-shot of continuall-Pray'r
(Well aym'd at Heav'n) Devotion so did ply,
That, he dismounts the Foes Artillery.
The Spirit and the Flesh together strive,
And, oft each other into perill drive.
Presumption, huge high Scaling ladders, reared,
And then the taking of our Fort was feared.
But awfull Reverence did him oppose,
And with Humilities deepe Trench enclose
The Platforme of that Fortresse, from whose Towres
We fight with Principalities, and Pow'rs.
Suggestion lay purdue by Contemplation,
And sought to disadvantage Meditation.
The Regiment of Prudence was assailed,
By head-strong Ignorance, who much prevailed
Where Temperance was quarter'd, there I saw
Excesse and Riot, both together draw
Their troups against her: and, I some espy'd
To yeeld, and overcome on either side.
The place that valiant Fortitude made good,
Faint-heartednesse (though out of sight he stood)
Did cowardly oppose, and courses take,
Which otherwhile his Constancy did shake.
For Carnall policy her Engineer,
Had closely suncke a Mine which had gone neere
To blow all up. But Providence divine
Did soone prevent it by a Counter-mine.
Yet Morall-Iustice (though a Court of Guard
Was plac'd, and oft releeved in her Ward)
Had much adoe to make a strong defence
Against her Foes. For, Fraud, and Uiolence,
Respect of persons, Feare, Hate, Perjury,
Faire-speaking, and corrupting Bribery,
Did wound her much; though she did often take
Avengement; and of some, examples make.
Some Vices, there, I saw themselves disguise
Like Vertues, that their Foes they might surprise;
As doe the Dunkirks, when aboord to lay
Our ships, an English flag they do display.
Pride went for Comelinesse: profuse Excesse,
For Hospitality: base Drunkennesse
Was call'd Good fellowship: blunt Rashnesse came
Attyr'd like Valour: Sloth had got the name
Of Quietnesse: accursed Avarice,
Was term'd Good husbandry. Meere Cowardice
Appear'd like prudent Warinesse, and might
Have passed for a very valiant wight.
Yea, ev'ry Vice, to gaine his purpose, had
Some maskes of vertue-like disguises made.
And, many times, such hellish plots were laid,
That divers morall Vertues were gainsaid,
Defam'd, pursu'd, and wounded by their owne;
Whose glory had not else beene overthrowne.
Fast-dealing hath beene tooke for Cruelty:
Pure-love for Lust: upright Integrity
For cunning Falshood: yea, divinest Graces
Have beene at variance brought in divers Cases,
(By wicked Stratagems) that vaine Inventions,
Might frustrate pious workes, and good intentions.
To further strife, great Quarrels broached are,
Twixt Faith and Workes. There is another jar
Begun erewhile, betwixt no worse a paire,
Then Preaching, and her blessed Sister Pray'r.
God grant they may agree; for, I ne're know
A quiet Church, but where they kept one Pew.
Faith and Repentance also are, of late,
About their Birth right fallen at debate.
But by the Church-bookes it appeares to me
Their Births and their Conceptions mention'd be
Without such nice regard to their precedings,
As some have urged in their needlesse pleadings.
And, so it pleas'd the Father, Sonne and Spirit:
Because that Law by which they shall inherit
The promist meed; doth never question move,
How soone or late, but how sincere they prove.
Moreover, in this Battell I espy'd
Some Ambodexters, fight on either side.
The Moralist, who all Religion wants;
Church-Papists; Time-observing Protestants.
All Double-dealers; Hypocrites, and such
Base Neutrals, who have scandalized much,
And much endanger'd those who doe contend
This Ile, from desolation, to defend.
Beside these former Combatants, which fought
Against or for us; I perceiv'd, me thovght,
Both good and evill Angels fighting too,
The one, to help; the other, harme to doe.
And though this battell yet appeareth not
To common view, so cruell nor so hot
As I conceive it: yet it will appeare
To all in time, with comfort, or with feare.
For, full, and ev'ry day, those enemies
Stand arm'd and watching opportunities
To seize us; and will seize us, if these times
Shall make complete the measure of our Crimes;
Or our continuing Follies drive away
Our Angell Guard, which doth our fall delay.
Oh stay them Lord! and make that side the stronger,
For whom this Land shall yet be spared longer.
And let us, my deare Countrimen, with speed,
Of that which so concerneth us, take heed.
Observe, thou famoust City of this Land,
How heavily on thee God layes his hand.
The very rumor of this Plague did make
The farthest dwellers of this Jle to shake:
And such a sent of Death they seem'd to cary,
Who in or neare about thy Climate tary,
That, from the Mount to Barwick they were hated,
Or shunn'd, as persons excommunicated.
And three weekes ayring on old Sarum plaine,
Would scarce a lodging for a brother gaine.
Yea, mark, mark London, and confesse with me,
That God hath justly thus afflicted thee,
And that in ev'ry point this Plague hath bin
According to the nature of thy sin.
In thy prosperity, such was thy pride,
That thou the Countries plainnesse didst deride.
Thy wanton Children would oft straggle out,
At honest husbandmen to jeere and flout.
Their homely garments, did offend thine eyes:
They did their rurall Dialects despise:
Their games and merriments (which for them, be
As commendable, as are thine for thee)
Thou laughedst at: their gestures, and their fashions,
Their very diet, and their habitations
Were sported at: yea, those ingratefull Things,
Did scoffe them for their hearty Welcomings;
And taught ev'n those that had been country-born
The wholesome places of their birth to scorne.
And, see, now see, those thanklesse ones are faine
To seeke their fathers thatched Roofes againe;
And, aske those good old women blessing, whom
They did not see, since they did rich become;
And never would have seene, perhaps, unlesse
This Plague had whipped their ingratefulnesse.
Yea, thine owne naturall Children have beene glad
To scrape acquaintance where no friends they had;
To praise a homely, and a smoky Shed;
A darke low Parlour, an uneasie Bed;
An ill drest diet; yea, perchance, commend
A churlish Landlord, for an honest Friend;
Yet be contented both to pray and pay,
That they may leave obtaine with him to stay.
And peradventure, some of those who plaid
The scoffers heretofore, were fully paid.
Then, Citizens were sharkt, and prey'd upon,
In recompence of wrongs before time done
To silly Countrimen; and were defeated
Of that, whereof, some Rusticks, they had cheated.
Moreover, for the Countries imitations
Of thy fantastick, vaine, and fruitlesse fashions,
(Of thy apparell, and of thy excesse
In Feasts, in Games, in Lust, in Idlenesse;
With such abominations) some of those
Who came from thee, shall doubtlesly dispose
To ev'ry Shire a Viall of that wrath,
Which thy transgression long deserved hath:
That, thou and they, who sinners were together,
May Rods be made to punish one another;
And give each other bitternesse to sup,
As you have joyntly quaft of Pleasures Cup.
As to and fro I walked, that I might
On ev'ry ruthfull Object fix my sight,
Vpon those Golgatha's I cast mine eye,
Where all the common people buried lye.
Lie buried did I say? I should have said,
Where Carkasses to bury Graves were laid.
Lord! what a sight was there? & what strong smells
Ascended from among Death's loathsome Cells?
You scarce could make a little Infants bed
In all those Plots, but you should pare a head,
An arme, a shoulder, or a leg away,
Of one or other who there buried lay.
One grave did often many scores enclose
Of men and women: and, it may be those
That could not in two Parishes agree,
Now in one little roome at quiet be.
Yonn lay a heape of skulls; another there;
Here, halfe unburied did a Corpse appeare.
Close by, you might have seene a brace of feet
That had kickt off the rotten winding-sheet.
A little further saw we othersome,
Thrust out their armes for want of elbow roome.
A locke of womans hayre; a dead mans face
Vncover'd; and a gastly sight it was.
Oh! here, here view'd I what the glories be
Of pamper'd flesh: here plainly did I see
How grim those Beauties will e're long appeare,
Which we so dote on, and so covet, here.
Here was enough to coole the hottest flame
Of lawlesse lust. Here, was enough to tame
The madst ambition. And, all they that goe
Vnbetter'd from such objects; worse doe grow.
From hence (for here was no abiding long)
Our Allies and our Lanes, I walkt among,
Where those Artificers their dwellings had,
By whom our idle Traders rich are made.
The Plague rav'd there indeed. For, who were they
Whom that Contagion fastest swept away
But those whose daily lab'ring hands did feed
Their honest Families? and greatly steed
This place by their mechanick industries?
These are the swarmes of Bees, whose painfull thighes
Bring Wax unto this Hive; and from whose bones
The Honey drops, that feedeth many Drones.
These are the Bulwarks of this senselesse Towne,
And when this Wall of Bones is overthrowne,
Our stately Dwellings, now both faire and tall,
Will quickly, of themselves, to ruine fall.
Of these, and of their housholds, daily dy'd
Twice more then did of all sorts else beside;
And hungry Poverty (without reliefes)
Did much inrage and multipliply their griefes.
The Rich could flye; or, if they staid, they had
Such meanes that their disease the lesse was made.
Yea, those poore aged folkes that make a show
Of greatest need, did boldly come and goe,
To aske mens Almes, or what their Parish granted;
And nothing at this time those people wanted,
But thankfulnesse; lesse malice to each other;
And grace to live more quietly together.
Their bodies, dry'd with age, were seldome struck
By this Disease. Their neighbours notice took
Of all their wants. Among them, were not many
That had full families. Or if that any
Of these had children sick; some good supplies
Were sent them from the generall Charities.
Moreover, common Beggers are a nation
Not alwayes keeping in one habitation.
They can remove as time occasion brings:
They have their progresses as well as King;
And most of these, when hence the rich did goe,
Remov'd themselves into the Country too.
The rest about our streets did ask their bread,
And never in their lives, were fuller fed.
But, those good people mentioned before,
Who, till their worke did faile them, fed the poore
As well as others; and maintained had
Great families, by some laborious trade:
Ev'n those did suffer most. For, neither having
Provision left them, nor the face of craving;
Nor meanes of labour: First, to pawne they sent
Their brasse and pewter: then, their bedding went.
Their garments next, or stuffe of best esteeme:
At length, ev'n that which should the rest redeeme,
Their working Instruments. When that was gone,
Their Lease was pawned, if it might be done.
And peradventure, at the last of all,
These things were sold outright for sums but small;
Or else quite forfeited. For, here were they
Who made of these poore soules, a gainfull prey.
And as one Plague had on the life a pow'r,
So did these other Plagues, their goods devoure.
When all was gone, afflicted they became
With secret griefes, with poverty, and shame.
And, wanting cheerfull minds, and due refection,
Were seized on, the sooner, by Infection:
For, hearts halfe broke, and housholds famisht neare,
Are quickly spent, when visited they are.
The carefull Master, though it would have saved
A servants life, to get him what he craved,
No kinde of Med'cine able was to give him;
Nay scarce with bread and water to relieve him.
The tender hearted Mother, hath for meat
Oft heard her dearest child, in vaine, intreat;
And had or foure or five on point of dying
At once, for drink to ease their torment, crying.
The loving husband sitting by her side,
To save whose life he gladly would have dy'd,
Vnable was out of his whole estate,
To purchase her a dram of Mithridate;
One messe of Cordiall broth, or such like thing,
Although it might prevent her perishing.
Sometime, at such a need, abroad they came,
To aske for helpe; but, then, the feare of shame,
Of scorne, or of deniall, them with-held
To put in practice, what their want compell'd.
Vpon an Evening (when the waining light
Was that which could be call'd nor day nor night)
I met with one of these, who on me cast
A ruthfull eye: and as he by me past,
Me thought, I heard him, softly, somewhat say,
As if that he for some reliefe did pray:
Whereat (he seeming in good clothes to be)
I staid, and askt him, if he spake to me.
He bashfully replyed; that, indeed
He was asham'd to speake aloud, what Need
Did make him softly mutter Somewhat more
He would have spoken, but his tongue forbore
To tell the rest; because his eyes did see
Their teares had (almost) drawne forth tears frō me,
And that my hand was ready to bestow
That helpe which my poore fortunes could allow:
Nor his, nor all mens tongues, could more relate,
Then I my selfe conceiv'd of his estate.
Me thought, I saw, as if I had beene there,
What wants in his, and such mens houses were;
How empty, and how naked it became;
How nasty, Poverty had made the same.
Me thought I saw, how sicke his wife might lye;
Me thought I heard his halfe starv'd children cry;
Me thought I felt, with what a broken heart
He lookt upon them, e're he could depart
To try, if (by Gods favour) he could meet
With any meanes of comfort in the street.
And, Lord my God, thou know'st, that, when alone
The griefes of such as these, I mused on;
My pitie I with watry eyes have showne,
And more bewail'd their sorrowes, then my owne.
But, since those Dewes are vaine that fruitlesse be;
And since the share that is allotted me,
Of this worlds heritage, will not suffice
To bring reliefe to these mens miseries;
Oh! let my teares (ye rich men) make your ground
With fruits of Charity the more abound.
Let me intreat you, that, when God shall bring
Vpon this place, another Visiting,
You would remember, some reliefe to send
To those, who on their labours doe depend,
And have not got their impudence of face,
Who idlely beg their bread from place to place.
God, you the Stewards of his goods doth make,
And how you use them, he account will take.
It will not be enough, that you have paid
The publique taxes on your houses laid;
Or that, you, now and then, doe send a summe
To be disposed, to you know not whom:
But, you your selves, must, by your selves alone,
Those neighbours, or acquaintance think upon,
Who likeliest are in such a time of need,
To want of that, wherein you do exceed:
And, if you know of none, enquire them out;
Or leave some honest neighbour thereabout,
To be your Alm'ner (when the Towne you leave)
That, you, and they, a Blessing may receive.
For, if that ev'ry wealthy man would find
But one, or two, to cherish in this kind:
Gods wrath would much the better be appeased,
And we should of our plagues be sooner eased
As I request the Richer men to take
This pious course; A suit, I likewise make
That our inferiour Tradesmen, would not so
Abuse their times of profit, as they doe.
For, most of those doe live at rates as high,
As all their gaines (at utmost) will supply.
Yea, many times they mount above the tops
Of present fortunes, and ensuing hopes:
That, if a sicknesse, or unlook'd-for Crosse,
Or want of trade, or any slender losse,
But for a Yeare, a Quarter, or a Terme,
Befalls them: it soone maketh so infirme
Their over-strain'd Estates; that Almes are needed,
Ere any failings are by others heeded.
Of these, and other things I notions gained,
Whilst in our sickly Citie I remained;
And much I contemplated what I saw,
Some profitable uses thence to draw.
But, feeling that my thoughts nigh tyr'd were,
With over-musing on those objects there:
I thought to walke abroad into the field,
To take those comforts, which fresh ayre doth yeeld;
And, to revive my heart, which heavy grew,
With what the streets did offer to my view;
But little ease I found; for, there mine eyes
Discover'd Sorrow in a new disguise:
And in so many shapes himselfe he shewed,
That, still my passion was afresh renewed.
Here, dead upon the Roade, a man did lye,
That was (an houre before) as well, as I,
There, sate another, who did thither come
In health, but had not strength to beare him home.
Yonn, spraul'd a third, so sicke, he did not know
From whence he came, nor whither he should goe.
A little further off, a fourth did creepe
Into a ditch, and there his Obit keepe.
About the Fields ran one, who being fled
(In spite of his attendance) from his bed,
Lookt like a Lunatique from Bedlem broken;
And, though of health he had no hopefull token;
Yet, that he ailed ought, he would not yeeld,
Till Death had struck him dead upon the field.
This way, a Stranger by his Host expelled,
That way, a Servant (shut from where he dwelled)
Came weakly stagg'ring forth, and (crush'd beneath
Diseases, and unkindnesse) sought for Death;
Which soone was found and glad was he, they say,
Who for his Death-bed gain'd a Cock of Hay
At this crosse path, were Bearers fetching home
A Neighbour, who in health did thither come:
Close by, were others digging up the ground,
To hide a stranger whom they dead had found.
Before me, went with Corpses, many a one;
Behinde, as many mo did follow on,
VVith running sores, one begg'd at yonder gate:
At next Lanes end, another Lazar sate.
Some halted, as if wounded in the wars;
Some held their necks awry, some shew'd their scars;
Some, met I weeping, for the losse of friends;
Some others, for their swift approching ends;
And ev'ry thing with sorrow was affected,
On whatsoe're it was mine eye reflected.
The Prospect, which was wont to greet mine eye
With showes of pleasure in variety,
(And lookt, as if it cheerfully did smile,
Vpon the bordring Villages, erewhile.)
Had no such pleasingnesse as heretofore,
For ev'ry place, a mask of sorrow wore.
The walks are unfrequented, and the path
Late trodden bare, a grassie Carpet hath.
I could not see (of all those Gallants) one
That visited Hide-parke, and Mary-borne.
None wandred through the pastures, up and downe,
But, as about some petty Country towne:
Nor could I view in many Summers dayes,
One man of note to ride upon our wayes.
Lord, what a diff'rence didst thou put betweene
That Summer, and the rest that I have seene!
How didst thou change our Fields! and what a face
Of Sadnesse, didst thou set upon each place!
Yet oh! how few remember it, or feele
The touches of it, on their hearts of steele!
And when our banisht mirth thou didst renew,
Who did returne to thee the praises due?
What others apprehended, they know best;
But if it could be fully here exprest
What of that alteration I conceiv'd,
When of their pleasures, God our fields bereav'd;
It would much more be minded: For they had
Nought in them, but what moved to be sad.
Not many weekes, before, it was not so.
But, Pleasures, had their passage to and fro.
Which way soever from our Gates I went,
I lately did behold with much content,
The fields bestrow'd with people all about:
Some paceing homeward, and some passing out.
Some, by the bancks of Thame their pleasure taking;
Some, Sulli-bibs among the Milk-maids, making;
With musique, some upon the waters, rowing;
Some, to the next adjoyning Hamlets going;
And Hogsdone, Islington, and Tethnam-Court,
For Cakes and Creame, had then no small resort.
Some, sate and woo'd their Lovers in the shadowes;
Some, straggled to and fro athwart the meadowes;
Some, in discourse, their houres, away did passe;
Some, playd the toyish wantons on the grasse;
Some, of Religion; some of bus'nesse talked;
Some coached were; some horsed; and some walked.
Here Citizens; there Students, many a one;
Here two together; and, yonn one alone.
Of Nymphs and Ladies. I have often ey'd
A thousand walking at one Evening tide;
As many Gentleman: and yong and old
Of meaner sort, as many, ten times told.
And, when I did from some high Towre survey
The Rodes, and Paths, which round below me lay,
Observing how each passage thronged was
With men and Cattell, which both wayes did passe;
How many petty paths, both far and neare,
With rowes of people still supplied were;
What infinite provision still came in,
And what abundance hath exported bin;
Me thought this populous City and the trade
Which we from ev'ry Coast about her had,
Was well resembled by an Ant-hill, which
(In some old Forrell) is made large, and rich
By those laborious creatures, who have thither
Brought all their wealth, and Colonies together.
For, as their peopled Borrough hath resort
From ev'ry quarter, by a severall Port,
And from each Gate thereof a great Rode hath
That branches into many a little Path;
And, as those Negroes doe not onely fill
Each great and lesser tract unto their hill,
But, also, spread themselves out of those wayes,
Among the grasse, the leaves, and bushy sprayes:
Ev'n so, the people here, did come and goe
Through our large Rodes; disperse themselves into
A thousand passages; and, often stray
O're neighbouring Pastures, in a pathlesse way.
This, formerly I saw; and, on that Station,
Where this I markt; I had this Contemplation.
How happy were this People, did they know
What rest, our God upon them did bestow!
On us, what showres of blessings hath he rained,
Which he from other Cities hath restrained?
And, from how many mischiefes hath be freed us,
Which fall on those that in good workes exceed us?
Here lurke no ravenous Beasts to make a prey
On those fat Cattell which these Fields o're-lay.
Within our Groves no cruell Out-lawes hide,
That in the blood of passengers are dy'd.
Our Lambs, unworry'd, lye abroad, benighted;
By day, our Virgins walke the Fields unfrighted.
No neighbouring Country doth our food forestall;
No Convoyes need to come and goe withall;
No forraine Prince can suddenly appall us,
For Seas doe mote us, and huge Rocks doe wall us.
No rotten Fennes doe make our ayre unsound;
No Foe, doth with a trench enclose us round.
We neither tumults have by night or day,
Nor rude unruly Garisons in pay.
No Taxes, yet, our Land doth over-load:
Our Children are not prest for warres abroad.
From Spanish Inquisitions we are free;
(God grant that we, for ever, so may be)
We are compeld to no Idolatries;
Our people doe not in rebellions rise:
No factious spirits much disturbe the State;
No Plagues, our dwellings, yet, depopulate.
No Rots or Murraines have our Cattell kild:
Our Barnes and Store-houses, with fruits are fild:
On ev'ry threshold, store of children play;
Our breeding Cattell fill both street and way.
And, were we thankefull unto him that gave them,
There are no blessings, but we here might have them.
See, how like Bees upon a Summer-Eve,
(When their young Nymphes have over-fill'd the hive)
They swarme about the City, sporting so,
As if a winter gale would never blow.
How little doe they dreame, how many times,
While they deserved ruine for their Crimes,
God, naithelesse, hath shewed mercies on them,
And stopt those Plagues that comming were upon them!
How seldome is it thought, the pow'r of him,
Whose love they much forget (if not contemne)
Might heape upon them all those fearfull things,
Which he upon our neighbouring Nations brings.
For, in a moment, he could summon hither
His Iudgements, and inflict them, all together.
Ev'n all. But, one of these which he hath brought
On other Cities, would enough be thought.
If in displeasure he should call from thence
Where now it raves, the slaughtring Pestilence,
Or else the Famine; what a change were that,
To them that are so healthy, and so fat?
How desolate, in lesse then halfe a yeare,
Might all our lodgings and our streets appeare?
How unfrequented would that randevow
Be made, in which, we throng, and justle now?
How lonely would these walkes and fields be found,
Wherein I see the people so abound?
Or, should he whistle for his armed Bands,
(Which now are wasting other Christian Lands)
To put in action on our Commick Stage
The Tragedies of VVar, and brutish rage:
What lamentations then here would be made,
And calling unto minde, what peace we had?
Should we in ev'ry house, at boord and bed
Have Souldiers and rude Captaines billeved,
That would command, and swagger as if they
Had all the Towneship (where they lodge) in pay,
To wait upon their pleasures; and should see
Our owne defenders, our devourers be.
Should we behold these Fields (now full of sport)
Cut out with Trenches; there, a warlike Fort;
Another here; A Sconce not farre from that;
A new rais'd Mount, or some fire-spitting Cat,
From which the Foes our actions might survey,
And make their Billets on our houses play.
Should we behold our Dwellings beaten downe;
Our Temples batter'd; Turrets over throwne;
Our seats of pleasure burning from afarre;
Heare, from without, the thundring voice of War;
Within, the shriekes of children, or the cry
Of women, strucke with feares, or famisht nigh.
Should we behold, what painfully we got,
Possest by those that seeke to cut our threat;
Our children slaine before us, on the ground;
Our selves pierc't through with some deep mortall wound;
And see (ev'n there) where we have wantonniz'd,
Our beauteous wives, by some sterne Troup surpriz'd,
And ravisht in our view. Or (which is worse)
When we have seene all this, before't perforce
To live; and live their slaves that shall possesse
Our wives, and all our outward happinesse;
And, then, want also, that pure Word of Grace
To comfort us, which yet adornes this place.
Should such a Destiny (as God defend)
This people, and this place, thought I, attend.
(For, this may be; and ev'ry day we heare
That other Nations doe this burthen beare)
Should we who now for pleasure walke the field,
Be faine to search what weeds the pastures yeeld
To feed us; and peake hungerly about,
Some Roots, or Hawes, or Berries to finde out,
To keepe from starving; and not gaine a food
So meane, without the hazard of our blood:
Should some contagious sicknesse, noisome make
This place, wherein, such pleasure now we take:
Should in these places, whither we repaire
Our bodies to refresh with wholesome ayre,
Those blastings or Serenes upon us fall,
Which other places are anoy'd withall.
Should from the wife the husband be divorc'd,
Or from the parent should the child be forc'd,
While here they walkt, and perish by the sword:
Or, should here be a famine of the Word,
On which would follow, to our griefe and shame,
A thousand other Plagues which I could name.
Should these things be; then what our blessings are
Jt would by such a curse too soone appeare.
Then, feele we should, what comforts might arise
From those great mercies, which we now despise,
Or think not on. Yea, so we might enjoy
But part of that which now we mis-employ,
We thinke it would, a greater happinesse,
Then, yet we finde in all we now possesse.
We then should know how much we have beene blest
In our long time of plenty health and rest:
How sweet it is that we may to and fro
Without restraint, or feare, or danger goe;
How much we owe to him that hath so long
Our Granards filled, and our Gates made strong;
Permitting us to walke for our delight
About our fields, whilst others march to fight;
And saffring us to feast, whilst others fast,
Or, of the bread of sowre Affliction tast.
As heretofore the peopled Fields I walked,
To this effect, my thoughts within me talked;
And though all present Objects gave content,
My heart did such Ideaes represent
Of Judgements likely to be cast upon
So great a City, and a sinfull one;
That much I feared, I should live to see,
Some such afflictions, as here mention'd be.
And loe, (though yet, I hope, not in his wrath)
God, part of that I fear'd, inflicted hath:
A warning War he hath begun to wage
Against the crying sinnes of this our age,
And of this place: And in a gentle wise
Pour'd out a taste of those Calamities
Which other feele at large: that, we should mourne
For our transgressions, and to him returne.
Vouchsafe, oh! God, that soone returne we may,
Left thou, in anger, sweepe us all away.
If we observed, well, what God hath done,
And in what manner, he with us begun;
How he forewarn'd us of those Plagues, which he
Vouchsafed David should a chuser be:
(And how, ev'n he himselfe, in mercy chused,
To keepe us from what David had refused)
We should perceive, that our most loving God
At fist did threaten, with a Fathers rod.
A little while before this Pestilence,
Of this just wrath we had intelligence
By divers tokens, which we did contemne,
Or, at the best, but little heeded them.
The Spring before this Plague, one jerke we had
By WAR, which made no little number sad,
By calling many from their ease; by taking
Some husbands from their wives, & childless making
Some Parents: which permitted was to show us
In part, what sharpe corrections God did owe us.
And make us minde, that this unhallow'd place
Is thus long spared meerly of this grace.
Else, to awake us with some touch of that
Which he hath brought on many a forraine State.
For, that he might but touch us, he did call
No Armies hither, to afflict us all,
But, as a Generall in time of war,
When all his Troupes of somewhat guilty are;
On them the fortune of the lot doth try,
That some as warnings to the rest may dye:
Ev'n so, the God of Armies, in like case,
Pickt, here and there a man, from ev'ry place,
To meet the sword: that, ev'ry place might learne,
His Mercies, and his Iustice to discerne,
And, leave off sinne; which, if we breake not from,
His Plagues, and terrors all, will shortly come.
If any shall object, we lost in these
But some corrupted blood, which did disease
The common Body: Let them understand,
That it portends hot Fevers in the Land,
When such Phlebotomy is needfull thought:
And, that, good blood, as well as what is nought,
Is lost at ev'ry op'ning of a veine.
The foot was prickt, and we did feele no paine;
The next blood letting may be in the Arme,
Where lyes our strength God shend us frō the harm
Of such like Surgery; unlesse we see
The Signe be better then it seemes to be.
God scar'd us, lately, also, by a Dearth,
And for the peoples faults did curse the Earth,
The Winter last before the Pest began,
Throughout some Northerne Shires a Famine ranne,
That starved some; and other some were faine,
Their hungry appetites to entertaine
With swine, and theep, and horses, which have dy'd
By chance: For, better could they not provide.
Some others on boild nettles gladly fed,
Or else had oft gone supperlesse to bed.
And this was much, considering the soile
And ordinary plenties of this Ile.
Nay, since the Sicknesse, we small hopes possessed,
Of that, wherewith, this Kingdom, God hath blessed.
For, when Earths wombe did big with plenty grow,
When her large bosome, and full brests, did show
Such signes of faire encrease, that hope of more
Was never in our life-times, heretofore:
A later frost, our early blossomes cropt;
The heav'ns, upon our labours, leannesse dropt;
And such perpetuall showres, and flouds we had,
That of a Famine, we were fearfull made,
And fearce had any hope (in common reason)
Of harvest either in, or out of season.
Yet, he with held that Plague. The Sky grew cleare;
A kindly weather drove away our feare;
The Floods did sinck; the Mildewes were expell'd;
The bending eares of corne, their heads up held;
And Harvest came, which fild our Granards more,
Then in the fruitfull'st, of sev'n yeares before.
And, doubtlesse, had we gone to meet our God,
With true repentance, when this fearfull Rod
Was raised first; it had away beene flung,
And not continued in this Realme so long.
For, as a Father, when his dearest child
Growes disobedient, rude, and over-wilde,
First warnes; then threatens; then, the rod doth show;
Then frownes; and then doth feare him with a blow.
Then doubles, and redoubles it, untill
He makes him grow more plyant to his will,
And leave those wanton tricks, which in conclusion
May prove the parents griefe, and childes confusion.
Ev'n as this Father; so, our God hath wrought.
Vs, by his Word of Grace, he first besought:
Then, of his Wrath, and Iustice spake unto us:
Next, hanging over us, he plagues did show us.
Yea, divers months before this Vengeance came,
The spotted Fever did forewarne the same.
Was made her Harbenger; and in one week
Sent hundreds, in the Grave, their bed to seek,
Which nought prevailing, he did thereupon
(As being loath to strike) first strike but one.
Then, two or three: then staid a while; and than
To smite another number he began,
And then a greater. Neither did God show
This mercy, onely, in the publike blow;
But daign'd it, also, in that chastisement,
Which he to ev'ry man in private sent.
To hasten his repentance; first, he smote
Some one of those he knew, in place remote;
Within a weeke, another better knowne;
Next week a friend; the next a dearer-one;
A little after that, perhaps, another;
And then a kinsman, or an onely brother.
Which no amendment working, God did come
(To make him heedfull) somewhat nearer home:
Knockt at his neighbours house, and took out all
Or most, who lodg'd on tother side the wall:
Then called at his doore, and seized on
A servant first; soone afterward, a son;
Next night was hazarded a daughters life;
And e're that morning came, he lost his wife:
At last fell sick himselfe, and then repented,
Or dy'd, or liveth to be worse tormented.
Thus, as it were by steps, God came upon us,
That either Love or Terror might have won us,
To seeke our peace. But, yet, so few were warned,
(And this long-suffring, so few soules discerned)
That some the nature of this Plague beli'd;
The number of the dead, some strove to hide.
On groundles hopes, Gods Iudgmēts, some deferred.
Some scoffed others, when they were deterred.
Some rais'd a profit from it. Yea, so few
Conceived what was likely to ensue;
That, when we should like Niniveh have fared,
For sports, and causelesse Triumphs we prepared.
Of pleasure, in excessive wise, we tasted.
We feasted, when we rather should have fasted.
And when in sack-cloth we should loud have cry'd,
Ev'n then, we ruffled in our greatest pride.
Which God perceiving, and that we were growne
Regardlesse of his smiles, and of his frowne;
He did command his Mercy, to let goe
That hand, which did restraine his Iustice so.
Then, catching up a Viall of his wrath,
(Which he in store for such offenders hath)
He did on this our Citie, poure it downe.
And, as strong poison shed upon the crowne,
Descendeth to the members, from the head;
And, soone, doth over all the body spread:
Ev'n so, this noysome plague of Pestilence,
On our head City falling, did from thence,
Disperse, and soake throughout this Empery,
In spight of all our carnall policie.
Our want of penitency, to allay
Gods wrath, and stop his anger in the way,
Enflamed and exasperated so
This Fiend, that he did thousands over-throw
In some few minuts: and, the greedy Grave
Devou'd, as if it none alive would save.
Death lurkt at ev'ry angle of the street,
And did arrest whom ever he did meet.
There scarcely was that house or lodging found,
In which he did not either slay or wound.
In ev'ry roome his murthers acted he,
Our Closets nay our Temples were not free
From his attemptings; no not while men pray'd,
Could his unbridled fury be delay'd.
In sundry Families there was not one
Whom his rude hand did take compassion on:
Nay many times he did not spare the last,
Vntill the buriall of the first was past.
For, e're the Bearers back againe could come,
The rest were ready for their graves at home.
Nor bad nor good, nor rich nor poore did scape him,
Nor foole nor wiseman, an excuse could shape him:
He shunned not the yong man in the sadle,
Nor him that lay and cryed in the cradle.
So dreadfull was his looke, so sterne and grim,
That many dy'd through very feare of him.
For, to mens fancies he did oft appeare
In shapes which so exceedind gastly were,
That flesh and blood, unable was, to brooke,
The horror of his all affrighting look.
Ev'n in that house, whose roofe did cover me,
Of this, a sad experiment had we:
For, there, a plague-sicke man (at least conceiued
That Death a shape assuming, he perceiued
Deform'd and vgly; whereat loud he cryes,
Oh! hide me, hide me, from his dreadfull eyes.
Looke, oh! looke there he comes: now by the bed
He stands; now at the feet; now at the head.
Oh! draw, draw, draw the Curtaine, Sits I pray,
That his grim looke no more behold I may.
To this effect, and such like words he spake,
But that their hearers hearts they more did shake.
Then, rested he a while, and by and by
Vp starting, with a lamentable cry,
Ran to a Couch, whereon his wife (who waking
Two nights before had beene) some rest was raking;
There, kneeling downe, & both his hands up rearing,
As if his eye had seene pale Death appearing
To strike his wife; Good Sir, said he, forbeare
To kill or harme that poore yong woman there:
For God's sake doe not strike her; for you see
She's great with child. Lo, you have wounded me
Jn twenty places; and I doe not care.
How me you mischiefe, so that her you spare.
Ev'n this, and more then I to minde can call,
He acted with a looke so tragicall,
That, all by standers, might have thought, his eyes
Saw reall objects, and no fantasies.
To others, Death, no doubt, himselfe convaid
In other formes; and other Pageants plaid.
Whilst in her armes the mother thought she kept
Her Infant safe; Death stole him when she slept.
Sometime he took the mothers life away,
And left the little babe, to lye and play
With her cold paps, and childish game to make
About those eyes, that never more shall wake.
Sometimes whē friends were talking, he did force
The one to leave unfinisht his discourse.
Sometimes, their morning meetings he hath thwarted,
Who thought not they for ever had beene parted,
The night before. And, many a lovely Bride,
He hath defloured by the Bridegroomes side.
At ev'ry hand, lay one or other dying;
On ev'ry part, were men and women crying,
One for a husband; for a friend another;
One for a sister, wife, or onely brother:
Some children for their parents mone were making
Some, for the losse of servants care were taking;
Some parents for a childe; and some againe
For losse of all their children did complaine.
The mother dared not to close her eyes,
Through feare that while she sleepes, her baby dyes.
Wives trusted not their husbands out of doore,
Lest they might back againe returne no more.
And in their absence if they did but heare
One knock or call in hast, they quak'd through feare,
That some unluckly messenger had brought
The newes of those mischances they forethought.
And if (with care and griefe o're-tyr'd) they slept,
They dream'd of Ghosts, & Graves, & shriekt, & wept.
He that o're night went healthy to his bed,
Lookt, e're the morning, to be sicke, or dead.
He that rose lusty, at the rising Sunne,
Grew faint, and breathlesse, e're the day was done.
And, he that for his friend, this day did sorrow,
Lay close beside him in a grave the morrow.
Some men amidst their pleasures were diseased.
Some, in the very act of sin were seized:
Some, hence were taken laughing, and some singing:
Some, as they others to their graves were bringing,
Yea, so impartiall was this kind of Death,
And so extreamly venemous his breath,
That they who did not in this place expire,
Where saved, like the Children in the fire.
It may be that to some it will appeare,
My Muse hath onely poetized here;
And that I fain'd expressions doe rehearse,
As most of those that use to write in verse:
But, in this Poeme I pursue the story
Of reall Truth, without an Allegory:
And many yet surviving witnesse may,
That I come short of what I more might say.
But, what I can I utter; and I touch
This mournfull string, so often, and so much,
As in this Book I doe; that I might show
To them that of these griefes forgetfull grow,
What sorrowes and what dangers they have had;
That all of us more thankefull may be made:
And if to any these things doe appeare
Or tedious, or impertinent; J feare
That most of them are they, who take no pleasure,
For good and usefull things to be at leisure.
And more delight in Poems worded out,
Then those that are Gods works employ'd about.
Me thinkes, I cannot speake enough of that
Which I have seene; nor full enough relate
What I declare; but still it seemes to me
I leave out somewhat that should utt'red be.
For, though in most, the sense thereof be gone,
It was God's Iudgement, and a fearfull one.
And, LONDON, what availed then thy pride,
Thy pleasures, and thy wealth so multiply'd?
Or, then, oh! what advantage didst thou get
By those vaine things, whereon thy heart is set?
How many sev'rall Plagues did God prevent,
Before this Iudgement was upon thee sent?
How many loving savours had he done thee,
Before so roughly he did seize upon thee?
And, that thou mightst his purposes discover,
How long together, did he send thee over
The weekly newes, of those great Desolations,
Which he inflicts on many other Nations?
How often did he send, e're this befell,
His Prophets, of his Iudgements to foretell?
How many thousand Preachers hath he sent,
With teares, to pray, and woo thee to repent?
To tell thee, that thy pride, and thy excesse,
Thy lusts, thy surfets, and thy drunkennesse,
Thine idlenesse, thy great impieties,
Thy much prophanenesse, thy hypocrisies,
And other vanities, would bring at last
Those plagues where of thou now some feeling hast?
How did thy Pastors to repent conjure thee?
How strongly did Gods Ministers assure thee
That all thy love, thy labour, and thy cost
Bestow'd on carnall pleasures, would be lost?
That, thou hereafter shouldst become ashamed
Of that whereof thy comforts thou hadst framed;
And that those evills would at length befall
From which no mortall hand reprieve thee shall.
Thou canst not but acknowledge these things were
Ev'n ev'ry moment, rounded in thine care;
And that thy Sonnes of Thunder did presage
What, for thy sinnes, should be thine heritage.
Yet, thou to heare their message didst refuse.
And, as the stubborne unbeleeving Iewes,
Despised all those Prophets, who foreshew'd
The times of their approaching servitude,
Yea, punisht them, as troublers of the Land,
And such as weakned much the peoples hand:
So, thou accountedst of thy Teachers, then,
But as a crew of busie-headed men,
Who causlesly, thy quietnesse disturbing,
Had for their saucinesse, deserved curbing.
But with amazement, now thou dost behold,
That they have no uncertainties foretold.
For, God in this one single Plague, comprised
Those other Iudgements, all, epitomized;
Which for thy ruine he at large will send,
If this be not enough to work his end.
Observe this Pestilence, and thou shalt see,
That as there may be some one sin in thee
With other great Transgressions interlaced,
So, divers Plagues in this great Plague were placed.
It shew'd thee (in some fashion) their distresses,
Whom WAR, in a besieged Fort oppresses:
For, lo, thou wert deprived of all Trade,
As if thy Foes blockt up thy River had.
And, though no armed Host thy wall surrounded,
Yet (which was worse) thou by thy friends wert bounded;
For, whatsoever person passed from
Thy Ports, upon an enemy did come.
And none more cruell to thy children proved,
Then some of thine, who from thy Plagues removed.
Confusion, and Disorder, threatned thee,
(On which attendeth all the Plagues that be)
For, most of thy grave Senate, who did beare
Thy names of office, far departed were,
To other places; leaving thee, nigh spent
And languishing for want of Government.
Yea, they that were thy Trust, and thy Delight,
In times of health, did then forsake thee quite;
To teach us, that those men, and vanities,
Which have our hearts, in our prosperities,
Will in affliction be the first who leave us;
And, when we most expect, then most deceive us.
Oh! whither then; oh! whither were they gone,
Who, thy admired Beauty doted on?
Where did thy Lovers in those dayes appeare,
Who did so court thee, and so often sweare
Affection to thee? whither were they fled,
Whom thou hast oft with sweetest junkets fed?
And they, whom thou so many yeares, at ease,
Didst lodge within thy fairest Palaces?
Where London, were thy skarlet Fathers hous'd,
Who in thy glory, were to thee espous'd?
What were become of all thy children, which
Were nursed at thy brest, made great, and rich
By thy good-huswifry? and whom we see
In thy prosperity so hugg'd of thee?
Where were thy rev'rend Pastors, who had pay
To feed thy Flocks, and for thy sinne to pray?
(I must confesse) the meanest, and some few
Of better sort, were in affection true,
And gave thee comfort. But, oh! where were those,
Those greater ones, on whom thy hand bestowes
The largest portions? Those, who have profest
A zealous care of thee, above the rest?
Those, who (as I conceive) had undertaken
A charge that should not then have beene forsaken?
Those many silken-Doctors, who did here
In shining satten Cassocks late appeare?
They who (till now, a thing scarce heard of ever)
Do flaunt it in their Velvet, Plush, and Beaver.
And they, whom thou didst honor far above
Those meane ones, who, then, shewed thee most love?
Where were they? &, where were thy Lawyers too
That heretofore, did make so much adoe
Within thy Courts of Iustice? Prethee, where
Were those Physitians, who so forward were
To give thee physick, when thou neededst lesse,
And wert but sicke, of ease, and wantonnesse?
Where did their foot-cloths wait? where couldst thou call
For their assistance? what became of all
Their Diets, and Receipts? and why did they
In that necessity depart away?
Where lurckt those Poetasters, who were wont
To pen thy Mummeries, and vainly hunt
For base reward, by soothing up the Crimes
Of our Grand Epicures, in lofty Rimes;
And doe before each others Poems raise
The huitlesse Trophees of a truthlesse praise?
Dar'd none of all those matchlesse wits to tary
This brunt? That his experienc'd Muse might cary
This Newes to after times; and move compassion,
By his all moving straines of Lamentation?
What, none but me? me onely leave they to it,
To whom they shame to yeeld the Name of Poet?
Well; if they ever had a minde to weare
The Lawreat Wreath, they might have got it here:
For though that my performance may be bad,
A braver Subject, Muses never had.
Where were thy troups of Rovers? where were they
Who in thy Chambers did the wantons play?
Provoking God Almighty, downe to cast
Those plagues from which they fled away so fast?
Yea, whither were those Nothings, all retir'd,
Of whom thou wert, of late, so much desir'd?
Alas! was there not any of all these
Who staid to comfort thee, in this Disease?
Did all depart away? And, being gone,
Leave thee to beare thy sorrowes all alone?
Left they upon thy Tally all that sin,
Which had by them and thee, committed bin?
Yes, yes, they left thee: ev'n all these: and they
So left thee, London, when they went away,
That thy afflictions they did aggravate,
And make more bitter thy deplored Fate.
A Dearth mixt also in this Pest was found,
For they who did in riches most abound,
(And should have holpen to relieue the poore)
Departing hence, diminished thy store.
To other Borroughes they themselves betooke:
Their sick distressed brethren, they forsooke,
And, left on those that would be hospitable,
A burthen which to beare they were unable.
Those few, of worth, who did in thee remaine,
Had multitudes of beggers to sustaine;
And, from the Country (as before I said)
The sending of supply was long delaid.
There was a Famine also, which exceeded
This other; though the same by few was heeded.
We had not so much scarcity of bread,
As of that food wherewith our soules are fed.
For, of our Pastors (in the greatest dangers)
Some left us to the charity of Strangers.
And, many soules, whom they were bound to cherish
Depriv'd of timely sustenance, did perish.
Who could have thought, this Vineyard, heretofore
So fruitfull; and wherein the salvage Bore
Of Turky rooted not: and whose thick fence
Hath long time kept, the Bulls of Bashan thence;
Should then (ev'n in the Vintage time) be found
So bare of what, so lately did abound?
And, then (a thing worth note) when ev'ry Field
And meanest Villages did plenties yeeld?
Indeed, not long before, we surfeted,
And plaid the wantons with our heav'nly bread.
Our appetite was cloy'd; and we grew dainty,
And either loath'd, or murmur'd at our plenty.
Yea, many of us, when at will we had it,
By private Cookeries, unwholsome made it.
For which, and for our base unthankfulnesse,
Our portion and allowance waxed lesse:
And, we who (like fond children) would not eat,
Vnlesse, this man, or that man carv'd our meat,
Then (like poore folks, that of meere almes do live)
Were glad to take of any that would give,
The Laborers were few; the Harvest large:
And of the best of those that had the charge
To spread Gods Table; some grew faint and tired
By their perpetuall travaile: some expired
Their painfull soules, and freely sacrifiz'd
Themselves for us, that we might be suffiz'd.
Among which happy number I doe blesse
The memory of learned Makernesse,
And zealous Eton, whose large congregations,
Bemoan'd their losse with hearty lamentations.
And worthily: for, they did labour here
With cheerfulnesse and in their Collings were
So truly diligent whilst vigour lasted,
That they then life blood, yea their spirits wasted;
And ev'n unslackt the very nerves and powres
Of their owne soules, to helpe enable ours.
To bury, nigh a hundred in a day,
To church, to marry, study, preach and pray;
To make betimes; at night late watch to keepe;
To be disturb'd at midnight from their sleepe;
To visit him that on his death-bed lyes;
Oft to communicate; more oft baptize;
And daily (and all day) to be in action,
As were those two, to give due satisfaction
To their great Flocks; more Laborers there needed;
And their consumed strengths, it much exceeded.
But they are now at rest: their worke is done,
Their Fight is finished: their Goale is won:
And, though no Trophee I to them can raise,
Save, this poore wither'd Wreath of mortall praise;
Their Master (to reward their faithfulnesse)
For them reserved Crownes of Happinesse;
Because, unto his houshold, they the Bread
Of Life, in season, have distributed.
Nor was the Food of life diminisht more
By such mens want alone, then heretofore,
But, to our discontent, we also had
Our due allowances the shorter made
Ev'n by command. For, some (I know not why)
Had falsely mis inform'd Authority,
That our promiscuous meetings, at the Fast,
Increast the Plague: which was beleev'd in hast.
And being urg'd, perhaps, with such fame shewes
Of Reason, as Conjecture could infuse;
(The matter being aggravated too,
With such untruths, as travel to and fro)
The publike preaching on the Fasting day,
Was, in an evill season, tooke away.
For, when the flesh was fed, and soule deprived
Of two Repasts, which weekly we received,
Prophanenesse, and hard-heartednesse began
To get new rooting in the mind of man.
We missed those good helpes, and those examples
Which had beene preached to us in our Temples.
The poore did want full quickly, to their griefe,
Those Almes the Fast brought out for their reliefe.
And, when with Prayers, Preaching did not goe,
Our cold Devotions, did far colder grow.
What instrument of mischiefe might he be
Who caused that? And, what a Foole, was he!
If Wensday-Sermons holpe infect; I pray
What kept us safer on the Sabbath day?
Since most fast then till noone without refection?
Or, what at Funeralls, did stop infection?
Good God! in thy affaires, how vaine (to me)
Doth carnall Policy appeare to be?
How apt is flesh and blood to run a course,
Which makes the soules condition, worse and worse?
To venture on eternall death how toward!
And in a temporall danger what a coward!
Sure, had not such a project, had a scope
Beyond the reaching of the Devils hope,
And been too damnable for any one
To be his Procurator thereupon;
Some would have made the motion that we might
Have liv'd excluded from our Churches quite:
And, that till God his hand should please to stay,
None should in publike, either preach, or pray.
'Twas well the weekly number of the dead,
By Gods meere mercy, was diminished,
Before the prohibition of the Fast:
The Fiend had else, for evermore, disgrac't
That Discipline: and carnall Policy
Had so insulted o're Divinity,
That, in succeeding Ages, men unholy,
Would thence have proved, such Devotion, Folly.
But, God prevented it, that we should take
Good notice of it; and good uses make:
And I have mention'd it, that here I may
God's Wisedome and Man's foolishnesse display.
Oh! let us to our Fasts againe returne;
Let us, for our omissions truly mourne;
And not capitulate with God, as tho
He, first his Rod out of his hand should throw,
Here we would come unto him: for, if thus
A son of ours should beare himselfe to us,
It would outire exasperate the more;
And make the fault seem greater then before.
Why should we in an action that is just
The mercy of our gracious God distrust?
Or, unto any place be loath to go,
Where God is to be heard, or spoken to,
Through feare of that which may be caught at home
And in a thousand places where we come?
Our sinnes and plagues were publike: so should wee
In Pray'rs, and Teares, and Almes, and Fastings be,
For, that strong Devill which hath tortur'd thus
Our generall body, is not cast from us
By single Exorcismos: neither shall
Our privacies advantage us at all,
Except in what conduces to the health
Of private men, or of their private wealth.
If we in close retirements (by our feare)
At markets, or where worse Assemblies are,
Infected grow: the Devill, by and by
With us perswadeth, either to belye
The Church, our constant Fasting, or some one
Good worke, or pious action we have done.
(As visiting the sick, in time of need,
Or any other such like Christian deed)
For, he those practices doth greatly spight,
And, to disparage them hath much delight:
Because he sees, that such as are inclinde
To pious meanes, will soone by triall finde,
Good hopes to thrive beyond their expectations;
Their knowledge, foole his cunning machinations;
Their faiths grow strong; temptations weak appeare;
Their joy most perfect, where most sorrowes are;
And know, that when the Lord of Hoasts is armed,
With all his Iudgements, that, he least is harmed,
Who, bold through Love, selfe-trust quite from him throws
And, runs with cōfidence to meet his blows.
Let no man then be fearfull to repaire
Vnto the house of Preaching, or of Pray'r;
Or, any whither else, those works to doe,
Which he by Conscience is obliged to:
No, though the Devill in the passage lay,
Or strow'd most fearfull dangers in the way.
For, if in such a case, our death we take,
Our death, shall for our best advantage make.
Yet, let none thinke I this opinion cary,
That ev'ry Church, will be a Sanctuary,
To all that come For, sure, if any dare
Without Devotion in Gods house appeare,
To them, that place, more perill threatens, then,
A chamber thronged with infected men.
Some fainted in the Church, as others did
Within their houses (where themselves they hid)
Yet not so often. For, though some did please
To blame the Church for spreading this disease,
No places were more harmlesse. None did we
Behold more healthy, or to scape more free
From this Infection, then those persons, whom
We saw most often, to Gods worship come.
Nor were there any houses more infected
Then theirs, who most the house of God neglected.
I speake not this by rumor: For, ev'n thither
Resorted I, where thronged were together
The greatest multitudes: And day by day
I sate, where all the croud I could survay.
Yet, I nor man, nor childe, nor woman saw,
To sinke, looke pale, or from their place withdraw.
And doubtlesse, if such faintings there had beene,
As many prated of; I some had seene.
Which, since I did not see, I wish againe,
None would at such a time, Gods house refraine,
Except in Congregations not their owne,
And where infection feared is, or knowne:
Or in their owne Assembly, where disorder
Committed wilfully, the Pest may further.
Or, when their bodie's weakenes, or the Aire
Their safeties may some other waies impaire.
Excepting to (in times of Visitation,
When they are markt with markes of Separation,
As Rising, Blames, or Sores. O, newly from
The company of such like persons, come.
Or, whensoever they or doe, or may
Suppose themselves Infectious any way.
These (as the Lepers did, by Moses Law)
From publike Congregations should withdraw,
For, sure, if any such themselves intrude
To mixe among a healthy Multitude,
(Though prayers or devotions they pretend,
Or whatsoever other pious end)
Their foolish practise is vnwarrantable;
Yea, their condition so uncharitable,
That I abhorre it: and beleeve that for
So doing, God their prayers doth abhorre:
And, here, (although it may impertinent
By some he thought) I cannot chuse but vent,
How I dislike, our so much liked fashion
Of buriall, where the publike Congregation
Are bound to meet: And then, especially,
When of infectious griefes great numbers dye.
I know both Custome, and Opinion, have
Sorocted this, that I my breath may save
In reprehending it. Yet, when I must
Be taken hence, and turne againe to dust,
Let nought but Earth and Heav'n my carkasse cover,
And neither Church nor Chappell roofe me over;
Nor any other Buildings, saving those
That onely serve, such reliques to enclose.
For, though I doe ingenuously confesse,
We should to shew our Christian hopefulnesse
Of rising from the dead, lodge decently
Their flesh, who in Christs Faith professe to dye:
And, that Churchyards, or plots distinguisht from
The vulgar use, doe best of all become
That purpose. Yet, I know the common guise
Of bur'ing in the Church, did first arise
From ancient Superstition; and to gaine
Some outward profit, to the priestly traine.
For, many simple men were made conceive
That if (when they were dead) they might have leave
To rest within those plots of hallowed ground,
Which either Church or Chappell did surround;
No wicked Spirit should permittance have,
To trouble or abuse them, in the grave:
Whereas (which yet old fooles beleeve they doe)
They might else rise, and walke at midnight too
About their streets, and houses, or crosse wayes;
Till some Masse-monger them at quiet layes:
And then it was suppos'd, how much the nigher
They lay unto their Altar, or their Choïre,
By so much more the safer they should rest;
Which brought no petty summes to Dagons chest:
Thence was it, that our Churches, first of all,
Were glaz'd with Scutchions like a Heralds hall;
And that this age in them depainted sees
So many vaine and lying Pedigrees.
Thence comes it that we now edayes behold
Some Chancels filled up with rotten, old,
And foolish monuments. From hence we see
So many puppet Images to be
On ev'ry wall within our Oratories:
So many Epitaphs, and lying stories,
Of men deceast: and, thence the guise was gotten,
To let so many Banners dropping rotten
Deforme our pillars; and withdraw our eyes
From picus objects to those vanities.
If any man desirous be to lye
Within a Monument, when he shall dye,
Let ev'ry noble Family erect
Without their Cities some faire Architect,
Within the compasse of whose roofed wall
There may be founded some good Hospitall
Or buildings for the lawfull recreation
Of youth, and for the honor of the Nation.
And of that Name or kin, when any dyes,
There lay their bones; or to their memories
Erect there Tables. And, let them that had
Such minds, and fortunes, to the Structure adde.
Yea thither (if they please) let them translate
Their Ancestors. But, I have spoke too late,
Those times are past in which our noble ones
Were able to erect such piles of stones
As might be eminent. Our kingly race
Had by the seventh Henry such a place
Erected for them, so magnificent,
That to this Land it is an ornament.
Let them that cannot reach the cost of these,
Raise Cawsies, Bridges, and make Docks, and Keyes
For publike use: which with as little cost
As now upon their pedling Tombe, is lost,
Should make them live farre longer in their fames;
For, we would chose entitle by their Names.
All they that love their Country, now they know
Which way they may their money best bestow,
(To memorize their Friends, with profiting
The publike) will consider of this thing
And build them Tombes where we may praise the work;
Not in a Church obscure, unseene to lurke,
Where few shall view them; and where most who shall
Behold them, take no heed of them at all.
If some good Patriot would begin the fashion,
It might allure, perhaps, to imitation.
And if it were not greedinesse of gaine
Among Church-Officers, which did maintaine
Such Customes we should somewhat more forbeare
To lay so many stinking bodies there
Where God we seeke (and him should seeke to finde,
With purity of body, and of minde)
Indeed our sane, alone pollutes; and yet
An outward decency is also fit.
Was't well, that in the Church (where throngs and beat
Did make us in the croud to pant and sweat)
Ev'n in the midst of our Devotions too,
Men should, as oft it pleased them to doe,
Thrust in (where we could hardly stand in ease)
With foure or five strong smelling Carkasses?
Was't fit, so many Graves, at such a season
Should gape and breath upon us? was it reason,
That heaps of rubbish, Coffin-boards, and stones,
Late bury'd bodies, and halfe rotten bones,
God's Temple should pollute? and make it far
More loathsome, then most Charnell houses are?
Was't fitting that to gaine their griping fees,
They should endanger multitudes to leese
Their lives, or healths? or, that they should fulfill
A foolish motion in a dead mans will,
By wronging of the living? God forbid
Jt should be reason; and yet, thus they did.
Thus did they? yea, far worse: fr should I tell
At what high rates, some Churchmen, here, did sell
Their burying grounds: What fees they did exact:
How Readers, Clarkes, and Sextons did compact,
To racke the dead: to what a goodly summe
Their large Church-duties (in some cases) come:
What must be paid for Bearers, though men have
Their friends to helpe convey them to the grave:
What for the Bells, though not a Bell be rung:
What, for their mourning clothes, though none be hung
Vpon them but their owne: what pay did passe
For Fun'rall Sermons, where no Sermon was:
And, what was oft extorted (without shame)
To give him leave to preach, who freely came:
If here (I say) I should discover what
J might, of these things mentioned, relate,
Those men who die, that charges they may save,
Would feare they might be begger'd in the Grave:
For, more to take that lodging ha bleene spent,
Then would have bought a pretty tenement.
Thus, as one matter drew another on,
My Muse hath diuers things discourst upon
To many sundry purposes: but, what
I chiefly in this Canto aimed at
VVas, to preserue in mind an awfull sense
Of what we suffred in this Pestilence:
VVhat we deserved, and how variously,
Gods Iustice, this one Corsive did apply,
To eate out all Corruptions, which be spotted
Our soules, and had ere this our bodies rotted.
I might as well have memorized here,
How diversly God's Mercies did appeare,
Amid his Judgements: how he comforted,
VVhen outward comfort failed: how he sed,
VVhen oile and meale were wasted: how he gaue
Their lives to them, whose feet were in the graue.
VVhat Patience, what high Fortitude he granted,
And, how he still supplyed what we wanted.
I might commemorate, a world of Grace
Bestow'd in this affliction, on this place,
Both common, and in private. Many a vow
(Of theirs, who will, I feare, forget it now)
Was daily heard. Ten thousand suits were daigned;
Reprieves, for soules condemned were obtained
Friends prayd for friends; the parents for the lives
Of their deare children, Husbands for their wives;
Wives for their husbands beg'd with teares & passiō,
And, God with pitie heard their lamentation.
In friends, in servants, in the temporall wealth,
In life, in death, in sicknesses, and health,
God manifested Mercy. Some did finde
A Friend, to whom till then, none had beene kind.
Some, had their servants better'd, for them, there,
By Gods correction. Some, left wealthy were
By dying kindred, who the day before
Were like to beg their bread from doore to doore,
Some, by their timely deaths were taken from
Such present paines, or from such woes to come,
That they are happy. Vnto some, from heav'n,
The blessing of a longer life was giv'n,
That they might call to minde their youthfull times
Repent omissions, and committed crimes;
Amend their courses, and be warisome
That they displeas'd not God, in times to come.
Againe, some others by their sicknesses,
And by the teares they had in this Disease,
Grew awfull of Gods Iudgements; and within
Their harts, good motions were, wher none had bin,
Ev'n in their hearts who fear'd not God nor Devill,
Nor guilt of sin, nor punishment for evill.
And, some had health continu'd, that they might
Gods praise extoll, and in his love delight.
Should I declare, in what unusuall wise
God op'ned here their soules dimsighted eyes,
Who blinded were before; how nigh they reacht
To highest Mysteries: what things they preacht
Ev'n to their neighbours, and their family,
Before their soules did from their bodies flye;
Or, should I tell, but what young Children here
Did speake, to take from elder folke their feare
Of Sicknesses and Death; what they exprest
Of heav'nly blisse, and of this worlds unrest;
What faith they had; what strange illuminations;
What strong assurances of their salvations;
And with what proper termes, and boldnesse they
Beyond their yeares, such things did open lay,
It would amaze our Naturallists, and raise
A goodly Trophee to our Makers praise.
But, this for me were too too large a task,
And many yeares and volumes it would aske,
Should I in these particulars record
The never ending mercies of the Lord.
For, he that would his meanest act recite,
Attempts to measure what is infinite.
That story therefore, in particular
To meddle with I purpose to defer
Till in the Kingdome of eternity
My soule in honor of his Majesty
Shall Halelujah sing; and over-looke
With hallow'd eyes, that great eternall Booke,
Which in a moment to my view shall bring
Each passed, present, and each future thing,
And there my soule shall read, and see revealed
What is not by the LAMBE, as yet, unsealed.
Meane while Ile cry Hosannah, and for all
His love to me, and mercies generall,
His three times holy, and thrice blessed Name
I praise, and vow for aye to praise the same.

The fifth Canto.

Perhaps, the nicer Critickes of these times,
When they shall sleightly view my lowly Rimes,
(Not to an end, these Poems fully reading,
Nor their Occasion, nor my Aymes, well heeding)
May taxe my Muse that she at random flyes;
For want of Method, makes Tautologies;
And commeth off, and on, in such a fashion,
That, oft she failes then curious expectation.
It is enough to me, that I doe know
What they commend, and what they disallow.
And let it be enough to them, that I
Am pleas'd to make such faults for them to spy.
For I intend the Method which I use;
And, if they doe not like it, they may chuse.
They who in their Composures, keep the fashion
Of elder times, and write by imitation;
Whose quaint Inventions must be trimd and trickt,
With curious dressings, from old Authors pickt;
And whose maine workes, are little else, but either
Old scattred Peeces, finely glew'd together;
Or, some concealed Structures of the Braine,
Found our (where long obscured they have laine)
And new attir'd: These, must (and well they may)
Their Poesies in formall garbes aray,
Their naturall defects by Art to hide;
And, make their old new-straines the Test abide.
These, doe not much amisse, if they assume
Some Estridge feathers, or the Peacockes plume
To strut withall: nor had I greatly heeded
That course of theirs, if they had not proceeded
To censure mine. My Muse no what envies
That they from all their heathnish Poesies
Have skumm'd the Creame & to themselves (for that)
The stile of Prince of Poets arrogate.
For, Plantus, Horace, Perseus, Iuvenal,
Yea Greece and Romes best Muses, we may call
Their Turbularies; since from them come in
Those Treasures which their princely Titles win.
Sometime, as well as they I play the Bee:
But, like the Silkeworme, it best pleaseth me
To spin out mine owne Bowells, and prepare them
For those, who thinke it not a shame to weare them.
My Matter, with my Method, is mine owne;
And I doe plucke my Flow'rs as they are blowne.
A Maiden when she walkes abroad to gather
Some herbs to strow the dwellings of her Father,
(Or fragrant flow'rs to deck her wedding Bowre,
Or make a nosegay for her Paramour)
She comes into the Garden, and first seizeth
The Flow'rs which first she sees, or what she pleaseth;
Then runs to those whom use or memory,
Presenteth to her thought, or to her eye:
As toward them she basteth, she doth finde
Some others, which were wholly out of minde,
Ev'n till that very moment: while she makes
Her prise of those, she notice likewise takes
Of Herbs unknowne before, that lurking lay
Among the pleasant Plants within her way:
She crops off these, of those she taketh none,
Makes use of some, and lets as good alone;
Here plucks the Cowslips, Roses of the prime,
There, Lavander, sweet Marjorum, and Thyme,
Yonn Iulyflow'rs, or the Damask Rose,
Or sweet-breath'd Violet, that hidden growes;
Then some againe forenam'd (if need she thinks)
Then Daisies, and then Marigolds, and Pincks:
Then Herbs anew, then Flow'rs afresh doth pull,
Of ev'ry sort, untill her lap is full.
And otherwhile, before that worke be done,
To kill a Caterpiller she doth run,
Or catch a Butterfly; which varies from
That purpose whereabout she first did come.
So, from the Muses Gardens, when I meane
Those flow'rs of usefull Poesie to gleane,
Which being well united may content
My Christian Friends; or with a pleasing sent
Perfume Gods house, or beautifie, or cheere
My soule, which else would rude, and sad appeare:
When this I meane; I paint out ev'ry Thought,
As to my heart I feele it to be brought:
I treat of things, as cause conduces to them,
And as occasions, unto me, doe show them.
Sometimes, I from the matter seeme to goe,
For purposes, which none but I may know
Sometime, an usefull Flow'r I may forget;
Anon, into my Nosegay, I doe set
Some other twice; because, perchance, the place
Affords it better use, or better grace.
As one conceit I seriously pursue,
That, brings perhaps another to my view,
And that another; and that, many a one,
Which if in Methods Allies I had gone,
Had, peradventure, else remain'd unseene;
And, in my Garland might have missed beene.
E're I my pen assume, I feele the motions
Of doing somewhat, and have gen'rall notions
Of what I purpose: But, Mogul doth know
As well as I, what path my Muse will goe.
What, in particular, I shall expresse,
I know not (as I hope for happinesse)
And though my matter, when I first begin,
Will hardly fill one page; yet being in,
Methinks, if neither faintnesse, friends, nor night,
Disturbed me, for ever I could write.
Vpon an instant I oft feele my brest
With infinite variety possest;
And such a troup of things together throngs,
Within my braine; that, had I twenty tongues
I should (whilst I assaid to utter it)
Twice more, then I could mention, quite forget.
A hundred Musings, which I meane to say,
Before I can expresse them, slip away;
Which to recall, although I much end ever,
Oft passe out of my memory, for ever;
And cary forth (ev'n to the worlds farre end)
Some other thoughts, which did on them depend.
Whilst I my pen are dipping downe in inke,
That's lost which next to tell you I did thinke;
And, somewhat instantly doth follow on,
Which till that present, I ne're thought upon.
This, forceth me those Methods to forgoe,
Which others in their Poems fancy so.
This makes me truth to my Conceptions give,
As fast as they their Beings doe receive.
Lest whilst I for the common Midwife tary,
The flitting issue of my braine miscary.
And, howsoe're they please to censure me,
Who but Stepfathers to their Poemes be;
This, is that way of uttrance that each Muse
Makes practice of, whom Nature doth infuse:
And, warrant from their Naturall straines doth set,
Whom Artificiall Poets counterfeit.
These are true Raptures; theirs are imitations,
Or, rather, of old Raptures new Translations.
This Method long agoe, old Moses used,
When God his Hymne of praise, to him infused.
Thus, Solomon his Song of Songs, composed:
And, when thy singer, Israel, was disposed
To praise the Lord or speake unto his God,
Of vent his passions in a mournfull Ode,
In this contemned wise, from him did flow,
Those heav'nly Raptures which we honor so.
As God's good Spirit cary'd him along,
So vary'd he, the matter of each Song.
Now prayes; straight praiseth; instantly lamenteth;
Then halfe despaires; is by and by contented;
The person of the changeth; oft repeateth
One sentence; and one suit oft iterateth.
Which manner of expression, seemes to some
So methodlesse, and so to wander from
A certainty, in what he did intend,
That they his well-knit Raptures discommend,
As broken and dis jointed; when, indeed,
From ignorance (or from their little heed
To such expressions, and such mysteries)
Their causelesse disesteeme, did first arise.
Yea, Ignorance, not knowing what they meant,
When such an uncouth path the Muses went;
Was wont (long since) to call our soule-rapt straines,
Poetick Furies: And that Name remaines.
Yet, this old tract I follow; this I use;
And, this no true borne Poet can refuse.
My scope, I ever keepe, in all my Layes;
Which is, to please, and profit, to Gods praise:
But, in one path, or in one pace to ride,
It is not fit a Poet should be ty'd.
Sometime he must be grave; lest else, the wise
The mutter, or the moaner, may despise.
Sometime he must endevor to be plaine,
Lest all that he delivers be in vaine:
Another while, he Parables must use,
And Riddles, lest some should the truth abuse,
And they that are the Nymrods of the times
Grow mad, in stead of leaving oft their crimes.
Sometime he must be pleasing, lest he may
Drive all his froward Readers quite away.
Sometimes he must have bitter straines, to keepe
The sullen Reader from a drowsie sleepe;
And whip those wantons, from an evill course,
That, without warning, would be daily worse.
Sometimes againe, he must be somewhat merry,
Lest Fooles, or good instruction, should be weary.
Yea, he to all men all things should become,
That he, of many, might advantage some.
This, makes me change the Person, and the Style,
And vary from the matter, other while.
This, makes me mixe smal things, and great together;
Here, I am grave; there, play I with a feather.
One page, doth make some Reader halfe beleeve,
That I am angry: In the next, I give
The Childe an Aple. In one leafe, I chide;
I somewhat in another doe provide,
To helpe excuse those frailties I reproved:
And those excuses, are in place removed,
From such reproofes; left following on too nigh,
The Check, might without heed, be passed by.
This course becomes the Muses. This doth save
Our Lines from just reproofe, when Tyrants rave
At our free Numbers: and when Fooles condemne
Our Straines, because they understand not them.
Such Poesie is right: and, therefore, they
Who study matter, and what words to say,
Doe falsly arrogate to be inspired;
Since, when they boast their soules are this way fired,
It is but Wine, or Passion makes them rave:
And thence the Muses their disgraces have.
Most times, when I compose, I watch, and fast.
I cannot find my Spirits, when I taste
Of meats and drinks; nor can I write a line,
Sometime, should I but take one draught of wine.
Men say, it makes a Poet, and doth warme
His braine, and him with strong invention arme.
No marvell then, that most doe reckon me
For none, who of this Age the Poets be;
And, that so enviously at me they strike,
For they and I are not inspir'd alike.
In such like workes as these, if I should fill
My head, my Muse would have an empty quill;
And, that which to expresse she then presumes,
Would smother'd be, with vapourings and fumes.
But, when those write; thēselves they first make mery
With Claret, with Canary, or with Sherry.
And these are sure the Deities which make
A sensuall eare, of them, best liking take.
When such as they reprove a sinfull State,
Or would those great enormities relate,
Wherein their times offend; they may be brought
To question for it; and it may be thought
Their spleene, revenge, or envy, did incite
Their braines to hammer, what their pens did write,
Because they did premeditate, and straine
Their faculties, their projects to attaine.
But, when a man one Subject purposing,
Sits downe to write it, and another thing
(Vnthought upon before) quite thrusteth out
That matter which at first he went about:
When he remembers, that nor spight, nor spleene,
Nor envy, hath his primus motor beene:
When he perceives, nor dangers, nor disgrace
Can fright him, when such Raptures are in place:
When he doth find, that with much ease & pleasure
He utters what exceeds the common measure
Of his owne Gifts: and that (although his Rimes
Are none of those strong lines that catch the times)
They from the Vertuous, good respect can draw,
And keepe the proudest vitious then in awe:
What should he thinke, but that the pow'r of God
Inspireth him, to show his will abroad?
What need he feare, but, most undantedly,
Make use of his inspired Facultie?
No arrogance it were, if he, or I,
Should say that God our peers had spoken by,
To those we live among, since, we might say,
He speakes by all his creatures, ev'ry day:
Yea, since in elder times it came to passe,
That he declar'd his pleasure by an Asse.
What should we do but speak, when we are willed?
What can we doe but speake when we are filled?
While wicked men we doe remaine among,
With David, we a while may curb the tongue;
But, burne it will within us, til we speake,
And forth, at last, some thundring voice will breake.
And what should then our hearers doe, but learne
Their errors, by our Poems, to discerne?
Why should they raile at us, who neither scare
Then fury, nor for all their threatnings care?
Why doe they, childishly, our Lines condemne,
That strike but at their follies, not at them?
Why, so unjustly still, are we pursued,
Who shew them how their falls may be eschewed?
And why doe they by seeking of our shame,
Encrease our glories, and themselves defame?
Whence comes all this, but from that sottishnesse
Which doth most people of this age possesse?
But, let these questions passe; lest by degrees,
They draw us on, untill our marke we leese.
Thus far my Muse hath wilfully digrest,
And of her purpose, now she vents the rest.
When divers weeks together I had wasted
In viewing those afflictions others tasted;
When day by day, I long had walkt abroad,
Beholding how the scourging hand of God,
Afflicted other men, and how, each morning
My going out, and how my back returning,
Was ev'ry night in safety; I began
Gods care and my unworthinesse to scan.
And, 'twas, me thought, a favour, which required
To be both much acknowledg'd, and admired;
That (when so many houses, ev'ry day,
Were visited) the place wherein I lay
Stood free so long; considering we were many,
And, then, resorted to, as much as any.
But, there was somewhat needfull to be knowne,
Which no mans griefe couldt act me but mine own.
And, that I might thereof informed be,
God sent at last his Iudgements home to me.
Yea, peradventure, in my soule he saw
Some failings of my former filiall awe;
Some thanklesnesse; some inward pride of heart;
Or over-weening of mine owne desert,
Arising from the mercifull protection
Which he vouchsafed me from this Infection;
And therefore sent as my Remembrancer,
His dreadfull, and his bloody Messenger
To take his lodging, where my lodgings were;
And put his rage in execution there.
For, in upon us, that Contagion broke,
Five soules out of our Gate, it quickly tooke,
And left another wounded, that I might
Conceive my danger, and Gods love, aright.
It fell about the time in which their sum
Who weekly died, to the full was come:
Then, when infection to such height was growne,
That many dropped on a sudden downe
In ev'ry street: yea, when some fooles did tell
The lying Fables of the Falling-Bell
At Westminster; and how that then did flye
No Bird through Londons ayre which did not dye.
Ev'n then it was. And, though some few did please,
By such like tales, and strange Hyperboles,
To overstraine the stories of our sorrow;
They did but needlesly their fictions borrow
To set it forth. Nay, their false rumors made
Our woes appeare lesse great, then those we had.
Till now, I made the smart of others knowne:
The Griefes I next will tell you, are mine owne.
At first, I stood as one who from a Towre
Beholding how the sword doth such devoure
(Who in the streets beneath him fighting be)
Accounts himselfe from danger to be free.
But, at the last, I fared, as it fares
With such, whose Foes have made, at unawares,
A breach upon their Bulwarke; and I stood
No meane assaults, to make my standing stood.
For, both within me, and without me, too,
I had enough, and full enough to doe.
No sooner to my Chamber was I gone,
But, I was follow'd straight, and set upon
By strong Assailants, who did much intrude,
And much disease me, by their multitude.
My Reason, who to Faith did lately stoop,
Revolted, and brought on a mighty troup
Of trayt'rous Arguments, whereby she thought,
On this my disadvantage, to have wrought.
Temptations, slye-Suggestions, Feare, and Doubt,
Did undermine, and close me, round about.
My Conscience did begin to be afraid
My Faith had beene a false one; who betraid
My Soule to Death: and (whether then it were
The pow'r of strong Infection, or else Feare,
Occasion'd by those combatings within,
Or both together) I did then begin
To finde my body weakned more and more,
And felt those pangs, till then unfelt before.
Ev'n many dayes together, so it fared:
And sure, if Superstition could have scared
My better setled heart, there hapned that,
Which I had fear'd, and somewhat startled at:
And (though I never outwardly complained
To any one, of that which I sustained)
That week, in which our house was visited,
And made complete the number of her dead;
I had a sleeplesse night; in which with heat
Opprest, I purged out (in stead of sweat)
Round-ruday-spots (and, that, no little store)
Which on my brest, and shoulders, long I wore.
Perhaps, it was the Pestilence, which then
So marked me; and I, as other men,
By her had beene devour'd, had I not
Through Gods great mercy, my free pardon got.
Which, how, and on what termes, the same I gain'd,
Ile now declare. For, though they seeme but fain'd,
Or melancholy thoughts, which here I tell;
Yet, sure, to smother them, I did not well.
For, some, perhaps will thinke (as well as I)
That none should sleightly passe such musings by:
And some (who at first viewing will surmise,
That in these things I meerly poetise)
VVill find, perchance, in times that shall ensue,
Experimentall proofe, that all is true;
Should Darknesse, where her visage, Danger, showes,
(At such a disadvantage) them enclose.
VVhen all alone I lay, and apprehended,
How many mischiefes my poore soule attended;
I plainly saw (though not with carnall eyes)
God's dreadfull Angell, ready to surprise
My trembling soule; and ev'ry hideous feare,
VVhich can to any naturall man appeare,
(In such a case, to aggravate his terror)
Approacht, with ev'ry circumstance of horror.
I saw the Muster of each passed evill,
And all my youthfull follies, by the Devill
Brought in against me, marshall'd and prepared,
To fight the battell which I long had feared.
And such a multitude of them surrounded
My Conscience, that I was almost confounded.
A thousand sinnes appear'd which were forgot,
And which I till that moment minded not,
Since first committed; and more ugly far
They seem'd, then when they perpetrated were.
Yea many things whereof I bragg'd, and thought
That I, in doing them, some good had wrought,
Declar'd themselves against me; and I found
That they did give my soule the deepest wound.
VVhen these had quite enclosed me, I saw
The Tables, and the Volumes of the Law,
To me laid open: and I was, me thought,
Before the presence of God's Iustice brought,
VVho from her eye did frownes upon me dart,
And seemed, thus to speake unto my heart.
(Oh! Readers marke it well; for to this Dome;
Or to a worse then this, you all must come.
Suppose thou not, vaine man, thou dost possesse
This life till now, for thine owne righteousnesse,
Or that thou meritest more grace to have
Then they who now me sent to fill the Grave:
Lo, here, thy Foe hath brought of thy offences
An Army, and so many evidences
Of thy Corruption; that, plead what thou wilt
Of merit in thy selfe, they prove a guilt
So hainous, that thy soule thou canst not free:
Yet other sinfull thoughts of thine I see.
I search thy heart, and J discover there
Deceits, which cannot to thy selfe appeare.
J know thy many secret imperfections,
I know thy passions, and thy vaine affections;
And, that performances thou hast not made
According to those favours thou hast had.
Vaineglory, profit, or some carnall end,
Thy best endeavor alwayes did attend;
And, as distrusting, God would thee beguile,
An arme of flesh thou seekest otherwhile:
Not as the second, but the chiefest Cause:
Which from the glory of thy God withdrawes.
Mine eye doth see what arrogance and pride
Thou dost among thy fairest vertues hide;
And, what impieties, thou shouldst have done,
Had I not stopt the course thou thoughtst to run.
Of times, when others Vices, thou hast showne,
Thou hast forgotten to repent thine owne.
And, many times, thy tart reproofes have beene
The fruits, not of thy Vertue, but of Spleene.
Thy wanton Lusts (but that I did restraine
Their fury, when thou wouldst have slackt the Reine)
Had horne thee headlong, to those deeds of shame,
With which thy evill willers blur thy Name.
Shouldst thou have done the best that thou wert able,
Thy services had beene unprofitable:
But, thou scarce halfe thy Talent hast employ'd;
And, that small good thou didst, is nigh destroy'd,
By giving some occasion, needlesly,
Of questioning thy true sincerity.
God oft hath hid thy frailties, and thy sinne,
Which being knowne, would thy disgrace have bin.
The show of Wit and Vertue, thou hast had,
He, to the world more eminent hath made,
Then theirs, who wiser, and much better are,
Though outward helpes, and fortunes, wanting were.
And, though thy knowledge, and thy former Layes,
Among your formall Wizzards got no praise,
Yet what they counted foolishnesse, became
A greater honor to thy sleighted Name,
Then they obtained: And, that Grace (I see)
Begot more pride, then thankefulnesse in thee:
And, I was faine, to let some scandals flye,
To teach unto thee, more humility.
In all thy wants, thou still hast beene relieved;
From heav'n thou comfort hadst, whē thou wert grieved;
When Princes threatned, thou wert fearlesse made;
In all thy dangers, thou a Guard hast had;
In closest prison, thou best freedome gainedst;
Jn great contempts, thou most esteeme obtainedst;
When, most thy foes did labour to undoe thee,
They brought most honour, and most profit to thee.
Yea, still when thy destruction was expected,
Then, God, thy peace beyond thy hope, effected.
And, in the stead of praising him for this,
Thou robdst him of much honour that was his.
Thou wert content, to heare the Vulgar say,
Thy Spirit, and thine Innocence made way
To thy escape. Whereas, thy conscience know
Thou wert a Coward, till God did ensue
Thy heart with Fortitude, and finely gave thee
That innocency which from harme did save thee.
When God thy Name divulg'd for some good end,
(Which his wise Providence did foreintend)
Thou took'st the glory of it for thine owne,
And, justly, therefore, thy so being knowne,
Hath beene a meanes whereby thy Foes have sent
Their scandal farther, then they else had went.
As soone as God from trouble did release thee,
(Or, but with hopes of outward things possesse thee)
Some fruitlesse thoughts did quite thy heart estrange,
And after such vaine Projects make thee range,
That he was oft compeld to put thee from
Those blessings, which ev'n to thy lips were come;
Lest, being then unseas'nably received,
Thou mightst of better things have beene bereaved.
Few men so nigh great Hopes attained ever,
With such small fortunes and without endeavor,
As thou hast done; and farer have been crost
That may (which thou hast beene) in what was lost;
That see and know thou mightst, such losse and gaine,
He sent; and, that he neither sent in vaine.
Yea, that those evils which thou hadst in thought,
Should scape the being into action brought,
Ill tongues were stirred to prevent the fact,
By blazing what was never yet in act:
But, might have beene, perhaps, had not that armed
Thy heart; whereby thy foes would thee have harmed.
Thou to refresh thy soule hast pleasures had,
And thou by their abuse, hast feebler made
Her usefull Faculties. Thou hast enjoyed
Youth, strength, and health; and them hast mis employed.
Thy God hath made thee gracious in their eyes,
Whose good esteeme, thy soule doth highly prise;
And (of ill purpose though Ile not condemne
Thy love, or meaning, to thy selfe or them)
Thou hast full often stole their hearts away,
Ev'n from themselves; and made thine owne a prey
To many passions; which did sometimes bring
Vpon your selves, a mutuall torturing:
Because you did not in your loves propose
Those ends, for which, Affection, God bestowes.
But, spent your houres (that should have beene employ'd
To learne and teach how you should have enjoy'd
Gods love) that flame, to kindle, in each other;
Wherein, you might have perished together.
Thou aggravated hast thy pard'ned crimes,
And, iterated them, a thousand times.
Ev'n yet, thou dost renew them ev'ry day;
And when for Mercy thou dost come to pray,
Thou meritest confusion, through that folly,
Which makes thy prayers to become unholy.
Nay, at this time, and in this very place,
Where God in Iudgement stands before thy face,
Thou oft forgetst the danger thou art in;
Forgetst Gods mercy, and dost hourely sin.
Thou dost neglect thy time, and trifle out
Those dayes, that should have beene employ'd about
The service of thy Maker. Thou dost give
Thy selfe that liberty, as if to live
Or dye, were at thy choice; and that at pleasure,
Thou mightst pursue his worke; and at thy leasure.
Thy Talent thou mis-spendst; and here, as though
To looke upon Gods Judgements were enough
For thee to doe; thou dost with negligence
Performe thy vowes; which adde to thy offence.
And loe, for these thy faults, and many moe;
Whereof thy Conscience thee doth guilty know,
My spotted-Hound hath seized thee: from whom,
That thou with life shouldst beence have to come,
What canst thou say? I could not make reply;
For, Feare, and Guilt, and that dread Majesty
Which I had apprehended, tooke away
My speach; and not a word had I to say.
But Mercy who came arme in arme along
With Iustice, and about her alwayes hung;
Did looke, me thought, upon me with an eye
So truly pitifull, that instantly
My heart was cheer'd, and (Mercy prompting her)
Such words, or thoughts as these she did prefer.
Tis true most awfull Iustice, that my sin
Hath greater then thine accusations bin.
The most refined actions of my soule,
Are in thy presence, horrible and foule.
And if thou take account of what is done,
I cannot of ten thousand answer one.
As soone as I am clensed from my sinne,
To saile my selfe anew I doe begin.
I to my vomit, like a Dog, retire,
And like a Sow, to wallow in the mire.
I have within my soule, distempers, passions;
And hourely am besieg'd with strong temptations.
My Flesh is weake, except it be to sin;
My Spirit faints, when I the geale should winne.
My Will affecteth most what is most vaine;
My Memory doth evill best retaine.
That little good t'would, I cannot doe;
Those evils I detest, I fall into.
The vapours which from earthly things arise,
Too often veile heav'ns glories from mine eyes.
And I, who can sometimes by contemplation,
Advance my soule above the common station,
(The world contemning) doe sometimes agen
Lye groveling on the ground with other men:
My Faith doth faile; my mounting wings are clipt;
Of all my braveries I quite am stript;
My hopes are hid; my sins doe me defile;
And in my owne esteeme, my soule is vile.
I will acknowledge all my aberrations,
According to their utmost aggravations;
And here confesse, that I deserve therefore
The losse of Mercies love for evermore;
Which were a greater plague, then to abide
All torments here, and all hell plagues beside.
But, I repent my sinne: loe, I abhore it,
And, with my heart, am truly sory for it.
I feare thine anger, (but, to feare the love
Of Mercy could be lost, would in me prove
A greater horror) and no slavish dread,
But loving feare, this griefe in me hath bred.
It paines my soule, that I who have conceived
Such pleasure in thy favours, and received
Such to ens of thy love, from day to day,
Should passe a moment of my time away
In any vanity; or live to be
One minutes space without a thought of thee.
But, more I grieve, that I should more transgresse
Then many doe, whom thou hast favour'd lesse.
Although I am a sinner, yet I vow,
I doe not in my soule my sinnes allow;
But, I detest them, and oft pray, and strive,
That, I according to thy Law may live.
(At least I thinke I doe) and hopefull am,
My love to thee is true, though much to blame.
Jn me there howrely rise (against my will)
Those lusts which J should mortifie and kill:
And as I am enabled, I doe smite
As well the fat, as leane Amalekite.
But, if I have a sin that is become
My Agag; or as deare as Absolom,
I wish a Samuel, or a loab may
Destroy it e're my soule it shall betray.
For, if my heart hath not it selfe deceived,
It would, with willingnesse, be quite bereaved
Of what it most affects (yea, sacrifice
That which is dearer then my hands, or eyes)
E're cherish, wittingly, within my brest,
A thought, which thy uprightnesse doth detest.
Thou knowest, that J take no pleasure in
That act which I doe feare to be a sin:
Much lesse if I doe know it so: and, this
Doth bitter make it, when I doe amisse.
Though in my wayes my walkings, now and then,
Appeare irregular to other men;
(And other while may shewes of evill make)
Because from thence offences others take,
Yet, thought I not, it lesse offended thee
To use it, then unus'd to let it be,
I would not tread once more in such a path,
To save my life, and all the joy it hath.
But, should it cost my life I cannot tell
If (in some actions) I doe ill or well.
For, many times, when I doe seeke to shun
A plash, into a whirlepoole I doe run.
The Wolfe I flye, and loe, a Lyon frights me;
I shun the Lyon, and a Viper bites me.
A scandall followes, if I take my course;
If I divert it, there ensues a worse.
Jf I persist in that which I intend,
It giveth some occasion to offend:
If I forgoe it; my owne knowledge sayes
J sin, and scandall give some other wayes.
I find not in my actions, or affections
That thing that is not full of imperfections.
J cannot doe a good or pious act
But there is somewhat evill in the fact,
Or in the manner; and it either tends
To this mans dammage, or that man offends,
Whatever I resolve upon, I finde
Jt doth not fully satisfie my minde.
I am so straitned, that I know not whence
To finde the meanes of shunning an offence;
And, if deare Mercy, thou assist me not,
My fairest act will prove my foulest blot.
The World, our Friends, our Passion, or our Feare,
Hath so intangled us, at unaware,
With manifold engagements; and so drawes
And windes us, by degrees, into that Maze
Of endlesse Wandrings; that it leads us to
That sin, sometimes, which we abhor to doe:
And, otherwhile so strangely giddifies
The Reason, and the soules best Faculties;
That (as I said before) we doe not know
What in our selves to bike, or disallow.
Yea, we such turnings and crosse wayes doe finde,
That oft, our Guides (as well as we) be blinde.
The Spirit and the Flesh have their delight,
In things, so diverse, and so opposite;
And, such a Law of sinne doth still abide
Within our Members; that, we swarve aside
Doe what we can: and, while we helpe the one,
To what seemes needfull, th'other is undone.
If by the Spirits motion, I proceed
To compasse what I thinke my Soule may need,
My Body wants the while; and I am faine
To leave my course, that her I may sustaine:
Lest my engagements, or necessities,
Might my well meant endeavor scandalize.
If I but feed my Body, that it may
Assist my Spirit in some lawfull way;
It straight growes wanton: If I fast, it makes
My spirit faint in what she undertakes:
And, if I keepe a meane; meane fruits are they,
(And little worth) which then produce I may.
Jf in a Christian love some houres J spend
To be a comfort to some female friend,
Who needs my counsell: I doe cause, the while,
Another with hot jealousies, to boyle:
Nor know I how my selfe excuse J may
Vnlesse anothers weaknesse I display.
Which if I doe not, or some lye invent,
They censure me unkinde, or impudent.
I can nor doe, nor speake, nor thinke that thing,
But, still, some inconvenience it will bring;
Or, some occasion of an evill, be
To me, or others; or to them, and me.
And from the body of this Death, by whom
But, by my Saviour, can I freed become?
Oh! therefore, sweet Redeemer, succour lend me,
And, from these bogs, and snares of sin, defend me;
Deare God, assist in these perplexities,
Which from our fraile condition doe arise.
Set straight, J pray thee, Lord, the crookednesse
Of erring Nature; and these faults redresse.
So out of frame, is ev'ry thing, in me,
That, I can hope for sure, from none, but thee.
To thee I therefore kneele; to thee I pray;
To thee my soule complaineth, ev'ry day:
Doe thou but say, Be whole; or be thou cleane;
And, I shall soone be pure, and sound, agen.
The Will thou gavest me, to affect thy Will,
Though it continue not so perfect still,
As when thou first bestow'dst the same; accept it,
Ev'n such as my polluted Vessell kept it.
For, though it wounded be, through many sights
Continu'd with my carnall appetites:
Yet, if my hearts desire to me be knowne,
Thy Pleasure I preferre before mine owne.
If J could chuse, I would not guilty be
Of any act displeasing unto thee.
In all my life, I would not speake a word,
But, that which to thy liking might accord.
I would not thinke a thought but what might show,
That from thy Spirit, all my musings flow.
J would nor hate, nor love, nor hope, nor feare,
But, as unto thy praise it usefull were.
I would not have a joy within my heart,
Of which thou shouldst not be the greater part.
Nor would I live or dye, or happy be
In life or death; but (Lord) to honour thee.
Oh! let this Will (which is the precious seed
Of thine owne Love) be taken for the deed.
Assist thou me against the potent evill
Of my great Foes, the World, the Flesh, the Devill.
Renew my fainting pow'rs, my heart revive;
Refresh my spirits, and my soule relieve.
Lord draw me, by the cords of thy affection,
And I shall fall in love with thy perfection.
Vnloose my chaines, and I shall then be free;
Convert me, and converted I shall be.
Yea, to my soule (oh God!) and to my senses
Display thy beautie and thy excellencies
So plaine, that I may have them still in sight;
And thou shalt ever be my sole delight.
The world though she should into pieces teare me
With troubles; from thy love should never scare me;
Nor able be to tempt me from one duty
To thee, with all her pleasures and her beauty.
Behold; I came to seeke thee, Lord; ev'n here,
Where, to attend thy presence most men feare.
Though here I saw the Pestilence withstand me,
I stand to know what worke thou wouldst command me.
From all the pleasures of the world, and from
Her hopes of safety, I am hither come
Where thou art angry: and to see thy frowne
Am at thy feet, with terror, fallen downe.
Yet, hence I would not flye (although I might)
To gaine the chiefest of this worlds delight,
Till I perceive thou biddest me goe away;
And, then, for twenty worlds, J would not stay.
I came as heartily as flesh and blood
Could come (that hath in it so little good)
To doe thee service: and, if dye J must.
Loe, here I am; and, I pronounce thee just.
Although thou slay me, yet my soule well knowes
Thou lov'st me: And Jle trust in thee repose.
Though in my selfe I feele I am polluted;
J finde a better righteousnesse imputed
Then I have lost. Thy blessed Love doth fill me
With joyes, that will revive me, though thou kill me.
My sins are great; but thy compassion's greater.
I hate thy Quittance, though I am thy Debtor.
And, though my temp'rall hopes may be destroid;
Yet, I have those, that never shall be void.
Thus, to the Lord, my soule I powred out,
When I with dangers was enclos'd about;
And though I was a sinner, this appeased
His wrath in Christ, and my griev'd soule was eased,
He graciously accepted, in good part,
This poore oblation of an humbled heart.
His Mercy seal'd my pardon; and I shook
The Pestilence (which hold upon me tooke)
From off my shoulder, without sense of harme,
As Paul did shake the Viper from his arme.
That weeke, moreover, God began to slack
His Bow, and call his bloody Angell backe;
VVho by degrees retyr'd, as he came on.
For, weeke by weeke, untill it fell to none,
The number which the Pestilence did kill,
VVas constantly, and much abated still.
VVhen we were floating on that Inundation,
At first we sent a carnall Lamentation;
VVhich like the Raven (from Noahs Arke) did flye,
And found nor rest, nor hope of remedy.
Then sent we Dove-like Mournings: but their feet
A while could with no resting places meet
Then forth againe we sent them, out from hence
VVing'd with more Charity, and Penitence.
And then, they brought an Olive-branch of peace,
VVhich made us hopefull of this Floods decrease.
The Lord, did favour to this Kingdome daigne,
And, brought from thrall, his Iacob, back againe.
His peoples crimes he freely did release;
His ire abated; his hot rage did cease.
His praise had in our Land a dwelling place;
And Mercy there, with Iustice did embrace.
And 'twas a grace to be considered,
That a Disease, so generally spred,
(And so contagious) in few weeks should from
So many thousands, to a cypher come.
That our infectious beds, and roomes, and stuffe,
(VVhich in all likelyhood had beene enough
To keepe the Plague among us, till it had
Our Cities, and our Townes unpeopled made,
Should from their noysomnesse, so soone be freed,
Is out of doubt a matter worth our heed.
Yea, tis a Mercy (though most mind it not)
VVhich in this Land should never be forgot:
That from an enemy so dangerous,
So great a City and so populous
Should in three months be purified so,
That all men might with safety, come and goe.
For, e're the following Winter was expired,
The Citizens were to their homes retired:
The Terme from Reading, was recalled hither,
From ev'ry Quarter, Clients came together;
New trading was begun; another brood
Soone fild the houses which unpeopled flood;
Our Gentry, tooke up their old rendevow;
And such a concourse through our streets did flow,
That ev'ry place was fill'd: and, of all those,
(Those many thousands) who their lives did lose
(But some few months before) no want was found,
The people ev'ry where did so abound.
To thee oh Lord, to thee oh Lord! be praise:
For, thou dost wound and cure, strike down and raise
Thou kill'st, and mak'st alive: thou frownst at night,
And, thou art pleased e're the morning light.
VVhen we offend thee, thou a while dost leave us;
VVhen we repent, thou dost againe receive us.
To ruine thou deliver'st us; and then,
Returne againe (thou saift) ye sonnes of men.
For, in thy wisedome thou considered hast,
That man is like a bubble, or a blast:
A heape of Dust, a tuft of wither'd Grasse,
A fading Flowre, that soone away doth passe:
A Moment fled, which never shall retire;
Or smoaking Flaxe, that quickly loseth fire.
An idle Dreame, which nothing doth betoken;
A bruised Reed, which may with ease be broken:
And therefore lost in Iudgement, Mercy minde,
Yea, in thy greatest anger thou art kinde.
As is the space twixt heav'n and earth, above,
So large, to those that feare thee, is thy love.
As far as doth from East, the West reside,
So far thou dost from us our sins divide.
Such as a father to his childe doth beare,
Such love is thine, to those who thee do feare.
Thy Iustice thou from age to age declarest;
But, such as love thee, thou for ever sparest.
If thou but turne away, from us, thy face,
Loe, we are breath esse in a moments space.
Thy looke doth us with life againe endue,
And all our losses instantly renew.
As oft as we rebell, thou dost forgive us;
And though into distresse, sometime, thou drive us;
Yet, alwayes in our sorrowes we were eyed,
And thou didst please to heare us when we cried.
With thirst and hunger faint, some stray'd aside,
To seeke a place where safe they might abide.
With, worse then bands of iron, they were chained,
And, in the gloomy shades of Death detained.
With heat, and sicknesse, they dejected were;
And to deliver them; no helpe was there.
Their wickednesse, when they were plagued for,
Their soules the sweetest morsels did abhor.
They for their follies, did afflicted lye,
And, to the gates of Death approached nigh.
Their soules within them were nigh dead with feare;
Yea, they distracted, and amazed were.
But, when to thee they called, they were eased,
And out of all their troubles quite released.
Thou sene'st abroad thy Word, and they were healed;
Thy Writ of Indignation was repealed
Frō out of Death's black shadest they were reprieved;
And in their sorrowes and their paines relieved
From East and West, from North & South, and from
Their sev'rall wandrings, thou shalt call them home:
In ev'ry quarter of the Realme thou soughtst them;
Yea to their City back againe thou broughtst them:
And there (now) joyfull, and in health they be;
From all their feares, and all their dangers free.
Oh! would that men this love would think upon,
And tell their seed what wonders thou hast done:
Would they, Oblations, of thanksgiving, bringing,
Thy works would praise, and publish them, in singing.
Oh! would they were so wise that they might learne
Thine infinite compassion to discerne;
And that they would assist me to declare,
How great thy Iudgements and thy Mercies are!
Though none can of thy favours make relation,
Nor fully utter all thy commendation;
Yet, let us doe our best, that we may raise
A thankfull Trophee to thy boundlesse praise.
Let us, whom thou hast saved, thee confesse.
And to our utmost pow'r thy goodnesse blesse.
Let us proclaime thy bounties, in the street,
And, preach thee where our Congregations meet.
Let us in private, at noone, morne, and night,
And in all places, in thy praise delight.
Let Prince, and Priest, and People, old, and yong,
The rich, the poore, the feeble, and the strong,
Men, Angels, and all creatures that have name,
Vnite their pow'rs, to publish out thy fame.
But, howsoever, others may endevor,
Let me oh! God, let me oh God! persever
To magnifie thy glory. Let nor day,
Nor any morne, or evening, passe away,
In which I shall not to remembrance bring
Thy Iudgements; and of thy great Mercy, sing.
Let, never whilst I live, my heart forget
Those Dangers, and that strong entangled Net,
In which my soule was hamper'd. Let me see
(When, in this world, I shall best pleased be)
My dangers such appearing as they were,
When me, they round about enclosed here:
Yea, when, o'rewhelm'd, with terrors, I did call,
Like Ionas, from the belly of the Whale,
And was deliver'd. Lord, remember thou,
That with unfainednesse, I beg thee, now,
To keepe me alwayes mindfull of thy love.
And, if hereafter, I forgetfull prove;
Let this unfainednesse which thou dost give,
An Earnest be, of what I shall receive
In time to come Refresh my cooled zeale,
And let thy Spirit, thy hid Love reveale.
Let nor the fawning World, nor cunning Devill,
Nor wanton Flesh, incite my heart to evill.
Let not my wandring eyes, be tempted by
Those Objects that allure to Vanity;
Nor let my eares be charmed by their tongues,
Who to betray me, chant out Syren-songs.
Let me nor taste a Pleasure, nor obtaine
That carnall Rest, whereof I am so faine,
Till it shall make me plainly to perceive
Thy love; and teach me, foolish paths, to leave.
Let me be still in want; and ever striving
With some afflictions (whilst that I am living)
Till they for better Fortunes, better me:
And, then, let into Rest, my entrance be.
From yeare to yeare, (as thou hast yearly done)
New sorrowes, and new trials bring thou on
My stubborne heart, till thou hast softned it,
And, made it, for thy service, truly fit:
But, give me hopes, and daily comforts too,
To strengthen me, as thou hast us'd to doe.
And, that, in Iustice, Mercy may appeare,
Inflict (Oh Lord!) no more then I can beare.
I feele (and tremble that I feele it thus)
My flesh hath frailties which are dangerous,
To mine owne safety: and as soone as thou
Shalt quite remove the feares that seize me now;
My sense of thee, and those good thoughts (I doubt)
May faile within me, or be rooted out.
Some Lust may quēch them, or some Care may choke them,
Vaine hopes may vaile thē or new-thoughts revoke thē;
The wisdome of the world, or of the Devill,
Or, some suggestion, in my selfe, that's evill,
May urge, perhaps, that it is melancholy,
Which fills me now; that superstitious folly
Begot this awfulnesse; that this Disease
Did accidentally, our City seize;
And, that 'tis vaine to muse so much upon
Those times or troubles, that are past and gone.
Oh! rather, then it should in me be so,
Some other house of Sorrow send me to;
And keepe me, Lord, perpetuall pris'ner there,
Till all such dangers overpassed are.
Nor weale nor woe I crave, but part of either,
As with my temper best agrees together.
For, joy without thy grace, is griefes encreasing,
And wealth is poverty, without thy blessing.
But if by passing this lifes purging fires,
Thou shalt so purifie my hearts desires,
That without perill to my hopes of heav'n,
A temp'rall rest may at the last be giv'n;
Vouchsafe it Lord, ev'n for the good of them
Who my best resolutions, yet, condemne.
Let them discerne, thou blessings hast provided,
For that, which they unjustly have derided.
Thou heretofore didst heare thy Servant call,
And mad'st me free when I was close in thrall.
Oh! to those mortals make me not a scorne,
Who to my Shame my Glory seeke to turne:
But let it in thy time to them appeare,
That thou didst me elect, and me wilt heare.
Let them perceive (though they my Lott disdaine)
The promise of this Life doth appertaine
To me as unto them. And for their sakes
Whose weaknesse, otherwhile, offences takes
At my perpetuall scandals; let their eye
Behold the turne of my Captivity;
And know that I have walked in a path,
Which, in this life time, some smooth paces hath.
But, nought repine I, though this boone thou grant not.
For, that which thou to me deny'st I want not.
J know thy Wisedome knowes what best will fit me:
I know thy Pow'r enough those things to get me:
I know thy Love is large enough to me:
I know thy Pleasure should my pleasure be:
Thy will be done, and hallowed be thy Name,
Although it be through my perpetuall shame.
Whilst on such Meditations I was feeding
My pleased soule (and Gods great goodnes heeding)
That I might fill her with contemplating
On him, from whom all happinesse doth spring:
A suddaine Rapture did my Muse prepare
For higher things then she did lately dare.
Me thought, I saw Gods Iustice and his Love
Installed on one throne, in heav'n above.
I had imperfect fights, and glimmering notions,
Concerning some of their particular motions,
About this Orbe. I much perceiv'd, me thought,
O those their wondrous works we they had wrought
In former dayes. And, as within a Glasse,
Some things I saw, which they will bring to passe
In future times. By helpe of Gods great Booke,
(Which for my Ephimerides I tooke)
I had procur'd a large intelligence
Of Iustice and of Mercies Influence.
There, learned I the severall Aspects,
And, of those Starres the severall effects:
While in conjunction those two Lights I saw;
The best Astrologers could never draw
From all the planetary Constellations
(Ev'n at their best) such heav'nly consolations.
I could conjecture of their worke divine,
In Sextile, or in Quadrine, or in Trine;
And what prodigious Plagues the world should fright
If their aspect were wholly Opposite.
Some things, by calculation I discerned,
Which this our British Latitude concerned;
And most of them not much impertinent
For all Meridians through Earths Continent.
I saw of Weale and Woe the many ranges:
I saw the restlesse Wheele of mortall changes:
I saw how Cities, Common-wealths, and Men,
Did rise and fall, and rise and fall agen.
I saw the reason, why all Times and States,
Have such vicissitudes, and various fates.
I saw what doth occasion War, and Peace;
What causeth Dearth, and what doth bring Encrease.
I saw what hardens, and what mollifies;
And whence all Blessings, and all Plagues arise.
I saw how sins are linked in together
As in a Chaine; how one doth cause another;
And how to ev'ry linke throughout the Chaine,
Are fixt those Plagues which to that Crime pertaine.
I saw unseal'd, that hellish Mystery,
Of carnall and meere worldly Policy,
Whereby the Devill fooles this generation,
And brings on Christendome such molestation.
I saw (as plaine, as ever I did see
The Sun at none) what damned projects be
Veild o're with Piety, and Holy zeale:
And how, a Christian Ath'isme now doth steale
Vpon this age. Forgive me that I saw
A Christian Ath'isme; for, ev'n to betray
Christ Iesus, Christ and Iesus, those two Names,
Are oft usurped; and it us defames.
I saw, why some abuse their holy Calling,
And why so many Stars from heav'n are falling.
I had a Licence given me, to come
Where I might see the Devils Tiring-roome,
And, all the Maskes, the Visards, and Disguises,
Which he to murther, cheat, or rob, devises.
And weares himselfe, or lends false-hearted brothers
Therewith to foole themselves, or cozen others.
Here lay a Box of zeale professing Eyes,
Which serve for acting of Hypocrisies.
Hard by, another, full of Double-hearts,
For those who play the Ambodexters parts.
There, stood a Chest of counterfeited Graces;
Another, full of honest-seeming Faces.
Yonn, hung a suit, which, had some Traytor got,
He might have passed for a Patriot.
Close by, were presse fuls of such suits, as they
Doe weare (in ev'ry Kingdome at this day)
Who passe for Statesmen; when, God knowes, they be
As far from that, as knaves from loving me.
There, hung those masking-suits, in which the Popes,
And Cardinals, pursue their carnall hopes.
There, were those formall Garbs, wherein false friends
Disguise themselves, for some unfaithfull ends.
Faire counterfeits for Bishops saw I there,
So like their habits that are most sincere,
(And so besainted) that if they were set
Vpon the back of our Arch counterfeit,
He could not be distinguisht from the best
Of all those Prelates, that have Christ profest.
There, view'd I all those juggling sleights with wch
Men worke false miracles; and, so, betwitch
Deluded soules. There, saw I all the tricks
And Fantosmes wherewithall our Schismaticks
Abuse themselves and others. There (with ruth)
I saw false-Doctrines, trimm'd about with Truth;
Fac'd out, with Fathers; peec'd, and neatly dearned,
With Sentences, and Sayings, of the Learned.
Yea, with Gods holy Scriptures, interweaved,
So cunningly, as would have nigh deceived
Ev'n his Elect: (and, many a one, alas,
Of these, for Christian Uerities doth passe.)
I saw moreover, with what Robes of Light,
The King of Darknesse doth his person dight,
To make it Angel like; and how he serues
Himselfe among our musings, to abuse
Our understandings; how he layes his hooks,
And baits, at Sermons, and in godly-books;
(Although the Authors had, in their invention,
A pious meaning, and a good intention)
I saw what venome he doth hurle into
Our heart'est prayers, and those works we doe
In purest charity: and how he strives
To poison us in our preservatives.
When all these Maskings, and a thousand moe,
My apprehensions eye had lookt into:
From thence my Contemplation rais'd my thought,
And, to a higher Station I was brought.
There, I beheld what ruine and confusion,
Was of these Mummeries, the sad conclusion.
There, saw I what Catæstrophes attend
Those Vanities, wherein our times we spend:
How God still counterworks, and overthrowes
The projects of the Devill, and our Foes.
And, tell I could (but that it would be prated,
I some Prophetick spirit arrogated)
Strange newes to those mens eares, who have not learned
What nay, by Meditation, be discerned.
Yet, all that I conceive I cannot write:
Nor would I though I could: for, so I might
Throw Pearles to Swine; of whom I may be torne,
Be trampled in the mire, and made a scorne.
Nay, tell my selfe I dare not, what I spy,
When I have thoughts of most transcendency;
Lest Pride possesse me, and should cast me downe,
As far below, as I on high have flowne:
For, when we nearest unto heav'n do soare,
(Till we are there) our perils are the more;
Since, there is wickednesse which we doe call
The wickednesse that is spirituall
In heav'nly places And as we doe know
There is a Lightning which doth often goe
Quite through the body, to the vitall part,
And kill the very spirits at the heart,
Yet never harme the flesh; became it may
Through v'ry porous member make it way
Without impression: So, from our offences,
The Devill doth extract some Quintessenses,
Which we may rightly name, the spirit of sin;
And, till our thoughts have sublimated bin,
They are too grosse for that to worke upon.
But, when such Sublimations are begun,
He doth infuse his chymicall receipt,
And, either worke precipitation, straight,
O! makes those Virtues, which pure gold were thoght
When they shall come to triall, worse then nought.
I saw this danger (as my soule did flye
To God ward) and the Devills Chymistry,
I learned how to frustrate; by assuming
Humility, and shunning high presuming.
I, of those lovely Grace, got the view,
Which reach us how such perils to eschew.
I learned there, how they might be procured;
How their continuance might be still secured;
And, in my pow'r it is not to expresse,
How I was fill'd with hopes of happinesse.
My thoughts (yet) climbed higher and perceived
A glimpse of things that cannot be conceived.
The Love of God; the Joyes that are to come;
And many fights that long were hidden from
My blinded Soule. This, set my heart on fire
To climbe a little, and a little higher;
Till I was up so high, that I did see
The World, but like an Atome, under me.
Me thought, it was not worth my looking on;
Much lesse, the setting of my love upon.
My soule did strive to mixe her selfe among
The Cherubins, and in their Angell-song
To beare a part; and, secrets to unskreene,
That cannot by our mortall eyes be seene.
And, I would gladly thither have ascended,
Where joyes are perfect, and all woes are ended.
As thus I mounted; by degrees I felt
My strength to faile me, and my wings to melt:
My flesh waxt faint; my objects grew too pure,
For my grosse understanding to endure.
A kind of shuddring did my heart surprise,
Like that which comes when sudden thoughts arise.
I far'd like him, who sleeping, dreames of store,
And waking, finds himselfe exceeding poore.
A pow'r unseene, did hold upon me take,
And, to my soule, to this effect it spake.
“I say it was Gods Spirit; if you doubt
“I arrogate, come heare the matter out:
“For, who the Speaker is, that will disclose:
“And, if 'twere he, his Flocke, his language knowes:
Despaire not Soule (it said) though thou art faine
To sinke from these, to common thoughts againe.
Nor murmur thou, that yet thou must not rise
To thy witht height. God's favour will suffise
For that which wants; and these high thoughts are giv'n
In earnest of that part of thine in heav'n,
Which by thy Royall Master is prepared;
And, in thy time allotted, shall be shared.
Strive to ascend; but straine not over long,
Thy climbing spirits, lest thou doe them wrong.
The Flesh is heavy, though the Soule be light;
And, Heav'n is seldome reached at one flight.
Mount high; but, mount not higher then thy bound;
Lest thou be lost, and all that thou hast found.
Search deepe; but search no deeper then thy pow'r;
Left some infernall Depth may thee devoure.
Observe thy Makers glory by reflection;
But, gaze not overmuch at his perfection;
Lest that great lustre blinde thee. Take thou heed,
Lest while thou thinkst thou homeward dost proceed,
Thou quite be lost: For, though these flights do raise
Thy Soule with pleasure, they are dangerous wayes.
When higher then the vulgar pitch she towres
She meets with Principalities, and Pow'rs,
Who wrestle with her, that she may not rise;
Or tempt her on, by Curiosities,
To lead the mind astray, untill it wanders
Among the windings of unsafe Meanders.
Then doth it whirle about, to see things hidden;
Pryes after Secresies that are forbidden;
And by a path, which tends to Heav'n, in show,
Ariveth, unaware, at Hell below.
Take heed of this, the way to heav'n is steep;
Yet, e're thou climbe it, thou must often creep.
The worke appointed thee, is yet unended,
And, Gods good pleasure must be still attended
Ev'n in this world, untill he call thee thence.
His Kingdome must be got bv violence.
Thou must with many frailties, yet, contend,
Before thy Christian warfare hath an end.
The World is brewing yet another Cup
Of Bitternesse, for thee to swallow up.
Thou hast from Heav'n an Arrand yet to doe,
Which (if God hinder not) will call thee to
More troubles, and more hatred bring upon thee,
Then all thy former Messages have won thee.
And be thou sure, the Devill will devise
All slanders, and all wicked infamies
That may disparage thee: or fruitlesse make,
That usefull worke which thou dost undertake.
Thou must prepare thine eares to beare the noise
Of causelesse threatnings, or the foolish voice
Of ignorant Repravers; and expect
The secret Censures of each giddy Sect.
Thou must provide thy selfe, to heare great Lords
Talke, without reason, big imperious words.
Thou must contented be to make repaire
(If need require) before the Scorners Chaire,
To heare them jeere, and flout, and take in hand
To scoffe at what they doe not understand.
Or say, perhaps, that of thy selfe thou mak'st
Some goodly thing; or that thou undertak'st
Above thy Calling; or unwarranted:
Not heeding from whose mouth it hath bin led,
“Gods Wisdome oft elects, what men despise;
“And foolish things, to foole the worldly wise.
But scare thou not. For, he that in all places,
And from all dangers, wants, and all disgraces,
Hath hitherto preserv'd thee; will secure
Thy safety now. That hand which did procure
Release from thy close Thraldomes, and maintained.
Thy heart content, while thou wert so restrained;
Will be the same for ever: and, like stubble,
Consume; or, like the weakest water-bubble,
Dissolve the force of ev'ry machination;
Whereby the world shall seek thy molestation.
Though thou in knowledge are a Child, as yet,
And, seemest not by outward Calling fit
For such a taske: yet, doe not thou disable
What God shall please to say is warrantable.
His Word, remaineth still in date, which sayes,
That, On the children of the later dayes,
He would poure out a measure of his Spirits;
And, thou thereof a portion shalt inherit.
Though thou despised art; yet God by thee
Shall bring to paise a worke which strange will be
To most beholders; and, no doubt, it shall
Occasion some to stand, and some to fall.
For, men to ruine doom'd, will misconceive it;
And, they that shall have safety, will receive it.
Thy God hath toucht thy Tongue, and tipt thy Pen;
And, therefore, feare not thou the face of men,
Lest he destroy thee. For, this day to stand
'Gainst Princes, Priests, and People of this Land,
Thou art appointed: and they shall in vaine
Contend. For, thou the conquest shalt obtaine.
Although that viperous Brood upon thee lights,
Whose pois'ned tongue with killing slander smites;
And, though the barbarous People of this Ile,
Doe thereupon adjudge thee, for a while,
A man so wicked that (although thou hast
The Sea of Troubles, without shipwrack, past)
Gods Vengeance will not suffer thee to live
The life of honest Fame: Let that not grieve
Thy heart a whit. For, though their eyes doe see
Reproaches, which like Vipers, hanging be,
Vpon thy flesh; they shall perceive e're long,
That thou (unharmed) them away hast flung.
And they who did expect to see thee fall,
For thy firme slanding, praise Gods mercy shall.
Against oppression, he will safe maintaine thee,
Ev'n God, who oft did his protection daigne thee;
And tooke thy part against all those, that sought
How they thy Muse, to silence, might have brought,
He, that preserv'd thee from this plague, will save thee:
For, he thy life ev'n of meere mercy, gave thee,
To serve him with Thou knowst thou art a Brand,
Snatcht from the flaming fire, by Gods owne hand;
And that to him thou owest, all thou art,
And all thy Faculties, in ev'ry part.
Take heed, therefore, that nothing thou refuse
To utter, which he prompts unto thy Muse.
Be constant: and, Elihu-like, beware
That thou accept not persons; nor declare
With glozing titles, that which thou shalt say;
Lest God may take thee suddenly away:
But, publish that which he of thee requires,
In termes, and words, as he the same inspires.
For, to this Realme and City thou art sent,
To warne, that of their follies they repent;
To shew for what omissions, and offences,
God sendeth Famines, Wars, and Pestilences;
And to pronounce what other plagues will come,
If their Transgressions they depart not from.
Indeed, of Priests and Prophets, store have they,
And, some of them are like enough to say;
When came the Spirit of the Lord to thee,
From us, who no such dangers can foresee
As thou pretendest? These are thy that share
The pleasures of the time, with such as are
The Lands perdition. These are they which tye
Soft pillowes to mens elbowes; and still cry
Peace, peace; ev'n when perdition, hanging over
The peoples heads, they plainly may discover.
But, they that are true Priests of God among them,
And his true Prophets, think not, he doth wrong thē,
If he doe chuse a Heardman: nor will such
Envy the same (or at the blessing grutch)
It all were Prophets, and God pleased were
To make that Gift to ev'ry man appeare.
Though Gods own presence, had made Moses wise;
Yet, Jethro's counsell would he not despise.
He, whom the Angell fed, did also eat
Ev'n when the Ravens came to bring him meat:
And, all that of their spirit partners be,
Will heare what's good, though published by thee.
Behold; this thanklesse People (from whose Land
God hath but newly tooke his heavy hand)
Forget already what his mercy hath
Vouchsafed; and his late enflamed wrath.
See, how they flocke together, to pursue
New mischiefes, and old follies to renew.
Their evill courses, they afresh begin;
And, ev'n those very purposes of sin,
Whose prosecution this great Plague hath slaid,
To finish now they are no whit afraid.
Those Discords which they, many times, pretended,
Amid their feares, should christianly be ended,
(If God would spare them) are againe revived;
And divers new malicious plots contrived.
Those Lusts, of which they seemed much ashamed;
Those Vanities, for which themselves they blamed;
Those Bargains, which their conscience did perswade
Were wicked; & of God abhorred made them; (thē,
That Pride; that Sloth; that Envy; that Excesse;
That Cruelty; that Irreligiousnesse;
Yea, all that wickednesse pursude before,
(And which they fain'd so truly to deplore)
Returnes with interest; and they contemne
Good things; as if the Plague had hardned them.
Like Phar'oh, they repented while the Rod
Was laid upon them. But, as soone as God
Removed it; their mindes they changed too;
And would not let their evill customes goe.
Goe therefore instantly, goe draw the Map
Of that great Plague from which they did escape:
Set thou before their eyes, as in a glasse,
How great Gods Mercy, and their danger was.
Lay open their grosse crimes, that they may see
How hatefull, and how infinite they be.
Declare what mischiefes their enormities
Have caused; and will daily cause to rise.
Pronounce those Iudgements which Gods holy Word
Doth for the Wages of their Crimes record.
And (as the blessed Spirit shall enable,
Thy Muse; and, show thee what is warrantable)
Tell boldly, what will on their wayes attend,
Vnlesse their lives and courses they amend.
Delay it not; and let no worke of thine;
No goodly-seeming hope, or faire designe,
(How promising soever) draw thee from
This Taske, untill unto an end it come.
For, no affaire of thine shall finde successe,
Till thou hast finisht this great Businesse.
If any man that is thy friend, or foe,
Shall this deride; and say it is not so;
But, that thy Fancy onely eggeth on
Thy Muse: or, that to doe, or leave undone
This worke, were much alike. If any say
Thou maist proceed herein, with such delay,
As, vulgarly, discretion thinketh fit:
Or, as thy common Bus'nesse will permit.
Nay, if thou meet, as thou maist met with some,
Who like a Prophet, unto thee will come;
And (as the Man of God seduced was,
Who told in Bethel what should come to passe
Concerning Ieroboams Altar there)
Perswading thee, those thoughts delusions are:
That, selfe-conceit, or pride, hath made thee dreame
That thou art bound to prosecute this Theame:
Believe them not. For, if that Man of God
Here mentioned, did feele so sharpe a rod,
When his delay was but to eate and drinke;
(Perchance through hunger) and when he did think
A Prophet sent by God, had licenc'd him:
Take heed thou doe not this advice contemne.
For, since this motion urgeth nought that's ill,
Nor contradicteth Gods revealed will;
But rather helpes effect it: since he moves it
So nat'rally, that thine owne soule approves it
To be his act; beware how thou suspect it,
Or how thou shalt be carelesse to effect it.
Let not a worldly wisedome, (nor the scoffe
Of any) from this motive drive thee off.
Take heed the feare of dangers, nor the losse
Of carnall hopes, thy purpose, herein, crosse.
Take heed, that Ionas-like, thou be not bent
To Tharsies, when thou knowst that thou art sent
To Niniveh. For, all thy doubts, and feare,
Will be as causelesse, as his doubtings were:
And be thou sure, that wheresoe're thou be,
A Tempest and a Whale shall follow thee.
My heart receiv'd this Message; did allow
It came from God; and made a solemne Vow,
It would not entertaine a serious thought
Of any worldly thing, till that were brought
To full perfection: no, although it might
Endanger losing my best fortune quite.
But, oh! how fraile is Man? and how unable
In any goodnesse to continue stable?
How subtile is the Devill? and what baits,
And undermining policies and sleights,
Hath he to coozen us? My soule was raised
So high, e'rewhile, that I admir'd and praised
My blest estate: And thought, with David, then,
My heart shall never be remov'd agen.
But, see, how soone, if God withdraw his eye,
We fall to hell, that up to heav'n did flye.
I would have sworne (when in my Contemplation,
I was ascended to that lofty Station,
So lately mention'd) that I should have scorn'd
The goodliest prize the Devill could have suborn'd
To tempt me by. I thought, if God had said,
Doe this; that (though the World had all beene laid
To be my wages, if I should delay
The doing of the same, but halfe a day)
I should have rather chose to have forsaken
My life: then so to have beene overtaken.
Yet, loe; so craftily a bait was laid;
Such showes of Goodnesse, thereinto convaid,
Some meanes of helpe to Piety, pretended;
No me so seem'd it, to be recommended
By God himselfe; and, such necessity
Appear'd of taking opportunity
As then it offred was, that I suspected
I had done ill, the same to have neglected.
Nay, to my Vnderstanding, true Discretion,
And, all the Wisdome of this Generation,
Did so concur together to betray
My heart; that I did foolishly delay
The Task enjoyn'd. Yea, what I had bgun,
(Proceeded in) and purpos'd should be done
Before my best affaires; ev'n that I threw
Aside; and other hopes I did pursue.
I brake my Vow, and I was led awry
For that which was more light then Vanity;
And so my hopes my judgement did beguile,
That, I supposed all was well the while.
Most, also, thought me wisely to have done,
And, such a fortune to have lighted on;
That others of my happinesse, began
To talke; and reckon me a prosperous man.
But, many scandals, passions, and vexations,
Much hindrance, and a world of perturbations,
Pursued me; to let me understand,
That I had taken some wrong act in hand.
For, though like Ionas, I resolv'd not quite
From Gods commands to make a stubborne slight;
Yet went I to his Worke the furthest way:
And, travell'd, as mine owne occasions lay.
Which he perceiving, sent a Storme that crest me;
Made shipwracke of my hopes; my labour lost me;
Befool'd my wisdome; of much joy bereft me;
Within the Sea of many troubles left me;
And what with speed and ease I might have done
At first; hath long with paine beene lingred on.
Yea, when the Harvest of my great repute
Was looked for (and most expected fruit)
It proved chaffe; and, plainly I perceived,
That God had suffred me to be deceived;
To warne me, that hereafter, I should never.
Omit, for any reason whatsoever,
His motions; nor with holy vowes dispense:
But worke his pleasure, with all diligence.
Which after I had heeded, I descry'd
By what, and whither, I was drawne aside.
I plainly saw, that what I then had sought
With hope of comfort, would my woe have wrought.
I found that likely to have beene to me
A Curse, which promised my Blisse to be.
I praised God, as for a favour done,
That he did lose me, what I might have won:
And what the world did think me haplesse in,
I found a gracious blessing to have bin.
I saw my fault; I saw, in vaine I sought
To worke my will, till I Gods will had wrought.
I saw that while the furthest way I went,
Gods Mercy did my foolishnesse prevent:
Yea, made it (by his providence divine)
A great advantage to his owne Designe.
And, for my negligence when I had mourned,
To my proposed Labour, I returned.
I begg'd of God that he would give me grace,
To be more constant in a godly race.
I did beseech him to bestow againe
Those Apprehensions, which my hopes in vaine
Had made me lose: and that, for my demerit,
He would not quench in me his holy Spirit:
But, grant me pow'r to prosecute my story,
And utter forth his Message, to his glory.
My sute was heard: I got what I desired:
My soule, with matter, was anew inspired.
My eyes were clear'd; my heart was new enlarged:
Bold Resolutions had all Feares discharged:
And, that which was disclosed unto me,
Doth appertaine, Great Britaine, unto thee.
Come heare me therefore; for, howe're thou take it,
My Conscience bids me, and I meane to speake it.
Within thy pow'r thou hast me; and what e're
Shall good and right in thine owne eyes appeare,
Thou maist inflict upon me: But, this know,
That what I shall declare, God bids me show;
And that, if I for this, have harme, or shame;
My God shall at thy hands require the same.
Oh! let not my requests in vaine be made;
Nor to thy former sinnes, another adde.
And, my sweet Country, and deare Countrimen,
Let not these overflowings of my pen
Distastfull be; as if their spring had beene
But either from the Gall, or from the Spleene.
Let not this ages false Interpreter,
(Which makes both Iudgement and Affection erre)
Corrupt my Text, by their false Commentary,
To make your good opinions to miscary.
For, though in me (as in all flesh and blood)
Much error hinders from that perfect good
Which I affect: yet I his meed may claime,
Who makes Gods glory, and your weale his ayme;
And, begs but of his words a patient hearing;
And, from your follies a discreet forbearing.
If there be Truth, and Reason, in the Message,
Let not my person hinder my Ambassage.
If God shall in his Mercy pleased be,
To make a Factor for his praise of me;
Let none the poorenesse of my gifts deride,
Since he to no externall meanes is ty'd.
Despise not what I speake, for what I am;
Vnlesse you find the matter be to blame.
For, God by Babes and Sucklings, oft, reveales,
What from the wisest worldlings he conceales.
Both Heav'n and Earth, to witnesse here I call,
I dar'd not speake what now I utter shall,
Vnlesse I thought, that God did me inspire;
And would this duty at my hands require.
Nor dar'd I to be silent, though I knew
That ev'ry man had vowed to pursue
My Soule to Death; because my conscience takes
Acknowledgement, that God within me speakes.
I doe not this, for that I senselesse am,
(Oh! England) of thy infamy or shame:
For, thy dishonor doth concerne me nearly;
And thee my heart affecteth far more dearly,
Then cowards doe their lives. I would distill
My blood (as inke is drained from my quill)
Ev'n drop by drop; or else, at once, let all
Gush forth, to save thy honor from a fall.
I aime not at a vaine or fruitlesse glory,
By daring: for, I know the mortall story
Of all the glorioust actions, that are under
The heav'ns large curtain, are but nine daies wōder.
And that the most deserving workes we doe,
May ruine us, and helpe disgrace us too.
I doe it not that I may wealthy grow:
For, I the worlds rewards already know
In such attempts. Experience I have gained,
What poore preferments this way are obtained.
My former Straines (which did but way prepare
For that, which I hereafter should declare)
Received evermore the worst reward,
As they grew better worthy of regard.
And (if God let not) as these are my best,
My troubles, will for them, exceed the rest.
Tis odds, but that the wilfull Generation,
For whom I write this large Anticipation,
(To stay their censure) will scarce reade so far,
As hitherto, where these Preventions are:
But, here, and there, picke out some tart relations,
Without observing of those moderations
That follow or precede them. Else, perchance
Their brazen and Herculean Ignorance
Will strongly keepe that Vnderstanding from them,
Whereby the pow'r of Reason might o'recome them.
Some also, peradventure, will forget,
How, when I formerly was round beset
With many troubles, I did still despise
The raging fury of mine enemies.
Yea some, no doubt, will have a minde to see
What kinde of pow'r, there is in them, or me;
And whilst such men there are, he thinks amisse,
Who thinkes to thrive by such a course as this.
Tis not from envy of their Lott, who grow
Great men, or wealthy, whence these lines doe flow.
For, I rejoice in each mans happinesse,
That to Gods praise, good fortunes doth possesse:
And they that know my person, witnesse can,
My lookes assure, I am no envious man.
It is not malice that hath wrought upon
My Passions: for, I vow, I malice none.
No line or word of this which now I write,
Proceeds from rancor, or unchristian spight.
When I have wrong received, if I say
Wherein; what harme doe I in that I pray?
'Twere much, if when we injury sustaine,
We neither may have helpe, nor yet complaine:
'Twere hard, if knowing I had many foes,
I might not say so, lest some should suppose
What Names they bear. To no man this wil show thē,
But, unto such as doe already know them.
Nor, when I mention wrongs, doe I intend
Their shame who doe them; but some better end.
For, they that yet are enemies of mine,
May prove Gods friends, and to my good encline.
I wish them well, what e're they wish to me;
And of their harme would no procurer be.
In gen'rall termes, I point out those that erre;
With none I meddle in particular:
For, knaves and honest men are so alike,
In many things, that I amisse may strike.
I finde the faults; let others finde the men.
I no man judge; let no man judge me then.
My Muse hath not usurped this Commission:
Not arrogateth to mine owne condition,
More excellence then others: But, I share
A part in those reproofes that others beare.
I doe not thinke mine owne a spotlesse eye,
Because it faults in others can espye.
I never thought it was enough for me,
A Criticke in my neighbours faults to be,
Vnlesse I markt mine owne: which here I doe.
And check the worlds and mine owne errors too.
I meane to winke at none; at none I ayme;
To heed or friends or foes, I doe disclaime.
My Bow is bent, and I must shoot a flight
Of shafts, that will in divers places light.
Perhaps some of them my best friends may wound?
Vpon my selfe, some others may rebound.
Some (shot aloft) may fear the Kites that flye
Above the clouds, themselves to Eaglifie.
Some pierce their sides, who thoght they had bin got
Beyond the reaching of my winged shot.
And some who thought they had concealed beene,
May feele my arrowes, where they lurke unseene.
Light where they will, the care's already tooke:
Gives none but he that's guilty can be strooke.
Hist thou forgot, oh! Britaine, (and so soone)
Thy lates afflictions, and Gods gracious boone?
As soone as e're thy necke unslacked feeles
The curbing Reine, dost thou let flye thy heeles?
Shall nor Gods Iustice, nor his matchlesse Love,
Thy flinty nature to repentance move?
But wilt thou still in crooked paths persever,
And of thy Vanities repent thee never?
Oh! looke about thee; yea, looke backe, and see
What wondrous things thy God hath done for thee.
Thou wert in future times, an uncouth place,
That had of wildnesse the deformed face.
Thou wert long time, the seat of Desolation,
And when thou hadst but slender reputation,
God lookt upon thee, with the first of all.
Those Gentiles, whom in mercy he did call,
Of his beloved Vineyards, thou wert one;
And situate like that, once plac'd upon
The fruitfulst Hill. God, for thy Fence prepared
A naturall wall, by his owne hands upreared.
He tooke away that stony heartednesse,
Which did thy heathnish children first possesse;
And hath beene pleased, many times, since then,
To gather out those flinty hearted men,
Who by a bloody persecuting hand,
Did harme thy tender Sapling: in thy Land.
He plucked out of thee the stinking weeds
Of Sin and Superstition; that the seeds
Of Truth and Holinesse might here be sowne,
Where wickednesse the soile had overgrowne.
The choicest Plants (of that Vine-mysticall,
His onely-Sonne) he planted thee withall.
The stately Watch towre of his Providence
Compleatly furnished for thy defence,
In thee was builded up; and did appeare
To many other Kingdomes, far and neare:
And on the lofty Turrets of the same
He set his Flags, and Ensignes of his Name,
Whose beautious Colours being wide displaid,
Did make thy adversaries all afraid.
Within thy Borders, hath his Love divine
The Wine-presse, of a Christian discipline
Erected; and in ev'ry season given
(To make thee fruitful) dewes & showrs from heav'n.
Yea thou hast had, since food of life grew scanty,
Not barely seven, but seventy yeares of plenty.
What grace soever might repeated be
That God for Isr'el did, he did for thee.
He from a thraldome, worse then they sustained,
While in th' Ægyptian bondage they remained,
Did bring thy Children thorough Baptismes Flood,
And drowne thy Foes, within a Sea of Blood.
Thy Coast unto a large extent he stretcheth,
For, ev'n from Sea to Sea it compasse fetcheth.
Thy Land with Milke and Hony over-flowes.
In thee all pleasure, and all plenty growes.
God kept thee as the apple of an eye;
And, as when Eglets are first taught to flye,
Their Dam about them hovers; so, thy God,
Doth over thee, display his wings abroad.
A Land of Hils and Dales thou wert created;
And in a Clime, so profitable, seated,
That whereas many other Lands are faine
To water all their seeds, and plants, with paine,
Thou sav'st that labour: for, the Dewes yeeld matter
To cheere thy Gardens, and the Clouds bring water.
Faire Woods & Groves, do yet adorn thy Mountains;
Thou art a Land of Rivers, and of Mountaines:
Springs hot and cold, and fresh, and salt, there be;
And, some that cure diseased folk in thee.
Thee, both in Towne and Field, the Lord hath blest;
Thy People and thy Cattell are encreast.
Blest wert thou in thy going forth to war;
And blessed also thy returnings were.
He blest thee in thy store, and in thy basket:
Thine owne request he gave, when thou didst ask it:
He evermore hath timely fauours done thee:
Throughout the yeare his eye hath beene upon thee:
He carefull was, what perills might betide thee;
And heedfull all things needfull to provide thee:
In Grasse and Corne, and Fruits, thou dost excell:
Thy Horse are strong, thine Oxen labour well:
The udders of thy Kine grow large with milke:
Thy Sheep yeeld fleeces, like the Persian silk:
Thy Stones are Iron, and thy Hills are big
With Minerals, which from their wombs we dig:
Thy Soile is neither over moist, nor dry:
The Sun nor keeps too far nor comes too nigh:
Thy Ayre doth few contagious vapours breed:
Nor doth it, oft, in heat, or cold exceed.
Still, for thy sins, thou hadst thy due corrections;
And, foundst compassion in thy great afflictions.
His Prophets and his Preachers God hath sent
In ev'ry age, to move thee to repent;
And, them thou smot'st, and murtherd'st, now & thē;
Yet, gave he not to other Husbandmen
His wronged Vineyard: but, doth yet attend,
In expectation, when thou wilt amend.
He, over all thy Foes, the conquest gave thee:
He did from wrōg, by neighb'ring Nations, save thee:
And, they to feare and honor thee were moved,
Because they saw thee, of thy God, beloved.
Thou hadst a Deborah bestow'd upon thee,
Who freed thee from thy Foes, and glory won thee,
In spight of Sisera: For, God did please
To make the Stars, the Clouds, the Winds, and Seas,
To fight thy battels. When her turne was gone.
He raised up another Solomon,
Within thy Borders to establish peace,
Who to thy glories added an increase.
Thou wert as often warn'd, and punished;
As much besought; as largely promised,
As Iudah was. Thy Church that lately seemed
Like barren Hannah (and was disesteemed
Of proud Peninnah) in a spirituall breed,
Doth most of Syons Daughters, now exceed:
And thou hast viewed many of thy sonnes,
To sit and governe, on earths glorious Thrones.
The Iewish Commonwealth was never daigned
More great Deliverances then thou hast gained.
Nor was their helpe vouchsaf'd in better season;
As Eighty eight, and our great Powder-treason,
Can witnesse well. For, then thy preservation
Was wrought by God (to all mens admiration)
Ev'n when Hels Iawes, on thee, were like to close;
And when, for humane aide to interpose,
There scarce was meanes, or time. All which was done
That thou Gods love mightst think the more upon.
Moreover, that no meanes might passe untride,
Which God did for the Iewes of old provide;
To thee he also sends his onely Sonne:
Not, as to them, a poore contemned one,
(That, seeing him, they might not him perceive,
And, hearing him, no knowledge of him have)
Not as a weakling, or illiterate:
Or meane, or in a persecuted slate:
Or one whose person, beauty, and complexion,
In them, had nothing stirring up affection;
Nor as a man that worthy seem'd of scorne,
Of mocks, of whips, and of a crowne of thorne:
He came not so to thee for, thou hadst then
Despis'd and crucified him agen,
As well as they: yea, thou perchance, hadst more
Despighted him, then others heretofore.
But, in a glorious wise to thee he came:
With pow'r, with approbation, and with fame.
His Fishermen (that heretofore did seeme
To Iewes and Gentiles, of so meane esteeme)
Had won whole Countries from Idolatry,
And made them to confesse his sov'raignty.
He comes to thee with honor, like a King:
He did into (the Church) his Kingdome, bring
A setled Government. He had asswaged
That Iewish, and that Ethnick spight, which raged
At his first comming. Emperours became
His Viceroyes; and did governe in his Name.
Thou sawst fulfilled, many things (of old)
Both by his Prophets and Himselfe, foretold;
Which did confirme him, that Messiah, whom
Thou shouldst receive. His Doctrines well become
His purity: and, witnessed is he
By Martyrs and Confessors, him to be
Whom thou should'st heare. And (this hath greater made
Thy Favours, then that Grace the Iewes have had)
Their threats, their punishments, their ignorances,
Their pertinacy, and deliverances,
Their fallings, risings, and relapses, are
Recorded, that by them thou mightst beware.
Thou knowst what Desolation they are in,
In recompence of their despightfull sin,
The murther of their Brother: yea, like Cain,
Thou seest, that, yet, they vagabonds remaine.
Thou hear'st, their fruitfull Land hath ever since,
Beene curst with barrennesse, for their offence:
That, without King, Priest, Prophet, or good order,
They through the world have wandred for their murther
Nigh sixteene hundred yeares: and that altho
They be abhorred, wheresoe're they goe,
They have upon them, still, the marke of Caine,
Which will prevent their being wholly slaine;
Lest (as the blessed Psalmist hath foretold)
The People of the Lord, forget it should.
Yet, nor their good Examples, nor their Fall,
Nor all their Blessings, nor their Sorrowes all,
Have better'd thee: but, thou continu'st in
Their obstinacies, and in all their sin.
Like them thou murmur'st, if God, but to try thee,
Some blessing, for a little time deny thee.
So, thou dost wanton it, as soone as e're,
In any suffring, he thy voice doth heare.
So, thou Gods wholsome counsell dost despise,
To follow thine owne foolish Policies.
So, thou dost mixe thy selfe with other Nations,
And, learne to practise their abominations.
So, on those broken Reeds thou dost rely,
Which will deceive, in thy necessity.
So, thou dost stop thine cares (to thine owne harme)
Although the Charmer ne're so wisely charme.
That which thy Prophets teach, and well advise;
Iust so, thou dost neglect; just so, despise:
Yea, though from time to time, thou seest the path
Which thou dost follow, ill successes hath:
Though thou hast found, that they who did foretell
Thy course was foolish, did forewarne thee well:
Though thou dost finde, no rest, nor peace, in that,
Which thou art yet unwisely ayming at:
And, though thy truest Lovers, ev'ry day,
Doe counsell thee, and for thy safety pray;
Thou runnest headlong, still, thy wilfull course,
And vaxest ev'ry moment, worse and worse.
Thy eyes are blinded, and thou canst not see;
Thy heart is hard, and will not softned be.
To thy best Friends thou shewst thy selfe a Foe,
As if, thou rip'ned wert, for overthrow:
And, till God please to turne thy heart againe,
All, that speake truth to thee, shall speake in vaine.
Whence doe thy troubles, and thy losses come,
But, from thy carnall policies, and from
Thine owne vaine projects, which thou dost pursue,
By courses, that will still thy cares renew?
What gaine thy children, by their oft alliance
With Babels issue, or by their affiance,
But mungrell off-springs; which will ready be,
To stir up everlasting strikes in thee?
Though thou hast heard, the Midianites doe give
Their daughters to no end, but to deceive;
And that the people who to Moloch pray,
Will for their Idoll, cast their sonnes away:
Though thou hast heard what plagues ensu'd upon
The wivings of the wise King Solomon;
And knowest that by God, forbid it was,
A Bullocke should be yoaked with an Asse:
Though thou hast seene that their affinities
Are ev'n, among themselves, poore slender ties;
And such as they doe nought at all respect,
Vnlesse they serve their projects to effect:
Yet, in their course, thy Children doe proceed,
And sow Gods Garden with a mixed seed:
Of which, unlesse they truly doe repent,
And seeke, by carefell tillage to prevent,
What may ensue thereon (as yet they may)
Thy Land will suffer for't, another day.
Thy Guiltinesse (oh! Britaine) makes thee feare,
And often troubled where no terrors are.
Thy faith hath fail'd thee, and thou didst not see
Those armies, which have round enclosed thee
For thy protection. For, had they beene heeded,
Thou no Ægyptian succours should'st have needed.
If thou could'st walke within a constant path,
This Iland should not feare Jberia's wrath.
It should be needlesse for thee, to procure
Alliances, that cannot long endure.
Thou shouldst not care (but, as they Christians be)
What Kings on earth, were friends, or foes to thee,
No pow'r abroad, should make thy children tremble;
Nor home-bred faction cause thee to dissemble:
But, being safe in God, thou shouldst contemne
The greatest dangers, and get praise by them.
Oh! call to minde, the times now past away,
Those, which our Fathers, yet, remember may;
And let thine Elders tell thee (for they know)
How strong in Gods protection thou didst grow.
What wantedst thou, when thou wert all alone?
When thou hadst nothing to rely upon,
But Gods meere mercy? and such grace bestowne,
That thou couldst use those pow'rs that were thine owne?
When blest Eliza wore but half thy Crown,
And, almost, all the world, on her did frowne;
When Romes proud Bishop; and, of Christendome
The pow'rfulst Monarck, did her foes become.
When she had no Alliance, to make strong
Her party: but, was hatefull growne, among
The neighb'ring Princes; for her casting by
The yoake of Babylonish tyranny.
When she within her Kingdome had a swarme
Of Hornets, which did howrly threaten harme
Both to her State and person. VVhen their pow'r
And fury, was more likely to devoure,
Then at this present it appeares to be.
VVhen her owne Court from traytors was not free.
VVhen she had Irish Rebels to correct;
Oppressed Netherlanders to protect;
And France to umpire in: ev'n when all these,
And other troubles did her State disease.
VVhat glory, wealth, and safety hast thou got,
That she, amid those dangers, purchast not?
Religion in her dayes did still encrease;
At home she had both plentiousnesse and peace;
Abroad, she was renown'd: she did not pause
In executing other wholesome Lawes,
Through feare of any Male contents at home;
Or any threatnings from the Sea of Rome.
She triple Gerions forces did contemne;
Her neighbours sought her ayd; she sought not thē.
She aw'd the West: she from the Spanish Coast
Did rend their golden-fleeces; and she crost
Their hopefull'st aimes. They could not undermine
Her Counsells; nor by any slye designe,
Defeat her Forces: France was prudent then,
And would not stir the wrath of Englishmen:
For, they preserv'd their honor, by preserving
Their trust in God; and constant paths observing.
Then, to affront us, did no Dutchman dare,
Nor, in our Voyages presume to share,
But, with our favour. VVe had same by land;
Our pow'rfull Navies did the Seas command.
To ours, the strongest Fleets did strike their sailes;
They, that now bark; then, dar'd not wag their tailes:
Yea, though our Lyons not so many were,
Our strongest Foe, to rouze them, stood in feare.
No sonne of thine presumed, then, to be
So traiterous unto thy God, and thee,
As to allow a popish Liberty:
Much lesse to move, for that impiety,
In publick hearing. No man sought to sell,
For any summe, the peace of Jsrael:
No not within our Irish confines; tho
It somewhat urgent seem'd to have it so:
Because that peacefull pow'r thou hadst not got,
Which now thou hast: nor, then, the neighb'ring Scot
So firme unto thy State; nor so engaged
To tame that Nation, if a war it waged.
Thy Patriots perceiv'd, that to begin
With Ireland, would become the meanes to win
Great Britaine to the Romish yoake anew;
And, give the Spaniard courage, to pursue
His great designe upon the British nations.
They saw what civill broyles their Tolerations
Have bred in France. For, if within her wombe,
Rebecca could not but diseas'd become,
(Whilst she, at once, two sons did nourish there,
Which Fathers of unlike Religions were)
They thought, that if one Kingdome should admit
Two such Conceptions, to grow ripe in it,
They would, by daily struggling with each other,
Afflict the body of their nat'rall Mother;
And, cause an endlesse Warfare, untill one
Were setled in possession, all alone.
Thou didst not then, within thy Bounds afford
An Altar both to Baal and to the Lord.
What thou resolv'dst, was put in execution;
Thy zeale was chill'd with no irresolution.
No haltings were apparant. No disunion
Did hazard (though it troubled) thy Communion:
And, though thy many follies brought afflictions,
(Which, of those errors, were the due corrections)
Yet, was thy faith in God, lesse violated:
Apparant evils not so palliated:
Prophanenesse, not so patroniz'd, as now:
Nor didst thou such impieties allow.
But, thou art changed from what once thou wert;
Thy worse hath ouercome thy better part.
Vpon thine owne distempers thou art tost:
Thy confidence in God is almost lost.
And, thence it comes, that though thou dost abound
In many blessings, thou art needy found.
This makes Transgressions to encrease upon thee;
They bring new troubles, and new dangers on thee;
These make thee feare; thy terror causes thee
Impatient of thy feared harmes to be:
Impatience makes thee so unfit to stay
Gods leasure; that, thou runn'st another way,
And seek'st for helpe in thine owne Fantasies,
In fleshly Leagues, and humane Policies.
Those courses overwhelme thee with new sins:
From them, another brood of Plagues begins,
Which doth not mollifie, but more obdure
Thy flinty brest: and will at last procure
Thy totall overthrow; unlesse thou climbe
The hill of hearty Penitence, in time.
Growne fat with ease, & wealth, thou hast forsook
Thy God; and many crooked courses tooke.
God, who did thee so love, and so esteeme;
Who did create thee, and thy life redeeme;
Thou hast forgotten: yea, rejected him,
And, sought those gods, thy Father did contemne.
His Counsells, and his law, thou hast despised;
Nay, unto Devills, thou hast sacrificed;
And, them and thine owne kists, preferd before
His honour, whom thou shouldst have prized more.
The corne, and oile, & wine which thou enjoyedst
As tokens of his love, thou mis imployedst.
The jewels he vouchsafed to adorne thee,
(For his own pleasure) thou on those that scorn thee
Bestowst againe. The beautie which he gave,
That he the more delight in thee might have,
Thou basely prostitutest unto those
That are thy lustfull wooers, and his foes,
Thy Vines like those of Sodom are become,
Ev'n like those plants, that are derived from
Gommorrah's Vineyard; and their Clusters all
Are sowre; or else, more bitter, far, then gall.
Thy Wine is Dragons poison: yea, thou hast
In all thy pleasant things, a lothsome tast.
But, thus in grosse, why should I longer spend
My time, thy wickednesse to reprehend?
Since thou art impudent, and hast the face,
To make of these upbraidings my disgrace?
In my next Canto's therefore, Ile prefer
Of thy Transgressions a PERTICVLER,
So duly urg'd; that none shall justly say
I utter what I should not open lay:
Or that my Verse doth brand thee with a crime,
Whereof their liues not witnesse all this time.
Observe it; and if ought I mention here,
Not fitly spoken to the publike eare;
Or if, but in a word, I wrong thee shall;
Me to the most impartiall censure call:
Let my good purposes be punisht more,
And pittied, also lesse then heretofore.
Let me of all thy children be reviled;
From thy most pleasant Borders live exiled:
And never be recall'd. But, if I tell
What thy best Lovers shall approve of well.
It Truth I utter; and such Truth as is
To be disclos'd: then marke what's found amisse.
Amend thine errors. Let thy folly cease.
Love him, that loves unfainedly thy peace.
At least, despight him not. But, if thou doe,
Yet he will serve thee still, and love thee too:
Thy welfare rather then his owne prefer:
And, leave this Bocke for thy Remembrancer.

The sixth Canto.

Bvt, am I well advis'd? and doe I know
From whence, & from what Spirit this doth flow?
Doe I remember what, and who I am,
That I this famous Monarchy should blame?
Am I assur'd no ill suggesting Spirit
(In hatred of thine honourable merit)
Seduceth me (oh Britaine) that I might
Become an instrument of his despight?
Have I considered of what esteeme
Thou art? How great thy Piety doth seeme?
What glorious titles, and transcendent stiles
Thou hast obtain'd above all other Isles?
What attributes unto thy selfe thou givest?
What of thine owne perfections thou beleevest?
And what thy flattring Priests and Prophets say
Of thy admired happinesse this day?
Yes, yes; all this I ponder'd, and I know
What good or evill from this act may flow.
I am not ignorant, that thou hast beene
Among the neighb'ring Countries as a Queene,
Among lier Ladies. Formes of Government,
Or Lawes, or Customes through Earths Continent,
Are none received that more pious be,
Or more upright then those that are in thee.
Among faire Sions Daughters, none doth sit
More free from blemishes (then thou art yet)
In points of Christian Doctrine (though there are
Some, who that simplenesse begin to marre)
No people doth retaine a Discipline
More Apostolicall, then some of thine.
No Church that's visible, hath kept more pure
The grounds of Faith, nor countenanced fewer
Of Romes innumerable Superstitions;
Of uselesse, or of burdensome Traditions,
Then thou hast lately done. I feele thou hast
Some warmth yet left. As yet, so brazen-fac'd
Thou art not growne, but that thou dost despise
Notorious Crimes, and open Heresies;
Because the hidden Leaven of thy sin
To sowre the Lumpe, is (yet) but new put in.
Ile doe thee right, and give thee all thy due,
Before thy follies further I pursue.
I know that thou with patience heretofore
(Ev'n like the Church at Ephesus) hast bore
Thy Christian Labours; that, thou hast been moved
Against offenders; that, thou such hast proved,
Who falsely did affirme themselves to be
Apostles; and, strong Faith was found in thee.
Yea, thou didst long those heresies resist,
Which God abhorreth; and didst them detest.
I know, that like the Smyrnian Congregation
Thou hast through poverty and tribulation,
Got heav'nly Riches: neither didst thou feare,
When they, who of the Church of Satan were,
Blasphem'd the Truth, and did themselves professe
True Isra'lites, when they were nothing lesse.
I know, that when thy Lott it was to dwell
Like Pergamus, ev'n where the throne of Hell
Erected was (and in their bloody Raigne,
By whom so many Martyrs here were slaine)
Thou didst not then the Faith of Christ deny,
Nor from professing of his Gospel flye.
I know, that Thyatira-like thy love,
And thy devotion did unfained prove;
And that thy piety, and righteousnesse,
Did (for a season) more and more encrease.
I know, thy goodnesse is not quite bereft,
But that (like Sardis) thou some Names hast left
That walke with Christ, from all pollution free,
In those white Garments that unspotted be.
I know, that like the Church of Philadelph,
Thou hast a little strength within thy selfe:
Gods word, and holy Sacraments yet are
(As pledges of his love) preserved here.
And I doe know, that, since thou heretofore
Didst love the Truth; God will his Grace restore,
On thy repentance; and in all temptation
Become, thy sole-sufficient preservation;
Yea make all them, who now false boasters be
Of true Religion, to subscribe to thee;
Confesse he loves thee; and to thee hath given
That Cities title, that came downe from heaven.
But, much is, yet, amisse; and (to prevent
Thy Ruine) I advise thee to repent.
Remember (oh! remember thou) from whence
Thou fallen art; and seeke by penitence
To rise againe. Thy former works renew;
Thy lately practis'd wickednesse eschew;
What thou hast lost, endeavor to regaine,
Hold fast that Faith which yet thou dost retaine;
Awake, and use thine utmost pow'rs, to cherish
Those Graces, which in thee are like to perish.
Oh! doe it speedily, whilst he doth knock
That opes the doore, which no man can unlock,
And shuts, where none doth open: yea (lest he
Come suddenly, and take away from thee
Thy pretious Candlesticke) renew thy zeale;
And unto him thy sinne, betimes, reveale.
Marke, to the Churches, what the Spirit faith;
And purchase thou of Christ (by lively faith)
To make thee rich, gold tryed in the fire.
To hide thy filthy nakednesse, desire
The pure white rayment of his Righteousnesse.
Thy former sight, that thou maist repossesse,
His eye salve take: The conquest strive to get,
That of the hidden Manna thou maist eate;
And gaine the Stone inscribed with a Name,
Which none can know, but he that weares the same.
For, I must tell thee, thou art run astray,
And (like a whorish wife) hast cast away
Thy old affection: thy first love is gone,
And other friends thy heart hath doted on.
Thou hast not halfe that zeale, which thou hast bore
To thy Redeemers honor heretofore;
That simplenesse, thou hast not in thy workes;
Put, base dissembling in thine actions lurkes.
Some Doctrines also are in thee profest,
Without reproofe, which God doth much detest.
Thou dost let goe unpunished in thee,
Those persons that notorious sinners be,
And impudently wicked: thou mak'st light
Of their misdeeds, in vertuous mens despight.
Thou hast conniv'd at those, who in the Land
Have with an high, and an imperious hand
(Like Iezabel) oppressed and bereav'n
The poore mans portion, in contempt of Heav'n.
Thou hast blasphemers, who doe falsely say,
That they are Catholiques, (and none but they)
Yet, if they heeded what their words imply,
Their owne Distinction gives themselves the Lye.
The Babylonish Strumpet thou (as yet)
Within thy territories dost permit;
Who doth seduce Gods people, and thy Nations;
And make them drunken with her Fornications.
Tho hast those Hypocrites that make a show
Of zealous hearts, when they are nothing so.
Thou hast those Baalamites, that in the way
Of weake Professors, stumbling blocks doe lay:
And practise cunning fleights of policy,
To bring thee backe unto Idolatry.
To trouble and distract thee, they invent
Strange questions, doubtfull, and impertinent.
By needlesse provings, by their vaine confutings,
By over nice distinctions, and disputings,
And by their multitudes of windy notions,
They have so incorrupted thy devotions,
So over-whelm'd thy Faith; so tired out
Thy knowledge, (with still running round about)
That there is left but little care in thee,
How much decayed thy good manners be.
Indeed, of thy lost Vertues, there's a Fame
Remaining still; and thou hast yet a Name
To be alive; but, some doe greatly feare
That thou art either dead, or very neare.
Though Laodicea like thou proudly vauntest,
That rich thou art, and that thou nothing wantest:
Though thou art happy in thine owne esteeme,
And dost to thine owne selfe quick-sighted seeme:
Yet, were thy Iudgement cleared, thou wouldst finde
That thou art wretched, naked, poore, and blinde.
Thou dost almost that lukewarme temper hold,
Which neither can be termed hot, nor cold.
Thy wickednesse is (well neere) growne as ripe,
As hers, that served for thy Prototype.
Nay, Gods great Uolume mentions not a sin,
Wherewith or place, or person, taxt hath bin,
But thou hast practis'd it; and of thine owne
Hast added others, to those times unknowne.
With our first Parents, there are some in thee,
Who strive to eate of Gods forbidden tree;
And have upon them such an itch to know
Those things which he vouchsafeth not to show:
That, from their eyes true wisedome it hath hid,
And more endanger'd them, then Adam did.
Thou hast a brood of Cainites, that envies
Their brethrens better pleasing sacrifice;
And persecutes, and slanders, (what it may)
All those that walke not in their wicked way:
And thirst with greedinesse to shed their blood,
Who seeke their safeties, and effect their good.
There be, among thee, some just like that Race,
Who (being made the Sonnes of God, by Grace)
Did with mans female issue fall in love;
And these beget a mungrell brood, that prove
The Giants of their times; and, those, that will
The measure of the worlds misdeeds fulfill.
They (as those carelesse people did, on whom
An universall Deluge once did come)
Eate, drinke, and take their pleasure, without care,
How many or how great their follies are.
And, though a Iudgement on their head is pour'd,
They will not heed it, till they are devour'd.
As soone as any Plague from us is gone,
We build and plant, and in our sins run on:
Or when (with Noah) blessings we have had,
(Instead of being in Gods favour glad)
We doe in some vaine mirth bewray our folly;
In drunken feastings, or in games unholy.
Since out of beastly Sodom they were got,
Thy Children have among themselves (like Lot)
Committed much uncleannesse; whence proceeds
A Race, which discord in thy borders breeds.
Like Laban, many wickedly detaine
The workmans hire; and make unlawfull gaine
From their owne Children. Some (with Ismael)
Are bitter mockers; some (with Esau) sell
Their heav'nly Birth-rights: & for what d'yee think?
For worse then porridge; ev'n for smoake and stinke,
We have as mighty Hunters (now adayes)
As Nimrod, and as wilfull in their wayes.
Some, of their brethren merchandizes make,
Like Iacobs Sonnes, and money for them take.
With Simeon, and with Levi; some, pretend
Religions cause; when for some other end
They doe project: and, markes of holy zeale
Doe often bloody cruelties conceale.
For wives, for wealth, and for our vaine delights,
We change Religion, like the Sichemites.
We have those Iudges, who will (Iudah-like)
Their brother, for his fault severely strike;
Deride, taunt, censure, and without compassion,
To death condemne him, for the same transgression
Which they are far more guilty of then he;
And, those the Plague-sores of this Iland be.
We have in either sex, of those that are
As wicked as the wife of Potiphar.
Ev'n those, who so wil slander, and accuse;
If any to obey their lust refuse.
Like Er and Onan, we have wicked heires,
Who rather would consume themselves, and theirs,
In fruitlesse vanities, then part from ought
By which their brothers welfare might be wrought.
With Phar'oh, we Gods judgements do contemn,
And grow the bolder, and the worse by them.
When he most plagued us, we most presumed;
And sinned most, when we were most consumed.
Nor blood, nor frogs, nor loathsome lice, nor flyes,
Nor murraines, biles, nor botches can suffice
To make our Nations their bad lives reforme;
Nor Locusts, nor the leafe-devouring worme;
Nor horrid darknesse, liable to sense,
Nor Haile, nor Thunders, nor the Pestilence;
Nor bringing us to springs that bitter are;
Nor sweetning those things that unsav'ry were;
Nor strange deliv'rances by sea and land;
Nor Gods protecting us with his owne hand;
Nor Quailes, nor Manna, (blessings which be rare)
Nor favours which more ordinary are:
No, nor Gods dreadfull Anger, nor his Love,
Can our hard hearts unto repentance move;
But, we (like Ægypt) in rebellion be,
And, full as faithlesse as the Iewes, are we.
Among us, we have wealthy men, who may
Whole Groves dispend; yet on the Sabbath day
They'll gather sticks. Ev'n to the Devill, some
With no lesse worthy sacrifices come,
Then sons and daughters. For, what lesse do they
Who them in wedlocke wickedly betray
To open Hereticks? Or, they that make
Their mar'ages, for wealth, and honors sake,
Without affection? And (I pray) what lesse
Doe they, who force their children to professe
Vnlawfull trades? There be among us, living,
Too many, that, ev'n whilst the Law is giving,
Doe set up golden-calves. Such men are they,
Who in the Church, or on Gods Holiday,
Are plodding on the world; whilst they should bend
Their eares to God, and on his will attend.
We have (our best proceedings to withstand)
A Iannes, and a Iambres in the Land,
Who (by their sorceries) continue shall
Some people of this Monarchy in thrall:
Vntill a Plague (like Ægypts lowsinesse)
Shall make them God Almighties pow'r confesse.
Young Nadabs and Abihues, we have some,
That with strange fires unto Gods altars come:
Their dull devotions kindled are with sticks,
And wither'd leaves of humane Rhetoricks;
They offer up to God, them vaine Orations,
Compos'd of Clinchings, and Adnominations;
Which he abhorres; with all that frothy stuffe,
Of which this age hath more then thrice enough.
Our brethren by extortion we oppresse:
The stranger, (nay, our kin) are harbourlesse;
And those offences we have Patrons for,
Which many Heathen people did abhor.
With Miriam and with Iaron, we have such,
Who at their brethrens due preferment grutch;
Hot spirits, troublesome to civill states;
Like Corab and his rude confederates.
These argue much for pop'lar purities,
And raile upon all civill dignities;
But, when they can attaine them, none speake louder
In their defence; nor are there my prouder.
We Gallants have more impudent, then e're,
Yong Zimri, and his Cozbi did appeare:
And doubtlesse we have Achans, who have hidden
Some Babylonish things which are forbidden.
For all the Land much troubled we may see;
And many thinke, it shall not quiet be,
Till they be found. Reveale thou their transgressions,
O Lord! and be thou prais'd in their confessions.
We have, this day, amongst us, many a Bramble,
That, like Abimelech, knowes how to scramble
Above their owne deservings: and (though base
Vnworthy shrubs) durst arrogate a place
More eminent, then dares the noblest Plant,
Whereof the Mountaine Libanus doth vaunt.
By others vertues these ascend on high,
And raise themselves to such authority,
That our most noble Cedars are o're-topt;
Our pleasant Figtrees, are bescratcht and dropt,
Our Vines are shadow'd, and unfruitfull made;
Our Olives robbed of that oile they had;
Yea, all our forrest and our garden trees,
By their ambition, fruit, or honour, leese.
Thou nourisht hast, and fondly doted on
Those cunning Dalilahs, who having won
Thy good respect, doe practise how to spye
Wherein the chiefest of our strength doth lye;
That (having by their flatt'ries lull'd asleepe
Those watchmēs eyes that should our fortress keep)
They may (unheeded) steale our pow'r away,
And to our greatest Foes our lives betray.
Here want not such as Michah, who with ease
Can make a new Religion when they please;
Coine formes of worship proper to their Sect;
A private Church among themselves erect;
Make Priests at their owne pleasure; furnish them
Ev'n with their owne new-fangled Teraphim;
And preach abroad for good Divinity,
The tumours of their windy fantasie:
Nay, some of them far stranger things can doe;
For, they can make their gods, and eate them too.
There be of us, as wilfull Favourites
Of wicked men, as were the Benjamites;
And, rather then we will deliver them
To feele the stroke of Iustice, who contemne
The wayes of goodnesse; we will hazardize
Our peace, our fame, and our posterities.
We have those Prophets, who (with Balam) know
Gods pleasure, and what way they ought to goe:
And, yet, will for preferment doe their best,
That they his plaine revealed Will may wrest.
And though they are, perhaps, asham'd to say
Their minds in publique, closely they'll betray
The Lords inheritance; and Scripture proofe
Inferre for all things to their owne behoofe.
If of the pop'lar faction these become,
And thinke some gaine may be atchieved from
That side; Gods word they will produce for those
That would disloyally their King oppose:
If by the Prince advantage may be had,
Then, God himselfe an instrument is made
To warrantize their claimes, and, Tyranny,
Shall proved be a lawfull Monarchy.
As rash as Iephtha, in our vowes are we;
As Flouds gift, such oft our presents be.
In entertainments, some like Iael are;
And, in their complements may well compare
With bloody Ioab: for, they make their table
Become a snare: and (when most serviceable
They doe appeare) unheeded, they unsheath
Some fatall instrument, that wounds to death.
Like old indulgent Eli, some connive
At all the sins, in which their children live:
Nay, glory in their lewdnesse; and maintaine
In them those follies, which they should restraine;
Till their owne shame, and their undoing followes,
And their wilde brood be tamed at the Gallowes.
Nor were the sonnes of Eli, heretofore
More wanton at the Tabernacle doore,
Then some young Priests of ours; whom to correct,
The Fathers of our Church so much neglect,
That if they long connive as they have done,
The glory of our Isr'el will be gone.
Like those Philistians, whose advice it was
To fixe God's Arke, and Dagon, in one place,
We have too many; and, they cannot see,
Why God and Baal in one, should not agree.
But, when they raise their Idol in these Lands,
Lord, let it fall, and lose both head and hands.
We are as curious as the Bethshemites,
And long as much to see forbidden sights:
Like those of Ekron, we professe to know
The truest God, and whence our troubles grow:
Yet, are so stupid, that we sleight his Grace,
And, send him from us, to another place.
Yea, like the Gadarens, we for our Swine,
Would banish Christ, and sleight his love divine:
With Saul, we doe neglect what should be done;
And sacrifice, when God requireth none.
Fat Sheepe and Oxen we prefer before
Obedience to the Lord; and follow more
Our wills then his. When God saith kill, we spare,
And where he bids, be kinde, we cruell are.
No love, no kindnesse, no sincerity,
No tokens of unfained piety
Can stay our furies, or divert our mind.
When we are once maliciously enclin'd.
Goliath like, Gods army some contemne;
With Rabshakeh, some others doe blaspheme;
Some curse (with Shimei) Gods best beloved;
As causelesly, to grieve them they are moved,
And are of gaine as greedy. For, if they
Have but an uselesse Groome escap'd away,
(Or lost a beast) for such a petty prise,
They will not stick their lives to hazardize.
VVe have those Michols, which will scoffe & flout
At such as are most zealously devout
We have those dog-like Doegs in our Courts,
That gladly heare and utter all reports,
To disadvantage them, whose wayes are pure,
And cannot their impieties endure.
VVE have those Nabals, upon whom all cost,
All curtesies, and kindnesses are lost.
We have (like Uzzah) those that dare to touch
Gods holy Arke. Nay, we have worse then such,
Ev'n those that rob it; and themselves adorne
With Iewels, from the Sanctuary torne:
With David, some have thought their sins to hide;
And, their Adulteries, in Murther dy'd.
Officious knaves (like Ziba) we have some,
VVho by their Masters falls, to greatnesse come;
And (though they did men innocent betray)
VVithout reproving, they doe passe away.
VVe have those wicked Ammons, who defile
Their sisters. And, to lay a cunning wile
For helping their companions to a drab,
VVe have more subtile Bauds then Ionadab.
Those disobedient Absoloms there be
Among us here, t' at wish and seeke to see
Their Parents deaths; like him, they can conceale
Their ends, till they (by faire dissembling) steale
Mens hearts away; and then abuse them so,
That all seemes just and honest which they doe.
VVe have Achitophels, that are as wise
Against Gods honor, projects to devise,
As if the Delphian Oracle were sought:
But, still in their owne pit-fals they are caught.
For, he that honest purposes doth blesse,
Converts their wisedome into foolishnesse.
VVe have with Solomon (though none so wise)
Men wonne by women to Idolatries.
VVith Ieroboam, we have those who strive
A settled temp'rall fortune to contrive
By ruining Religion; and to win
An outward peace, by tolerating sin:
Not heeding, that a greatnesse so procur'd,
Hath seldome to a third descent endur'd.
To serve an Idoll we like him proceed,
Although Gods Messengers reprove the deed.
And though our arme be wither'd, for our sin,
Our obstinacies we continue in.
VVe want not Rehoboams Counsellors,
VVhose unexperienc'd Policy prefers
Harsh courses, rather then a calme proceeding;
VVhen times are troublesome, & dangers breeding.
VVe have (with Ahab) those who covet so
Their neighbours Vineyard, that they sullen grow,
And can nor eate, nor sleepe, till they may plot,
How their ungodly longings may be got:
And we have Iezabels enough, to further
Their claimes by slanders, perjury, and murther.
Nor want such Elders, and such Nobles here,
As those that Citizens with Naboth were.
For should (as God forbid) our hopefull King,
Desire to compasse any lawlesse thing,
Or seeke his loyall Subjects to bereave
Of what their Ancestors to them did leave:
We have of those (I doubt) that would effect it
According to their pow'r: nay, project it,
And urge him, and perswade him, that (of right)
He overthrow their lawfull freedomes might.
We have of those (I feare) that would command
A Fast (like Iezabels) throughout the Land,
And underneath a maske of Piety,
Proceed to practise any Villany,
Which might advance their greatnesse: and, I doubt
Some Priests would helpe to set the project out.
Yea, we those Iudges, and those Elders have,
That if a man his neighbours Vineyard crave,
He need not, for his purpose, name the King,
Or Letters from the royall Signet bring
To move the same: Nor were it necessary
That (to corrupt them) he Epistles cary
From some great Lords. For, if he can but make
The tongues of golden Angels for him speake;
Or get some one, on his behalfe to write,
That is but servant to a Favourite;
The deed is done: and they will feele no sense
Of others griefes, or of their owne offence.
We have such Prophets as Zidkiah was,
Who are no whit asham'd, in publique place,
To speake false messages; and those to smite,
That in Gods name have spoken what is right.
We have Gehezies; fellowes that will take
Vnlawfull bribes: ev'n those who sale doe make
Of what their Masters should have, gratis, done;
And force out fees, where they can challenge none.
Geheizhes did I call this crew? I feare
I wrong the Leper: for his brib'ries were
But petty pillages, to those rich preyes,
On which some one of these his fingers Iayes.
He askt, and had a willing gratulation,
From one both rich, and of another Nation:
But, these extort, compell, and slily serue
Vnjust demandings, as a lawfull due.
From friends, from strangers, from both poore & rich
Their fingers to be scraping have an itch.
For making their poore suitor, wait and pray,
(When they might have dispatcht him) he must pay.
For surly speeches, and for proud neglect,
They must be humoured with all respect.
When to their Client, they a wrong have done,
He must not seeme to know or think thereon;
But, faine all noble thoughts of them to have,
Or, in some other persons call them knave.
And bribe them still, in hope they may be won,
Yet, at the last, be cheated and undone.
We have among us, men as very fooles
As Na'man was; who thinke Damascus pooles
As good as Iordan: and (like him) at home
Some serve one God; and when to Court they come,
Professe another. We have those that be
As trustlesse of Gods promises, as he,
Who in Samaria's gate was trodden on:
These may behold the favours which are done
To faithfull men; but, till they can beleeve,
They shall not taste what blessings those receive.
Here be like Haz'el, those who seeme to hate
All tyrannizing, in their low estate;
Yet, being once promoted, throw aside
All pity; and all piety deride.
Yea, that which formerly they did condemne,
(As vilifying, and debasing them,
Below a Dogs condition) they allow,
VVhen to their height of greatnesse once they grow.
(If none yet live) we had in former time,
Ev'n those that guilty were of Zimries crime.
Most Officers like Iehu, doe begin
Good reformation, at first entring in;
Their violent Zeale doth seeme to say, Come see,
How just in our proceedings we will be.
But, oft they prove meere Hypocrites, who having
Acquired meanes to colour their deceiving,
Surpasse the worst; and by degrees proceed,
Till they appeare the men they were indeed.
Like wicked Haman; some, unlesse they may
Insult and trample on poore Mordecai,
Are so distemper'd by their haughty minde,
That they nor pleasure, nor contentment finde,
In honours, riches, or in any blessing,
VVhich they already have in their possessing:
But, will pursue, and ruine, if they can,
VVhole Kingdomes, for their malice to one Man.
As proud are we as Nebuchadnezar:
In feastings, as profuse as Balthazar,
And as prophane as he. VVe sometime seeke
The god of Ekron, Abaziah like.
Like Amiziah (an informing Priest
Of Bethel) we have those that will resist
Gods Messengers; and would not heare them bring
Into the Court or Chappell of the King,
The sound of that reproofe or punishment,
VVhich to pronounce among us they were sent:
And, these, perhaps, when they my Arrand see,
VVill prove as busie as that Priest with me.
But, if they doe (as Amos said to him)
Although I be no Prophet, nor of them
That are the sonnes of Prophets; God doth know
He called me to this (which now I doe)
From viler actions, then from gathering fruit,
Or foll'wing herds: And I will make pursuit
Of what he bids me; though oppos'd I stand,
By all the Priests and Prelates in the Land.
And if they contradict, what well is done
Their heads, at last, the shame shall light upon.
Some Courtiers now, like Daniels foes, there are,
That will object as things piacular,
The truest Piety; and seeke to bring
Ev'n those to be suspected of the King,
Who strive most loyally, to keepe his Name
In honor; and his Kingdome without blame.
As Iudah had (in Zephaniahs times)
Her Priests of Baal; the name of Chemarims;
Those, who the heav'nly army did adore;
Those also, who by God, and Mal hom, swore;
And multitudes among them, who did weare
Fantastick Habits: So, we harbor here
Some Shavelings yet; some Romish superstitions;
To Saints we offer up some vaine petitions;
Equivocating Oathes we often take;
And, we ourselves, in our apparell, make
Deformed, by a skittish imitation
Of ev'ry new-found guise, in ev'ry Nation.
I doe not think (nor have I ever thought)
That in it selfe it is materiall ought,
What shaped Robes I weare: nor do I hold
That any Fashion, whether new or old,
Doth so much handsome or disfigure any,
As it may seeme to do, perchance, to many.
It is the Time, or else their mindes, that weare
Such clothes, which make them good or bad appear.
Those fooles who bring new fashions first; and they
That hast to follow them (and thinke it gay
And generous) are those unworthy ones,
That bring such folly, shame, and cost upon's.
But, when those Garbes grow generall; then, we
That first abhorred them, compelled be
To take them up: lest our old clothes be thought
New fashions from some forrain kingdomes brought:
Or, lest we should by some be thought to erre,
In being over nice, and singular.
Most other people, both at home, and here,
Doe in their habits, like themselves appeare:
But, wheresoe're we come, we change our shapes,
And, in our gestures, are all Nations Apes.
True gravity, we so are fallen from,
And, so absurdly blockish are become;
That, strangers jeere us, to behold how soone
We get the garbe of ev'ry fond Baboon.
Yea, they are proud, to see that we condemne
Our ovvne attires, by imitating them.
And I doe blush to thinke, that our whole Nation
Should of it selfe admit a transformation,
So suddenly (as oftentimes we see)
To imitate the guise of two or three.
But, so it is: And at this present tide,
Our female Gentry is so frenchifi'd;
That we have scarce a Gentlewoman now,
In clothes, more handsome bodied then a Cow.
Those women who e'rewhile were goodly creatures,
Proportion having, and (me thought) sweet features;
Doe looke as triple-bodi'd Gerion did,
When they in their mis shapen gownes are hid:
For, either arme, in such a mould is cast,
As makes it full as fulsome as their waste.
Their necks stand sneaking out, before those ruffes,
Which lie behind their backs with wide mouth'd pufs
As doth a peeled Ewes, whose fleece unshorne,
Was from about her neck with brambles torne.
Their flaring curles about their shag-shorne browes,
Doe, of the fairest Lady, make a blouse.
Those demy-skarfes, they wreathe about their chaps,
(Which may be comely to some eyes, perhaps)
Doe make them seeme as Antick-like to me,
As Hags, that sent to fright yong children be.
And I am sory, that a foolish pride
Should make our Beauties their perfections hide
In such a masking suit. And that a few
Fantastick women, so great numbers drew
To follow their new-fangles; and besot
Their judgements, by that fashion newly got.
For, not meane wits alone; but, of the wisest;
(Nay, of the most religious, and precisest)
There are great multitudes befool'd in this:
And, She, that of that Guise their Patterne is,
(Perhaps) derides their ficklenesse. For she
Is from their minde, and from their folly free.
Nought, but her country fashion, she hath worne:
And, that which them deformes, doth her adorne.
Yea, they have either missed of her dresse:
Or else she gives it much more lovelinesse,
For to my eye there is some excellence
Which puts t'wixt her and them much difference.
And this opinion is not mine alone:
For, so much hath beene said by many a one.
Oh! shew the sweetnesse of your disposition,
In hearing me, and granting my petition.
Lay off your strange attires, that we may know
If you be Englishwomen, yea or no.
Your monstrous habit, each true Britaine lothes;
And, were your bodies formed like your clothes,
(Which, God in Iustice, may effect, perchance)
You might go seek your fortunes out in France,
From whence your new proportion hither came:
For, we shall never truly love the same.
Because, if other men have thoughts like mine,
It would appeare to be some fatall signe,
To see our women leave their native fashion,
And, turne themselves into another Nation.
But, let these Females goe I hope that she
Who shall be mine (if any such there be)
What ever accident or change befalls,
Will still retaine her English naturals.
More blame then this might in this kind be laid
On women: but, unwillingly I said
What here is uttred. And, if they had bin
In those attires that I have seen them in,
I had not on this over-sight reflected;
But, left them to be counsell'd and directed
By their neare Friends or Husbands. Yet, alas!
We have of them, whose levity doth pass
The ficklenesse of these: and, they alone
Are oft the cause, that these have so misgone.
Nor ever did this folly more appeare,
Then now it doth; ev'n in this very yeare,
Wherein the Pestilence devoured so:
And, as that Plague decreased, this did grow.
But, in Transgressions, how we parallell
The times before, I will proceed to tell.
High-priest have we, who send our spies to watch
The Preachers of Gods word; and pick, and catch
Advantages against them. Some of us
Are like the Silver-smiths at Ephesus,
And, for their private lucre will contend
Against the Truth, and Heresies defend.
We, Demas like, have those Apostataes,
Who, for the world, forsake the Christian cause.
And, some there be, that with Diotrophes,
Affect preheminence in these our dayes.
Some, like the Scribes and Pharises do rinse
The Cup without; but, have no care to clense
The loathsome inside. Some, have arrogated
Such Holinesse, that they are separated
From others, as a spotlesse Congregation,
That is without all blame, or prophanation.
Some, like to those, their Brethren disrespect;
And, lordly titles over-much affect,
As did the Iewish Rabbies. Some, as they
On others backs uneasie burthens lay:
VVhich they themselves, to cary do refuse.
The Orphane, and the Widow, some abuse,
By shewes of piety. And, we have some,
In tything Anniseed, and Mint, become
Exceeding zealous: yet, have neither care
Nor conscience, in those things that waighty are.
VVe have our sev'rall Brotherhoods of those,
VVho seriously do Sea and Land enclose,
(And practise, by a multitude of sleights)
To win unto their Sects new proselites:
Not out of love to Truth, or Charity,
But rather to advance their Heresie.
VVho ever all their crotchets doth embrace,
Is instantly become the child of Grace,
(In their opinions) whatsoever he
In other points, or in his manners be.
But whosoe're he be that shall despise,
One branch of any toy, which they devise,
Is judg'd a Reprobate. Yea, though in all
The grounds of Faith, and in his works he shall
Appeare unblemished; they will contemne
His judgement; and traduce and censure him.
Yea, some of those there be who have descride
A tricke to know who are unsanctifide;
Though they have all the markes of holinesse.
Nay, some are not ashamed to confesse,
To know what persons those hid marks do beare,
Which knowne to no men but their wearers are.
Like Ananias, and Saphira, here
Are they that holy Brethren doe appeare,
Yet want sincerity. And, I could tell ye
Of multitudes, who meerly for their belly,
Doe follow Christ. With Herod, we have such
Who heare men gladly, till those Crimes they touch
Which are their Darlings: But, then mad they grow,
And what they truly are, they truly show.
Like Dives, we have those that ev'ry day
Are fed with dainties; cloth'd with rich aray,
And, full as mercilesse unto the poore,
That lye uncloth'd, and hungry at the doore.
We have a rattle-brain'd and wilfull Crew,
That with a purblinde zeale the Truth pursue:
And would be found, were not their pow'r so small,
More bloody, and more violent than Paul,
Before his name was changed: for, they teare
That Robe, whereof they doe professe a care.
We have those Nobles, who with Felix, can
Confesse the innocency of a man
Accus'd before them; and, yet leave him bound,
If ought to their advantage may redound.
We have of those that parcell Christians be,
As King Agrippa. Othersome have we
That walke for company, they care not whither;
And, some that sleight Religion altogether.
Nor want we those, that while they Christ professe,
Convert his Graces into wantonnesse.
We are almost as wicked as old Rome:
Of Heresies we are as full become,
As Amsterdam. Nay, many men have we,
That can of three or foure professions be,
(Ev'n all at once) although that ev'ry Sect
Each other doth directly contradict.
We have an Elimas, who doth apply
His cunning to pervert the Deputy:
Like Simon Magus, we have Merchants here,
That were baptized; and yet without feare,
Dare buy and sell those things that holy be;
And which, by Gods donation, should be free.
Nay, in the gall of bitternesse they lye,
More deepe then he, from whom their Symony
Deriveth name: for, he, in shew, repenting,
Did crave the Churches prayers for preventing
Of his deserving: whereas, these devise
Quaint arguments, their sin to patronize;
Or make it lesse. Else, by equivocation,
Or, by their tricke of mentall reservation,
They hide their fault: and (that the sin they doe
May grow compleat) themselves they perjure too.
There be, that Mammon, for their God, adore:
That make Christs members, members of a whore:
And stained be with those offences all,
Whereof the Gentiles were accus'd, by Paul.
We all are guilty of much fraud debate,
Imprety, uncleannesse, envy, hate,
Backbiting, stealing, pride, maliciousnesse,
Dissembling, murther, lying, spightfulnesse,
Truce breaking, disobedience, ignorance,
Implacability, bold arrogance,
Want of affections naturall, excesse,
Inhumane cruelty, ungratefulnesse:
Blaspheming, swearing; and innumerable
Transgressions more, of that ungodly rable:
And, some (when God Almighty poured hath
Vpon their heads the Viols of his wrath)
Instead of penitence, encrease the score
Of their offences; and, blaspheme the more.
Nay, that we may be partners of their guilt,
That have the blood of Gods Anointed spilt,
With Pilate and the Jewes, we have, againe,
The Lord of Life, both crucifi'd, and slaine.
Thou hast, Oh Britaine, ev'ry thing misdone,
That Ashur, Moab, Ammon, Babylon,
Or any Kingdome hath transgressed in,
Which unto Piety a foe hath bin.
Of whatsoever Isr'el was detected,
For whatsoever Iudah was corrected,
Thou maist be taxed; for, among thy Nations
Are daily practis'd their abominations.
Their tricks thou hast, to hinder and oppresse,
Those men who tell thee of thy wickednesse.
Right so thou dost debase; so slander them:
Right so, their just reproofes thou dost contemne:
And, though their words are daily verifide,
Yet, thou dost alwayes wilfully deride
Their admonitions; and, passe all things by,
As failing on thee but by casualty.
I doe beleeve, and know, that, yet, in thee
Some Obadiahs, and some Ezraes be.
Some Courtiers, and some Nobles yet remaine,
Which doe their true Nobility retaine:
But, most of them their dignity have lost;
And can of nought but painted Scuchions boast.
As did of theirs, the Iewish Prophet say,
Thy Princes doe procrastinate the day
Or thy Calamity; and will not heare,
Of that affliction which approacheth neare:
But, of Iniquity they climbe the seat;
And, by extortion make their houses great.
Their Palaces, they feele and trim with gold,
Gods Temples being ruinously old.
On beds (more pretious then of Ivory)
They stretch themselves, and live luxuriously.
The pasture Lambes, and wainlings of the stall,
Suffice not them; but they make prey of all,
Which liveth in the wood, or in the field;
Or which the land, the sea, or ayre doth yeeld.
Their lushious wines in pretious bowles they quaffe;
While Ioseph is afflicted, they doe laugh;
And sing unto the Violl, wanton straines,
While Syon in captivity remaines.
They have but little care of Gods commands;
They breake his yoake, and cast away his bands.
Thy men in honour, without knowledge be,
Like beasts that perish; and, dishonour thee.
Some have aspired to their present heights
Of wealth and greatnesse, by ignoble sleights:
Of others houses, they have got possession,
And, furnished their chambers, by oppression.
Their wives and children, waste in brave attire,
The poore mans portion, and the workmans hire.
Their credits they have pawned, to maintaine
Their luxury, their pride, or gaming vaine.
And, by their Honors have so faisly sworne.
That men their Idoll, and their oath do scorne.
Some, have so blushlesse and so shamelesse beene,
To let their Coach, and foot-cloth horse, be seene
At common Strumpets doores: their Favorites,
(And they, in whom their Noblenesse delights)
Are gamesters, roarers, persons dissolute,
And such; for unto them such best do sute.
To bold fac'd Rimers, Iesters, or to those
Who make their Lordships laugh with foolish prose;
To Fencers, Fidlers, Tumblers, and to such,
Who any way their sensuall humors touch,
Their hands are prodigall; and these obtaine
Rich favours to requite their idle paine.
Their tongues, to speak on their behalfe are free;
When question'd for the foulest crimes they be.
(Ev'n fellonies and murthers) but are mutes
In vertuous causes, and in honest suits.
When wise and painful men, have spent their wealth,
Their strength consumed, or impair'd their health,
In profitable works; and to reveale
Such things as might advance the publike weale;
Their labours (for the most) are over-past
Without encouragement; sometimes, disgrac'd
By arrogant impostors; who arise
To greatnesse, by discrediting the wise;
Or broaching such good projects for their owne,
Which were by those mens industry made knowne,
Whom they have ruined. For, what were some
(That now to places eminent are come)
Before they got aloft on others wines,
But, poore unworthy, and ignoble things?
Nay, what (as yet) appeare they (unto those
Whose good experience their true value knowes)
But gilded ignorance? who having got
The shadowes of the substance they have not,
Doe passe for men of worth, in their esteeming,
Whom they have cheated, by a cunning seeming.
Admit but some of there into such place,
VVhich may afford them priviledge or grace,
To speak before their Prince; and you shall heare
Their tongues to run, as if their knowledge were
As great as Solomons; and that of all
The plants, ev'n from the Hysope of the wall,
Vnto the Cedar, they could tell the nature;
And knew the qualities of ev'ry creature.
They, Proteus like, will any thing appeare;
A Sea-man, Ship-wright, or an Engineere,
Or whatsoe're they list: and having bought
Of some poore Artists; or (some worse way) wrought
Their project from them, that they may be showne,
As if the quaint invention were their owne:
(And, having gotten also termes of Art,
To help them in the acting of their part)
To such opinion of themselves they rise,
That men of soundest knowledge they despise;
Deride experience; and, ev'n to their face,
The skill of most approved men disgrace.
Make these men Counsellors, and though till then
They knew not halfe so much as common men,
Nor had the meanes of knowing any thing,
But how to ride a horse, or take the Ring,
Or hunt, or hawk, or caper: yet (behold
A wonder) in a moment they grow old
In State affaires; and nothing doth concerne
Or peace or war, which they have need to learne.
If any question be, before these, made,
Of Merchandise; the skilfull'st in the trade
Are fooles to them; and tis an arrogance
To offer to instruct their ignorance.
If armes be treated of, there's no man knowes
By practice, that which these men can disclose
By contemplation. And though they have seene
No other warres but those at Mile end greene,
Or Tutle-fields; great Mars himselfe, of these
May learne to be a Souldier, if he please.
If any thing concerning Navigation,
Be tendred to a grave consideration,
These either dare affirme, or to deny
What all the Masters of the Trinity
Oppose them in; and Novices would make
Of Hawkings, Frobisher, and famous Drake,
Were they now living. And, yet such as they,
The wreathes of Honor soonest beare away.
With empty Names, and Titles, being blowne
Above themselves, they are unweildy growne;
And greater in their pride, and in their traine,
Then their consumed fortunes will maintaine.
Which doth compell them, by unworthy wayes,
To seeke the patching up of their decayes:
And, still in their profusenesse they proceed,
As if their prodigality should breed
New fortunes; and, were like those wells that fill,
And grow the purer, by exhausting still.
In feasts, apparell, furniture, and things
Of such like nature, many Christian Kings,
To equall them shall finde it much to doe:
But, them they cannot very far outgoe,
Vnlesse they meane to draine their fountaines dry,
With Fooles, in prodigality, to vye.
Hence comes it, that the Rents and Royalties
Of Kings and Princes, which did well suffice
In former times, to keep in comely port
An honour'd, and an hospitable Court,
(Yea, and an Army if occasion were)
Can hardly now the charge of houshold beare,
For, they must either in their large expence,
Come short of that profuse magnificence
Among their Vassals: or else waste away
The price of many Lordships, to defray
The cost of one vaine supper; and, from this,
With other such like things, growes all amisse.
For, one excesse another still produces;
One Foole out-vies his fellow Fooles abuses;
Vntill their wealth, and hopes, and reputation,
Be wasted in a witnesse emulation:
Not heeding what is taught them in the Fable,
That when a Toad hath sweld while he is able,
An Oxe is bigger, and with ease can smite
His pride to nothing, when it is at height.
This over large profusenesse, they are faine
By many evill courses to maintaine:
By bribery, by griping, by the sale
Of Iustice yea of Conscience, and of all
That may be sold for mony. From hence springs
Deceiving, and mis-leading of good Kings.
This, makes their Treasuries to ebbe so low;
This, makes their Subjects discontented grow;
This, makes the Merchant, and the Tradesman, break;
This, makes the arme of Justice grow so weake;
By this, are States unjointed, by degrees;
By this, their honour and their love they leese;
And, that confusion in upon them steales,
Which ruines Nations, Kings, and Commonweales.
From hence are all those rascall Suits derived,
By which the common dammage is contrived:
Hence, they (who by the publike desolation
Would raise themselves) pretend the reformation
They purpose not: and, by their faire pretences
To cure old grievances, breed new offences.
Hence comes it, that to keep themselves on hie,
They sell their country, and posterity
To slavery and bondage; caring nought,
So they have rest, how dearly it be bought.
This, makes the Grants of Kings become so tickle,
And Orders, and Decrees of State, so sickle,
That no man knowes when he hath ought procured,
How he, of what he hath may be assured;
For, in a righteous cause, though he proceed,
And have it ratified and decreed,
By all Authority, that may be gained;
A sleight suggestion (without reason feined)
May frustrate make the Royall-confirmation,
Or keep him in an endlesse expectation,
Till he be quite undone. And, if his foes
Have wealth, (though no good reasons to oppose
His rightfull cause) he may be wheel'd about,
With Orders, that will fetch him in and out,
Till he be tyr'd: and, neither side is sure
Of conquest, till the other can procure
No bribe to give. VVhich is more wicked far,
Then those injustices which practis'd are
In heathen Kingdomes: since, when any there,
For Iustice, or Injustice bribed are;
A man shall have his bargaine. And in this
More just they be then many a Christian is.
For, when some here are forced for their owne
To give great fines, they afterward are throwne
From their possessions, if another come
To buy Injustice with a larger sum.
Oh! what a madnesse is it, for one day
On earth, to foole Eternity away?
To sell both soule and body for meere toyes;
And reall comforts, for deceiving joyes?
To build their house with morter, which will burne
The timber, and the structure overturne?
Perchance before the finishing be done,
But (doubtlesse) e're the third descent be gone?
What folly is it for a man to waste
At one vaine triumph (which an houre doth last)
More then the portion, ten and ten times told
Which all his predecessors leave him could;
That, to his prejudice it may be knowne,
How hastily a rich man be is growne?
What meaneth he, who doth consume upon
One banquet, what a towne of Garison
Might live a yeare withall; to heare it spoken,
That so much soft was but a certaine token
Of his corruption? And that all the store
He wasts, was got by making others poore?
Or that the greatnesse of his new gain'd glory,
Is of the common wrongs a reall story?
Who praiseth him for this? or who doth call
Him honorable, wise, or liberall.
For those expences; but the rascall rable
Of Coxcombs, and of Gulls, that haunt his table?
What honour is it? or what can it please,
To be the Lord of many Palaces?
To have their Cambers, and their Galleries
Adorned with most precious rarities?
To feed, and cloath, and patronize a number
Of Parasites, and of Buffoones, to cumber
Their walks and lodgings? To have ev'ry day
Their servants following them in rich aray?
Rich stuffes, with rich embroyderies to bury,
To ride on princely charets? or to hurry
In gilt Caroches? or on pampered Steeds,
(From Turky fetcht, or from the Barbary breeds)
To praunce about the streets to show their pride?
Or with vaine titles to be magnifi'd?
What pleasure is all this, when they shall heare,
How loud the clamour sounds in ev'ry eare,
Of their oppressions, frauds, and cruelties?
And how the people curse their tyrannies?
Their state, and their ambition to maintaine;
How many, oh! how many to complaine
Constrained are? Alas! how many a one
Have their proud followers tyranniz'd upon?
And of their servants, what great numbers too,
Doe these by thir ambitiousnesse undoe?
The faces of the poorer sort they grinde;
The bread of Orphanes (who the while are pinde)
They feed upon. The people they have sold
For old-worne shooes on Altars they lay hold;
And, of each holy thing they make their prey,
Whereon their sacrilegious hands they lay.
The portion of their brethren they devoure;
And, by usurping an unlawfull pow'r,
They save each other harmlesse from the lawes;
And overthrow the poore complainants cause.
Their neighbours, often, and their nearest friends,
(To whom they daigne respect but for their ends)
Are so engaged to uphold their pride,
That they their foolish heads are faine to hide.
Some Tradesmen, for their vaine credulity,
(In trusting to their Honors) now doe lye
Imprison'd for their aptnesse to beleeve:
And, what they suffer, or how much they grieve,
Their Lordships care not: For (except their owne)
Of all mens troubles they are senselesse growne.
Their houses, and their lodgings, ev'ry day,
Are full of Suitors, who as humbly pray
For what's their owne, as if that they were some
Who to entreat for charity were come:
And oft are answer'd with such harsh replyes,
For their compelled importunities,
As if it were an impudence or wrong,
To aske the debt which had beene due so long.
The Baker and the Butcher, sometime serve
Great men with bread and flesh untill they starve
Themselves almost: and, if they doubt they shall
Be quite undone before it so befall,
They oft are glad to lose the summe that's due,
Through feare that for their own if they should sue,
(In stead of recompence) receive they might
Some evill turne, their boldnesse to requite.
For, some are growne so base, that now and than
Their Costermonger, yea their Butterman,
And Herbwife is halfe begger'd and undone,
By suffring them upon their scores to run.
Oh! with what faces can these Tyrants ride
Along the streets, in such a height of pride,
As oft they doe, when they are lookt upon
By those poore Tradesmen whom they have undone?
What joy have they to see, or to be seene
In those gay feathers, which have plucked beene
From others wings; whose nakednesse appeares
To cry aloud for Iustice, in Gods eares?
And what a Plague is fallen on that Land
Where such as these have places of command?
Where these are chose for Statesmen, what protectiō
Is Vertue like to finde? what due correction
Hath Vice where such controule? or what is he
Can looke for Iustice, where such Iudges be?
Would I could say, oh! Britaine, thou hast none
Of these Or else might name thee such a one,
As lawfully, as I might boldly do it,
For thy advantage, were I called to it.
But, that authority which I have got,
Checks faults alone, with persons meddles not.
Thy ancient Vertues are not wholy lost,
In all thy families. Yet, for the most,
As are thy Princes, now, thy Gentry be;
According to the height of their degree.
They spend their youth in lust and idlenesse;
In impudent prophanenesse, and excesse;
In foolish complements; in thriftlesse games;
And in oblivion do interre their Names:
Through want of knowledge, and that reall worth
Which sets the lustre of true Gentry forth.
The markes of Gentle-blood, and that which praise
Did thereunto acquire, in former dayes,
Were Iustice, Temp'rance, Courage, Prudency,
True Courtsie, Meeknesse, Liberality,
And such as these. Their Exercises were
Those which the mind or body might prepare
For vertuous practices: as leaping, running,
To handle Armes, to shoot, to shew their cunning
In managing great Horse; in studiousnesse
Of piety, and of the Sciences,
Which we terme liberall. But now, alas!
The Gentry, Britaine, is not as it was.
To be a Gentleman, is now, to weare
Fantastick habits, horrid oaths to sweare;
To wiffe Tobacco; to be drunk, and game;
To do a villany, and boast the same.
To dare the Pox; to talk with impudence,
How oft they had it, without griefe or sense,
Of their misdoings; nothing to professe
Or practise, but to live in idlenesse;
To quarrell; to be insolent, and proud;
To cheat, and brag, and lye, and speak aloud
In stead of speaking reason: to presume
Above his worth; unwisely to consume
His patrimony; fast and loose to play;
To borrow, without purposing to pay;
To spend their time in fruitlesse visitations,
In beastly and prophane communications;
In telling and in listning after newes;
In viewing idle sights, or haunting Stewes;
With such like exercises: as if they
Were made to flutter all their time away
Like Butterflyes, and lived, purposely,
For nothing, but to eate, and drink, and dye.
Their noblest mark, is dieting a brace
Of handsome Nags, to run a squitting Race.
Or keeping of a cast of Norway Kites,
To show them yearly halfe a dozen flights;
Or else, the feeding of a stinking pack
Of yelping Hounds; that when discourse they lack,
They may whole dayes together, prate a story,
In which some Dogs, or Hauks, or Horses glory
Is magnifi'd; and him they count a Clowne,
That in their folly is no partner growne.
Oh! would these lines had po'wr to make thē see,
How foolish and absurd their courses be:
And that my Muses now could reach the straine,
Might win them nobler thoughts to entertaine.
But, mine will hardly prove such Charmes, I feare;
For, at the very root we rotten are;
And, where our Maladies their cure should have,
The dangerous infections we receive.
Our Nurseries of Arts are not so pure,
But that in them our bane we may procure.
Our Inne of Court have lost their good repute,
By harboring of persons dissolute.
The schooles of Law are Sanctuaries made
For Out-lawes, and where once our Gentry had
That nurture which enobled them; now, there
By lewd examples, which too frequent are,
Or, by too great a liberty, we gaine
A habit in all courses that are vaine.
And most of those, of whom the world beleeves
Most good (among them) are but civill theeves.
For, Lawyers, and some Officers, in thee,
(Which Ministers of Iustice seeme to be)
Have made the Courts and Offices, whereby
We should of wrongs receive a remedy;
To prove to us things more uneasie, far,
Then those, for which their just complainings are.
So costly be their wilde interpretations
Of Lawes and Customes; and such variations
Are found in their opinions, that few know
When they uprightly, or in safety goe.
If any Common Barreter will please
By suits unjust his neighbors to disease;
The Plea may be maintained, though that all
His allegations prove untrue they shall:
Or manifest, by doubtlesse demonstration,
He purpos'd nought but wilfull molestation.
For, Lawyers will defend and plead the Cause,
Which to their knowledge doth oppose both Iawes
And Conscience too; as if they did contemne
His threatnings that pronounced woe to them,
Who justifie the wicked in their sin;
Or him gainsay which hath not faulty bin.
Ev'n in our Court of Conscience, some things are
Vnconscionable. For, if any here
Be causlesly complain'd on well is he
If uncondemned in the suit he be.
For, this Defendant hath small remedy,
Save that, and patience, for his injury.
His causlesse troubles, and his large expence,
Hath no requitall save his innocence.
For, if all they that are unjustly grieved,
By having costs or suits should be relieved;
Or if the Plaintiffe should his Bill averre
Vpon his oath, as ev'ry Answerer
Confirmes his Answer, many a brawling Knive
Would then be quiet, and that Court would have
Far lesse employment: yea, and were it not
Their Traverses did knit againe the knot,
Which Answers upon Oath, almost unty,
Suits would not halfe so long unended lye,
This, many Officers doe seeme to feare;
And therefore (as if Courts erected were
To make them rich, by nourishing contention;
Much rather then to compasse the prevention
Of wrongs and discord) they continue still,
That course which brings most grifts unto their mil.
If I would make a Libell, it should be
By way of Suit: for, I did never see
A scurrilous Rime or Pamphlet, so compact
Of slanders (nor so cunningly detract)
As doe their shamelesse Bils, and their Replies,
Who seeke, that way, mens names to scandalize.
They dare pretend (as if with warranty)
Those things of which no probability
Was ever seene. For, though they prove it not,
They know the very mention of a blot
Doth leave a staine; and, that aspersions laid
Supposedly, are often so convaid,
And so disperst; and in dispersing, will
Such new additions gather to them still;
That, at the last (although most false they were)
For truths, they told and heard, of many, are.
But, their Intergatorie, have a tricke
Beyond all other Libellings, to stick
An infamy on any: for, in those,
Or all which they will causlesly suppose
Within their Bils; they may the question move,
To whomsoever they pretend shall prove
What they object And, though no proofe be broght,
Nay, though it never came within his thought,
That is complain'd against; to doe or say
Those things which they object against him may:
Yet, he that is examined, or he
That reads what matters question'd of him be;
Suspects, perhaps, (although he nothing knew
Concerning them) that ev'ry thing is true
Which their Intergatories doe imply.
For, why thinks he (that meaneth honestly)
Should Propositions of these things be made,
If they no likelihood of being bad?
Or who (supposeth he) hath so abhord
A mind, as to suggest, and on record
To leave aspersions (of deserving blame)
On him, that no way merited the same?
Yet, this is frequent: and this libelling
Much profit to their Common wealth doth bring,
Who gaine by others losses. And, there's none
Or whom this mischiefe may not fall upon.
For one example of such grosse abuse,
My selfe I can, and justly may, produce.
For, sitting lately in a roome alone,
My owne occasions meditating on:
Two men, who talking at the doore had him
(And, as appeared, knowing me within)
Made entrance and be sought me both to heare,
(And witnesse) what they had agreed on there.
I heard them; and I purposed to do
As they required, being call'd thereto.
But, mark what follow'd. Twelve months after that
The one of these (not well content with what
His bargaine was; and knowing, I alone
Cou'd testifie what they agreed upon)
Did in this knavith cunning wise project
To make my witnesse take the lesse effect.
Forsooth, he makes me party in the cause;
A pitifull complaining Bill he drawes;
Wherein his learned Counsell did devise
Such Combinations, and Conspiracies,
Such Plots, such Practices and such large tales,
Of Premises, of Bargainings, of Sales,
And such like Heathnish stuffe: and his pretence,
Was worded out with so much impudence;
That, surely, whosoever came to see
That peece of Chauncery, supposed me
A very cheating Rascall: or, that I
(At least) was privy to some knavery;
Whereas he knew, who then did so abuse me,
I blamelesse was of what he did accuse me,
Yea, then so farre was I from any plot,
Or purpos'd wrong; that I had quite forgot
Both man and master: and, but for his Bill,
Had beene (I thinke) unmindfull of them still.
A wrong like this, if any please, he may
Inflict upon me ev'ry other day,
With safe impunity. For, such as he,
Intituled Amici Curiæ be:
And, many thousand fees would quite be lost,
Were they, in such like suits, to beare the cost.
If I should here disclose what I have seene,
The practice of some Lawyers to have beene;
What cunning in conveyances they use,
How strangely their Profession they abuse:
And what a glory to themselves they take,
When they an evill cause to thrive can make:
Or, should I here character their Delayes,
Their Errors, their Demurs, their many wayes
Of hindring Iustice; their impertinent
And costly tedious Formes, their impudent
Extorting from their Clients double fees;
For Motions, which they willingly doe lesse:
How they doe move by halfes; how they mistake
(Of purpose) for themselves, new work to make;
How oft their Orders have by procreation,
Made up, almost, the hundreth generation;
What double-tongu'd Reports, for double fees,
Are gotten by corrupted Referrees;
(Who when the truth is plaine, can coine a doubt
To bring againe the falsest Cause about)
How senselesse of mens losses, griefes, or paine,
They are in all things which concerne their gaine;
To what expences they their Clients bring;
How they doe ride them in an endlesse Ring,
And prey upon them: or, if here I should
Disclose as evidently as I could,
How full of wicked bribes, their closets be;
What brutish cruelties mine eyes did see;
How many honest Causes I have knowne,
For want of prosecution, overthrowne;
Because our tedious formes of triall, stretch
Much further then the Clients purse can reach,
How many miles poore men are forc'd to come,
For trifling suits, which might have end at home;
But that our higher Courts more seek encrease
Of their base profits, then of blessed peace.
Should I relate, with what strange tyrannies
Some Officers their places exercise;
What partiality they shew; what pride:
How they insult on men; how they deride;
How big they speak; how scurrilous they be,
In taunting and reviling men more free
From vice, then they themselves: Or, should I tell
How little tendernesse doth seeme to dwell
VVithin their bosomes, when they do oppresse
The needy widow, and the fatherlesse:
If all these things I should insist upon,
And so describe them, as they might be done;
The world would know that all those injuries,
For which the Law appointeth remedies,
Are oft lesse grievous to the Common weale,
Then most, who most pretend her sores to heale:
And that as little help from them she sees,
As when she sets her Cats to keep her Cheese.
For, some of them are trusty in their kind,
And so, some trusty Lawyers she may find:
Yea, those there be, that in these evill dayes,
Like Rubies mixt with pebles, send forth rayes
Of Christian pieties; which do declare,
That some remaine who yet an honor are
To that profession; and all those are free
From being taxt, or blamed here by me.
The rest shall beare their shame; for, they were born
To be our plague; and they shall be my scorne:
Their torments do afflict both night and day,
And there are few such torturers as they.
For, of those wrongs which we by them sustaine,
We scarcely are permitted to complaine.
Nor will this land better dayes behold,
So long as Offices are bought and sold,
Nor shall I ever think that any one,
Much cares, what right or injury be done,
That buyes or sels an Office; chiefly he,
Who chaffers that where seats of Iudgement be.
For order sake, to these my knee I bend;
Or, I to give them titles can descend,
And ev'ry outward reverence; that so
The place they beare, contemned may not grow:
Yet, nobler far he seemeth in mine eyes,
Who, by a due election, doth arise
To be but Heardman in some Country Borrough,
Then all those Lordlings who have passed thorough
The greatest Offices, by giving pay;
Or by some other unapproved way.
When mē were sought, that Office they might bear
And had it gratis; they such persons were,
Whose worth, whose vertues, and whose noblenesse,
Brought honor to the seats they did proffesse.
With faithfulnesse, their duties they discharged;
No ancient fee unjustly was enlarged;
Or new extorted; neither did they take
The poore mans money, when he mone did make:
For, by an easie entrance they were able
(When need required) to be charitable.
Their just expences, also, to provide;
And to sustaine a comely port beside.
But, since men sought out Offices; and thought
Of their owne merits, better then they ought,
(Intruding, without modesty, to sit
Vpon that Seat, for which they were unfit)
Since men experienced (by serving long
In some inferior places) had such wrong,
That ignorant impostors got possession
Or what pertaines to them, by due succession:
Yea since to sacred Calling men are chose
By them, that should not of such things dispose;
What can e're long expected be, unlesse
It be an overflow of Barbarousnesse?
Since each base fellow (who, perhaps, by stealth,
By fraud, or by extortion, scrapes up wealth)
May purchase, by his evill gotten pelfe,
A place of honor, to ensconce himselfe,
And fortifie his wickednesse withall;
What hope of good proceedings follow shall?
Since needy, worthlesse, base, & shameles grooms,
May serue their persons into noble roomes,
By meanes ignoble; no man must expect
From such a Cause, to draw a good Effect;
Or, that he honor gets, who in such times
To any honorable title climbs.
He's but a theefe, that in at window comes;
The buyer sells, and sells for greater sums;
By bribery, he bribery defends,
Of unjust Mammon he doth make him friends,
To nourish Pride; or else to make up that,
Whereby possession of his place he gat;
Without compassion, he doth grieve, oppresse,
And rack the widow, and the fatherlesse:
All places, and all things that appertaine
To ev'ry place, he puts to sale, for gaine:
Yea, most men of each other, now, make sale:
Of their owne liberties, of lives, and all.
Great Officers pretending to the gift
If some inferiour places, make a shift
To save the giving, and, so dearly sell
That their poore underlings they oft compell
To serve without allowance; or to raise
Their maintenance, by some unlawfull wayes:
VVhich they must countenance; or else contrive
That others at such doing may connive.
VVhereby those places held disgracefull be,
VVhich, otherwise, from scandall, had bin free.
VVhy then reproach we such with odious names,
Since they that are the authors of then shames,
(And those to whom base termes do appertaine)
Are their great Masters, who make wicked gaine
Of what should freely be bestow'd on those
To whom they ought such places to dispose?
From them, and their corruption, doth arise
The multitudes of base enormities
That swarme among our petty Officers.
It is a sum of mony that prefers
To ev'ry place; and that makes knaves, and sharks,
Of Sergeants, Waiters, and of Vnder-clarks.
This maketh Registers, in ev'ry Court,
And other Ministers, so much extort:
This makes them seek out knots, demurs, delayes,
And practise many unapproved wayes,
To make up that which foolishly they paid:
Yet, in the grave, their heads, perhaps, are laid
Ere halfe recover'd be: and oft their wives,
(VVhose portion bought those places for their lives)
Are lest, with many children, to a lot
Vnpitied, as they others pitied not.
For, many a one of these, although you see
Their wives and children in apparell be
As costly as a Lords (that yearly may
Dispend as great a sum, as these did pay
For their new Offices) engaged are
To Vsurers, for twice the better share
Of their large Fines: and, sometime they undoe
Themselues, their kindred, and their neighbours too.
Hence comes it, that Receivers, Bailifes, Reeves,
And other such, are worse then common theeves;
And rack and pill so boldly; and from hence
It flowes, that few suppress their insolence:
Ev'n from their base corruption, who do thrive
By such mens losse; and not alone connive
At their misdoings, but, oft patronize them,
And from just censures an escape devise them.
For they that else would Furze and Brambles burne,
Will cherish them, where they may save their corne.
Thus, Britaine, most of them have used thee,
Whose Offices, by purchase, gotten be.
These, and a multitude of other crimes,
They cause, and act, and suffer in these times:
And are so insolent in what they doe,
That they dare practise, and defend it too,
Without remorse of mind, or seeming sense
Of being guilty of the least offence.
Nor come thy Priests or Prophets much behind
The worst of these: but, passe them in their kind.
For, though a learned Clergy thou possessest,
And ev'ry day in knowledge much increasest:
Although I do beleeve thou hast in thee
Those Guides whose wayes are from reproofe as free
As are the best on earth: yet, thou hast more
That are perverted, now, then heretofore.
Of late, thou heaps of Teachers gotten hast,
Resembling empty vapours, or a blast
That breathes no comfort. What God never ment
They publish forth; and come e're they are sent.
Thy peoples hurts, they cure with sugred speech;
When there's no peace at all, of peace they preach;
Thou purblind Watchmen hast, and some that see,
As blindly walke, as they that blindest be.
DumbDogs thou hast, who spend their time in sleep;
And, some who barke, but to affright the sheepe.
Like hungry Curres, some alwayes gurmandize;
Yet nothing can their greedinesse suffice.
They follow their owne wills, and their owne waies
They hunt for their owne profit, their owne praise.
They tread the paths where common sinners walke;
Amongst themselves, they most prophanely talk;
And, at the Tavernes meet, and sit and swill
Strong drinke, and wine untill their guts they fill.
In taking Gifts, and compassing Promotion,
They shew more zeale, and practice more Devotion
Then in their holy Callings. They delight
In Flatteries; and the fawningst Parasite
In all the Courts of Europe, cannot prate
More Heathnishly, nor more insinuate
Then some of them. The blessed Sacraments
And holy Word, are us'd as instruments
To compasse that, for them, which they projected;
And oft polluted are, and oft neglected,
Their sacred Orders, are abus'd and made
To serve them for an Office, or a Trade,
To be inriched by; and to that end
The preaching of the Gospel, they intend.
They come not by the doore into the fold;
Things holy, they have often bought and sold;
Conspiracies they make in matters sowle;
They prey vpon the body and the soule;
And, fat and rich, and mighty to become,
They daub and plaister with untemper'd lome.
With lies, and faire pretences they beguile;
And violate the Law of God, the while.
His Altars they prophane, they starve his flocke;
They make Religion but a mocking-stocke;
And, by examples horrible and vile,
Cause other men, Gods Temples to defile.
There is no avarice which theirs exceeds;
No malice which a mischiefe sooner breeds:
No pride so sutly as their Clergy-pride,
Except among the Beggers, when they ride.
They, who but few yeares past, would halfe have broke
Their kindreds, to have purchas'd them a cloake;
And in poore threed bare Cassocks sought to preach
Beneath an Vnder-Curate; or to teach
The children of some Farmers, for their meat:
And seem'd scarce worthy so much grace to get,
Vntill by counterfeit humility,
(By sawning mixt with importunity,
And gilt with fained zeale) they wrought on some,
To bring their wandring feet into their home.
Ev'n some of these, so well have acted out
Their parts, of seeming honest and devout;
That (either like to Micahs Priest, by leaving.
Their Patrons; and their hopefull trust deceiving:
Or, some such likely wayes) they have acquired
A hither station, then they first desired.
They have so quaintly humour'd, and so pleased
The present times; that they have proudly seized
Supremest places: and, now, over peere
Their heads by whom, they first advanced were.
And very profitable, sure it is,
To heed them, since their metamorphosis.
For, if thou mark, how stately now they beare
Their lofty heads; how insolent they are;
How pitilesse to suters they become;
With what contempt poore men be rated from
Their angry presence; what imperious Lords
Their Doctorships are grown; what haughty words
They thunder forth; what Antichristian state
They take upon them; how extreame ingrate
And inhumane they prove (ev'n unto those
By whom, they from the dunghill first arose)
Wer't well observ'd how strangely they contemne
Their ancient friends; and twixt themselves, & them,
What distances they set; or, to their kin
How harsh and evill natur'd they have bin;
(Except to those, that having meanes to rise
As well as they, their folly do despise.)
Wer't knowne, what selfe opinion they have got
Of their owne worths; how they themselves besot
With arrogance; how peevish, and unquiet
They be in their attendance, and their diet;
In small or trifling matters how severe;
In those which of the greatest moment are,
How carelesse growne: how envious of the grace
Or gifts bestow'd on those, in meaner place.
Were notice also taken, with what straine
Of pride and loftinesse, they entertaine
Their brethren of the Clergy, when they are
By any summons called to appeare
Before their Lordships; with what Pope like phrase
They seek to terrifie, and to amaze
Their humble Suppliants, with what balde conceits
They vent their humors, that the crew which waits
To claw and sooth such follyes, may begin
(In stead of some applause) to fleere, and grin.
How tartly they can chide, and raile, and play,
And jest on those, who but the other day
Did equall them in tempr'all dignities;
And are more worthy, though less high they rise.
Were these things heeded, and some passages
Which name I could, as worthy note as these;
A man would harely think, that these had beene
Those Priests, who but a while before were seene
So beggerly, and so expos'd to scorne;
But, that, they had (at least) beene Prelates borne.
None could have thought that these mē had bin they
Who lately did so bitterly invey
Against the pride Episcopall; and plained,
To see themselves so sleighted, and disdained
Of their superiors: no man would have thought
These had bin poore mens children, who had nought
To give them nurture; or, that they, bereft
Of all their friends, were to the parish left.
None would beleeve, almost, that any such
Should from so little, rise to have so much
In such a Calling; and so worthlesse be
In their condition: for, it seemes to me,
They little conscience make of that Profession,
Whereby they have those glories in possession:
Since then (me thinks) so far they would not swerve
From his pure word, whom they pretend to serve.
Oh! pray that God would make those watchmen see
What blots and errors in their courses be.
And, that, by good example they may teach,
What they by word, unto the people preach:
For, by their actions, many overthrow
The growth of that, which they themselves did sow.
Or by their failing, or their falling from
A Christan zeale, make others cold become.
And, some of these are those, of whom Christ sayes,
We should embrace their words, but not their wayes.
But, many a one will neither say nor doe,
What we may follow, or give heed vnto.
Yea, we have now among us many a one,
(That could have spoken well) whose voice is gone,
By growing over fat with double Cures:
And pampring up themselves like Epicures.
How many Doctors have we, who before
They were advanced, from conditions poore,
Were glad and willing twice each Sabbath day,
To preach, and all the publike pray'rs to say?
Yea, without any show of being weary,
The Sacraments to give; to wed, to bury,
And, often in the week, those works to do,
Which by their Calling they were bound unto?
Of those how many in these dayes are seene,
That having to promotion raised beene,
Are well nigh silenc'd, now performing neither
Of all those duties, for whole months together?
Of these, how many lately have I knowne,
So proud (or else perhaps so lazy growne)
To cast upon their hirelings all that care,
And al that pains, which they themselves should bear?
Vouchsafing not so much as once a day,
(Though they are present) publike pray'rs to say;
Or preach; or, of the duties to be done,
To ease their Curate, in performing one?
But (sitting as meere strangers, or as he
Who thought such works, for him too meane to be)
Take ease and state upon them; more I wis,
Then either needfull or beseeming is.
Indeed (when they are any way engaged
By publike studies, weak, or sick, or aged)
Sometime to ease themselves, deserves no blame:
But having no excuse, it is their shame.
How unbeseeming is it, to behold
Our Doctors, who nor crazy are, nor old,
Nor any way disabled, save through sloth,
Or through their pride (or else perchance through both)
To leave that charge to some inferior one,
Which is too worthy, to be undergone
By him that's worth'est, in respect of all
Those dignities, the world afford them shall?
Why should the adding of a new Degree,
Or larger meanes (which no additions be
To their essentiall worth) make wise men seeme
So highly praised, in their owne esteeme,
As to debase that worke, for whose meere sake,
Gods mercy them so eminent did make?
For, if it were not so, why do they more
Neglect those duties now, then heretofore?
Why, in performing them, respect they so
The times, and persons, as we see they do?
At solemne feasts, or in those places where
Most honorable personages are,
Why do they preach more often? why baptize,
And wed, and bury, where their living lies,
The richer fort, and let the poore alone;
If what they do, for conscience sake be done?
Alas! preferment, and the being rich,
Doth choak up vertues, and the mind bewitch.
The daughter sleights the mother. For, Devotion
Brought forth by painfull travell, faire Promotion;
And lo, no sooner is Preferment borne,
But, proud she growes, and doth her Mother scorne.
They who did much for little; now, possessing
A great abundance, do requite the blessing
With doing lesse, in stead of doing more;
And, marre with pride, what paine did plant before.
The greater favours we from God receive,
The greater thankfulnesse we should conceive.
Yea, when that he advanceth us most high,
We should expresse the more humility;
And think, that ev'n the meanest circumstances
Belonging to his holy Ordinances,
Could not with reverence enough be done,
When we have all our worthinesse put on.
And, doubtlesse, when to God most high we raise
Our hands, in offring up his publike praise,
The man (in my opinion) fitteth best
That work; who seemes more worthy then the rest.
And, whosoever should that act eschew,
(Except just cause within himselfe he knew)
I know (how high soe're his place hath bin)
His Calling is dishonored therein:
Or, if to be assistant he doth shun,
When any priestly work is to be done,
Where he hath Cure: for, into others roomes,
To make intrusion, no man it becomes.
God grant those men humility, and care,
Who otherwise, in this, affected are;
And show our Clergie what uncomelinesse
Appeares in this. For, some herein transgresse
By other mens examples; and indeed,
Some other men, by want of taking heed
Of what they doe; who having weigh'd the fact,
Will never put the same, againe, in act.
Lord waken these; and, humble those, I pray,
Whom pride, or vanity, have led astray.
And oh! ye house of Levi, warning take ye;
Lest God, for times to come, examples make ye,
As he that Clergie, your example made,
Whose monstrous pride, the age before you, had
So great a fall. Oh! minde it, and be more
Regardfull of your Charge then heretofore:
Lest they that spight the Churches dignities,
(And of her Dowry seek to make a prize)
For your ambitious pride, occasion take,
On Gods Inheritance, their prey to make.
So will our Clergie, which is yet respected,
Be scorn'd, become as poore, and as neglected,
As in those Countries, where their former pride
Hath made their Calling to be vilifide.
Oh! leave, oh! leave your haughtinesse betimes,
Your avarice, your envy, and those crimes,
That are observ'd among you; lest for them
God shake the wall of our Ierusalem.
For, heav'n and earth for me shall restifie,
That this my Muse in nothing doth belye
Your manners; but that you are more then stain'd,
With ev'ry fault whereof I have complain'd.
And as it was their Priests and Prophets sin
That brought the Deluge of those troubles in,
Which overwhelm'd the Iewish Commonweale:
So, if with us the Lord severely deale,
Your sinnes and errors will enlarge the rent,
Through which the mortall arrow shall be sent,
That deepest wounds. Oh! God defend us from
Such judgements; or, if thou be pleas'd they come,
Vpon our sinfull bodies strike the blow;
And keepe us from a spirituall overthrow.
Excuse me worthy Prelats; and all you
Whom God with large preferments doth endue,
And raise to honor, out of low degrees,
Because ingrasted in your hearts he sees
Such inward vertues, and such outward graces,
As doe become your high and holy places;
Excuse me if in ought deliver'd here,
Injurious to your worths I may appeare:
For, not a Line of these reproving straines,
To you or any one of you pertaines;
Nor need you care, if any shall apply,
These tart reproofes, to blur your Callings by:
Because you know, that none are this way harmed,
Who are by true and reall vertues armed.
Because you also know, that some have shamed
Your places by such crimes as I have named.
I know you will not frowne, though I did say,
That some of Christs Disciples would betray
Their Master to his foes. Since this no more
Redounds to your disgrace, then heretofore
It did to his Apostles, that he said
How he by one of them should be betraid.
None taxe you shall, by meanes of this, but heady
And hairebrain'd fooles, that are your foes already;
Nor would I for the world unloose my tongue,
To do the Vertuous, or your Calling wrong.
Let no man gather hence, my Muse envies
The Clergie, or the reverend Dignities
To them pertaining; or dislike to see
Great Prelates raised up from low degree:
For, them I honor most, who from a race
Of meane esteeme, have gain'd an honor'd place,
By true desert. And (might I be as able
As willing) I would make more honorable
Their holy Callings; and for ever close
Their greedy mouths, and bind the hands of those
Who speak, or act, what might infringe their due,
Who in those places good examples shew.
I know, among our Bishops, there are some,
Who make their outward honors to become
A meanes to keep Religion, and their Calling,
From being vilified, and from falling
Into contempt: of Stiles account they make not,
For their owne glory: to themselves they take not
Their Lordly Attributes; but to adorne
Their Office, and to keep the same from scorne.
Some such there are: and for the sakes of such
It is, that yet our Clergie hath so much
Of that esteeme which our forefathers left them;
And that these greedy times have not bereft them
Of those endowments which were granted here
When Kings the Churches nursing Fathers were.
From these reproofes, let such therefore be free;
And fall the blame on those that faulty be.
But, as the Shepherds have deserv'd the strokes
Of Gods displeasure; so their wanton Flocks
The same have merited; and, blame there lyes
On all conditions, and fraternities.
I would not speake what might offend the Throne
Of Justice; or the King that sits thereon.
From all taxation let him scape as free
As he is innocent; yea let him be
Vntouched: and, let ev'ry vertuous Peere,
Be free from all, that shall be spoken here:
For, I will ayme at none, but whom it shall
Become an honest Muse to chide withall.
In this, beleeve me Readers. For, I pray
Forgive my bluntnesse. And I dare to say
The Court is fraught with bribery, with hate,
With envie, lust, ambition, and debate;
With fawnings, with fantasticke imitation,
With shamefull sloth, and base dissimulation.
True Vertue's almost quite exiled thence,
And vice with vice, for chiefe preheminence
Maintaineth wars. The most profuse Excesse,
And Avarice, one bosome oft possesse:
The greater part are of a Mushroome breed,
Spring up upon a sudden, without seed,
Or plant, or graft, and, often, in one day,
(Yea sometime in a moment) swept away.
With lyes, they seeke their Soveraigne to delight;
And act their impudences in his sight.
They slay the people, and their flesh they teare
Ev'n from the bones; as doth a greedy Beare.
They cannot brook the mention of their error;
They drive out of their mindes the day of terror.
Deep pits, to hide their mischiefes in, they make;
And think that God no heed of them will take.
They live upon the Commons; and yet grow
More fat, then others in enclosures do
And, that which followes their encreasing pow'r,
Is but to be devoured, or devoure.
Their wealth consists of Projects: their esteeme
Is that which they to one another seeme.
Their Honors are bare Titles; and, that state
Which they themselves do fancy and create.
Their Zeale is wilfulnesse. Their Faith is such
As Reason breeds; and, most times, not so much.
Their Hope is something, but I know not what.
Their Charity is nothing; or else that
Which I should call Self-love. Their Strength is in
Opinion and in ablenesse to sin.
Their Wisdome, and their Policy, (if we
May guesse at things that undiscerned be)
Is to resolve on nothing: so, the Foe
Shall never compasse their designes to know.
Their Courtesie (if men will be content
To think it may consist in Complement)
Is wondrous great. Their Valour is in oaths.
Their greatest Glory doth depend on cloaths;
In which they are so vaine, that ev'ry morne
(Almost) a new attire by some is worne,
Of sev'rall stuffes or fashions: and they dresse
Their bodies, with such tedious curiousnesse,
And, such a multitude of hands there are
To trim them (and their trappings to prepare)
That halfe so many, of good workmen, may
Erect a house, e're they themselves aray.
Of Honesty they scarce the name afford:
For, should I terme one, there, an honest Lord;
It might be thought as clownish, so to do,
As it were false, perhaps, to call him so.
Gods holy Sabbaths, most among them, there,
Observe not much; except it be to weare
Their finest clothes. The Bus'nesses, that may,
And should be done upon some other Day,
Are then debated on, as frequently,
As those affaires which by necessity
Are urg'd upon them. And, all sorts of men
(When they should serve their God) are forced then
To wait upon the world; to whom God gave
Sixe dayes; for ev'ry one which he should have.
Nor, thereby, many other mens unrests
Occasion they alone; but, ev'n their beasts
Are then disquieted; and cannot have
That right, which both Gods Lawes, & Natures, gave.
Sometime, they to remove, that Day, prepare;
Yea, then begun, sometimes; Removalls are;
And in the Court, more Carters, we may see
Employ'd that day, then through the Kingdome be.
On Sundayes far more Coaches rumble thither,
Then doe in some three other dayes together:
And, seldome have they leisure for a Play,
Or Maske, except upon Gods Holy-day.
I doe not think we are obliged to
A Iewish Sabbath, as great numbers do:
But sure I am, from Piety we swarve,
Vnlesse a Christian one we do observe.
And, though to them no fault it may appeare,
Who on such Evenings do but only heare
Or (for their honest recreation) view
The action of some Enterlude, or Shew;
Yet, needs it must be knowne, to some of these,
That to prepare for such Performances,
To many persons must occasions be
Of Sabbath-breaking in a high degree.
In whom this fault most lyes, as yet, my Muse
Descrieth not: but, sure I may excuse
The King: and if but halfe so forward were
Those Clergy men that have his royall care,
To cause him such enormities to see;
As they are thought in other things to be
Which lesse concerne them; he would soone forbid
Those customes; and as Nehemiah did,
More hallow'd make the Sabbath. Nay if none
Of them, whose wisdome he dependeth on,
In this have mis-inform'd him; he will prove
Our Nehemiah, and this fault remove,
When he hath warm'd his Throne: for we have hope
That all our Breaches he e're long shall stop.
But leaving him, I'le finish the report
Which fits the greater number in the Court.
Religion they have some, but many care not
If there the use or mention of it were not:
Some others have divided it betweene
Our gracious Sov'raigne, and his royall Queene;
And, till in one Religion they agree,
They stand resolv'd, that they will Neuters be.
Oh! make betwixt them, Lord, a blessed Vnion,
And, us partakers of thy blest Communion.
Our Cities are as wicked as the Court;
Of her transgressions they come nothing short:
But, rather passe them; if a man might say
That Infinites admit exceeding may.
And, London, thou thy Sisters all hast passed,
In all the faults, whereby they have transgressed:
To thee alone, my speech I therefore bend,
And will in thine their follies reprehend.
I know that thou hast many soules in thee,
Who truly zealous of Gods glory be:
Yea, thousands that by prayers and repenting,
Doe seeke thy peace, and labour the preventing
Of thy perdition; and, though they indure
Scoffes, taunts, and injuries, from thy impure
And faithlesse Children; yea, though such as are
Thy shame, and markt Gods heavie wrath to beare,
Contemne and malice those, and use their pow'r
Those innocents to ruine and devoure:
Yet, they are those who keep away Gods wrath;
And for whose sakes be so long spar'd thee hath.
They make that pleasing Number, who restraine
Those flames of Sulphure, that consum'd the plaine
Which now the Lake Asphaltis overflowes.
And when (from out of thee) God calls for those,
Thou feele it shalt; and, not unlike become
Those Asian Churches, which departed from
Their ancient love, and are the loathsome den
Of Satyrs, Faries, and of Beasts uncleane.
A place for Zim, and Iim; a nest for Owles,
Night Ravens, Vultures, and ill-boding Fowles.
And, then, in ev'ry house (as heretofore,
When popish darknesse spred this Kingdome o're)
Men shall be frighted with strange dreadfull noises;
Deformed visions, and hobgoblin voices.
I know, Good-works in thee are to be found;
And that, above the rest, thou dost abound
In publike Charities. I know thou hast
All Cities, in this Kingdome, over-past
In plentifully preaching of Gods word;
And, that thou bountifully dost afford
Large voluntary pensions to that end.
(Yea, somewhat else I might in thee commend.)
But, if thou take a note of thy transgressions:
If thou at thy Assises, at thy Sessions,
Or, at thy other Courts, observe, or heare,
How many horrid crimes detected are;
How many filthy and abhorred things,
God there discloses, and to Iudgement brings;
And if thou think, withall, how many mee
Committed are, which few do come to know.
Or heededst thou how few, and worthlesse, all
Those works appeare, which thou dost Vertues call:
What would they seeme, compared to thy sin?
Or to those favours, which have heaped bin,
By God, upon thee? Doth he owe thee ought,
Or hast thou done him services for nought?
Oh! LONDON, hath he not advanced thee
The Mistris, and the Soveraigne to be
Of all the Townes, and Cities of this Ile?
Hath he not rais'd thee many a goodly pile?
Art not thou plac'd above, and they below?
Continuing blessings doth he not bestow?
And many priviledges, yet, deny'd
To all the Burroughs of the Land beside?
Behold, thou hast the principallest Trade,
And all their Merchants are thy Chapmen made:
Thou art the Royall Chamber of the King;
Whose residence doth wealth and honor bring
To magnifie thy greatnesse. Kept in thee
His Parliaments, and Courts of Iustice be.
Among the famoust Cities under heaven,
God hath to few a situation given
For pleasure, health, and profit, well united,
To thee compar'd. Yea, God did seeme delighted
In thee to make his Dwelling (ev'n among
Thy Temples) by maintaining here so long
His Harbengers, and Ledgers, to provide
Fit mansions, for his Graces to reside.
Thy God, to be thy Husband, thou hast had;
And, wer't by him a fruitfull Mother made,
So plentifull in Children; that, they play
Like swarmes of Bees, about their hives, in May.
No place in Europe, hath been so supply'd
With soule and bodies food; or, fortifi'd
By Garisons, Forts, Bulwarks, and munition,
As thou art hitherto (by Gods tuition)
Without such charge or trouble. And the day
Will come, wherein, if any man shall say
What peace thou hadst; and, in what plenty here
Thy Children lived (without want or feare)
It will not be beleeved, that a Nation
So blest, could suffer such an alteration.
For, as (by Seas) from ev'ry other part
Of Earths vast circuit, thou enclosed art:
So, from the sudden comming of invasions,
And from the many troubles and occasions
Of Wars and wants, which in the world, we see;
Divided, also, these doe seeme to be.
Such is thy blest condition; and, although
Thou hast, about thee, of all things enough,
That may thy pleasure, or thy need suffice;
Yet, all the dainties and the rarities,
The World affords, are yearely hither sent,
From ev'ry quarter, of Earths Continent.
Oyles, wines, and fruits, that good & pleasant are,
Swimme hither through the Straights of Gibraltar.
Cold Norway, (or the parts adjoyning) greets
Thy River with materialls for thy Fleets.
America doth oft renew thy store
With Suger, drugs, with gold and silver Ore;
With Ambergreece; with woods that sweetly smell;
And other things, that please thy fancy well.
Ormus, with Pearle thy beauties doth adorne,
The Silkes of Persia, in thy streets are worne.
From divers parts of Africa, (and from
Cham's linage there) white Ivorie doth come;
And Apes and Feathers. China, where they printed,
And used Guns, ere we those Arts invented,
(If Fryers be not lyers) doth impart
The fruits of their Inventions, and their Art,
To thy Inhabitants. Rare stones of price,
Sweet smelling gummes, and odoriferous spice,
Are brought unto thee many thousand miles;
Ev'n from the Easterne Indies, and their Jles.
This shewes Gods bounty: and of his compassion
Thou lately hadst, (ev'n by thy preservation,
In thy great Plagues remove; and by his pitty
Vouchsafed otherwaies, unto thy City)
Such evidence: that all men may confesse
He did respect thee, with much tendernesse.
What should I mention more, since, to recount
Gods benefits would doubtlesly amount
To many Volumes? and sure none is able
To number that which is innumerable?
This may suffice (for this time) to expresse
His Bounty, and thy great unthankfulnesse.
For, what hast thou returned him, for these,
And all those blessings, which his Love doth please
To showre upon thee? What hast thou repay'd
For all the Charges which he hath defraid,
(In fencing, planting, and manuring thee)
That worthy, such a Husbandman, may be?
Thou hast faire-seeming Grapes, I must confesse,
But, they are sowre, and full of rottennesse.
Thou mak'st great show of charitable works;
But, that hypocrisie within them lurks,
Which marrs their acceptation. Thou hast built
Some Churches, yet, art tainted by the guilt
Of Sacriledge: and, those thy gifts that cary
The pioust showes have scarce beene voluntary.
Great numbers, in thy Hospitalls are fed,
And lodg'd, and cured: but, the men are dead
Who founded them; and few doe bring supply
To such good works, till they are sick, or dye.
Thou entertainest Preachers, but they must
Speake pleasing things; or else away are thrust.
Thou hast of Pastors, some who shewes do make
Of so much Conscience, that they will forsake
Their Livings rather then it shall be said
Theyle weare a Surplesse: yet, some are afraid,
That most of these, doe cunningly conceale
Much pride or avarice beneath their zeale,
And that their suffring of a silencing,
Doth much more liberty or profit bring,
Then two good Personages: and that, thereby,
Good meaning folke are brought to beggery.
Thou hast redeem'd some Captives; but, it was
With sparingnesse, and hardly brought to passe.
Thou plantest Colonies; but, thou dost draine
The nourishment away, that should maintaine
And settle them. God grant some be not glad
To flye (for this) to them, that should have had
More helpe from thee, and in farre Countries perish,
Because those plants they did no better nourish.
Much know thy people; but (alas) they do
As if good life belong'd not thereunto.
Strict Gospellers thou hast, that can professe
Religion, with much formall holinesse:
But they, like Zodoms apples, prove within
As loathsome, as their outsides faire have bin.
Yea, they (against their brethren) oft are found
In hate, and pois'nous malice to abound.
Good Orders, lawes, and Customes thou hast many;
But, very seldome exercisest any,
Except for private gaine; or to acquire
Some Vengeance, which thou dost, perhaps desire.
Thou hast judiciall Courts, wherein I (heeding
Their Lawes) saw promises of just proceeding:
But, marking well their Formes, they seemed, rather,
Devices for thine Officers, to gather
Rich fortunes by; then to afford redresse
For those, whom their oppressors doe oppresse.
Thou hast a Magistracy, to maintaine
The peace of honest men; and, to restraine
The rage of wickednesse: but, loe; ev'n some
Of those are patrons of mis-rule become;
Disturbing quiet men, and thriving by
Befriending sin; else I have heard a lye.
Yea, some are famed, to encrease their living,
By cunning rigour, mixed with conniving:
Deceiving honest people, by strict shewes
Of punishing of those whom they excuse.
For when by doing Iustice they compell
A wicked man beyond their bounds to dwell,
(Some think) their griefe, and losse, it doth augment,
As much as losing of a Tenement.
Thou hast Correction houses; but, thou mendest
Not many, whom to chasten thou pretendest:
For, thither they are oftner sent to ease thee
Of them, or of their pilfrings, which disease thee;
Then out of Christian purposes, to force
Such vagrant people to a better course:
And, therefore are thy Suburbs pestred now,
With beggers; yea, for that, so large doth grow
The number of thy vagrant Rogues, and Cheaters,
That they begin to imitate their betters,
In Government, and Method: and, are growne
To have both Lawes, and Language, of their owne.
Thy Children yeeld some good conformity
To Rules and Precepts of Morality:
But, most observe good orders, to enjoy
Their owne state safe, and to prevent annoy
That might betide themselves; much rather, then
In true obedience unto God, or men.
Within thy Corporation, I likewise
Have notice taken of Societies,
Which beare a goodly shew of ordering
Thy sev'rall Trades: and I in many a thing
Theire use commend: yet, some of them, to me,
Grosse Monopolies, doe appeare to be.
Which do in secret, with some open shewes
Of publike good, the publike weale abuse.
Nor would it be amisse, if some things were
More free, which by their meanes restrained are:
Or if the State would better looke unto
Those injuries, which many of them do.
For, when these Bodies politick oppresse,
Their pow'r doth make the wrong without redresse:
Their purses, and continuance, may o'rebeare
The rightfull'st cause (if so they pleased are)
The friends, and oft, the very noise they'll make,
(Because a multitude) much hold doth take
For their advantages; although the cause
Be both against good Conscience, and the Lawes.
Nay, should the Common-wealth her selfe, oppose
These Corporations, for some wrong that flowes
From their proceedings; it would scarce obtaine
That pow'r which could these Petty-weales restraine.
For, having gaine or losse, accrewing by
Their Claime, which doth concern thē, far more nigh,
Then that, oft seemes to touch those men, who stand
To take the Kingdomes gen'rall cause in hand,
It makes them to pursue it, more then they;
More Patrons to procure, more bribes to pay;
And, at the last, to conquer, by that course,
Which makes the better cause to seeme the worse.
This brings to mind some wrongs that I have had,
And what account of honest suits is made,
If once a greedy foolish multitude
Vpon the right of any doth intrude.
But, left by thinking on it, mixe I may
My private harmes, with what I meant to say
For publike ends: here breathe I will a space,
Vntill my present thoughts I can displace.
Forgive me, Lord, if J have guilty beene
In this my worke, of any private spleene.
My Musings hallow thou; confirme thy love:
Infuse me with thy Spirit from above,
With better things then flesh and blood discernes;
Inspire me with each Vertue which concernes
The finishing of what J undertake:
Make profitable all that J shall speake.
And, to thy Name some honor let it be,
Although it should both shame and ruine me.

The seventh Canto.

When I (whose lawfully emboldned Muse
The faults and errors of her time pursues)
Have by some slips, or frailties of mine owne,
Alaid that flame, wch Gods good Sp'rit hath blown;
Or when such heat within me, waxeth lesse
By fainting, through a nat'rall wearinesse;
Or, by that willing, or constrained pause,
Whereof my friends, or bus'nesses, are cause:
At such a time, when I perusall make
Of these beginnings; and, strict notice take
What here is dared; I oft find, as then,
Such feares in me, as move in other men.
And, being flesh and blood, as fraile as they,
I stagger in my best approved way.
E're I thus farre proceeded, I was tyr'd,
Ev'n in this present worke (although inspir'd
With all that zeale thereto, which you may see
In some fore-going Leaves, exprest by me)
My heart was oft assail'd; and I, almost,
My best confirmed Resolutions lost.
Yea, twice, at least, since I this Taske assaid,
It hath by false suggestions beene delaid:
And, many painfull strivings are within me,
When from this Worke, Temptation fights to win me.
Lord! (thinks my heart) somtimes, what means my Soule
To make me in this desp'rate wise controule
Those carelesse Times? have I done well or no,
With nests of angry Waspes to meddle so?
Hath he, or wit, or common sense, that stirs,
A froward Beare? or playes with testy Curs?
Will any think me capable of Reason,
Thus bold to be at such a dangerous season?
Nay, will not all account me mad to vent
Such Lines as these? adventuring to be shent,
And be undone, perhaps, to no more end,
Then that whereto my Labor seemes to tend?
Doe I conceive the Times, or Manners, be
Amended ought, by what is said by me?
Am I, that have, my selfe, unwisely done,
A fitting man, to hurle this heavy stone
At other sinners? what may many say,
But that in this I raile, or else doe play
The witlesse Furie? It hath brought me losse,
(Thinke I) already; and will surely crosse
The setling those affaires of mine, which are
Nigh rip'ned, with much paine, expence, and care.
And then the world, and my necessities,
Begin to tempt me, by such fallacies,
That I halfe yeeld. How wilt thou live, or pay
Where thou engaged art? they seeme to say.
By what, or whence, thy wants wilt thou supply,
If thou for this imprisoned shouldst lye,
Divided from thy friends? or, on the bed
Of sicknesse, shouldst by God be visited?
Nay, though thou nothing wantest; yet thou hast
So universally thy censure past,
On all offenders, (and it will so vexe
In private, and so openly perplex
Great multitudes, so many sev'rall wayes)
That, it will make thee hated, all thy dayes.
Where dost thou live, or whither canst thou goe,
But there thou art assured of a foe?
The City, and the Court, thou hast controld,
With Commons, and with Nobles thou art bold;
Vnconscionable Lawyers here are checkt.
Thou dost some faults of Clergy-men detect,
With so much evidence, that be thou sure
Of all the mischiefe which they can procure;
And that, not one of them thy friend will be
Who from those imputations is not free.
All they that are notoriously, Transgressors,
All Schismaticks, and all our false Professors
Will bitterly oppose thee. And no spight
Is like the malice of an Hypocrite.
In briefe (excepting those that are sincere
In life and Doctrine) no man will appeare
As thy partakers: And, what are those few,
To that great Army, which will thee pursue?
If this deject me not, another thought
Is by another way upon me brought:
It whispers to me, that these Lines will wake
Detraction; and that she revenge will take,
For interrupting and reprouing Sinne,
That in security would faine have bin.
Nor, is that now unpractiz'd: For, there be
A world of dogges already barting me.
Hypocrisie and Envy doe combine,
With guilty Malice, how to undermine
My good Repute, (that by a dis-respect
Of me, my words may take the lesse effect)
They compasse me about, they watch my wayes,
And marke my speeches (as good David sayes)
That if but sparkes of error, they can see,
They blow them may, till flames they seeme to be.
Let but a foolish word, slip out among
My common talkings, (for alas' whose tongue
Doth never erre?) they straight to censure take it,
And, such a piece of wickednesse they make it;
That, should on them a judgement so severe
From God be past (or by the world) I feare
It would so heavy on their persons come;
That they would think the same a cruell doome.
If they but see me doe what they suppose
May tend to folly, (though my Maker knowes
The deed suspected, is as far from sin,
As that which I am best employed in)
They instantly a rash conclusion draw;
And speake their dreame, as well as what they saw.
They fancy in their owne corrupted thought,
What may at such a time, or place, be wrought,
By evill minded folks: and, thereupon,
Conclude the very same by me was done.
Then they relate it: and though nought were seene
Which might indeed a likelihood have beene
Of such an act; they, by themselves devise
To fashion out faire probabilities
Of what they speake: and, by the Devils aid,
Acts innocent, sometimes are so betray'd;
So mis reported by the spight of those
Whose wickednesse, perhaps, I did oppose:
Yea, blamelesse circumstances, otherwhile,
Are so mistaken; and do so beguile
With shewes of proving and confirming, that
Which was conceived by prejudicate
And false opinion; that, it makes them bold,
To think their fained slander may be told,
With good beleefe: then to divulge about
Their lyes (of me) they search companions out.
And as they are of sundry minds who raise
Such Scandals; so, they vent them divers wayes.
If of the sort they be, whose open sin,
Hath in my Poems reprehended bin;
Or such as they, who daily guilty be
Of doing that, wherewith they slander me:
Then, in despight, or to extenuate
Their owne offences; thus, of me they prate.
This man (say they) that strips & whips the times
And, doth so thunder in his rayling rymes,
(Against the faults of others) is no lesse
Ingulfed in the sinck of wickednesse
Then he that's worst. His Dalilah hath he,
And his beloved sinnes, as well as we.
He such a place frequenteth; he hath beene
Met there, and there: him, we have daily seene
With such or such a one, at such a season:
Doe so, and so; for which we know no reason:
Thus he is thought to be, and thus to doe:
Yea, some of them will impudently to,
Affirme they saw, what they but misconceived;
If they doe find their slanders vnbeleeved.
And when they speake such things, they neither care
To whom, nor when, nor yet how false they are.
If they be such who meerely out of spight,
Or envy, to disparage me, delight;
(As doe some Poetasters) they forbeare
To speake downeright (because they doe not dare)
And utter Parables. They, knavishly,
Their filshoods to some Truths, doe closely ty,
To get beleefe. Things proper unto me,
They mixe with attributes that cannot be
To me apply'd, that so they may evade,
When question of their purposes is made.
They speake but halfe their matter out; and leave
The rest, for those that heare them to conceive
What they shall please: but, first disclose they will
Enough to make their best coniectures ill.
With words ironicall, they doe revile me:
The Valiant Poet, they in scorne doe stile me.
The Chronomastix; and when taxt they are
That me they meant, their meanings they forswear.
When these applauded Wits, have at the Pot
Some Novice, or some new admirer got
Of their Strong-lines (which warmed by the heat,
Of Sack, or Claret, they, perhaps repeat)
Twere worth your sight, to see how soone the fire
Of Bacchus, their large braine pans doth inspire,
With mimmick straines: And how they shuffle in
Selfe-praises; and how grossely they begin
Occasions, that they may enthrall your eare
With some new-peece of theirs, which you shall heare
Perforce; yet heare it with so much adoe,
That you must thinke you have a fauour to.
For with as many tedious circumstances
As doth some capring foole before he dances,
(Or Singer, which must tyred be with wooing,
To doe what willingly, he would be doing)
They doe begin to read, or to rehearse
Some fragments of their new created Verse,
With such a Gesture, and in such a Tone,
As if Great Tamberlaine upon his Throne,
Were utt'ring a majesticall Oration,
To strike his hearers dead with admiration.
Which oft so works upon their Auditory,
That, to the great aduancement of their glory,
They lade them with applauses, and with drinke
Till they themselves. the Kings of Poets thinke.
To which opinion, when once rais'd they be,
Then shall the Drawer, or the Tapster see
Their nat'rall humor, which (if true some say)
Is better worthy seeing, then a Play.
Among the rest, 'tis odds, but e're they goe,
The Poets must be summon'd in a row
To bide their drunken censure; which doth shame
Those few they praise, much more then those they blame.
Among the rest, it chanceth, some By-stander
By naming me their Catalogue doth slander.
If then a man of fashion he appeare,
Who undertakes my name to mention there,
The man (say these) may passe; but, such as he
(By us) no Poets are esteem'd to be.
A haz the way of making pretty Rimes,
To fit the apprehension of the times;
And, him for that, the multitude doth favour:
But, in his lines, there is but little savour
Of Reading, or Antiquity. Thus far
They go, if they perceive their hearers are
Indifferently affected. And if they
Do find them jealous of my fame, they'll say,
Most fawningly, sometime those words of me
(In way of praise) that I should blush to be
Within their hearing. Yet, they'll interpose
Some jestings, now and then; or, in the close,
Induce, by way of merriment, some cause
To bring their good opinions to a pause.
Affirming, that though Drunkard I am none,
Yet, I reputed am a wanton-one:
By some such way their spleen they'll satisfie.
But, if no friend of mine appeareth by,
So freely, then, they vomit all their gall,
That they scarce make me any thing at all.
And some, who neither knew them well, nor me,
Have thought me baser then the basest be.
Some others, by their malice, thought I had
Some worth in me, which them so envious made;
And came to know me; and when me they knew,
They told me this, which I have told to you.
Some other, shew at large, they wish my shame,
But to their Libels will not set their Name,
For feare of danger. And though such can gaine
No prudent man (at first) to entertaine
Their fatherlesse reports: yet, sure they are,
The world hath Knaves and Fooles enow, to heare
The falsest talos; and that, when far they go,
The best suspect, and oft beleeve them too.
There be some other, who (out of a light
Vaine humour) love to heare, and to recite
Mens personall defects (without intent
Of doing right or wrong in what they vent)
They speak at randome, whatsoe're is new,
Not much regarding whether false or true;
And, do but serve to beare the tale about,
And blow the fire, which else would smother out.
There is another brood of these Detractors,
Who in traducing me, are common actors:
And, they are such who cunningly conceale
Their hate and envy with a holy zeale:
They, whose Religion, and whose honesties
Consist in judging those infirmities
That are in others. If these men espy
Some little Atomes in their brothers eye,
They straight as busily do heave at them,
As if the smallest were a mighty Beame.
Their lying suppositions must be took
For verities; or else they will not brook
A word you speak: nay (if you do misdoubt
Their censures) from the Church they thrust you out.
They Charity pretend; and, though they are
Well pleas'd when they have something to declare
VVhich may disgrace another, they will seeme,
To have his reputation in esteeme.
As loth to speake; they'le bring it round about;
And thus (or some such way) divulge it out.
Now verily it grieves our very hearts,
The man whom God hath blessed with such parts,
Should walke in such unsanctified wayes.
And then, they white me over with some prayse
To make the spots the blacker which they meane
To spirt upon me, from their mouths uncleane.
And though those Tales they build their Censures on
VVere first receiv'd from some such wicked one
VVhom they in other matters doe distrust,
Yet is their criticisme so unjust,
That in disgracing me, their words theyle take,
And, also, of themselves, conjectures make
To justifie their scandals; that they may
The surer be, their staines on me to lay.
Thus by the seeming sanctity of those,
My good intention (in these Poems) growes
More frustrate, then by all the rage of them,
VVho, with an open impudence, contemne
My best Designes. These, strike me deeper than
The wounds of twenty thousand others can:
Yea, by their meanes the worke that I have wrought
(VVith such a minde, as that it might have brought
More good repute, then many others get)
Serves but to make me seeme a counterfeit:
Yea, all my doings which are most upright
They judge as actions of an Hypocrite,
VVhich is the worst of Sinners. And in this,
If they have plac't their bitter doomes amisse,
VVhat sinne is theirs? Or, when can greater wrong,
Be done to any, live he nev'r so long?
Thou knowst oh! God (for thou all hearts dost know)
That though through frailty, oft astray I goe;
And, otherwhile may tread that doubtfull path
Of which the world a wrong opinion hath;
That neither I allow of any sinne
VVithin my selfe; nor would continue in
The smallest error, if I knew the same.
Thou knowst that what hath caus'd my greatest blame
Among some Censurers; is that by which
I am indeed, become most truly rich:
And that it also maketh me reforme
My wayes the better; and those workes performe
To which thou callest, with faire greater ease.
And I am likewise hopefull, thou wilt please
To blesse my courses. For, thou Lord hast knowne,
(In that rough track, through which my feet have gone:)
How griev'd I am, when I misled have been,
Or in my actions, if ought hath beene seene
Offensive unto others. Thou dost view
My path; and with what mind I doe pursue
The way I goe. Thou knowest Lord, that I
Have oft refrain'd the Christian liberty
I might have tooke; lest many that are weake
Might of my lawfull freedome, evill speake.
Thou knowest this; and I am certaine to
That pleases thee which in thy feare, I doe.
By these, and such like mischiefes which I see
This wicked world hath power to bring on me,
I oft wax doubtfull; and sometime I shrinke
Ev'n from those just imployments, which I thinke
God calls me to And then I halfe desire
I might into obscurity retire
From whence I came; and be discharged quite
From this great warfare, wherein, yet, I fight.
For, many heavy waights on me are thrown
By these engagements (to the world unknown)
Yea private combats there are fought in me,
So many, and so dangerous they be,
That oft my Hopes are almost driven from me,
And, dull Despaire would surely overcome me,
Were God not alwayes ready to defend me,
And, as mine faileth, his own pow'r to lend me.
But, when my selfe o'recharged I do find;
When flesh and blood begin to shrink behind;
And when I see my Foes have mustred all
Their force against me: I start up, and call
A better ayd then mine own Vertue gives me;
And, by his holy Spirit, God relieves me:
He makes me strong, in each good undertaking;
And answers all the doubts my heart is making,
In this, and all good purposes, whereby
I have been hopefull him to glorifie.
He warrants me I have no cause to feare
These Lines the fruits of thoughts distempred are,
Though some shall judge them such; since he whose mouth
Doth speak the words of sobernes and truth,
May seem to those, who thought judicious are,
As mad, as Paul, to Festus, did appeare.
He hath assured me, I cannot run
This honest way, a course to be undone.
He doth perswade me, that if I grow poore
By doing well; my wealth shall be the more.
He sayes, that if his glory I have sought,
(And for no wicked purpose closely wrought)
I shall no mischiefe, nor displeasure have;
Nor any losse, by which I shall not save.
He makes me certaine that my former paine,
And this endeavor, some effect shall gaine;
Although it compasse not that reformation,
Which I desire to see in this our Nation.
For though their present evills be not staid
From growing worse, by that which I have said;
It shall to other times a warning give,
And aggravate their faults who now do live;
If, having such a plaine Remembrancer,
Their (called for) Repentance they defer.
He bids me know, that though I am not Sainted,
So much, as of all sin to live untainted,
Yet, to oppose each Vice, as I am able,
(In word and deed) it will be warrantable;
And, that, to strike at Sin, t'will all become,
Though Persons may be touched but of some.
He tells me, that (although the world shall please
To terme it railing, when such Messages
Are uttered forth) it cannot bring me shame,
To call grosse Sinners by their proper name;
And, that Gods blessed Saints have done as much,
Who did the follies of their ages touch.
He wills me that on him I should depend;
And, not distrust that while he me doth send
About his businesse, he will suffer mine
To be unprosperous, or my soule to pine.
Since unto him that for his glory strives,
The promise of all needfull things he gives.
He strengthens me, and gives me satisfaction
Against all envie, malice, or detraction:
Sayes, that a guiltlesse conscience needs not care
How bitter or foule-mouthed others are:
Perswades me, that if my repute be needfull
To honor him; he will, himselfe, be heedfull
To keepe it faire: Else, glorifie his Name
The more, perhaps, by bringing me to shame.
And, so the Name of God I glorifie,
I pleased am, though I have infamy.
By these, and many other such like things
Which God (I trust) to my remembrance brings,
My fainting soule is cheered, when she droupes;
These, raise againe my courage when it stoupes:
And though illusions these appeare, to some,
Yet, to approve of them a time will come;
And, when that Day of tryall, on shall draw,
(Which I attend for, both with joy and awe)
It shall be knowne, whose heart was most upright,
Or mine, or theirs, that in my harme delight:
For, then their Iustice which a vaile yet weares,
Will shine like Phœbus when no Cloud appeares.
Thereof (just now) I have an earnest given:
These Musings drew it (for me) downe frō heaven:
I feele them warme my heart, and fetch againe
My chilled blood, to run in ev'ry veine.
They rouze my spirits, and my drouping soule
They so revive, that now I could controll
An hoast of Kings. For, now (just now) the glowing,
Of their kind heat, I find more strongly growing:
Iust now I feele in me their operation,
To urge me forward to the consummation
Of what my former Canto's have begun:
And, God assisting that shall now be done.
To thee oh London, I directed last
My just reproofe; And I will backward cast
An eye on thee againe: For, off I brake
My speech before my mind I fully spake.
I have not vented yet, what I could say
Of many sinnes abounding at this day;
As, thy intemp'rancy, and thy excesse
In food and rayment, thy loose drunkennesse;
Thy multitudes of beggers, which encrease
For want of orders, in thy Times of peace.
Thy Sloth, Lust, Avarice, and all that rabble
Of vices, and of things abominable
Which in each corner of thy streets appeare,
As if they justly tollerated were.
I toucht not thy corrupted Officers,
I have not mentioned thy Senators,
Nor have I showne as yet what scandall growes
To thee, and unto thine, by some of those;
How partiall, nor how ignorant they be,
How prejudiciall many times to thee,
And to thy publike weale, for private gaine;
How cowardly thy Custemes they maintaine;
How readily thy Freedomes they betray
(If their promotions, it ought further may,
Or spare their purses) This, I have not showne,
For, what belongs thereto, is better knowne
To others then to me. Yet, much hath beene
Of them reported; and I much have seene
Of their condition, which deserveth blame,
Nor doe I greatly wonder at the same;
But I, much rather marvell that in thee
So many prudent Senators there be;
Since, very few of all thy double dozen
For Courage, wit or honesty are chosen.
Wealth makes an Alderman (however got)
If he be pleased to accept the Lot.
In hope to gaine his Fine, thou wilt adventer
To let the most ignoble fellow enter
That is but rich; and worthy men forgoe,
Who to thy Government, might hon or doe.
Thou seldome carest how he did become
So rich, if he but harrow up the sum
That makes him capable of such a place;
Nor heedest thou, a jot, how base he was.
No honest Occupations I contemne,
Nor their professors; but I honor them,
Though of the lowest order; if I find
They have not lost the vertues of the mind,
In those meane Callings; and, have sought as much
In knowledge, as in mony, to be rich:
Yea, those (when from poore fortunes they ascend,
To wealth) to honor also I commend.
But, is it possible, that man whose minde
To serve his Mammon only, was enclin'd;
Or is it possible, the man that had
By birth and breeding, nothing but a trade
To get experience by; (and, that perchance
Some handicraft, which furthers ignorance
In usefull knowledge) or, that they who scrape
And scratch together an unweildy heape
Of needlesse riches, by penurious fare;
By sparingnesse, in what they should not spare:
Or, which is worse, by cruellest extortion;
By robbing others of their lawfull-portion,
By rapine, guile, and such impieties;
Is't possible (I say) when these men rise
To weare thy skarlet-Robe; that they will be
Or honor, or advantage unto thee?
If those black Æthiops, if those Leopards, change
Their spots, or colour, I shall think it strange:
If ever they regard what weights be throwne
Vpon thy back, so they may ease their owne:
Or for thine honor stand (who have no sense
Of any thing, but saving, and expence)
I shall beleve that Wolves will tend our Sheep,
And greedy Kites, young Chickens harmlesse keep.
I might have mention made of that report
Which is divulged of thy Orphanes court:
Of those perpetuall Iurors, which for pay
Attend judiciall trials day by day:
Of those Ingrossers who thy trades abuse;
Of those who make thy Freedomes and thy Dues
A dammage to thee: and of other some,
Who other wayes injurious are become,
I might have spoke; and would; but that I heare
They do already found in ev'ry eare.
Truth is, the spreading leprosie of sin,
Into thy very wals have eaten in,
And will not thence be scraped out (I feare)
As long as there be stones, or morter there.
Thy Vineyard brings not forth wilde grapes alone,
In lieu of all thy God bestow'd thereon;
But, also, of it selfe prevents his curse,
And hath produced what is ten times worse:
Thornes, bryers, nettles, hemlock, and such weeds
As choke all pleasant plants, and fruitfull seeds.
No place, no person, calling, nor degree,
Nor sex, nor age, is from corruption free.
Within thy Chambers lodgeth Wantonnesse;
Vpon thy Boards is heaped all excesse:
With vomitings, they oft o're flowed are;
And, from uncleannesses no Roome is cleare.
Thy Hals are daily filled with a rable
That stand and sweare about a Shove-groat table.
Within thy Parlours, I can little see,
But visiting of Mistris-idle-be.
Within thy Wardrobes, Pride layes up her score,
Vpon thy Couches, Sloth doth lye and snore.
Within thy Pleading-Courts, are shameles railings,
And, of upright proceeding, many failings.
Thy Churches (be it spoke without offence)
Are full of rudenesse, and irreverence.
Thou usest in thy Shops false weights and lying;
Vnpitied at thy Dores, the poore are crying.
Within thy Clossets, mischiefes are invented;
Thy Theaters are usually frequented
With persons dissolure: disparag'd are
Sometimes, the most deserving actions, there.
There, see you may uncomely presentations,
And often heare unchristian prophanations.
Yea, ev'ry corner, ev'ry street, and path
An overflow of sinne, and folly hath.
Among thy Feasts, are surfettings uncleane;
Vaine curiosities, and songs obsceane.
Thy Merry meetings the procurers be
Of most disorders that are found in thee:
There, lawlesse games are used; there, are broched
Vile slanders; and, good men are there reproched.
There, they that are not good, are oft made worse
By lewd examples, or prophane discourse.
And, few contentions have occasion'd bin,
But, at such meetings, they did first begin.
Thy Aged-folke are froward, avaritious,
Selfe willed, and imprudently ambitious.
The yonger sort, are headstrong, rash, and haughty,
Thy Children are forgetfull of their duty.
The men imperiously their power abuse,
And counsell from their helpers doe refuse.
Thy women too much dote on vaine attires,
And are inconstant in their owne desires.
The Magistrates doe bad examples give,
And, as men borne but for themselves they live.
Of persons, they retaine too much respect:
Their places, for their credits, they affect
(Or for their gaine) but not for conscience sake:
Inferior Officers, doe also take
The selfe-same courses: and (in what they doe)
Are partiall, cruell and unfaithfull to.
Few single-persons live in chastity;
In Mariage, there is much disloyalty.
Perpetuall suites, and quarrels I doe see
Among those Neighbours, that should loving be:
No malice is like that which I have knowne,
Twixt Brothers, when dissention hath beene sowne.
Their practices, who friendship doe professe
(In my opinion) promise nothing lesse:
For, all their formall kindnesse, oft is spent
In visitings, and fruitlesse complement.
And, all they seeke (for ought that I perceive)
Is, how they one another may deceive
In friendly Termes; Or, how to doe as they
Who act the parts of friendship in a Play.
Thy Richmen, doe Idolatry commit
With Mammon, and Gods benefits forget.
Among the poore are many wicked things;
Impaciency, ungodly murmurings,
Theft, scolding, fightings, cursings, taleing, lies;
And though they live by others charities,
No people will pursue each other so
With malice and despight as they will doe.
At Doores and windowes, Strumpets impudent
Doe sit; and wanton gestures there invent
To woo, by their alluring provocations,
Vaine men to drinke their Cup of Fornications.
Thy Suburbs, are the Coverts, and the den
Wherein are sheltered many beasts uncleane.
Thy Tavernes, are the places where most soule
And hainous things are done, without controule.
There, drink they healths, till health is drunk away;
And, nought ashamed are to let the day
Be witnese of their drunken vomitings,
Brawles, reelings, ravings, and such brutish things:
Nay, to consume the day in drunkennesse,
And all the night, is nothing now, unlesse
The Hobbyes, Corners, Drum and Trumpet sound,
To tell the neighbours how the healths go round.
And when, according to their heathnish fashions,
They offer up their devillish Drink-oblations,
What do they better then Idolatries,
And Festivals, to Bacchus solemnize?
In thee (beside thy proper faults) are found
Those also which are common, and abound
Throughout thy Kingdomes. And ev'n thou, and they
Have beene companions in one evill way.
We all, as in one Teeme, have drawne on sin;
Gods promises and threatnings mockt have bin;
The lust mans righteousnesse we have bely'd;
And, sinners, in their sins, have justifi'd.
Of Good and Evill, we exchange the name;
And, that, which to remember, is our shame,
Or should with griefe repented be; ev'n that
We tell with laughter; and make jests thereat.
Gods Iudgements work not on us; we are scourged;
And yet, unto amendment are not urged.
We break the Sabbath-dayes, and we despise
The Churches pow'r, and her Solemnities.
Her Holy-times to us are wearisome;
And in our hearts, we wish the morrow come,
That we might freely buy and sell againe.
Those Messengers we soonest entertaine,
That of strong drink, and wine, do prophesie;
And, Truth is not so welcome as a Lye.
We sooth our neighbours in their sinfulnesse:
And (that their secrets, and their nakednesse
We may discover) we the wine bestow;
Then, work upon then to their overthrow.
Vpon our lusts, the precioust things we spend;
And unto God the Lame and Blind we send.
We rob him of his Tythes, and his Oblations,
Our publike Fasts, are publike prophanations:
For, ev'n our pray'rs, our fasts, our almes, and all,
Are oft for show, and hypocriticall:
And used more, our safeties to provide,
Then that our Maker may be glorifi'd.
Our hearts against Gods Prophets hardned are;
And what they preach or threat, we little care.
The Land, throughout, because of Othes doth mourn;
We stagger in our paths; and to returne
To Ægypt ready seeme; unlesse God grant
(At our first longing) ev'ry toy we want.
The blood of Innocents hath spilled been
Vpon our skirts; most filthy things are seen
Within our vessels; and, yet, some of us
Presume to say (ev'n to our brethren) thus;
Stand off, for we more holy are then ye.
And, these like smoak within Gods nostrils be:
We stumble at noone day: and as the blind,
We groap, uncertainly, the wall to find,
With Death, and Hell, a bargaine we have made;
And, nothing for our hopes, but lies have had.
If any Morall Verues do appeare;
With some unsavorinesse they leaven'd are.
If any do a kindnesse to his brother,
It is in policy to get another:
Or else, with some upbraiding, or vaine boast,
Whereby the comfort of the deed is lost.
If ought be spoken to anothers praise,
It is some profit to our selves to raise.
If comfort to the grieued be pretended,
The grieved party is as ill befriended
As Iob: For, what we doe is but for fashion;
Without good meaning, wisdome, or compassion,
If we instruct, we doe it but to show
That we much more then other men doe know.
If we our brethrens errors doe reprove,
It is not as it ought to be, in love:
But, with such bitternesse as plaine doth shew,
We more the person, then the vice pursue.
We cannot give an Almes, but we must sound
A trumpet: neither wall a rod of ground
For publike use: nor set a pane of glasse
In some Church-window, where it needlesse was;
Nor trimme a pulpit, nor erect a stile;
Nor mend a foot path, though but halfe a mile;
Nor, by the highway side, set up a stone
To get a horsebacke; but we fixe thereon
Our Names, or somewhere leave upon record,
What befactors we have beene (good Lord)
For such hypocrisies, and sinnes as these
On other places, doth Gods judgements seize:
For these, thy Pastors oft have warned thee;
For these, they said thou shouldst afflicted be:
And, at this present, vengance is begun;
Though ignorant thou seeme of what is done.
For these offences, God did now of late
Make all thy fairest lodgings desolate.
For them, the Pestilence continues yet,
And we with scabs, and sores, and blames are smit.
For them, thou of thy braveries uncloth'd,
Wert in thy greatest sorrow, left and loth'd.
For them, a Famine lately did begin.
For them, have goodly habitations bin
Consum'd by fire. For this, the goods of some
A prey to Seas, and Pyrats are become.
For them, thy tradings faile, that were enlarged;
And thou for single gaine, art double charged.
For them, the Sword (that such a while hath hung
Sheath'd up) is newly drawne, and will ere long
Devoure thy sons and daughters, if there be
No more Repentance then yet seemes in thee:
Yea throughout all this Iland, it will rage
And lay it wast before another age.
For, not our Cities onely tainted are
With sinnes contagion; but ev'n ev'ry where
This Land is so diseas'd, that many doubt
(Before it mend) some blood must issue out.
There is not any Towneship, Village, Borrough,
Or petty Hamlet, all this Kingdome thorough,
But merits (in proportion) as much blame,
As any City of the greatest fame.
The simple seeming Peasants of the Land,
(Who for their Names do make their sheepmarke stāl
And have not so much Clerkship, as to spell)
Can play the subtile cheating knaves, as well
As many cunning Saphisters, and cogge,
And lie, and prate of Law, and pettifogge
As craftily (sometimes) as many a one
Who, divers yeares hath studied Littleton.
Yea, they who never had the wit to learne
Those knowledges which honesty concerne;
Have witty craft enough to entertaine
Or plot a bargaine for unlawfull gaine.
They persecute each other; they envy
Their neighbours welfare, and prosperity;
They drive each other from their tenements;
And are the causes of inhauncing rents,
By over-bidding (for their neighbours Land)
Those Fines the Land-lords purpos'd to demand;
Yet stand their Farmes already rackt so high,
That they have begger'd halfe their Tenantry.
In divers townes they have decayed tillage;
Depopulated many a goodly village;
Yea, joyned field to field, till for the poore
No place is yeelded, nor employment more:
And, where were housholds, lately, many a one,
A Shepheard and his Dog, now dwell alone.
To make of griping Vsury their trade,
Among the Rich, no scruple now is made
In any place: for, ev'ry Country Village,
Hath now some Vsury, as well as Tillage.
Yea, they that lending most of all detest,
Though but for tollerated Interest,
Do nathelesse take those Annuities,
Which often prove the biting'st Vsuries.
By nature, Mony no encrease doth bring:
Most, therefore, think it a prodigeous thing
That Mony put to lone, should bring in gaine.
Yet some of these, by practice do maintaine
As monstrous usuries, and nought at all
Are touched in their conscience therewithall.
In usury of Cattell, or of Leases,
We may disburse our mony for encreases
More biting far, then those he dares to take,
Who by meere lending, doth advantage make.
As Mony nat'rally produceth nought,
So, by the Earth small profit forth is brought
Vntill both cost and labour we bestow,
For little, else, but thornes and weeds will grow.
The Landlord, therefore, here I dare aver,
To be no lesse a griping Vsurer
Then is the Mony-master, if he break
The Rule of Christian Charity, and take
More profit then his tenant can afford;
And such as these are hated of the Lord.
Of Vsurers, there are some other sorts,
Who keep no certaine place: but, both in Courts,
In Cities, and in Country townes they dwell,
And in the trick of griping they excell.
There be of these, that Use for Silence take.
Some others, an usurious profit make
Of their Authorities; and do advance
Their wealth, by giving others countenance.
Their cariages, their neighbours fetch, and bring;
They have their seed-time and their harvesting,
Dispatcht almost for nothing: such as these,
Are many of our Country Justices.
Some, by another engine profit catch:
They must be pray'd and payed for dispatch.
Yea, Clarkes, and many other Officers,
Are greater, and more hatefull Vsurers,
Then they that most are hated for that crime;
Since these do often for a little time
(Which they delay unjustly) take what may
Of no meane sum, the annuall Interest pay.
These men are cruell. And, yet worse by far,
Most Treasurers, and their pay-masters are.
For, that which due unto us doth remaine,
They do not only overlong detaine,
But, oft, of ev'ry hundred, twenty take,
E're payment of our owne, to us, they make.
They must have Bribes; their wives must have Caroches
Or horse, or jewells; after which encroches
Their servant also, for some other dues
(As they pretend) which if we doe refuse
To pay unto them, twise as much we leese.
This tricke inricheth also Referres
In Chancery, and in some other Courts
And this or makes, or marreth most Reports,
This, is that common Cheat, and meanes by which
Meane Officers, so speedily grow rich,
Although they give large Incomes. By this way
Their wives doe on a sudden grow so gay,
That were but Kitchin-maids few yeares before.
Yea, many in the blood of Orphanes poore,
Have dide their gownes in scarlet by such courses,
And cloth'd, & fed themselves, with widdowes curses.
But, these Destroyers, make not spoyle of all,
For, full as many into ruinefall
By complement, and foolish emulating
Their neighbours; otherwhile, by imitating
The City Fashions. Yea, by these, and some
Such other wayes, are many men become
So weake in their estates; that most of those
Who live in fashion, and make handsome showes
Of being rich, would prove (I am afraid)
Far worse then nothing, if their debts were paid.
This floweth from our pride, or from excesse;
And this is cause of other wickednesse.
But, in our Iland, one thing I have seene,
Which (though it hath not much observed beene
To be a fault) will make a large addition
To fill the measure of this Lands transgression.
And much I am afraid, that all in vaine
I shall of this impiety complaine.
For, Avarice, who nought will give away,
Whereon her griple fingers she can lay,
Pleads for it: yea, and Custome hath so long
Confirm'd it, that, it is a lawfull wrong.
I doe not meane the Laities retaining
Of Tithes, or Lands unto the Church pertaining.
For, though I would not build my house with ought,
Which from the Sanctuary had beene caught,
To gaine the world, yet, I may doe amisse
To judge of others Consciences in this.
It is the barbarous usage, wherewith we
Doe entertaine those men that shipwrackt be,
Which here I meane: For, many people have
Lesse mercy then the Tempest, and the wave.
That Vessell, which the Rocks had pitty on,
The cruelty of man doth seize upon;
And him that is oppressed, quite bereaves
Of what the quicksand undevoured leaves.
When some poore ship upon the billowes tost,
Is driven by a storme upon the Coast,
With rudder lost, with tacklings rent and torne,
With maine-mast split, and fore-mast overborne;
And reeles and rowles, and takes in water so
That all the Mariners through feare forgoe
Their crazie Charge, some swimming to the shoares
On peeces of the decke, or broken oares.
Some on an empty Chest; some holding fast
On splinters of a Yard, or of a Mast;
Now riding on the waves; straight sinking downe;
Now hoping life, anon afraid to drowne;
Put off, and on; yet lab'ring to attaine
The Land, in hope more pitty there to gaine:
In this poore plight, when they (with much adoe)
A dryer Element have reacht unto,
And, wet and tyred (both on feet and hands)
Come creeping, or else staggering on the sands:
The neighb'ring people (who in this are far
More salvage, then most barbarous Nations are)
In stead of bringing comfort and reliefe,
Add new afflictions to their former griefe,
By taking that small meanes which is reserved
To keep them living, when their life's preserved.
For, those remaining fragments of their store,
Which God, sometimes, in pity sends a shore
To help new cloath and feed them, till there come
Some friends to aid them; or supplies from home;
Ev'n spoile of those they make: and of the prey
So greedy are; that often when these may
Mens lives preserve, they leave them to their chance,
In hope their death, their profit will advance.
And, if that bruised Bark which they forsook
(To save their lives) upon some Ouze hath strook,
Or on some shelve; from whence, by timely aid,
The goods to land may safely be convaid.
Or if (as chance it may) the Hull be saved,
Yet, thereof, is the Owner quite bereaved.
For, by a brutish Custome (which, I know,
Nor Conscience, nor good Reason doth allow)
Some Officer who farmes the Royalties
Within that place, doth make thereof a prize.
Else, he that owns the Land whereon it fals,
Doth seize it: and, his right, the same he calls.
Paul did a people, ev'n at Malta, find,
(Although a barb'rous Iland) far more kind.
Men wrackt, they comforted; but we bereave them
Of those remainders which the Sea doth leave them;
Except some living thing abiding be
Aboard the Ship. For, then the same is free
From being prov'd a wrack (we say) though that
Which there surviveth, be some Dog, or Cat:
A goodly matter, surely, whereupon
Poore men should be relieved, or undone.
Some dwellers, also, on those Borders, where
Such wofull sights, too often viewed are,
Rejoyce to see them; yea, some people say,
That, for such mischiefes, they both watch and pray;
With curses, banning them, who set up Lights,
To guide the Seaman in dark stormy nights.
And (though they seek it with a devillish mind)
Gods-good, they call, what on the shore they find.
Gods-gift, indeed it is, which unto them
Doth from the Seas, without an owner swim:
Yet, when the master of it shall be knowne,
Gods gift it is not; but a bait, that's throwne
To catch the soules of those, who seek to raise
Their fortunes on distressed mens decayes.
No marvell, while such cruelties are found
(Vpon the Coast) the Sea o'reflowes her bound.
No marvell, she so often, here and there,
Doth from their fields so many furlongs teare.
No marvell she, sometime, their cattle drownes,
And, sweeps away the riches of their townes:
Or, of those people, otherwhile, devoures
So many housholds, in a few short houres:
For, since they grieved others, in distresse,
The Sea, to them, is justly mercilesse.
Of many other things, complaine I could,
Which through this Kingdome, I amisse, behold:
But, should I now an Inventory make
Of each abuse, whereof I notice take
In all professions; sure, it would goe neare,
To finde my Readers, reading for a yeare.
I feare, our gen'rall Body fareth so,
As, in their sicknesses, they often do
Who feele not their disease, when they are nigh
(Without good help) upon the point to dye.
They would not be disturb'd; but, vex and fret,
At those who do prepare them wholsome meat,
Or needfull Physick: and, perhaps, with me
My Country, also, will displeased be.
But, for unjust displeasure, 'tis no matter;
As faithfull friends (to sick men) will not slatter,
Nor humor them in any such disease;
No more will I be fearfull to displease
A sickly people, when I truly know,
I do that work my Conscience calls me to.
I tell thee therefore, Britaine, thou art sick;
Thy sins have made theeso; and thou art like
To perish in them, if thou physick take not,
And, for thy safety, good provision make not.
If thou nor feelest, nor wilt credit give
To what is spoken: Mark thou, and beleeve
The Symptomes of it. For, they will declare
So truly, how (at this time) thou dost fare,
That they who are not reasonlesse, shall see
And say (in times to come) I loved thee.
Behold, ev'n at this day, throughout the Land,
Most Manu-factories are at a stand;
And, of those Engines, some main wheeles are broke,
Though where they faulty be, small heed be took.
Thy Merchants, by whose trade great profit comes
(And, to the Kings Exchequer, royall sums)
Those Mercuries, by whose industrious paine,
Thou didst become the Mistresse of the Maine,
And art maintain'd with ships, which are the walls,
By which thy temp'rall greatnesse, stands, or falls.
Ev'n they, begin to sinke, for want of trade,
And through those booties which of them are made.
Their Ships without advantage are employ'd;
And if the Wars, or Time, had them destroy'd
Which are in being; they have (to augment
Or fill the number) no encouragement.
The present muster of thy shipping, failes
Of what it was, in many scores of sailes,
Not long time since: and, thy next neigh'bring nation
Growes rich in thy decaying Navigation.
Yea, some suspect, that of our publike Trade
(For private profit) sale to them is made.
Indeed, most Officers, if so they may
Enlarge their profits, for the present day;
Or gaine, or save the King, but for a yeare,
Some thousands, do suppose they much endeare
Their service to the State: when ('tis well knowne
To us abroad) the gaine is most their owne:
And that, before two ages more be spent,
The waies by which their incomes they augment,
Will cost this Kingdome, for each ounce of gold
So got, a hundred, if their courses hold.
It is by them, the Prince becommeth poore.
And (though they would be thought (forsooth) much more
Then all his other subjects, to maintaine
The dues belonging to a Soveraigne)
They rob him more, then all men else beside:
They lose him ten times more then they provide.
They make him needy first; and then they grieve,
And begger them, that should his wants relieve.
The vulgar Citizens do much complaine
For want of trade sufficient to maintaine
Their families; and, many, lately broken,
Are of that poverty a certaine token.
That famous and that wealthy Merchandize,
Which from our clothings, and our woolls arise,
Is much decay'd. For work, the poore man prayes:
The Clothier hath not mony; and he layes
The blame upon the Merchant; who doth sweare,
His ships and goods, so often stayed are,
And times so giddy, and so little got
(With so much perill) that he dareth not
To make adventures, as he erst hath done,
And, so, to ruine all is like to run.
For, from their voyages so oft have some
Beene hindred (or have beene so long from home
In fruitfulesse services) that it hath brought
Rich Owners, and their Vessels, unto nought
Some others, also find it, to maintaine
Their ships so costly, (without hope of gaine)
That to repaire them they do stand in feare
It may undoe them, e're things better'd are;
That (might their men be safe) they do protest,
They know not, if to sink, or swim were best.
The winds and seas, that heretofore have borne us
Good will; have prov'd our foes, and rent & torne us.
Our Mariners are like to run away
To serve our foes, for want of work, and pay.
Those places, and those portions, which belong
To mens deserts; and should to make them strong,
And to encourage them, conferred be;
Are otherwise dispos'd of: and we see
The most deserving men are in disgraces;
Or else neglected; or else, in their places
Impoverished (or else disheartned so)
That some men will not; and some cannot do
Their Country that good service which they might:
And, if this hold, we lose our honor quite.
By those adventures, which are just and free
To ev'ry Nation, where good Patriots be,
Thy sons, to fetch thee wealth, and honour home,
Would prodigall of goods and lives become;
By private cost, augment the publike store,
And by encrease of shipping guard thy shore;
If they might freely seek, and keep that lot,
Which by their cost and valour might be got.
But, men that are of courage, and of worth,
Disdaine their goods and lives to hazard forth,
On servile termes; or, to be prey'd upon
When they returne, by some ignoble Drove:
And, by this meanes, oh thou unhappy Ile,
Thy foes grow strong, & thou grow'st weak the while.
I do protest, I see not that condition
Of man, that hath a fortune in fruition,
That is not perilsome; but, he that's borne
The mischiefes of this present life to scorne.
Nor from the highest to the low'st degree,
Doth any man well pleased seeme to be.
The King complaines of want: his Servants say,
They stand ingag'd in more then they can pay:
And they who in their person service do him,
Want much of that which should oblige them to him.
The charge of War, still more and more doth grow;
The Customes faile as trading falleth low:
There's new occasion ev'ry day of spending,
And much more borr'wing, then good means of lending.
'Tis said, some royall Rents to sale were profer'd;
That Iewels of the Crowne to pawne were offer'd:
That Church Revennues, for the present need,
Sequestred are (to stand a while in stead
Of temp'ralties) And, some themselves perswade,
That, they shall now be lay possessions made.
But, God forbid: for he that shall bereave
The Church of her inheritance, doth leave
A curse upon his children; which will stay
Vntill his whole descent be worne away.
To help thy wants. (so great it seemes they prove)
There be of those who did not blush to move
Religion might be set to sale; and that
We might promiscuous worships tollerate.
The common people murmur of oppressions;
Of being robbed of their due possessions;
Of impudent abuses, done by those
Who should redresse them: ev'ry winde that blowes,
Brings tidings of ill luck; yet, still men feare
There's worse untold, then that which they do heare.
For, we have lying Newes authorised
So long; and falshoods, have so many spread;
That, when of that a true report is told
Whereof a firme beleefe receive we should,
We cannot credit it: and, this, perchance,
May to our safety be some hinderance.
If in our selves, we feele not what's amisse,
Observe we, by reflection, what it is.
The Germane Emp'rour, and two Kings, that be
As rich and pow'rfull, ev'ry way as he,
Are Foes professed; and they bend their pow'r,
Our Countries, and our Nation to devoure:
And, while to fight Gods battels men do faine,
The Kingdome of the Devill they maintaine.
Our Friends, and our Confederates, for us,
Engag'd in undertakings dangerous.
Have suffred losse; and yet, in hazard are
By an unequall and injurious war.
Some, who possesse an Vnion with our Land,
Do work their owne advantage underhand,
To our disgrace and losses. Other some,
Are neuters yet, who will our foes become,
And with our enemies the spoile divide,
If any ill Adventure shall betide.
That princely Branch of our most royall Stem,
Made poore by the Bohemian Diadem,
(But, rich in her owne vertues, and that treasure
Of heav'nly graces, which in plenteous measure
Gods bounty gave her) that illustrious Dame,
(To whom I owe, ev'n more then all I am)
Lives banisht, (oh! the mischieves of this age)
And quite excluded from her heritage.
Her LORD, and all those deare and hopefull Peeces,
Drawne off by them; the Nephewes, and the Neeces
Of our dread Sov'raigne, are as pilgrims, faine
Within a forraine Country to remaine.
Our costly Treaties, do but crossely speed.
Our new Alliance, proves a broken Reed.
Our forraine enterprizes, full of charge,
Do serve but others glories to enlarge.
Our mighty Navies strongly furnisht out,
Have lost their pains, in what they went about.
One little Towne keeps all our Ports in feare;
Vpon the Seas, our Coasters feared are;
And, we that bore the Trident of the Seas;
We, who of late, with smaller Fleets, then these
Which now we set aflote, did once constraine
The Carraks, and the Argosies of Spaine
To strike their sailes: we, that have aw'd the Deeps,
And ev'ry Foreland, through the world, that peeps
Above the Seas: yea, we that from each shore,
Whereon the brinish waves of Neptune rore,
Have brought rich Trophees of our valours home,
Now, back with neither spoiles, nor honors, come.
God, with our Fleets, and Armies, doth not so
Go forth of late, as he did use to doe.
But, divers yeares together, as offended,
His arme against our forces both extended
That hopefull Uoyage, which brave Rawleigh made,
To prosecure those golden hopes he had,
Was overthrowne; and, (to enlarge the cost)
In him, we more in wit, than mony lost.
For, to resist us, God himselfe did stand:
And, still against us, he extends his hand.
Vpon Argeir we had a faire designe,
That much extracted from our silver Mine,
But, nothing prosper'd, which was then projected,
Nor was there ought, but losse and shame effected;
For, God preserv'd our enemies from harme:
And, still, against us, stretcheth he his arme.
When in Virginia we had nursed long
Our Colonies, and hoped they were strong,
And, almost able to subsist alone:
By naked people they were set upon,
And, sore endanger'd: For, on us, for ill,
God laid his hand; and layes it on us still.
Auxiliary forces, forth we sent;
(Or, voluntarily from us they went)
To settle on Bohemiahs fatall throne,
Him, whom that Land had cast her choice upon.
But, there our men were wasted: and in steed
Of Iacobs staffe, we proved Egypts-reed:
For, God against our pow'rs his pow'r did set;
And, he his hand doth raise against us, yet.
We made new Leavies, and marcht up the Rhine,
To guard the Country of the Palatine;
But, all in vaine. For, nothing did we there,
Except prolong the miseries of War.
God, would not that deliver'd they should be
By people that so wicked are as we.
But, scourged them and us, in bitter wise;
And, still, his heavy hand upon us lies.
Then, mustred we Ambassadors together;
We sent them oft, and almost ev'ry whither;
But, by our Treaties we acquired nought:
Nay, many disadvantages they brought;
For, then, our foes for battle did prepare,
When we of peace together treating were.
Yea, God hath caus'd the harme that they have done us;
And, still, his hand lies heavily upon us.
The fortune of the War we tride againe
By Mansfield; which did likewise prove in vaine.
To Denmark also we did send supplies,
And there, moreover, sick and bleeding lies
Our honor. And, yet still, against our Land
The Lord of Hosts hath stretched out his hand.
Throughout the Easterne Indies where we had
A wealthy and an honorable Trade,
A petty Nation, doth now baffle, dare us,
And, out of trading, hope e're long to weare us
Our glorious Fleet, that lately braved Cales,
Of her exploits affords not many tales.
Another, and another too, since then,
Was put to sea, and driven home agen
All shaken and betatter'd. Some, the wind
Sent back, and frustrate made what was design'd.
Some others, were by other lets delay'd,
And, made to faile, in that which they assail'd:
For, God with this our Nation was offended;
And, yet, his hand against us is extended.
Another Navie, worthy greater note,
Then all of these forenamed, now doth flote
Vpon the seas: and such a fame it beares,
That all the neighb'ring kingdomes it deters.
For, Land and Sea it threatens: and we heare
Before the Ile of Ree, at rode they are,
Where they of brave achievements hopefull grow.
I wish, and I do pray it may be so
As they desire; if God be pleas'd therein.
But, much I feare, that we have guilty bin
Of somewhat unrepented yet, that will
Make all our undertakings prosper ill,
Till we are humbled more. For, God hath laine
His heavy hand upon us, long in vaine.
And, though our hearts with foolish hopes we fill,
His Arme, against us, forth he stretcheth still.
Or else it could not be our forces great,
So many times should suffer a defeat.
For when a lesser Fleet was sent to do
A Mischiefe, it had pow'r enough thereto.
But let us take a little further heed;
How ill our hopes in forraine parts succeed.
The French and Germane Churches, in whose care,
And in whose persecutions we do share;
Have beene afflicted in a grievous wise,
And still a heavy but then on them lyes.
Gods foes, and theirs, and ours, have craftily
Combined in a strong confederacy
The tents of Edom, and the Jshma'lites,
The seed of Agar, and the Moabites,
With Ashur, and the sons of Lot conspire;
With Gebal, Ammon, Amalek, and Tyre.
Yea, Gog and Magog; close and open foes,
Ev'n all those Armies which Gods truth oppose,
(And by the Names, here mention'd, figur'd were)
Confederated, and resolved are,
To prey upon us. Come, now come, say they,
Let's root their Nation, and their Name away.
And, if our God be silent over-long,
Their strength encreasing, will encrease the wrong
His Church endures: our cause will be o'rethrowne,
And, they will take Gods houses for their owne.
If yet, thou dost not feele thy sickly case,
Nor in these forraine glasses view thy face,
Look home agen; and I will shew thee there
Moe things, that worthy notice will appeare.
There, thou shalt find distruction in the State;
The Commons, and some Nobles, at debate;
The Court it selfe disturbed with disunions;
Some following others; some their owne opinions;
Some striving, from their seats, their mates to thrust;
Few knowing in whose friendship they may trust.
There see thou shalt most seeking the disgraces
Of others; and in all their fellowes places
Men so experienc'd, that they leave to do
Those duties, they themselves are call'd unto.
There, thou shalt see such foolish imitations;
Such complements; such grosse dissimulations;
Such practices; such projects, and devices;
Contriving of such foolish paradises;
Such doing and undoing, what is done;
That, 'twill be matter worthy musing on.
Those Offices, and those high seats of State,
(Esteem'd most honorable) are of late
Become so skittish; or the men that get them,
Such artlesse riders, that they cannot sit them.
When liv'd, at once, so many, who did cary,
(And left disgrac'd) the stiles of Secretary,
Of Chamberlaine, Chiefe-Iustice, Treasurer,
Of Lord high Keeper; and Lord Chanceller:
Of these, and other titles, when was seene
Such chopping and such changing, as hath beene
In later yeares? sure, something is amisse,
That such uncertainty among us is.
Those pers'nages, whose words were heretofore
As Oracles; are credited no more
Then Cheaters are. Their hand & seale doth stand
For nothing, if no other come in band.
So void are some advanced to high place,
Of common understanding, and of grace,
That neither shame, nor losse, which doth befall
To other men, can move them ought at all.
But, as men markt for Vengeance, or else sent
For thy dishonor, and thy punishment,
They dare proceed to practise ev'ry sin
For which their predecessors shent have bin.
Nay, some who for corruption were remov'd
To give those place, might well have beene approv'd
Respecting them; if all the peoples cries,
From just occasion may be thought to rise.
Yea, they have just fi'd, and honor done them,
Who went before, in having overgone them
In doing wrongs. And, in those wrongs they do,
They are so practised, and hardned to,
That no examples, or faire warning shall
Take place ('tis thought) till they have ruin'd all.
Some Offices are growne so ever large
For those who undertake them, to discharge,
Else, they that have them, so unable are,
Or of their duties have so little care,
That suiters poore have many times attended
Whole months together, e're they were befriended,
So much, to have their humble suits perused:
Yet, these, as if they had not else abused
The Common-wealth enough, do often add
To those employments which before they had,
New Offices; and take so much upon
Their feeble shoulders, that no good is done.
If thou observest mens communication,
Thou heare it shalt so full of desperation,
As if they feared God had us forsaken,
And, to some other place himselfe betaken.
But, thou, indeed, his Covenant hast broke;
His Word distrusted; his Commands forsook;
And, aid from Egypt, and from Ashur sought,
Whose trustlesse friendship will availe thee nought.
Nay, some there be, that in these dayes of evill,
Advise to make atonements with the Devill.
For, they doe little better who would call
The Turke, to helpe maintaine the Churches wall.
Yea, they who make that Foe our ayd become,
Do save a house, by firing Christendome.
The Land appeares, as if it ripening were
For Desolation: and ev'n ev'rywhere
Most men are growne so prodigally vaine;
So greedily pursue they present gaine;
And, from this pleasant Kingdome have so rent
Her woods, her groves, and ev'ry ornament,
(Without all care of planting, or renewing
For their Posterities, in times ensuing)
As if they either thought, or did foresee,
That when they dy'd, the world would ended be,
Or that, before the following generations,
This Land should be possest by other Nations.
We have not pow'r their counsell to receive,
Who for our safeties best advisement give:
For, in themselves, such basenesse most retaine,
That, all are thought to ayme at private gaine.
And doubtlesse we have many Mountebanks,
Who arrogate the profit and the thanks
Of others labours; or else seek to crosse
Their good designes, to their disgrace and losse.
Yea, such extreame corruptions ev'ry where
In men of ev'ry quality appeare,
That whatsoever reasons may be rendred,
To prove that by some courses which are tendred,
(To be proceeded in) the common peace
Or profit might in future times encrease,
And be advanc'd, a million by the yeare:
Yet, if but any private persons feare
It may some incomes from their chests withdraw,
For which they neither Conscience have nor Law:
These men (if they attempt it, and be able
To give a bribe that may be valuable
In any measure) quite shall overthrow
That good designment: and not onely so,
But these and they that were their instruments
Shall purchase him who that designe invents,
(For his reward) both infamy and hate:
And make themselves appeare unto the State
Good Patriots; who (being sifted well)
Are scarce so honest men as go to hell.
Rapt by a sp'rituall Vision, I have seene
The thin and crasie wall, that stands betweene
Our sight, and their concealed practices,
Who have the place of Elders in these dayes:
And spying there a hole, I digg'd into
Their secresies; to see what works they doe.
Where (not without Gods warrant, and his ayd)
Most foule abominations I survaid.
I saw their Chambers of Imagery,
And all those Objects of Idolatry
To which they bow, upon the wals depainted:
I saw those toyes adored and besainted:
I saw what strange devotions there they use;
How they in private do the world abuse;
And from their Censers seemed to arise
A cloud which dimm'd the Sacrificers eyes.
There (oh! good God) how many did I see,
Who zealous Prelats do appeare to be?
How many Statesmen, and how many a one
That our high seats of Iudgement sits upon?
How many who might honest men appeare?
In outward show? how many drawing neere
Vnto their graves? how many learned men?
How many, that will stoutly now and then
Maintaine an honest cause, to some good end,
(For ought we know) when they no good intend?
How many ill-disposed men (oh! God)
Who otherwise affected seeme abroad,
Beheld I there in secret prostituting
Themselves to breathlesse Idols, and imputing
Great pow'r unto them? and how base are those
Sometime in private, who make goodly showes
Of noblest thoughts? Some, to the rising-Sun
Directly kneele; some, fix their eyes upon
The Moone, which from his beams receives her light:
Some, stand devoted to the works of Night:
Some, deifie their Pride, and some their Lust:
In carnall Policy, some put their trust:
Some (as a Goddesse) Vengeance do emplore:
Vnrighteous Mammon, othersome adore:
With worldly Honor, some idolatrize;
Some other, to their Nets do sacrifise:
To Pleasure, many offer their estates;
Himselfe to Envy, one man dedicates:
Another makes Vaineglories altars fume,
Till all his patrimony he consume:
A third, to Sloth and Idlenesse doth bow.
Before Excesse, a fourth doth fall as low:
Yea, Horses, Dogs, and Hanks; ev'n Beasts and Fowles,
Are Idols of their love. Nor hath their Soules
Idolatriz'd with brutish things alone,
But, ev'n with Gold, and Silver, Wood, and Stone.
Nor have they only of such things as these,
(That reall be) set up vaine images
Within their hearts; but, they goe further, far,
And worship Fictions, which the likenesse are
Of nought in heav'n, earth, sea, or in the waters
Below the earth; but, meere fantasticke matters.
And, that by such like Gods, as are their Treasure,
Their Honor, their Preferment, and their Pleasure,
They may be happy made; what things I pray,
To shew their zeale (suppose you) offer they?
Ev'n those, respecting which, these gods are vile.
For, they do give unto them, otherwhile,
Their naturall rest and sleep; sometime their health:
Sometime what's due to God they take by stealth,
To waste upon their Mawmets; and of these,
One ostred is, another to appease.
Their beautious daughters some of them have given
To Moloch: other some their wives have driven
To passe the fire: great numbers make oblations
Of all their friends, to those Abominations.
To serve them, some, their Country set to sale;
Her love, her wealth, her honor, peace, and all.
Yea some, ev'n their owne lives to losse expose,
(Their consciences, and soules) for love of those;
And (left unto a reprobated sense)
With Gods and Natures Lawes they can dispence.
Of these, a Vision did appeare to me:
Iudge Readers, whether true or false it be.
If no such doings be, my words contemne,
And let this Vision passe but for a Dreame.
If really thou find it to be so,
Then, think oh! Britaine, what thou hast to do.
But, thinke it seriously: for, things that are
In foulest plight, will often faire appeare.
Believe not all that shall reported be;
But, prove and search; and trust what thou dost see.
The Land is over-spred with wickednesse;
Yet, no man will himselfe in fault confesse.
Men daily talke how bad the times are growne,
Yet, few men see an error of their owne.
The Country is distressed many wayes,
And on the Cities pride, the blame it layes.
The City finds her trading salleth short,
And thinks the cause thereof is in the Court,
The Court complaines, and railes as much agen,
Against the Farmer, and the Citizen.
Our Parliaments impured have of late,
Our troubles to some errors in the State.
The State offended is, and discontent
With some proceedings in the Parliament.
Our Court Divines, protest the Lawyers stand
So much upon the Customes of the Land,
(The Lawes and ancient Freedomes, which belong
Vnto the Commons) that, the King they wrong.
The People vow, the Prelats flatter so
To get preferment, that they will undo
Both Church and Common-wealth; & some conceive,
If we their State-Divinity beleeve,
It will of ev'ry priviledge bereave us,
And no more Law, but Will and Pleasure leave us.
And, as the Iewes, to save their Place, and Name,
Did that, which losse of both of them became:
So, thought it is, that if our Prelats fall,
The way, they seek to stand, effect it shall.
The followers of Arminius some revile,
As troublers of the Churches of this Ile.
Some think the doubts & questions they have moved
Shal make the Truth more known, & more approved.
The Papist sayes, that we afflicted are,
Because their superstitions banisht were.
Some Protestants beleeve we fare the worse
For fav'ring them; and that they bring a curse
Vpon the Land. Some others, do accuse
The Separatists, and those men who refuse
Vnto this Churches orders to conforme.
They, on the other side, as much do storme
Against our Discipline and Hierarchy,
As parts of Antichristian-heresie.
And though we all are nought; yet, we do all
Each other censure, persecute, miscall,
And so condemne; as if we had no such
Infirmities, as we in others touch.
But, as her vertue may be ne're the more,
Who first, in scoulding, calls her neighbour whore,
So, he that soonest check abuses can,
(At all times) proveth not the holiest man.
Ev'n I, that in whole Volumes, do complaine
Against those faults, which in my times do raigne;
May be a Villane, when all that is done,
If other signes of goodnesse I have none.
But, why speak I of Symptomes, when all see
Thy Sicknesse, to be evident on thee?
Thou hast a fearfull trembling at thy heart,
And, a quotidian Fever shakes each part.
Thine eyes do see thy flesh doth fall away;
The lovely colour of thy cheeks decay.
Thy veines grow empty, which did lately swell;
Those parts are naked, that were clothed well:
Those limbs are weakned, that e'rewhile were strong;
And into gronings thou hast chang'd thy Song.
Yea, thou maist feele (unleste that sense be dead)
A paine betweene thy Body, and thy Head.
The Staves of God, of which we read it spoken
By Zachary; are bruized, if not broken.
The Staffe of Bands (or Vnion) hath some cracks:
And, that of Beautie now so little lacks
Of being shiver'd; that, thou art almost
The scorne of Christendome: and hast nigh lost
Thy former glory. Neither art thou soly
Despised and dishonor'd, by thy folly;
But in those mischiefes which thy sins procure,
Thy Prince a disadvantage doth endure.
His vertues are repulsed from that height
O! honour, whereunto ascend they might,
Wert thou lesse wicked. He, whom as our eyes
We seemed (as but yesterday) to prize;
He, for whose absence we so much complained,
And wept, and pray'd, and vow'd, whilst he remained
Divided from us: and at whose returne
We did so many piles to ashes burne:
Ev'n he, hath not received that content
From us, which he expected, and we meant.
Some spirit of Dissention loos'd hath bin;
Some sparks of Discord have beene hurled in,
And blowne among us; so that he and wee
Not so well pleased in each other be
As both desire. And should this flame encrease,
God knowes how much it would offend our peace.
Thy Body, England, representative,
Vnable was prevention to contrive
For such a mischiefe; neither dare men say
(Although they could) on whom the blame to lay.
Some, doe accuse the Parliament; some blame
Another Faction, and, I doubtfull am,
Some rashly taxe the King: but, to provide
A Iudge, by whom such parties may be tride,
Who knowes (I pray?) or what is he that can
Such points as these, without reproving scan?
Nay, where is he, from faction or from feare
So free, that (though he knew it needfull were)
He dares presume in any publike wise,
So much as mention such State-mysteries?
Yet, sure, they must be mention'd; and they may,
By those who know good Reason, and the Way
Of so unfolding them, that no offence
Be given; whatsoe're be taken thence.
And therefore, though such men who cannot see
What calling at this present warrants me;
Or, by what spirit I am urged to
Those actions which I undertake to do;
Though such conjecture may, that I presume
Too far, and on my selfe too much assume,
(Beyond my place) yet, in my selfe secure,
I'le put my selfe their censure to endure;
And all that perill, which these coward times
Suppose may follow my truth-speaking Rimes.
Direct thou so, oh God! my hand by thine,
That I in this may draw an eaven Line.
For, no advice from carnall wits I crave:
Nor any Counsellor, but thee, to have.
My Prince and Country. though perhaps I be
Not much to them; are both most deare to me.
And may I perish, if to save my life
I would betwixt that couple nourish strife.
Or if for one of them I that would say,
Which might from tothers due take ought away.
If God direct me not, I may do ill
In this performance; but, I know, to will
And to desire their welfare, is from heaven
(Ev'n by his grace) to me already given.
I may perchance in what I best intend,
Have neither King nor People to my friend;
Yet will I speake my mind to profit them,
Though both should, for my labour me condemne.
For, from all other ends and hopes I'me free,
Save those, which in an honest man should be.
If that which profits either I propose,
They both shall gaine, and neither party lose.
But, if that harme shall by my words be done,
I'le weigh them so, it shall be mine alone.
My censure I will give in things, which none
Have dar'd to passe a publike Iudgement on.
Come, marke me, you who thinke I now begin
To tread a path which I shall stumble in:
And, if you see, what justly you may check;
Trip up my heeles, and make me breake my neck.
Although we heed not, or else will not see,
Those Maladies which daily growing be;
I find (and I doe much compassionate
What I behold) a rupture in the State,
Of this great Body. Lamed are the Feet;
The Legs, that should support her, scarcely meet,
For that great structure which upon them stands.
The Sinewes are enfeebled; and, the Hands
Vnfit for action; deafned are her Eares,
And what concernes her most, she hardly heares.
Her Eyes (which are her watchmen) are become
Halfe blind; her Tongue is almost waxen dumb:
It cannot speak the truth for her owne wealth:
Her Nose, that should distinguish, for her health,
Twixt things that wholsome, and unwholsome were,
Hath lost that faculty: her Pulses are
Vncertaine: her Digestion is not good;
And, that hath filled her with tainted Blood:
Her Iudgement, and her Common sense so failes,
That she her selfe perceives not what she ayles:
Her Spleene is stopt; and, those obstructions make
Bad fumings, which have caus'd her Head to ake.
And He (alas) is bound about the Crowne
With cares, that make him bow his forehead downe.
Thou art this Body, England; and thy Head
Is our dread Sov'raigne. The distemper bred
Betwixt you two, from one of you doth flow;
And which it is, I purpose here to show.
Be bold to heare me Readers; for, in season
I speake; and here's nor fellony, nor treason.
In this that followes; to have pow'r or aime
To touch the Lords Anointed, I disclaime.
I have no warrant; neither know I ought,
To reprehend him for, although I nought.
And, they of my uprightnesse judge amisse,
Who think I flatter, in affirming this.
For, as my Princes faults I may not blaze;
So, I am also bound (as there is cause)
To justifie what vertues I doe heare
To be in him: or, see in him appeare.
The gen'rall faults of others, mine owne eyes
Have seene; and that's enough to warrantize
A generall reproofe: but, never, yet,
In him beheld I, what did unbefit
His person or his place: much have I seene,
That, rather, hath an honor to him beene.
And, what soe're shall mutter'd be of some,
There reignes not any King in Christendome,
Of whom there was divulg'd a better fame;
Or, whom a royall Throne so well became.
And, what is lately done, to blot the story
Of his desert? or to deface his glory?
Or wherewithall can any tongue traduse
His actions, which admitteth not excuse?
What if his people have expected more
(From hopes, by them conceived heretofore)
Then yet succeeds? what can from thence redound
To prove his Vertues or his wayes unsound?
Why may not this effect arise from them
That so suspect, much rather then from him?
As God long since unto those Iewes did say,
(Who judged him unequall in his way)
So say I England; is thy Sov'raignes path
Vnequall? or is't rather thine which hath
Such indirectnesse? wherefore may not all
Which is amisse, by thine owne fault befall?
Why may not (England) a diseasednesse
(Occasioned by thy unrighteousnesse)
Make him unpleasing in his course to thee,
Whom thou hast praised? and whose graces be
The same they were? thou knowest many a one,
In bodily diseases, thus hath done.
Those meats and drinks, that are both sweet & pure,
They can nor truly rellish, nor endure.
We seldome see the Bodies torment bred
By ought which first ariseth in the Head;
But, oftentimes we feele both head and eyes
Diseas'd by fumes which from the Body rise,
And though downe from the head there may distill
Some humour, otherwhile, which maketh ill
The lower parts; yet, that first vapor'd from
Those crudities and noysome fumes which come
From ill digestion; or, from stoppages
Which are in our inferior passages.
'Tis thus in nat'rall Bodies; and the like
May be observ'd in Bodies politick.
The head and body both are evill pleas'd,
When any part of either is diseas'd:
But, their distempers, worse or easier are
Sustained, as their first occasions were.
When Lungs or Liver doth defective grow
By ought within it selfe, it paines not so
The head, as when from thence doth also fall
Those rhewmes and humors, that by tickling shall
Occasion coughs and strainings, to distend
The passages, as if each part would rend.
Nor is the Stomack so distempered,
By any hurt or bruise upon the Head,
(By its owne fault receiv'd) as when it aketh,
Through fumings, which from parts below it taketh.
So fares it with a People and their King.
Ev'n all their errors, griefes and cares doe bring
Vpon each other so, that what the one
Misdoeth in, doth bring some smart upon
The other party. But, they shall not be
Afflicted with it, both in one degree.
For, if the Princes oversight or sin,
Of any publike Plague first cause hath bin,
The greatest mischiefe will at last be his.
And, if the Subjects have so done amisse,
That Vengeance followes it, the King may grieve;
But, they shall be consumed, I beleeve:
And, that for each ones personall defect
The greatest harme will on himselfe reflect:
What then to be performed is remaining,
But, that we leave repining, and complaining
On one another, and our labours bend,
Our selves, as much as may be, to amend?
Let ev'ry one examine well his way,
And, for himselfe, and for all others pray.
For, this is far more likely to redresse
The present mischiefes, then our frowardnesse.
The party that hath innocency, shall
Be sure to stand, though all about him fall.
And, if we all perversly wicked prove,
We shall have all, one judgement from above.
If in thy King (oh Britaine) ought amisse
Appeares to be; 'twixt God and him it is.
Of him he shall be judged. What to thee
Pertaineth it, his censurer to be?
If thou shalt suffer with him; thy offence
Deserv'd it; and nought else but penitence
Becomes thy practice; neither shall there ought
That's wrong, by other meanes, to right be brought.
Thy generall voice, but newly, did confesse
In him much vertue, and much hopefulnesse;
And, he so late assum'd his Diadem,
That there hath scarce beene time enough for him
Those evils to performe, that may inferre
A generall mischiefe. Neither, do I heare
Of ought, as yet, which thou to him canst lay,
But that he doth to thee thy will denay.
Or with a gentle stoutnesse claime, and strive,
For what he thinks his just Prerogative.
And why, I prethee, may not all this flow
From some corruptions which in thee do grow.
Without his fault? why may not, for thy crimes
Some instruments of Sathan, in these times,
Be suffred to obscure from him a while
The truth of things? and his beleefe beguile,
With vert'uos showes, discreet and good pretences,
To plague and punish thee for thy offences?
Why may not God (and justly too) permit
Some Sycophant, or cunning hypocrite,
For thy hypocrisies, to steale away
His heart from thee? and goodly colours lay
On Projects which may cause him to undo thee,
And think that he no wrong hath done unto thee?
Nay, wherefore may not some thy King advise,
To that which seems to wrong thy liberties,
Yet in themselves be honest men, and just,
Who have abused been by those they trust?
Thy wickednesse deserves it: and that he
Who in himselfe is good, should bring to thee
No profit by his goodnesse, but augment
Thy sorrowes, till thy follies thou repent?
For, what is in it selfe from evill free,
Is evill made, to those that evill be.
Why may it not be possible, that thou
Demandedst what he might not well allow
Without dishonor. Or, if all were right
Which thou requiredst; yet the manner might
Distast him? Or, who certaine is, but some
(Pretending publike grievances) might come
With private spleene and malice, to pursue
Those faults in others, which their conscience knew
That they themselves were guilty of; and had
No peace with God by riue repentance mnde?
If so it were, I doe admire the lesse
That thy petitions had an ill successe.
If any single man hath ought misdone,
It is so little while since he begun
His being to receive; that, in respect
Of thine, his errors could small harme effect.
But, thou hast heap'd up sin for many yeares;
And, thy exceeding guiltinesse appeares,
With so much evidence, that ev'ry man
Of some particular faults accuse thee can,
And, openly reprove thee, to thy face,
For evils, done in ev'ry time, and place.
Then, blame not him, if God hath falsifi'd
Some hopes, of late, or to thy griefe, denide
That reformation, which thou didst require;
And added (in the stead of thy desire)
New grievances. Nor too too bitterly
Pursue those errors of infirmity,
Which were by others, heretofore committed:
But, let all past offences be remitted.
If thou perceive but hope of reformation,
Goe offer up to God, for thy Oblation,
A true forgivenesse of their injuries,
Who heretofore have wrong'd thy Liberties.
And, do not this in policy (altho
The times now present may require it so:)
But, so forgive, as by the God of heaven
Thou dost desire thy sins may be forgiven:
For, by thy faults, dishonor'd more is he,
Then thou by theirs that have offended thee.
And if to them thou true compassion showest,
God will not urge, perhaps, the debt thou owest.
Of Reformation thou dost show great zeale;
But; some corruption maist thou not conceale
That mars the blessing? Are thou sure thou hast
No just occasion given to distast.
Thy King? Doe thy complainings all, intend
The publike welfare, without private end?
And, in preferring them, didst thou commit
No errors; nor no decencies forget?
I will not say thou didst; but I do feare,
That they who wisest are, in some things erre.
Forgive me thou high Court of Parliament,
If I shall utter what will discontent
Thy disunited members, who have sate
In former times, grave matters to debate.
For, though I will not arrogate the wit
To teach so great a Counsell what is fit;
Nor censure any Act which thou hast done,
When all thy parts have joyned been in one.
Yet, I will take upon me to reprove
Their private errors, who in courses move
Repugnant to thy Iustice; and oft be
The cause of much dishonor unto thee.
For, none (thogh thou art wife) can wrōg thee ought
To think, that thou hast members may be taught.
And, as in pitched Battels, when by-standers
Do apprehend mistakings in Commanders,
(As oft they do) 'twere better they should say
What they observe, then let them lose the day:
So also (though I may be thought too bold)
'Twere sitter my experience should be told,
Then that a publike mischiefe should ensue,
And I, in times to come, my silence rue.
For, some (no doubt) will well approve the same,
Though other some will think I was to blame:
Yea, that which I will speak shall help, perchance,
(In times to come) thine honor to advance:
For, I will speak no more then what is due,
And, what my Conscience bids my Pen to shew.
Thou art an honor'd Counsell: but upon thee
Such blots are cast, and so much wrong is done thee,
(By some, who scarcely nat'rall members be)
That, as this Kingdome represents in thee
Her Body; so, thou dost become likewise
A representment of her Vanities.
Yea, when at first, to be, thou dost begin,
Thou art conceived, and made up in sin.
For, to thy House of Commons, whither none
Thou shouldst admit, excepting, such a one
Whose life or knowledge that respect may draw,
Which doth become the Maker of a Law;
Too oft elected are, in stead of those,
The rich, and them that make the greatest showes
Or youthfull gallantry; and, otherwhile,
The very'st humorists of all this Ile.
When choice was of thy Members to be made,
Their entrances, but little signe have had
Of prosperous ends: for, they that should have past
A free election, have their voices cast
By force, constraint, or for some by-respect,
On those, whom others, for their ends elect.
There be in Court, and bording round about
Thy Burroughs, many wiser men, no doubt,
Then some that in Elections have their voice;
And, by their ayd, there is sometime a choice
Of good and able men: yet, best it were,
That all men left to their just freedomes were.
For, they to whom the Providence of heaven,
The right of chusing Burgesses hath given;
Are also by that providence (how wise
Or foolish e're they seeme in others eyes)
In making of their choices so directed,
As best may serve to make his will effected.
And, though the same shall just as well be done
By meanes of them who lawlesse courses run,
Yet, not for their advantage, to the best,
Who from their proper motions such things wrest.
Why did the King from his Prerogative,
To any place a priviledge derive,
But, that they might enjoy them? And, I pray,
What conscience tyes the People to obey
Those Lawes or Acts, in Parl'ament concluded,
By those that have by force or fraud intruded?
What reason is it that a stranger should
Entreat me to commit my best Freehold,
To be dispos'd of, by some one, whom he
Shall (for I know not what) commend to me?
What man but he that modesty doth want,
Can be so impudently arrogant,
To sue by friends, or letters, place to take
In such a Counsell? yea, and Lawes to make?
As if, because he hath a little pelfe,
He therefore might some Solon think himselfe,
Or some Licurgus? Or, as if he thought
The Common-wealth would surely come to nought,
Vnlesse his knowledge, or his vertues, were
Elected, to be exercised there.
Whereas (God knowes) too many do aspire
To such employments, either through desire
To shew their wits; to gaine some vaine repute,
Themselves, or friends to further in some sute;
To keep off Creditors; or else, perchance,
To entertaine their curious ignorance
With mysteries of State. Beleeve it, those
Whose modesty forbids them to expose
Themselves to be elected, I think far
More apt for such employments then they are
That seeke them: and 'tis fittest that in all
Such places, men should sit till they do call
(Of their owne will) to whom the choice pertaines
For, those God sends; and unto them he daignes
Fit graces for the worke. The other, hast
(Mov'd by their owne ambition) to be plac'd
In that great Counsell, with a mind corrupt;
Which doth dishonest oft, and interrupt
Their best proceedings. And from hence it is,
So many things among us are amisse.
Hence is it, so much time is spent about
The searching of undue elections out.
Hence is it, that in stead of persons grave,
Such numbers of our Burgesses we have
In those Assembles, who come ruffling in
With habits which have far more fitting bin
For Theaters; then for the reverent
And sacred presence of a Parliament.
Thence is it that so many Children are
Elected to have place and voices there;
Yea chosen Counsellers, when hardly past
Their Tutors rod: beleeve me, this is hast.
Although it might excused be, if some
Youngmen should thither for experience come:
It is not tollerable, nathelesse,
That many should admitted be: much lesse
Those nonage Youths, to whom our Lawes deny
A pow'r in things that smaller trust imply.
Hence is it that sometime the very noises
Arising from the multitude of voices,
Foiles Reason. This maintaineth also factions,
And makes in plainest matters great distractions.
This, to those meetings much disturbance bring,
And doth occasion many foolish things.
Thence is it, also, we admit of those,
In making Lawes, who either do oppose
Proceedings legall; or, protections give
To them that in contempt as Outlawes live.
I hold it not amisse, that they who spend
Their time the publike bus'nesse to attend,
Should have their servants from arestings free,
Whilst they themselves in those employments be;
Nor is it worthy blame, if they protect
Poore Debtors, who endeavoring to effect
Their Creditors contents (as they are able)
And using time (in courses warrantable)
For such a purpose; or else to prefer
Complaints against some vile extortioner:
Or to such ends. But, when they doe by dozens
(To ev'ry prodigall, that cheats and cozens)
Vouchsafe protections; yea, to those that are
Meere strangers too; it worth reproving were:
And, them who do it, I suppose unfit
In places of Lawgivers there to fit.
Moreover, an Election out of order,
Doth other inconvenient matters further,
Not mention'd yet. The party that is chose
By suit, or ill-got favour, seldome goes
Against his Chusers, if it chance that ought
In opposition unto them be brought:
Whereas in such a case, each man is bound
To be as if new risen from the ground
He should not know his father, nor the son
Of his owne body: no nor any one
Of all his neere acquaintance, or his kin;
Nor any that his friend or foe hath bin.
But, fixe his eye upon the cause alone,
And, do as that requireth to be done.
Had this beene practis'd, many a good conclusion
Had follow'd more then did. Yea, much confusion,
Much needlesse cost and pains, had beene prevented;
And, many had not gone so discontented
To their owne homes, when they with hearts o're-grieved,
Besought the Parliament, to be relieved.
For, if their causes (which but right had bin)
Their trials had receiv'd, as they came in;
If no man might, by favour of a friend,
Prefer new suits, before all those have end
Which entred are before; poore Suiters might
Have hope of sooner compassing their right.
Yea, spare much cost, and many months attending,
To bring their endlesse bus'nesse to an ending.
For then, what day, or week, or month, at least,
They should be heard, it partly might be guest.
But private friendship showne at such a season,
To work meere private ends, opposeth reason.
It doth put off and on; and so employ
One friend, anothers friendship to destroy,
(And, so delayeth him in his just suit,
Who is of such acquaintance destitute)
That, many a one whose cause deserv'd regard,
Is quite undone, before he can be heard.
For, to attend three Sessions on a row,
With Lawyers often feed, the cause to show,
(Perhaps, a hundred miles, or two, from home,
With witnesses which on his charge do come
As far as he) may make a rich man poore,
And, homeward, beg his bread from doore to doore.
There also were (and they who came unsent,
Are likely to be they that now are meant)
Vnwise, and undiscreet ones, mixt among
Our Parliaments, who did those meetings wrong,
By controverting of Religion there,
And moving questions that improper are
To that assembly. For, there is provided
A Synode, wherein ought to be decided
Such matters; and what they determine shall,
The Parliament may ratifie; and call,
And censure those, who either shall proceed
To crosse or vilifie what is decreed.
But, we may blush to see, how much amisse
Some stretch the Parliamentall pow'r in this.
How, they doe cause the weake offence to take;
And, say our Parliaments, Religions make;
How much the due proceedings hindred are,
By spending time in such like matters, there,
To that high Courts disturbance; and how much
The Common-wealth is damnifi'd by such
Impertinent, and over-busie wits,
Who know not what the Parliament befits,
And what the Synod. But, mistake not me,
I doe not think the Parliament should be
Restrained so, as not to shew her care
That true Religion be maintained here.
Far be it from my heart: I wish they should
Religion to their utmost pow'r uphold:
But, my desire is also, that they further
The Church affaires, in their owne place and order:
And that they would be pleas'd (as hitherto
They gravely were accustomed to doe)
To check their busie Novices, who breed
Much scandall, when unwisely they proceed.
For, though some threaten fearfull things to those
Who dare a Parliamentall pow'r enclose
Within a Bound: yea, though some talking things
Prate, as if they might make and unmake Kings;
Coine new Religions; yea, and Gods, for need;
Yet, I shall never entertaine their creed,
Nor feare, when good occasion I have got,
To say what may be done, or what may not.
For, they who make that pow'r or more or lesse
Then ought to be, doe equally transgresse.
This, many Members, at some former sitting,
Not heeding, or else over much forgetting,
Have scandaliz'd that Meeting; and made bold
To run a great way further then they should
In their discourse (if not when they have sate,
Where they did matters publikely debate.
Yea, 'tis the property of most of those,
Who by their owne procurement have beene chose
For Knights or Burgesses, to stand it out
More boldly and more obstinately stout,
For some fond custome, then for what befitteth
His Iustice who in such a Counsell sitteth.
Of these they be, whose indiscretions bring
So many discontentments to the King,
Through want of more experience, or sound reason;
Or by their urging matters out of season:
And, such as these you easily may know
From wiser men. For, thus themselves they show.
If while a Session lasteth you shall chance
To meet them, where themselves they do advance
In some discourse; assure your selves ye may,
By their perpetuall tatling, which are they.
For, they ingrosse the talke, where e're they come,
And speak, as if their lips nought flowed from
But Apothegines; or, as if each cause
They undertook should passe among the Lawes.
And, what another sayes, they'll so condemne.
As if a whole Committee spake in them.
In my poore judgement it doth much concerne
Our Parliaments, that those their members learne
More silence: for, no sooner come they out,
But ev'rywhere they prate, and spread about
The secrets of the House; and blast them so
By their rank breathings, e're they ripe can grow,
That oft they perish, or are shaken from
The tree, before the gathering time is come.
In this, our Peeres I have not quite excused;
Nor said, that no ill customes they have used
In this great Meeting: For, the best have some
Blameworthy things (no doubt) if all should come
To bide the censure: and, among the rest,
The voice by Proxi, hold I not the least.
For, unto me, it doth unfit appeare,
To give my voice, untill the cause I heare.
Who knowes the hearts of other men so well,
Or, of their judgements, who the depth can tell,
So punctually, that (whatsoever shall
Proposed be) he trust them should in all?
Our owne affaires (though wisdome sayeth nay)
To other men we absolutely may
Refer to be determin'd on: but, that
Which doth concerne the generall estate,
It were injustice, and a thing unfit,
To others, at adventure, to commit.
For, most Selfe lovers are; and we do know,
That many publike injuries may flow
From this one root; I will not say they do,
Although I think I might affirme that too.
This Custome seemeth ancient: and (if told
The truth may be) as evill as tis old:
And, from what cause soe're it first did flow,
It was not from the first beginning so
Nor, should old presidents (growne out of season)
Be follow'd, for their age, by men of reason:
Nor will this custome last, perchance, when they
Who may remove it, well the same shall weigh.
For, I perceive it usefull to no end,
But indirect proceedings to befriend.
And, they whose courses are most indirect,
And they that will such Customes most protect.
If this, and other errors yet unnamed,
Had well beene heeded: some had more bin blamed,
Some lesse: some highly praised, who have seemed
Vnactive Members, and beene disesteemed.
Yea, thou hadst felt most grievances amended
E're this; and many troubles had beene ended.
But now (what faults see're concurring be
In others) those defects that were in thee
Oh! England, were sufficient to procure
Those perturbations thou dost yet endure.
Thy over-soone forgetfulnesse of that
Great Pestilence afficting thee of late;
Thy thanklesnesse for Gods admired ceasing
That strong contagion; and the new encreasing
Of thy transgressions, since his mercy daigned;
Deserveth more then thou hast yet sustained.
Yea, that which thou wert overseene in there,
Where thy Assemblies congregated were
To rectifie thy selfe; ev'n that, alas!
Sufficient to deserve these troubles was.
And therefore, whensoe're thy Soveraigne shall
Be pleased, for thy helpe againe to call
In such a publike Meeting; let, in God,
Thy Knights and Burgesses (now spred abroad)
Collected be: and, let not any from
Thy Burroughes, by undre election come.
Let Lords and Ladies letters, to such ends
Move none, but only, witnesse who are friends
To base corruption. Let their suits be scorn'd,
And, no respect unto them be return'd.
Let ev'ry one of those that shall be sent
To represent thy Body; represent
Thy true repentance. Let them lay aside
Prejudicate opinions, faction, pride;
And (to their utmost) in themselves restraine,
All those enormities which they retaine:
That, setting to their owne desires, a law,
They may the more enabled be to draw
A Rule for others. Let all they that come
To serve the Publike, leave such thoughts at home
As meerly private are: for, in them lurks
An enmitie to all good publike works.
Let none propose in such a Congregation,
What is not first prepar'd by consultation,
For otherwhile, their pretious houres are spent
About a needlesse trifling argument:
And, oft, from matters of least moment spring
Those disagreeings which great harme do bring.
What their forefathers unto them did leave,
Let them not suffer any to bereave
Their children of. For, they may that deny
Ev'n to their King, provided, loyally
They do it, in resisting his demands
By legall Pleadings; not by force of hands.
It is as Naboths Vineyard; and, to live
He merits not, who doth repine to give
His life to save it: yea, accurst is be
That would not zealous in those causes be.
Let them, therefore, their ancient rights maintain,
By all just meanes: and let them yeeld againe,
The royall dues. For, those things prosper not,
Which are, amisse, from God, or Cesar got.
All wrongs shall be revenged: but none brings
Such vengeance, as the wrong to God, and Kings.
If but in word alone (nay, but in thought)
We have against our Prince committed ought
Which is disloyall, hid it shall not lye,
But, be revealed by a winged spy.
Let,therefore, all just freedomes of the Land,
That can be proved, forth in publike stand;
And not in old Records (halfe smother'd lye)
In danger to be lost by casualty;
Or else embezel'd; or, by wormes and dust
To be devoured: or, by those we trust.
Let us not whisper them, as men that feare
The claiming of their due, high treason were.
Nor let us (as we doe) in corners prate,
As if the Sov'raigne power, or the State
Encroacht injuriously; and so defame
The government: disgrace the royall Name;
And nourish, by degrees, an evill spirit,
That us of all our peace will dis-inherit.
But, let us, if we see our ancient right
Infringed; bring our grievances to light,
Speak loyally, and orderly, and plaine,
Those things which for our owne we can maintaine:
So, Kings the truth perceiving; and their ends
Who did abuse their trust, will make amends
For all our suffrings: give our foes their doome;
And make us more secure for times to come.
But, bring not, when ye come to plead with Kings,
(Against their claimes) some bare conjecturings:
For, what thou hast no certaine evidence
To be thy right: the right is in the Prince.
It is a royalty, to Monarks due,
But, if for any Freedome, ye can shew
A Law enacted; or, a Custome old,
Or Presidents, that have not beene controld
(As often as produced) ye may lay
Your claime; and keep it, ev'ry lawfull way.
Each President, and every Demand
Which doth from time to time opposed stand,
Concludeth nothing This, let each man heed,
And with a conscionable awe proceed
In such affaires Let pure humility,
True piety, true love, and charity,
Be brought along And, when all these ye bring,
Then goe with loyalty and meet your King,
In his and your affaires without mistrust:
And then (as certainly as God is just)
In ev'ry due request ye shall prevaile,
Or, gaine some great advantage, if ye faile.
Desire of God to teach and guide you so,
That in this narrow path you straight may go.
If you would have a King be just to you,
Be ye upright, and to his honor true.
Yeeld first to him, in ev'ry fit demand,
And, long capitulating do not stand,
On what you may determinate with speed.
Because perhaps, delay may danger breed.
Afford him his requests, unto your pow'rs;
Be his the fault, if he denieth yours;
Or if miscounselled he shall require
What shall his weale oppugne, or your desire.
Goe cast your selves before him with submission;
Present him with petition on petition.
With one accord, and with a fearlesse face,
Informe him how much hindrance, or disgrace,
Or danger to the Land there may accrue,
If He your loyall counsell shall eschew.
For, God because his lawes we disobey,
Vs at our Soveraignes feet doth meane to lay,
To humble us a while. If we repent,
To all our loyall suits he will assent.
If otherwise; God will give up this Land,
Our lives and freedomes all into his hand.
Go offer, while to offer you are free;
And what you give him, shall peace-offrings be;
If that which for atonement you provide,
With love and penitence be sanctifide.
The world against our State doth now conspire;
Intestine dangers also, doe require
That we in concord should united be,
And to supply the Kingdomes wants agree.
Lest while we strive, and fondly froward grow,
We be surprised by our common foe.
Vnwise is he that in a dangerous place
Doth stay to wash a spot out of his face,
When Outlawes he approaching heares, that may
His body wound, or take his head away.
If I should heare a Lyon neare me roare,
I'de arme my selfe, though I with wounds were sore,
And what I had not leasure then to cure,
Would seek to heale, when I of life were sure.
In times of trouble all must look for crosses;
And they must beare, who cannot shift their losses:
There may be smart by what we suffer shall;
But, better smart, then not to be at all.
When I do think a blow my head may harme,
I'le ward it off although it break mine arme;
For, though my arme be lost, yet I may live;
But, on my head, a blow my death may give.
I am not so besotted, as to think,
We ought to give the wanton pall at drink,
Vntill the head be giddy, (lest it may
Bring all the body headlong to decay)
Nor praise I them that are so over-wise,
To spare what shall be needfull to suffise
The gen'rall want (although to needlesse ends,
Some private hand, the publike wealth dispends)
This, only, is the scope of my petition,
That all be done with love, and with discretion.
For, we must understand, that many things
Which are not just in us, are just in Kings;
And, that it is a kind of trait'rousnesse,
To give them more then due, as well as lesse.
They, who deny the King free pow'r to do
What his Republikes weale conduceth to,
Because some Law gainsayes; ev'n those deprive
Their Sov'raigne of a due prerogative;
Since, for the common good, it just may be,
That some injustice may be done to me,
Or any few. Moreover, men that say
Kings may do more, then of true right they may,
And that no law doth bound them; make a King
And him that is a Tyrant, all one thing.
In my opinion, these men are like those
Who in sweet meats, a poison do enclose
That kils a twelvemonths after. Tis as tho
We should affirme, that God may evill do
If so he please. It is a needlesse pow'r
That serves for nothing, but to help devoure
The owner. Yea, it is as if we should
Prepare our friend all instruments we could,
Wherewith if he should sick, or foolish grow,
He might have meanes himselfe to overthrow.
And they who to themselves this pow'r do take,
Do silken halters, and gilt ponyards make
For their owne threats: or, Nero-like to kill
Themselves, with poisons, golden viols fill.
For, though a righteous King will never stray
From what is just (though none with-hold him may)
Because he to himselfe becomes a Low;
Yet, vicious Princes, thence, occasion draw
To perpetrate that Act which them deprives,
Or kingdomes, lives, and all prerogatives.
And they that were as wife as Solomon,
Or as vpright as David, being gone,
May leave a son or grandchild, as did they
Whose wilfulnesse shall cast ten Tribes away.
And, then, their trait'rous counsell curse he will,
Who told him, he had pow'r of doing ill.
For, though such Counsellors may think they doe
Their Sov'raignes honor, and much pleasure too,
In over-straining their Prerogatives;
Yet are they to their Honor, States and Lives,
Egregious traitors; since a plot they lay,
Whereby their Princes shall themselves betray
To their owne follies (if they vicious grow)
Yea, by this meanes they lend a poisned blow
To King, and Realme; which while the traitors live,
Will ease to some Impostume seeme to give,
Or cure a wart, upon the body bred,
And, fester to the heart when they are dead.
Abhor ye these; and do not favour those
That would their King more narrowly enclose
Then shall be honorable, or befits
His Majesty that as God's Viceroy fits.
When he compelled by necessities,
Requireth of his people due supplies.
They must be had: although some oversight,
Forepast, may make it seeme to wrong the right
And freedomes of the Land We are not bound
To keep a Priviledge, that shall confound
Both us and all our Liberties. They have
No blame, that yeeld up what they cannot save
Without a greater losse: nay, wise is he
That serves on: day, to be for ever free.
Your Wisdomes may, at ease, a course invent
To please the King, yet make no president
To future times, from whence there shall arise
Infringement of our lawfull Liberties;
Or to our Cause reproach: and, to be taught
You need not, if together you were brought,
According to the freedome of election:
For, no man then would need my poore direction.
But, there shall still be some that will intrude,
And I for their instruction, am thus rude.
Some cry, The Land is poore, and cannot give.
Tis poore indeed: and yet I do beleeve
Few Kingdomes are so rich. Tis poore become,
Respecting that innumerable sum
Of our arrear'd Repentance, yet unpaid.
Tis poore, if all our vertue should be weigh'd
With what is wanting: or, if we compare
Our Worthies, living now, with such as were.
Tis poore, if we on those reflect our eyes,
On whom the labour of this Kingdome lies:
Those people, whom our great and wealthy ones
Have rackt, opprest, and eaten to the bones,
To fatten and adorne their carkasses;
The Land (I must confesse) is poore in these.
Nay, if we should consider, what a rate
The richer sort among us liveth at;
How many needlesse wayes they do enlarge
(Without all temperance) their yearly charge:
And how each one his humor to enjoy,
Doth emulate his friend in ev'ry toy.
Or, were it heeded well, how out of measure
Some wast their fortunes on a wicked pleasure;
Ev'n (otherwhile) for that which for a bubble
Of Mirth, doth bring them halfe an ages trouble:
Or, were it well observ'd what beggeries,
What shifts, what basenesse, what necessities,
This brings on those that richest men are thought:
What costly suits and troubles it hath brought;
And how indebted and ingag'd they stand
To one another quite throughout the Land.
These things, I say, consider'd, well we may
Affirme this Realme is beggerly: and say
The rich are poore. But, he this Ile belies
Who taxeth it of other poverties.
Yea, he or blinded is, or maketh lesse
(To Gods dishonor) out of wilfulnesse,
His matchlesse bounty. What one Kingdome, yeelds
Through Europe, in barnes, granards, stalls, and fields,
Of Cattell and of Corne, in ev'ry kind,
More plenty, then among us, yet we find?
Where do their Gardens or their Orchards beare,
More fruits, for food or physick then are here?
Our Sheep, fine wools enough afford us do,
To cloath our selves, and other nations too.
And, by their golden fleeces, bring in sums
As large, as any that from India comes.
Our Bees do gather honey from our flowers;
Our Meads are fruitfull by our Aprill showers.
Within the Land rich Minerals do lie;
Our Ayre hath Fowle, in great variety.
In stately Pallaces, we doe abound;
With many Townes, our hills and dales are crown'd:
In woods, and groves, this Kingdome hath excelled,
(And, some yet stand though most of thē are felled)
Faire Ports we have, sweet Rivers, and the Seas
Surrounding us; and wealth comes in by these.
Our fruitfull waters fish enough doth yeeld
To feed us, though we had nor Grove, nor Field.
Yea, did we riot lesse, and labour more,
Our Fish alone, would feed us all at shore.
If yet, this Kingdome needy seeme to be,
Goe looke upon her Cities, and there see
And marke, their costly Piles, their precious wares,
What choice, and store of rarities appeares
Within their Magazines. Observe their state;
Their clothes, their jewels, furniture and plate;
And tell me, if they doe not signifie
That there is farre more Pride, then poverty.
Gold, silver, pearles and diamonds doe glare
And glitter in your eye-sight, ev'ry where.
Himselfe disgrac't the meanest Cobler thinks,
Vnlesse his Beere and Wine in Plate he drinkes,
And eates in silver. Yea, the poorest ones
Must of that mettall have their bowles or spoones:
On every thing, almost, pure gold is spilt.
The meanest instruments are hatcht, or gilt.
Their Servants, in their garments are as gay,
As if that all the weeke were Holy day.
Their Feastings are abundant, and their pleasure,
Maintained is not, with a little Treasure.
But, Cities are the Treasuries you'l say,
Wherein the Kingdomes riches up we lay
Survey the Country then, and tell me where
The rusticke villages replenisht are
With such faire booties. Other Kingdomes have
Their Cities, peradventure rich and brave;
But in their scattred Villages, we see
That few or none, save Peasants dwelling be,
Possessing nor good house, nor houshold stuffe,
Nor comely Clothes, nor wholesome food enough.
Our Farmes are stor'd with usefull implements
Enough to purchase all the tenements,
And Lands in many forraigne Realms, that are
As large as this our Country doth appeare.
Of yron, and of brasse enough have we
To buy their gold. Our pewter should not be
Exchanged for their silver; if all were
Summ'd up, that's found with ev'ry Cottager:
Nay, there be many houses in this Land
That in remote obscurity doe stand,
Which to the Foe would yeeld a richer prize
Then many Townships which they might surprize
On other shores: And yet, some doe not shame
With poverty, this Iland to defame.
WAR threatens us; and we of want complaine,
Not knowing how our safeties to maintaine:
Yet we doe nothing want that may conduce
In warre or peace, to serve a needfull use.
Armes, victualls, men, and money we have store;
Yet, still, we falsly cry that we are poore.
We are so greedy, that we will not spare,
To save the hogge, one farthing worth of tarre.
Gods blessings we so long time have abused
That now we know not how they should be used.
Or else we thinke each other so unjust,
That no man knows with whom the meanes to trust.
Oh! pray to God, to take away the cause
Of these distempers; and to breake the Maze
In which we wander. For, like those we fare,
Who sitting at a banquet, starved are.
If we had peace with God, and could agree,
This Kingdome which so needy seemes to be,
Might with her superfluities maintaine
Far greater armies, then the King of Spaine,
With all his Indies. We might begger him,
And make all those who feare him, to contemne
His winning projects; if we had but eyes
To see and take the course that open lies.
It is his gold encreasing his ambition,
Which to the Christian world will bring perdition:
And if prevention longer we delay,
(Or if we doe not find a better way
Then yet is trod) the current of his pow'r
Will grow so strong, that it will all deveure.
For, where a streame runs broad; and swift, to stop
His fury there, I see but little hope
Materials both for war and peace, must come
To him from divers quarters; for at home
His Country yeelds him little. But the yeare
As it renewes, with us, reneweth here
Our food and rayment; and though no supplies
Come in, a staple of Commodities
Our Iland is, which both in war and peace
Will still be in request, and still encrease.
Let therefore those who on the Continent
Doe feare him, use their utmost to prevent
His greatnesse there; and let our Sea-girt Jle
(Forbearing on Land forces for a while,
To spend their strength) intirely bend their pow'r,
(As in preceding times) the Seas to scoure:
For, with more profit, and a lesser charge,
That shall our lost advantages enlarge,
And, make his Armies, which are now so strong,
Draw back, decay, and mutiny, e're long.
Were we resolv'd our course this way to bend,
Of our maine stock we needed not to spend
One moitie. For, halfe of what is lost,
Within this Kingdome (sav'd) would quit that cost.
Let all, according to the port they beare,
Forbeare but one vaine Feast in ev'ry yeare:
Let ev'ry houshold, for the publike wealth,
(Which also would advance the bodies health)
Fast but one meale a week, and separate
The price thereof, for service of the State:
Or spare from their full boards of flesh or fish,
The dressing, or the sawce, but of one dish:
Let us but lay one lace or gard the lesse
Vpon our Clokes; or save the costlinesse
In our apparell, which we well might spare,
Yet, no defect upon the same appeare:
Let us reserve but halfe the tithe of those
Expences, trifled out in games and showes;
Which do not only needlesse charge encrease,
But fill the kingdome full of idlenesse:
Or these, and many other such expences,
(Which wast our wealth, and multiply offences)
If we but part would give; perhaps, that cost
Would save our lives, and all, from being lost.
Tobacco (which the age that went before,
Nor knew, nor needed) doth expend us more
Then would maintaine an army: for, few think
How much there is consum'd in smoake and stink.
Pride is so costly, that if ev'ry Girle
Should give the worth but of one lace or purle,
Which trims her Crossecloth, it would sailes provide
For halfe the ships which now at Plimouth ride
Had we but ev'ry forfeiture that's due,
From those of our notorious drunken crue;
Or, if the value were together got,
Although but of their twentieth needlesse pot,
I am perswaded it aflote would set
A greater Fleet then we have armed yet.
The very Oaths which we may daily heare,
(The men, the women, and the children sweare)
If thundred forth together; would rore louder,
then all our Cannons: and, great shot and powder,
Much more then would at sea and land suffise,
Might purchast be, by halfe the penalties
Which might be justly taken; if we had
Regard to execute the Lawes we made.
God grant that of his honor, and of what
Concernes the gen'rall safety of the State,
We may more zealous grow; and that some course
May stop that mischiefe, which yet waxeth worse.
And that from this, or from some better light,
The meanes of reformation take we might:
Of which I hopefull am, and that e're long,
Our Commonwealth shall sing a sweeter song.
When such a time I see I shall be sure
These Lines, oh! England, will thy love procure;
And, I who for they weale this paines bestow,
Shall find more favour then I look for now;
Yea, then shall I, that yet have beene despis'd,
Bewailed dye; or, live much better priz'd.
But not till then: Not shall I live to view
Thy sorrowes ended, if thou doe not rue
Thy sins with speed. Oh! therefore, speedy be
To turne to God, that he may turne to thee.
Beseach him, England, to unclose thine eyes,
And let thee see in what thy sicknesse lies.
Emplore thou him to mollifie thy heart,
Thy Children from their follies to divert,
And, break those chaines of ignorance and sin,
Which at this present thou ly'st fetterd in.
Endeavor to be friends with God againe:
And, he will all thy furious foes restraine.
Thy faulty members, who doe now disturb
Thy peace; he either will remove or curb.
Those Gaces thou perceivedst heretofore
Adorne thy Soveraigne, shall be hid no more
By those darke fogs which from thy sins do rise,
For, God will take the skales from off thine eyes.
On thee, his countenance againe shall shine;
That thou maist laud him in a Song divine:
And, they who now lament thy fad estate,
In Hymnes of joy shall praise thy happy Fate.

The eighth Canto.

I doe not wonder, as I erst have done,
That when the Prophet Ionas should have gone
To Niniveh, Gods word he disobey'd,
And would himselfe to Thaisus have convey'd:
For, I have now a sense how flesh and blood
The motions of the Holy Ghost withstood,
And feele (me thinks) how many a likely doubt
The Devill and his frailty, found him out
He was a man (though he a Prophet were)
In whom no little weaknesse did appeare:
And, thus he thought, perchance, What shall I doe?
A strange attempt my heart is urged to:
And, there is somewhat, earnestly incites
That I should hasten to the Ninivites,
And, preach, that if they alter not their wayes,
Their time of standing, is but forty dayes,
My soule perswadeth God injoynes me to it;
And sleepe in peace, I cannot, till I doe it:
But common Reason striveth to restraine
The motion, and perswades me tis in vaine.
It faith, I am a sinner, and so fraile,
That, many times, my best endeavors faile
To rectifie my selfe. How shall I then
Be hopefull of reclaiming other men?
To Isr'el I have threatned many yeares
Gods judgements: yet, no fruit thereof appearess
Although they have some knowledge of the Lord,
And are within his League, they sleight his word:
What hope then is there, that a heathen Nation
Will prove regardfull of my exhortation?
The stile of Prophet, in this land I cary,
And such a Calling, here, is ordinary;
But, in a forraigne State, what warranty
Have I, to publish such a Prophesie?
How may the King and People take the same,
Jf I shall in the open streets defame
So great a City? and, condemne for sin,
A place wherein I never yet have bin?
If I shall say, the Lord commanded me:
Then, they perhaps, will answre: What is he?
For, they professe him not. Nay, some suspition
They may conceive, that I to move sedition
Am sent among them. Or, if otherwise
They shall suppose; how can they but despise
My person, and my counsell, who shall from
So far a place, so meere a stranger come,
That no man knowes, or what or who I am,
Or from what Country, or from whom I came?
Such thoughts (belike) delay'd, and fear'd him so;
And, so the Spirit urg'd him still to go
For Niniveh; that nor to goe, nor stay,
Could he resolve: but, fled another way.
From which rebellious course, God fetcht him back
With such a vengeance, that he did not lack
Sufficient proofes, how Reason did betray him,
And, in his Calling, causlesly affray him.
Yea (mark heav'ns providence) though Ionas went
Another way, it crost not God's intent,
But furthred it. For, doubtlesse, e're he came
To Niniveh, the miracle and fame
Of his Deliverance, was sent before;
And, made his preaching worke on them the more.
Now, though I doe nor arrogate, nor dare
My selfe (except in frailties) to compare
With blessed Ionas: yet, I may be bold
To say, our Causes a resemblance hold.
My heart (and when that moves, as one averres,
It more prevailes then many Counsellers)
My heart (I say) perswaded me e'rewhile,
To reade a warning Lecture to this Ile.
And in such manner moved; that, to say
It came from God, me thinks, be bold I may.
Yet, my owne nat'rall frailty, and the world,
Among my thoughts so many doubtings hurld,
That ev'ry step had rubs. I levell'd some
In my last Canto. Yet, I could not come
To eaven ground, till I had overtopt
Some other Mountaines which my passage stopt.
Beware, said Reason, how thou undertake
This hazardous adventure, which to make
Thou hast resolv'd. For, this wise age denies
That God vouchsafed any Prophesies
Concerning them; or, that the application
Of ought foretold, pertaineth to this Nation.
She saith, my Constancy is no true signe
That God first moved this intent of mine;
Since Hereticks, and Traytors oft are seene
As bold in all their causes to have beene
As Martyrs be. And, that for what they doe,
They can pretend the holy Spirit too.
And she persuades, tis likely I shall passe
(At best) for one that much deluded was
She sayes, moreover, that if these times be
Indeed, so wicked, as they seeme to me,
I shall in stead of moving to repent,
Nought else but stir their fury, and be rent
Perhaps in pieces, by their hasty rage.
For, what's more likely in a wicked age?
When people in their sins grow hardned once,
She sayes I may as well goe talke to stones,
As tell them ought. For, they are in the dark;
And, what they see and heare, they do not mark.
She urged that the Prophets in old times
Did speak in vaine against the peoples crimes;
And if in them their words begat no faith,
Much lesse will such as mine, my Reason saith.
She tells me also, that this Ile hath store
Of Prophets, and of Preachers never more:
She sayes, that though their calling none suspect,
Their paines appeare to take but small effect:
And, if such men authorized as they,
Doe cast their words, without successe, away;
In vaine my Muse (whose warrant most contemne)
Doth seeke to work more piety in them.
A thousand things unto the like effect,
Yea, all and more then any can object,
(Who shall peruse this Book) my Reason brought
Before me, and objected to my thought,
And, as a Pilgrim (who occasions hath
To take some extraordinary path)
Arivall making at a double way,
Is doubtfull whether to proceed or stay:
So fared I; I was nigh tired quite,
Before I could be certaine of the right.
Yea, twixt my doubts, and all those replies
Which in my meditations did arise;
I so amazed grew, I could not know
Which way it best befitted me to goe.
But, at the last, God brought me thorow all
My doubts and feares, as through the Storm & Whale,
Once Ionas came: That so, all they, who are
Ordained for their good, these Lines to heare,
The more may profit, when they think upon
What straits I passed, e're this work was done:
To that intent my frailties I have so
Insisted on, as in this book I do.
Yea, I am hopefull also, they that read
These lines of mine (and mark with how much heed
And Christian awfulnesse, my heart was won
To censure and reprove as I have done)
Will plainly see, these Numbers flow not from
Fantastick rashnesse; nor from envy come.
Nor spring from faction; neither was begot
By their distracted zeale, who (knowing not
What Spirit guides them) often are beguiled
With shewes of truth; and madly have reviled
Both good and ill: and whose unsavory Rimes
Defames mens persons more then check their crimes.
Dishonour Kings; their sacred names blaspheme;
And having gain'd some notions in a dreame,
Or by report (of what they know not well)
Desire their giddy thoughts abroad to tell:
In hope to merit: as in deed they doe,
Sometime the pillory, and gallowes too.
I trust, I say, these lines will seeme no such;
Or, if they doe, truth is I care not much,
Because I certaine am what pow'r infused
Those matters, whereupon I now have muzed:
And know, that none will these or me condemne,
But they whose rage and follies I contemne.
Yet, that they may be sure I neither care
Who censures me, nor what their censures are,
(When honest things I doe) here, somewhat more
I'le adde to what is mentioned before:
And give thee, Britaine, a more perfect sight
Of thy distempers, and thy sickly plight.
Yea, thou shalt know, I have not seene alone
A bodily Consumption stealing on,
And wasting of thy Temporalties, but, that
I also have discovered of late,
A Lethargy upon thy soule to steale:
And that as well the Church as Commonweale
Doth need a cure. Oh! doe not quite neglect
The good of both; but one (at least) respect.
Though Iudahs sicknesses unheeded be,
(Although thy temporall wounds afflict not thee)
Yet, looke on Syon: yea, behold and see
Thy Spiritualties, how much empair'd they be.
The Churches Patrimony is decay'd;
And many a one is in her spoiles araid:
Those Patrons (as we terme them in this age)
Who of her Dowries have the patronage,
Doe rob and cheat her, many times of all;
And, their Donations basely set to sale.
Those Cananites, whom thou preservest here,
(And by thy lawes to be expelled were)
Are in thy borders now so multiply'd,
That they are thornes and thistles in thy side.
They are become a Serpent in thy path,
Which bites unseene; and nigh unhorsed hath
Some able Riders. On thy Places-high
Thy people do commit Idolatry.
And reare strange Altars. In thy Fields are found
Those cunning harmfull Foxes to abound,
That spoile thy Vines. And, some I have espy'd,
Twixt whose opposed tales, are firebrands ty'd,
Which waste thy fruits. Thy Harvest seemeth faire;
But secret blastings doe so much impaire
And blite the Corne; that when it comes to bread,
Thy Children oft unwholsomly are fed.
Men use Religion as a stalking horse
To catch preferment; yea, sometime to worse
And baser uses they employ the same;
Like that bold Harlot, who quite void of shame,
Did of her Vowes, and her Peace offrings make
A sinne, lascivious customers to take.
Yea, some (resembling him, from whom was cast
One Devill) when one sin they have displac't,
Of which the world took notice, sweep and clense
Themselves (in show) from all their other sins;
Yet secretly, let Sathan repossesse,
And foule them with a seven-fold wickednesse.
An universall dulnesse will benum
Thy senses, if thou doe not soone become
More heedfull of thy state, then thou art yet:
For, ev'ry part hath felt an ague-fit.
Thy Academs, which are the famous places
In which all pious knowledges and graces
Should nourisht be, and whence thy chiefe supply
Of Teachers, come, (as from a Nursery)
Ev'n those faire Fountaines are much tainted grown,
With doctrines hardly found, which thence are blown
Through ev'ry quarter. In their Schooles are heard
Vaine jiggs and janglings, worthlesse of regard.
Their very Pulpits, and their Oratories,
Are Stages, whereupon their owne vainglories
Men often act. Yea, many a vaine conceit,
Is brought in stead of arguments of weight:
And (which is worse) disorder is so rife
Among them; and the weeds of evill life
Have so o'regrowne those Gardens, that (unlesse
Good government shall speedily redresse
That spreading mischiefe) it will overtop
The plants of Syon, and destroy her crop.
To be thy Shepheards, Wolves are stolen in;
And, thou hast those who ev'n by day begin
To sow their Tares among thy purest Seed;
And, with mixt Graines thy Lands pollution breed.
For hire, and money, prophesies the Prophet:
The Priest doth preach, to make a living of it,
Ev'n meerly for a living; and, but few
Their holy charge, for conscience sake pursue:
Which I by many signes could make apparent,
But that it is not yet within my Warrant.
Loquuntur Curæ leves; little Cures
Doe make men preach, whilst poverty endures.
Ingentes stupent; but, large livings make
Our Doctors dumb: condemne not my mistake:
For, though I doe the Latine sentence wrong,
That's true I tell you in the English tongue.
Our Nation, which of late prophanenesse hated,
Is in that sin almost Italienated.
The Scriptures without reverence are used:
The holy phrase, in jestings, is abused:
To flout, or praise, or curse, we can apply
Gods holy word, most irreligiously:
In stead of Emblemes, moving thoughts divine,
The filthy pictures of lewd Aretine,
Are found in many Clossers. Foolish lies,
Prophane and most lascivious Elegies
Are publike made. Yea, those whom heretofore
A heathen Emperour did so abhor,
That he, for them, their wanton Author sent
To undergoe perpetuall banishment:
Ev'n these, we reade; and worse then those, by far,
Allowed passe, and unreproved are.
Nay, their vaine Authors often cherisht be:
At least, they have the favour to goe free.
But, if a graver Muse reprove their sin,
Lord, with what hasty zeale they call it in!
How libellous they make it! and how vile,
Thou know'st; and at their folly thou dost smile.
Full warily, the politick Divine,
(Who should allow it) scanneth ev'ry Line
Before it passe; each phrase he doth suspect,
Although he findeth nothing to be chekt,
He feares to Licence it And if by chance
It passe abroad, forthwith doth ignorance
Mistake or misapply; and false and bade
Constructions are, of good expressions made.
Yea, they who on the seats of Iudgement fit,
Are oft, most ready, to miscensure it.
I would they were as forward to disgrace
Those Authors, who have filled ev'ry place
With fruitlesse Volumes. For dispersed are
Ev'n quite throughout this Iland ev'ry yeare,
Ev'n many thousand Reames of scurrile toyes,
Songs, Rymes and Ballads, whose vaine use destroyes
Or hinders Vertuous knowledge, and Devotion.
And this we doe to further the promotion
Of our Diana. Yet, behold, if we
To publish some few sheets required be,
Containing pyous Hymns, or Christian Songs,
Or ought which to the praise of God belongs:
We doe so feare the hindrance of our gaine,
That like th'Ephesian Silver-smiths, we faine
A great complaint. As if to have enlarged
A little Booke, had grievously o'recharged
The Common-wealth. Whereas if it were weigh'd,
How much of late this Land is overlaid
With triviall Volumes: or, how much they doe
Corrupt our Manners, and Religion too,
By that abusive matter they containe;
I should not seeme unjustly to complaine
These times do swarme with Pamphlets which be far
More dangerous, then mortall poysons are
Ev'n in those bookes, whereby the simple thought
To find true knowledg, they their bane have caught:
For, thence, strong Heresies (there being hid
Amid some doubtlesse Truths, a while unspid)
Steal out among the people, by degrees;
More mischiefe working then each Reader sees.
And, so, to ruine knowledge, that is made
An instrument; whereby it raising had
For (by their lucre, who the Churches peace
Disturb, their private profit to encrease)
Those Doctrines which are unauthorised,
Are so promiscuously divulg'd, and spread,
Among approved Uerities; that some
Are in those Laborinths amaz'd become:
And, such a Contradiction is in that
Which their confused Pamphlets doe relate;
That, Common Readers, know not which to leave,
Nor, which the Church of England doth receive.
And, from this mischiefe many others flow,
Which will, in future times, more harmfull grow.
This, spins vaine Controversies to their length;
By this, most Heresies receive their strength.
And what distraction it already makes,
Our grieved Mother wofull notice takes.
In stead of active knowledge, and her fruit;
This filleth men with itchings of dispute,
And empty words; whereby are set abroach
A thousand quarrells, to the Truths reproach.
The Sectaries, the Munkeyes, and the Apes,
The Cubs and Foxes, which do mar our Grapes;
The Wolves in sheep-skins, and our frantick rable
Of Worship-mongers, are innumerable.
And, as the Churches quiet they molest,
So they each other spightfully infest.
We have some Papists: some that halfe way goe:
Some Semi-puritans; some, wholly so;
Some Anabaptists; some, who doe refuse
Black puddings; and good porke, like arrant Iewes:
Some also term'd Arminians are among
Our Priests and People, very lately sprung.
What most, so call'd, professe, I stand not for:
And what some say they teach, I doe abhor.
But, what some other, so misnam'd beleeve,
Is that whereto best Christians credit give.
For, as we see the most reformed man,
By Libertines, is term'd a Puritan:
So (by our purblinde Formalists) all those
Who new fantastick crotchets doe oppose,
Begin to be mis-term'd Arminians now.
And, hence e're long will greater mischieves grow
Then most imagine. For, the foolish feare,
Lest they to be Arminians may appeare,
Or else be termed Puritans, will make
Great multitudes Religion quite forsake.
And, I am halfe perswaded, this will one
Of those great Schismes (or earthquakes) cause which Iohn
Foretold in his Apocalyps; and they
Are blest, who shall not thereby fall away.
Some Brownists, and some Familists have we;
And some, that no man can tell what they be;
Nor they themselves. Some, seeme so wondrous pure
They no mens conversations can endure,
Vnlesse they use their plaistrings; and appeare
In ev'ry formall garbe which they shall weare.
There be of those who in their words deny,
And hate the practice of Idolatry,
Yet make an Idol of their formall zeale,
And underneath strict holinesse, conceale
A mystery of evill, which deceives them,
And, when they think all safe in danger leaves them.
Their whole Religion, some doe place in hearing:
Some, in the outward action or forbearing
Ill deeds; or in wel doing though the heart
In that performance beare no reall part.
Some others, of their morall actions make
Small conscience: and, affirme that God doth take
No notice how in body they transgresse,
If him they in their inward man confesse:
As if a soule beloved could reside
Within a body quite unsanctifide.
Some, not contented in the act of sin,
Are growne so impudent, that they begin
To justifie themselves in wickednesse;
Or, by quaint arguments, to make it lesse:
And, by such Monsters, to such ends as this,
The Christian-liberty defamed is.
Newfanglednesse, Religion hath o'rethrowne;
And, many as fantasticall are growne
In that as in apparell. Some, delight
In nothing more then to be opposite
To other men: Their zeal they wholly spend
The present Government to reprehend;
The Churches discipline to vilifie;
And raile, at all, which pleads Antiquitie.
They love not peace: and therefore have suspition
Of Truth it selfe, if out of persecution:
And are so thanklesse, or so heedlesse be
Of Gods great love, in giving such a free
And plenteous meanes of publishing his word,
That, what his Prophets of the Iewes record,
Some verefie in us. Much praise is given
To that blinde age, wherein the Queene of heav'n
Was worshipt here. And, falsly, we extoll
Those Dayes, as being much more plentifull.
Some, at the frequency of Preaching grutch,
And, tyred with it, thinke wee have too much:
Nay, impudently practise to suppresse
That Exercise, and make our plenty lesse.
And, that their doings may not want some fayre
Or goodly coulor, they doe call for Pray'r,
In stead thereof; as if we could not pray,
Vntill our Preaching we had sent away.
As these are foolishly, or lewdly, wise;
We have some others wantonly precise.
So waywardly dispos'd, amidst our plenty,
And through their curiositie, so dainty;
That, very many cannot well digest
The Bread of life, but in their manner drest.
Now will Gods Manna, or that measure serve
Which he provides; But, they cry out they starve,
Vnlesse they feed upon their owne opinions,
(VVhich are like Egypts Garlicke and her Oynions)
Some like not Prayer that's extemporary;
Some love not any that set forme doth cary.
Some thinke there's no devotion, but in those
That howle, or whine, or snuffle in the nose;
As if that God vouchsafed all his Graces
For fained gestures, or for sowre faces.
Some think not that the man, who gravely teacheth,
Or hath a sober gesture when he preacheth,
Or gentle voyce: hath any zeal in him,
And therefore, such like Preachers they contemne.
Yea, they suppose that no mans doctrine saves
The soule of any one, unlesse he raves,
And rores aloud, and flings, and hurleth so
As if his armes he quite away would throw;
Or over-leap the Pulpit; or els breake it:
And this (if their opinion true may make it)
Is to advance their voyces Trumpet-like.
As God commands: yea, this (they say) doth strike
Sinne dead. VVhereas, indeed, God seldome goes
In whirlwinds: but is in the voyce of those
VVho speake in meeknes. And it is not in
The pow'r of noyse to shake the walls of sinne:
For clamors, antique actions, writhed lookes,
And such like mimmicke Rhetoricke none brookes
That hath discretion: neyther doth it move
The heart of any, when we so reprove;
Except it be in some contrary motion,
Which interrupts the hearers good devotion.
The well affected Christian pitties it;
It makes prophanest men at naught to set
Gods Ordinance. Meere morall men despise
Such affectation: much it terrifies
The ignorant: but very few from thence
Receive sound knowledge, or trve penitence.
Some relish nothing, but those points that are
In controversie: some would nothing heare
But songs of Mercy; some, delight in none
But Sons of Thunder; and scarce any one
Is pleas'd in what he heares. Nay, of their Preachers,
Mechanick arrogate to be their teachers.
Yea most of us, what e're our Pastor sayes,
Keepe still our owne opinions and our wayes.
To heare and know Gods word, to some among
Our Nation, seemeth only to belong
To Clergymen; and, their implicite Faith
Is built on what the common rumour saith.
Some others fill'd with curiosity
Affirme that ev'ry sev'rall mystery
Within Gods Book included, doth concerne
Ev'n each particular Christian man to learne:
Whereas they might as well affirme, each guest
That is invited to a publike Feast,
Is bound the sev'rall dishes there to heed,
And upon ev'ry meat before him feed.
Nay, some have almost this imagination,
That there is hardly hope of their salvation:
Who speake not Hebrew. And, this now adayes,
Makes foolish women, and young Prentises
To learne that holy Tongue; in which they grow
As cunning as doe those who nothing know,
Save to be arrogant, and to contemne
Those Pastors, who have taken charge of them.
The appetite of some growes dull, and failes,
Vnlesse it may be pampered with Quailes;
High flying crotchets, which we see do fill
Not halfe so many soules as they do kill
We cannot be content to make our flights,
For that which God exposeth to our sights,
And search for that which he is pleas'd to show,
But, we must also pry, what God doth know.
Which was indeed an ancient fallacy
Of Sathans; and the very same whereby
He cheated Eve. From seeking to disclose
Beyond our warrant, what God only knowes,
Proceedeth many errors. Thence doth come
Most questions that have troubled Christendome.
Yea, searching things conceal'd, hath overthrowne
The comfortable use of what is knowne.
Hence flowes their fruitlesse fond asseveration,
Who blundred on Eternall Reprobation,
And many groundlesse whimsies have invented,
Whereby much better muzings are prevented.
Of Reprobation I no doubt have made;
Yet, those vaine quarrellings which we have had,
Concerning her, and her antiquity,
(But that the world hath wiser fooles then I)
Appeares to me to bring so little fruits,
That I suppose it fitter for disputes
In hell (among the reprobated crue)
Then for a Church of Christians to pursue:
At least to braule about with such hot rage,
As hath possest some Spirits of this age.
For, some have urg'd this point of Reprobation,
As if the chiefest ground-work of salvation
Depended on beleeving, just, as they
(Deluded by their fancies) please to say.
And, though they never found Gods holy word
Did any mention of the same afford,
But, as of that which did begin since Time;
And with respect to some committed crime:
They, nathelesse, their strengths together gather,
To prove the Child is older then the Father.
And, since that fatall thred, there, finds her spinning,
But from of Old; at farthest from Beginning:
They Reprobation, otherwhile confound
With our Predestination: which is found
No where in all the Scripture, to respect
The Reprobates, but onely Gods Elect.
And then they are compeld to prove the sense
Of their darke Tenet, by an inference;
And to affirme (from reason) that Election
Eternall, doth infer the like rejection.
(As if an action of Eternity,
Were fit to square out shallow reasons, by)
Which Argument because it hath not taken
True Faith, to ground on, may with ease be shaken.
Their tottering structure, therefore, up to keep,
They into Gods foreknowledge boldly peep,
Beyond his warrant; searching for Decrees
And secrets, farther then an Angell sees:
Presuming then, as if all things they knew,
And had Eternity within their view.
But, that hath such an infinite extension,
Beyond their narrow-bounded comprehension,
That, there they wander on, till they are madd:
And loose that little knowledge which they had.
For what are they but mad men who maintaine
The giddie fancies of their owne weake braine,
For Theses of Religion, which we must
Beleeve as they affirme them, or be thrust
Among the Reprobates? What lesse, I pray,
Are they then madd, who foole their wits away
In wheeling Arguments which have no end?
In Straines which man shall never apprehend?
In seeking what their knowledge dot exceed?
In vaine disputings, which contentions breed.
In strange Chymera's, and fantastick notions,
That neither stirre us up to good devotions,
Nor mend our manners? But our wayes pervert,
Distract the Judgment, or puff up the heart.
If this I may not madnes call, or folly,
Tis (all the best) religious-melancholly.
What shal we iudg of those who strive to make
Gods word (whose Termes and Scope they much mistake
Their proofes for that whereof no proofes they are,
And sleight these Truths, for which the text is clear:
What shall we deeme of these, who quite mistaking
Good Authors, (and their Volumes guilty making
Of what they never meant) do preach and write
Against those Bookes, with rancorous despight,
Which being well examin'd, say the same
Which they affirme, and check what they do blame.
Such men there be, and they great noise haue made
By fighting furiously with their owne shade.
What may be thought of them, who likely, ever,
In their perverse opinions to persever,
Take knowledge upon trust: and follow those
Who leade them on, as wild-geese fly in rowes?
And when their multitude is waxen great,
Do then so wilfully prejudicate,
Become so confident of that they hold,
And in their blind assurance, so are bold,
That they can brook no tryall, neither see
Their oversights, how plaine so ere they be?
But fondly think (though we beleeve it not)
That they infallibilitie have got?
Some pious men; yea, some great Doctors tread,
Such Loabrinths; and often are misled
By holding that which they at first were taught,
Without due proving all things as they ought:
And vulgar men are often led awry,
By their examples and for company.
For, as a Traveller, that is to come
From some far Country, through large desarts, home
(Not knowing well the way) is glad to take
His course with such who showes of cunning make,
And walks along, depending still on them,
Through many a wood, and over many a streame,
Till he and they are loft: there to remaine
He finds no safety, nor meanes back againe,
Nor list to leave his company; because
He hopes that nearer homeward still he drawes,
And that his guides full sure of passage are,
Although they cannot well describe it, there.
So, when plaine men doe first attempt the way
Of knowledge, by their guides, they walk astray,
Without distrust; and when ariv'd they be
Where many troublesome windings they do see,
And where no certaintie they can behold,
Yet, on their leaders knowledge they are bold,
Or on their multitude yea, though they know,
And, see them erre, and turne, and stagger so,
(In darksome paths) that well suppose they may,
They rove and wander in an uncouth way;
Yet, still they are unwilling to suspect
The wild me of the Fathers of their Sect.
Yea, though no satisfaction they can find,
Though feare, and doubtings do afflict their mind,
They still impute it rather to their owne
Infirmities, or to the depths unknowne
Of those mysterious points, to mention brought;
But never call in question what is taught:
Lest being by those Teachers terrifide,
They might forsaken in despaire abide.
Their Doctors, also, failing to devise
Strong Arguments, their hearers to suffice;
This course, to salve their credits, late have got;
They say (forsooth) Faiths doctrine settles not
With naturall capacities; and that
The Spirit must those men illuminate
Who shall receive them. And, indeed in this,
They doe both say the truth, and say amisse:
This is a lesuitish juggling trick,
And, if allow'd it be, each lunatick,
And ev'ry brain-sick Dreamer, by that way,
May foist upon us all that he can say.
For, though Gods holy Spirit must create
New hearts within us, and regenerate
Depraved nature, e're it can be able
To make our outward hearings profitable;
We must not think that all which fancy saith
(In termes obscure) are mysteries of Faith.
Nor make the hearers want of pow'r to reach
Their meanings, to be proofes of what they teach.
There is twixt men, & that which they are taught,
Some naturall proportion, or tis naught,
The deepest mystery of our profession,
Is capable of literall expression,
As well to Reprobates, as men elected;
Or else it may of error be suspected
Yea wicked men a power granted have
To understand, although they misconceive.
And can of darkest points make plaine relations,
Though to themselves they faile in applications.
God never yet did bid us take in hand
To publish that which none can understand:
Much lesse affecteth he a man should mutter
Rude sounds of that, whose depth he cannot utter;
Or in uncertaine termes as many doe,
Who preach Non sense, and oft nonentia too.
For those which man to man is bound to show,
Are such plaine Truths, as we by word may know;
Which when the hearer can expresse againe,
The fruit hath equalled the Teachers paine.
Then, though the soule doth many times conceive
(By Faith, and by that Word which we receive)
Deep mysteries, and that which farre transcends
A carnall knowledge: though she apprehends
Some glimmerings of those Objects, that are higher
Then humane Reason ever shall aspire;
Though she hath tastings of that blessednes,
Which mortall tongue could never yet expresse;
And though the soule may have some earnest given
On earth, of what it shall enjoy in heauen;
Though God may when he list (and now and then
For cause not ordinary) to some men
Vouchsafeth (for their secret satisfactions)
A few reflections from eternall actions:
Though this be so, let no man arrogate
That he such secrets can by word relate.
For, they are things of which no voyce can preach;
High flights, to which no mortall wing can reach;
Tis Gods owne worke, such raptures to convay,
To compasse them there is no other way,
But by his blessed Spirit. And, of those
Most can we not; some must we not disclose
For, if they onely touch out private state,
They were not sent, that we should them relate;
But deigned that the soule they strengthen might
Amid the perills of some secret fight;
When men to honor God, or for their sinn,
The terrors of this life are glunged in.
And, as it is reputed of those things.
Which foolish people thinke some Fairy brings.
So, of Enthusiasmes speak I may;
Discover them, and straight they flye away.
For, thus they fare who boast of Revelations,
Or of the certainty of their Salvations,
Or any ghostly gift, at times or places,
Which warrant not the mention of such graces:
Yea, by revealing things which they should hide,
They entrance make for over-weening pride,
And that quite marres the blessing they possest,
Or, for a while, obscureth it, at best:
And yet, if any man shall climbe so high,
That they attaine unto a Mystery,
Conceiv'd by few; they may, if they be able,
Disclose it where it may be profitable,
But, they must know, that (if it be, indeed,
Of such transcendency, as doth exceed
Meere naturall reaches) it should be declar'd
To none, save unto those who are prepar'd
For such conceptions; and more apt to know them
By their owne thoughts, then are our words to show them.
Else, all they utter will in clouds appeare,
And, errors men for truths, away will beare.
Would this had beene observ'd a little more,
By some who in our Congregations roare
Of Gods unknowne Decrees, Eternall-Callings,
Of Perseverance, and of Finall, Fallings,
And such like Mysteries. Or else, I would
That they their meanings better utter could,
(If well they meant.) For, though those points afford
Much comfort and instruction (as Gods word
Hath mention'd them) and may applyed be,
And opened, when we just occasion see;
Yet, as most handle them, who now adayes
Doe passe for Preachers, with a vulgar praise,
They profit not: for, this ripe age hath young
And forward wits, who by their fluent tongue,
And able memories, a way have found
To build a house, e're they have laid the ground.
With common places, and with notes purloin'd,
(Not well applyed, and as ill conjoyn'd)
A garb of preaching these have soone attained,
Which hath, with many, approbation gained
Beyond their merit. For, they take in hand
Those mysteries, they neither understand,
Nor studied on. And, they have much distracted
Some hearers, by their doctrines ill compacted:
Yea, by enquiring out what God fore-sees,
And medling much with his unknowne Decrees,
The Churches peace so much disturb'd have they;
So foule and crooked made Faiths plainest way;
Such scandals rais'd; and interrupted so,
By doubts impertinent, what men should do;
And, their endeavors nullifide, so far,
That many of them at a nonplus are.
I am not of their minds, who take from this
And other things, that are perform'd amisse,
Occasion to disparage frequent preaching;
Or, to abate our plentiousnesse of teaching:
For, of our Harvest, Lord, I humbly pray,
The store of Labourers continue may.
And, I could also wish, that none were chose
To be a seed man, till he truly knowes
The Wheat from Tares; and is indu'd with reason,
And grace, to sow in order, and in season.
And that those artlesse workmen may be staid,
Who build before foundations they have laid:
Lest, when our Church well built, suppose we shall,
It sink, and overwhelme us in the fall.
It pities me to marke what rents appeare
Within our Syon; and what daubings are
To hide the ruines; and I feare the frame
Will totter, if we long neglect the same.
Our Watchmen, for the greater part, are growne
Lesse mindfull of Gods honor, then their owne:
For either almost wholly we omit
That worke, or undiscreetly follow it.
Some, speak the truth, without sincere intention,
As they who preach the Gospell for contention.
Some, by their wicked lives do give offence,
And harden men in their impenitence.
As if nor hell nor heav'n they did beleeve,
They riot, game, drink drunk, and whore, and theeve.
For avarice, and envy, none are worse;
They are malicious, and blaspheme, and curse,
As much as any others. None are more
Regardlesse of the soule that's meane and poore;
Among their neighbours, none more quarrelsome,
Or, that more hardly reconcil'd become,
Then many Clergie-men. And as we see
They are the best of men, when good they be;
So, there are none that wander more astray,
When they have left a sanctified way.
Some Pastors are too hot; and some too cold;
And, very few the golden temper hold.
Some, at the Papist with such madnesse fling,
As if they could not utter any thing
Of them too vile; though ne're so false it were:
And, we so used by their Jesuits are.
Some others at the Puritan do strike,
So furiously, that they are often like
To wrong the Protestants: for, men impose
That name, sometime, upon the best of those.
Yea, they who are prophane, that name mis-lay
On all who make a conscience of their way.
Some Shepheards, on their Flocks are gorg'd at full,
And sumptuously arayed in their wooll.
But, those that are diseas'd, they make not strong;
Their sickliest sheepe they seldome come among;
They take no care, the broken up to bind,
The Sheep that's lost, they doe not seeke to find;
They let such wander as will run astray;
And, many times their fury so doth fray
The tender conscience; that their indiscretion
Doth fright their hearers headlong to perdition.
Gods bounty hath large pastorage provided;
But, they have not his flocks with wisedome guided:
For, in the midst of plenty, some be ready
To starve in ignorance. Some sheep are headdy;
Some get the staggers; some the scab; and they
Infect their fellowes. Some, the wantons play
Among the thornes and bryers, which have torne
The marks and fleeces, which they should have worn.
Some straggle from the flock; and they are straight
Surpriz'd by Wolves, which lye for them in wait.
Some, sought large feeding, and rank pastures got,
Which prov'd not wholsome; & they caught the Rot.
For, many preach themselves, and fancies broach,
That scandall preaching, to the Truths reproach.
Yea, some terme that (forsooth) Gods word divine,
Which would halfe shame me, should they terme it mine.
And they we see, that longest pray and speak
Are priz'd of most (though head nor foot they make)
Because the common hearers of this land,
Think best of that, which least they understand.
Some, also, by their feet disturb the Springs;
Or trample and defile Gods pasturings;
And they are either such who make obscure
Faiths principles; or, such whose lives impure
Prophane their Doctrines. Other some have we,
Who (like the beasts that over gamesome be)
Doe push their weaker brethren with their hornes;
And hunt them from the flock, by wrongs, or scorne.
Gods horses, also, much neglected are;
And of his Sanctuaries, few have care.
A barne, or any common house, or roome,
Is thought as well Gods worship to become,
As in the Churches infancy; or there,
Where wants, and wars, and persecutions are.
Amidst our peace and plenties, we do grutch
Our Oratories should be trimm'd as much
As are our vulgar dwellings; and repine
That exercises which are most divine,
Should with more Rites, or Ornaments, be done,
Then when the troublous times afforded none.
As if a Garden, when the flow'rs are blowne,
Were still to look as when it first was sowne.
To worship so in spirit, we pretend
That, in our bodies, we doe scarcely bend
A leg, or move a cap, when there we be,
Where Gods most holy Mysteries we see.
Yea, many seeme so carefull to have bin,
To let no Superstition enter in,
That they have, almost, wholly banisht hence,
All Decency, and pious Reverence.
The Church, by Lukewarme-Christians, is neglected
By brutish Athe'sts it is disrespected;
By greedy Worldlings, robbed of her fleeces;
By selfe-will'd Schismaticks, nigh torne in pieces;
By Tyrants, and by Infidels opposed;
By her blind Guides, to hazard oft exposed;
By Hypocrites, injuriously defamed;
And, by the frailties of the best, oft shamed.
A pow'r ecclesiasticall is granted
To them, full often, who those minds have wanted
Becomming such Authority: and they
Play fast and loose, ev'n with the Churches Key.
They censure and absolve, as best shall make
For their advantage; not for conscience sake.
As they shall please, they punish or connive;
And, by the peoples follies they do thrive.
Of evill customes, many are we see
Insinuated, and so strict are we
To keep them, that we sottishly deny
To leave them, for what more would edifie:
And we so much do Innovations feare,
That needfull Reformations none appeare.
We have prophaned ev'ry holy thing;
Ev'n our most Christian Feasts, which are to bring
Gods Mercies to our thought; and memorize
Of Saving-Grace, the sacred Mysteries:
Some have ev'n those gain-sayed; and, in that
Have evill spoken, of they know not what.
Some others keep them; but, as heathnishly,
As Feasts of Bacchus: and impiety
Is then so rife, that God is rarely nam'd
Or thought upon, except to be blasphem'd.
By these, and other wayes, the Church doth lose
Much honor, to the glory of her foes,
And our great shame and losse: for, her decayes
Shall be this Realmes disprofit, and dispraise.
God hath a controversie with our Land;
And, in an evill plight affaires do stand.
Already we doe smart for doing ill;
Yet, us the hand of God afflicteth still,
And many see it not; as many be
So wilfull, that his hand they will not see.
Some, plainly view the same, but nothing care:
Some, at the sight thereof amazed are
Like Balthazar; and have a trembling heart,
Yet, will not from their vanities depart.
About such matters, other some are loth
Their thoughts to busie (meerely out of sloth)
Like him, who rather would in hazard put
His life, then rise from bed the doore to shut.
Some, dreame that all things doe by chance succeed,
And that I prate more of them then I need.
But, Heav'n and Earth, to witnesse I invoke,
That, causlesly, I nothing here have spoke.
If this, oh sickly Iland, thou beleeve,
And for thy great infirmity shalt grieve,
And grieving of thy follies make confessions;
And so confesse thine infinite transgressions,
That thou amend those errors: God shall then
Thy manifold distempers cure agen;
Make all thy skarlet sins as white as snow,
And cast his threatned judgement on thy foe.
But, if thou (fondly thinking thou art well)
Shalt sleight this Message, which my Muse doth tell,
And scorne her counsell; If thou shalt not rue
Thy former wayes; but, frowardly pursue
Thy wilfull course: then, harke what I am bold,
(In spight of all thy madnesse) to unfold.
For, I will tell thy Fortune; which, when they
That are unborne, shall read, another day;
They will beleeve Gods mercy did infuse
Thy Poets brest with a prophetick Muse.
And know, that he this Author did prefer,
To be from him, this Iles Remembrancer.
If thou, I say, oh Britaine! shalt retaine
Thy crying sinnes, thou dost presume in vaine,
Of Gods protection. If thou stop thine eare,
Or burne this Rowle, in which recorded are
Thy just Inditements; it shall written be
With new additions, deeply stampt on thee
With such Characters, that no time shall race
Their fatall image, from thy scarred face.
Though haughtily thou dost thy selfe dispose,
Because the Sea thy borders doth enclose.
Although upon the Rocks thy neast is plac'd;
Though thou among the Stars thy dwelling hast;
Though thou encrease thy ships; and unto that
Which is thine owne, with King Iehosophat,
Ioyne Ahabs forces. Though thou watch and ward,
And all thy Ports and Havens strongly guard;
Although thou multiply thy inland forces,
And muster up large troups of men and horses
Though like an Eagle, thou thy wings display'st,
And (high thy selfe advancing) proudly say'st;
I sit aloft, and am so high, that none
Can fetch me from the place I rest upon.
Yea, though thou no advantages didst want,
Of which the glorioust Emperies did vaunt;
Yet, sure, thou shalt be humbled and brought low;
Ev'n then, perhaps, when least thou fear'st it so.
Till thou repent, provisions which are made
For thy defence, or others to invade,
Shall be in vaine; and still, the greater cost
Thou shalt bestow, the honor that is lost
Shall be the greater; and thy wasted strength,
Be sick of a Consumption, at the length.
Thy Treaties, which for peace or profit be,
Shall neither peace, nor profit, bring to thee.
Or, if thy Counsels prosper for a while,
God will permit it, onely to beguile
Thy foolishnesse; and tempt thee on, to run
Some courses, that will bring his Iudgement on.
Yea, all thy winnings shall but fewell be,
To feed those follies that now spring in thee;
And make (with vengeance) those the more enrag'd
Who shall for thy correction be engag'd.
What ever threatned in Gods Book hath bin,
Against a wicked people for their sin,
Shall come on thee: His hand shall be for ill,
On ev'ry Mountaine, and high-raised Hill.
Thy lofty Cedars, and thy sturdy Oakes,
Shall feele the fury of his thunder-stroakes.
Vpon thy Ships, thy Havens, and thy Ports,
Vpon thy Armes, thy Armies, and thy Forts,
Vpon thy pleasures and commodities,
Thy Crafts mechanick, and thy Merchandize;
On all the fruits, and cattell in thy fields,
On what the Ayre, or what the Water yeelds,
On Prince, and People; on both weak, and strong,
On Priest, and Prophet; on both old, and yong;
Yea, on each person, place, and ev'ry thing,
The plague it hath deserved God shall bring.
What ever thou dost hope, he frustrate shall;
And, make what e're thou fearest, on thee fall.
This pleasant soyle, wherein such plenty growes,
And where both milke and honey overflowes,
Shall for thy peoples wickednesse be made
A Land as barren, as what never had
Such plenties in it. God shall drive away
Thy pleasant Fowles, and all those Fish that play
Within thy waters; and for whose great store
Some other Nations would have prais'd him more.
Those Rivers, that have made thy Vallies rich,
Shall be like streames of ever-burning Pitch.
Thy dust, as Brimstone; fields as hard and dry
As iron is; the Firmament, on high,
(Like brasse) shall yeeld thee neither raine nor dew,
The hope of wasted blessings to renew.
A leannesse, shall thy fatnesse quite devoure;
Thy Wheat shall in the place of wholsome flowre,
Yeeld nought but bran. In stead of grasse and corne,
Thou shalt in times of harvest, reap the thorne,
The thistle, and the bryar. Of their shadowes
Thy Graves shall robbed be. Thy flowry Medowes
Shall sterile waxe. There shall be seldome seene
Sheep on thy Downes; or Shepherds on the greene.
Thy walks, thy gardens, and each pleasant plot,
Shall be as those where men inhabit not.
Thy Villages, where goodly dwellings are,
Shall stand as if they unfrequented were.
Thy Chies, and thy Palaces, wherein
Most neatnesse and magnificence hath bin,
Shall heaps of rubbish be; and (as in those
Demolisht Abbies, wherein Dawes, and Crowes,
Now make their nests) the bramble, and the nettle,
Shall in their halls, and parlours, root, and settle.
Thy Princes houses, and thy wealthy Ports,
Now fill'd with men of all degrees and sorts,
Shall no inhabitants in them retaine,
But some poore Fisherman, or country Swaine,
Who of thy glories, when the marks they see,
Shall wonder what those mighty ruines be;
As now they doe, who old foundations find,
Of Townes and Cities, perisht out of mind.
The places where much people meetings had,
Shall vermine holes, and dens for beasts be made.
Or walks for Sprights, who from those uncouth room
Shall fright the passenger, which that way comes.
In stead of mirth and laughter, lamentation
Shall there abide: and, loathsome desolation,
In stead of company. Where once was heard
Sweet melody, men shall be made afeard
With hideous cries, and howlings of despaire.
Thy very Climate, and thy temp'rate ayre,
Shall lose their wholsomnesse, for thy offences;
And breed hot Fevers, Murraines, Pestilences,
And all diseases. They that now are trained
In ease, and with soft pleasures entertained;
In stead of idle games, and wanton dances,
Shall practise how to handle guns, and launces:
And be compell'd to leave their friends embraces,
To end their lives in divers uncouth places;
Or else, thy face; with their owne blood defile,
In hope to keep themselves, and thee, from spoile.
Thy beautious Women (whose great pride is more
Then theirs, whom Esay blamed heretofore)
In stead of paintings, and of costly sents,
Of glittering gems, and pretious ornaments,
Shall weare deformity about their faces;
And, being rob'd of all their tempting graces,
Feele wants, diseases, and all such like things,
Which to a wanton Lover lothing brings.
Thy God, shall for thy overflowing vices,
Scourge thee with Scorpions, Serpents, Cockatrices,
And other such; whose tailes with stings are armed,
That neither can be plucked forth, nor charmed.
Thou shalt not be suffiz'd when thou art fed;
Nor shalt thou suffer scarcity of bread
And temp'rall food alone; but, of that meat,
Whereof the faithfull soule desires to eate.
That curse of ravenous beasts, which God hath said,
Vpon a wicked kingdome shall be laid,
He will inflict on thee. For, though there be
No Tygers Lyons, Wolves, or Beares in thee,
By beastly minded men (that shall be farre
More cruell then those bloody spoilers are)
Thou shalt be torne: For, each man shall assay
His fellow to devoure as lawfull prey.
In stead of Lyons, Tyrants thou shalt breed,
Who nor of Conscience, nor of Law take heed;
But, on the weak mans portion lay their paw,
And, make their Pleasures, to become their Law.
In stead of Tigers, men of no compassion,
A furious, and a wilfull generation,
Shall fill thy borders. Theeves, and outlawes vile,
Shall hunt the wayes, and haunt the woods for spoile,
As Beares, and Wolves. A subtile cheating crew
(That will with tricks and cousnages pursue
The simpler sort) shall here encrease their breed;
And, in their subtleties the Fox exceed.
That hoggish herd, which alwayes rooting are
Within the ground, and never upward reare
Their grunting snouts; nor fix their eyes on heav'n,
To look from whence their daily food is giv'n:
Those filthy swinish livers, who desire
To feed on draffe, and wallow in the mire;
Those, who affect ranke pudles, more then springs;
To trample and despise most precious things;
The holy to prophane; Gods herbs of grace
To nouzle up; his Vineyard to deface;
And such like harmes to doe: these spoile thy fields,
Marre worse, then those wilde Bores the desart yeelds.
If thou remaine impenitent, thou art
Like Egypt; and, so stony is thy heart.
For which obduratenesse, those plagves will all
Descend on thee, which did on Egypt fall
Blood, Frogs, and Lice, great swarms of uncouth Flies,
Th'infectious Murraine, whereof Cattle dyes;
Boiles, Scabs, and Blaine; fierce Hail, & Thunder-storms;
The Locust, and all fruit devouring Wormes.
Grosse Darknesse, and the Death or those that be
Thy Darlings; all those Plagues shall fall on thee,
According as the Letter doth imply,
Or, as in mystick sense they signifie.
Thy purest Rivers God shall turne to blood;
With ev'ry Lake, that hath beene sweet and good.
Ev'n in thy nostrils he shall make it stinke:
For, nothing shall thy people eate or drinke,
Vntill their owne, or others blood it cost;
Or, put their lives in hazard to be lost.
Most loathsome Frogs; that is, a race impure,
Of base condition, and of birth obscure,
(Ev'n in unwholsome fens, and ditches, bred)
Shall with a clownish rudenesse over-spread
Thy pleasant'st fields; thy fairest roomes possesse;
And make unwholsome (by their sluttishnesse)
Thy kneading troughs, thy ovens, and that meat,
Whereof thy people, and thy Princes eat.
This hatefull brood, shall climbe to croak and sing,
Within the lodging chambers of the King.
Yea, there make practice of those naturall notes,
Which issue from their evill-sounding throats:
To wit, vaine brags, revilings, ribaldries,
Vile slanders, and unchristian blasphemies.
The Land shall breed a nasty Generation,
Vnworthy either of the reputation
Or name of men. For, they as Lice shall feed
Ev'n on the body whence they did proceed;
Till poverty, and slovenry, and sloth,
Have quite disgrac'd them, and consum'd them, both.
There shall, moreover, swarmes of divers Flies,
Engendred be in thy prosperities,
To be a plague: the Flesh flye shall corrupt
Thy savory meats; Musketoes interrupt
The weary traveller; thou shalt have Drones,
Doros, Hornets, Wasps, and such like angry-ones,
Who represent that swarme whose buzzing tongues
(Like stings) are used in their neighbours wrongs:
And, still are flying, and still humming so,
As if they meant some weighty works to do,
When as, upon the common stock they spend;
And nought performe of that which they pretend.
Thy Butter-flies shall plague thee too; ev'n those,
Who waste their Lands and Rents, in gawdy clothes,
Or idle flutterings; and then spawne their feed,
Vpon thy goodly'st flow'rs, and herbs to feed.
As Beasts destroyed by the Murraine be,
So, they that are of beastly life in thee,
By lewd example shall infect each other;
And in their foule diseases rot together.
On all thy people, of what sort soe're,
Shall scabs, and biles, and running sores appeare,
The fruits of their corruption. Yea, with paines
(Within their conscience, and with scars and blaines
Of outward infamy) they shall be grieved;
And, in their tortures perish, unrelieved.
Tempestuous stormes, upon this Ile shall fall,
Hot Thunder-bolts, and Haile-stones therewithall;
Men, either too too hot, or too too cold;
Or else lukewarme. But, few or none shall hold
A rightfull temper: and, these meteors will
Thy borders with a thousand mischieves fill.
The Locust also and the Palmer wromes,
Shall prey on what escapeth from the Stormes:
Not they alone, which on the grasse do breed;
But, also, they who from the Pit procced
Which hath no bottome: and, when any thing
Doth by the dew of heav'n begin to spring,
They shall devoure the same, till they have left thee,
Nor leafe nor blossome; but, of all bereft thee.
Then, shall a darknesse follow, far more black,
Then when the light corporeall thou dost lack.
For, grossest Ignorance, o'reshadowing all,
Shall in so thick a darknesse thee inthrall,
That, thou a blockish people shalt be made,
Still wandring on in a deceiving shade;
Mistrusting those that safest paths are showing;
Most trusting them, who counsell thy undoing;
And aye tormented be with doubts and feares,
As one that outcries, in darke places heares.
Nor shall the hand of God from thee returne,
Till he hath also smote thine eldest-borne.
That is, till he hath taken from thee quite,
Ev'n that whereon thou setst thy whole delight;
And filled ev'ry house throughout this Nation,
With deaths unlooked for, and lamentation.
So great shall be thy ruine, and thy shame,
That when the neighb'ring kingdomes hear the same
Their eares shall tingle. And when that day comes,
In which thy follies must receive their doomes;
A day of clouds, a day of gloominesse,
A day of black despaire, and heavinesse,
It will appeare. And, then thy vanities,
Thy gold, thy silver, thy confederacies,
And all those reeds on which thou hast depended;
Will faile thy trust, and leave thee unbefriended.
Thy King, thy Priest, & Prophets, then shal mourn;
And, peradventure, fainedly returne
To beg of God to succour them: but, they
Who will not hark unto his voice to day,
Shall cry unheeded: and he will despise
Their vowes, their prayers, and their sacrifice:
A sea of troubles, all thy hopes shall swallow:
As waves on waves, so plague on plague shall follow:
And, ev'ry thing that was a blessing to thee,
Shall turne to be a curse, and helpe undo thee.
Thy Sov'raignes have to thee thy Fathers bin;
By meanes of them hath peace beene kept within
Thy sea-girt limits: they, thy weale befriended,
The blessed Faith they stoutly have defended:
And, thou hast cause of goodly hopes in him,
Who hath, of late, put on thy Diadem.
But know, that (till thou shalt repent) no part
Belongs to thee of what is his desert.
His princely vertues, to his owne availe,
Shall profit much: but, they to thee shall faile.
To thee his clemency shall seeme severe,
His favours all, shall injuries appeare;
And when thy sin is fully ripe in thee,
Thy Prince and People, then, alike shall be.
Thou shalt have Babes to be thy Kings; or worse,
Those Tyrants who by cruelty and force
Shall take away thy ancient freedomes quite,
From all their Subjects; yea, themselves delight
In their vexations: and, all those that are
Made slaves thereby, shall murmur, yet not dare
To stir against them. By degrees, they shall
Deprive thee of thy patrimonies all;
Compell thee (as in other Lands, this day)
For thine owne meat, and thine owne drink to pay.
And, at the last, begin to exercise
Vpon thy sonnes, all heathnish tyrannies,
As just Prerogatives. To these intents,
Thy Nobles shall become their instruments.
For, they who had their birth from noble races,
Shall (some and some) be brought into disgraces:
From offices they shall excluded stand:
And all their vertuous off-spring, from the Land,
Shall quite be worne: in stead of whom shall rise
A brood advanced by impieties,
By flattery, by purchase, and by that
Which ev'ry truly-noble one doth hate.
From stems obscure, and out of meane professions,
They shall ascend and mount by their ambitions,
To seats of Iustice; and those Names to beare,
Which honor'd most within these Kingdomes are.
And being thither got, shall make more strong
Their new-built Greatnesse, by encreasing wrong:
To those, will some of these themselves unite,
Who by their births to Lordly Stiles have right;
But, viciously consuming their estate,
Did from their fathers worths degenerate.
By this Confederacy, their nobler bloods
Shall countenance the others ill got goods;
The others wealth againe, shall keep from scorne
Their boggery, who have beene nobly borne:
And, both together, being else unable,
(In their ill course to make their standing stable)
Shall seek how they more great, and strong, may grow
By compassing the publike over-throw.
They shall abuse thy Kings, with tales, and lyes;
With seeming love, and servile flatteries.
They shall perswade them they have pow'r to make
Their Wils, their Law; and as they please to take
Their peoples goods, their children, and their lives,
Ev'n by their just and due Prerogatives.
When thus much they have made them to beleeve,
Then, they shall teach them practices to grieve
Their subjects by; and, instruments become
To helpe the screwing up, by some and some,
Of Monarchies to Tyrannies. They shall
Abuse Religion, Honesty, and all,
To compasse their designes. They shall devise
Strange projects; and with impudence, and lyes,
Proceed in setling them. They shall forget
Those reverent usages, which do befit
The majesty of State; and raile, and storme,
When they pretend disorders to reforme.
In their high Counsels, and where men should have
Kind admonitions, and reprovings grave,
When they offend; they shall be threatned there,
Or scoft, or taunted, though no cause appeare.
It is unseemly for a Iudge to sit
And exercise a jibing Schoole-boyes wit
Vpon their trades, or names, who stand before
Their judgement seats: but, who doth not abhor
To heare it, when a Magistrate objects,
Birth, poverty, or personall defects
In an upbraiding wise? Or, who with me
Derides it not, when in out Courts we see
Those men, whose bodies are both old and weake,
(Forgetting grave and usefull things to speake)
Vent Giants words, and bristle up, as tho
Their very breath could armies overthrow:
Whereas (poore weaklings) were there in their places
No more authority, then in their faces,
Their persons, or their language, all their chasing,
And threatning, nothing would effect but laughing.
For, unto me big looks, and crying hoh,
As dreadfull seemes, as when a child cryes boh
To fright his Nurse: yea, such a bug beare fashion
Effecteth nought hut scornfull indignation.
But in those times (which nearer are then some
Suppose perhaps) such Rhetorick will come
To be in use; and arguments of Reason,
And just proceedings, will be out of season.
Their wisdome shall be folly; and, goe nigh
To bring contempt on their Authority.
Their Counsell-Table shall a snare be made,
And those 'gainst whom they no just matter had,
At first appearance, shall be urg'd to say
Some word or other, e're they part away,
Which will betray their innocence to blame,
And bring upon them detriment and shame:
Yea, many times (as David hath of old,
Concerning such oppressors, well foretold)
To humble crouchings, and to fained showes,
Descend they shall, to worke mens overthrowes:
And, what their subtlety doth faile to gaine,
They shall by rigour, and by force obtaine.
What ever from thy people they can teare,
Or borrow, they shall keep, as if it were
A prize which had beene taken from the Foe:
And, they shall make no conscience what they do
To prejudice Posterity. For, they
To gaine their lust, but for the present day,
Shall with such love unto themselves endeavor,
That (though they knew it would undoe for ever
Their owne posterity) it shall not make
Those Monsters any better course to take.
Nay, God shall give them up for their offences,
To such uncomely reprobated senses:
And, blinde them so, that (when the axe they see
Ev'n hewing at the root of their owne tree,
By their owne handy strokes) they shall not grieve
For their approaching fall: no, nor beleeve
Their fall approacheth; nor assume that heed
Which might prevent it, till they fall indeed.
Thy Princes, Brittain, in those dayes, will be
Like roaring Lyons, making prey of thee.
God shall deliver thee into their hand,
And they shall act their pleasure in the Land,
As once his Prophet threatned to that Nation,
Which doth exemplifie thy Desolation.
Thy Kings (as thou hast wallowed in excesse)
Shall take delight in drinke, and wantonnesse.
And, those whom thou dost call thy Noble-ones
Shall to the very marrow, gnaw thy bones.
Thy Lawyers wilfully shall wrest thy Lawes,
And (to the ruine of the common Cause)
Shall mis-interpret them, in hope of grace
From those, who may dispoile them of their place.
Yea, that whereto they are obliged, both
By Conscience, by their Calling, and their Oath
To put in execution, they shall feare,
And, leave them helplesse, who oppressed are.
Thy Prelats in the spoyle of thee shall share;
Thy Priests, as light shall be, as those that are
The meanest persons. All their Prophecies,
Or preachings, shall be heresies and lyes.
The word of truth in them shall not remaine,
Their lips no wholsome knowledge shall retaine;
And all his outward meanes of saving Grace,
Thy God shall cary to another place.
Mark well oh Brittain! what I now shall say,
And doe not sleightly passe these words away;
But, be assured that when God beginnes,
To bring that vengeance on thee, for thy sinnes,
Which hazzard will thy totall overthrow,
Thy Prophets, and thy Priests shall sliely sow
The seeds of that dissention, and sedition,
Which Time will ripen for thy sad perdition.
Ev'n they, who formerly, were of thy peace
The happy instruments, shall then increase
Thy troubles most. And, ev'n as when the Iewes
Gods truth-presaging Prophets did abuse,
He suffred those who preached in his Name,
Such falshoods as the chiefest cause became
Of their destruction: so if thou go on
To make a scorne (as thou hast often done)
Of them who seeke thy welfare, hee will send
False prophets, that shall bring thee to thine end,
By saying all things thou wouldst have them say:
And lulling thee asleep in thine owne way.
If any brain-sick Fellow, whom the Devill
Seduceth to inflict on thee some evill,
Shall coyne false Doctrines, or perswade thee to
Some foolish course that will, at length, undoe
The Common-weal: his counsell thou shalt follow;
Then, cover'd with his bait, a hooke shalt swallow
To rend thine entrailes: and thine ignorance
Shall, also for that mischiefe, him advance.
But if that any lover of thy weale,
Inspir'd with truth, and with an honest zeale,
Shall tell thee ought pertaining to thy good,
His Messages shall stiffly be withstood:
That Seer shall be charged not to see;
His word shall sleighted as a potsherd be;
His life shall be traduced, to disgrace
His Counsells; or, his errant to debase:
In stead of recompence, he shall be sure,
Imprisonments, or threatnings to procure:
And, peradventure (as those Prophets were,
Who did among the Iewish Peers declare
Their States enormities) his good intention
May be so wrong'd, that he, by some invention,
May lose his life, with publike shame and hate,
As one that is a troubler of the State.
But, not unlesse the Priest thereto consent:
For in those dayes shall few men innocent
Be griev'd (through any quarter of the Land)
In which thy Clergie shall not have some hand.
If ever in thy fields (as God forbid)
The blood of thine owne children shall be shed
By civill discord, they shall blow the flame,
That will become thy ruine, and thy shame.
And thus it shall be kindled. When the times,
Are nigh at worst; and thy encreasing crimes
Almost compleat; the Devill shall begin
To bring strange crotchets, and opinions in
Among thy Teachers; which will breed disunion,
And interrupt the visible communion
Of thy establisht Church And, in the steed
Of zealous Pastors, (who Gods flock did feed)
There shall arise within thee, by degrees,
A Clegry, that shall more desire to fleece,
Then feed the flock. A Clergy it shall be,
Divided in it selfe: and they shall thee
Divide among them, into sev'rall factions,
Which rend thee will, and fill thee with distractions:
They all in outward seeming shall pretend
Gods glory, and to have one pious end:
But, under colour of sincere devotion,
Their study shall be temporall promotion;
Which will among themselves strange quarrels make
Wherein thy other Children shall partake.
As to the Persons, or the Cause, they stand
Affected, even quite throughout the Land.
One part of these will for preferment strive,
By lifting up the King's prerogative
Above it selfe. They shall perswade him to
Much more then Law or Conscience bids him do,
And say, God warrants it. His holy Lawes
They shall pervert, to justifie their cause;
And, impudently wrest, to prove their ends,
What God, to better purposes, intends.
They shall not blush to say, that ev'ry King,
May doe like Solomon, in ev'ry thing,
As if they had his warrant: and shall dare
Ascribe to Monarchs, rights that proper are
To none but Christ; and mixe their flatteries,
With no lesse grosse and wicked blasphemies,
Then Heathens did: yea, make their Kings beleeve,
That whomsoever they oppresse or grieve,
It is no wrong; nor fit for men oppressed,
To seeke by their owne Lawes to be redressed.
Such counsell shall thy Princes then provoke,
To cast upon thee Rehoboams yoake.
And, they not caring, or not taking heed
How ill that ill-advised King did speed,
Shall multiply thy causes of distraction.
For, then, will of thy Priests, the other faction
Bestir themselves. They will in outward showes,
Those whom I last have mentioned, oppose.
But, in thy ruine, they will both agree,
As in one Center, though far off they be
In their Diameter. With lowly zeale,
An envious pride they slily shall conceale:
And, as the former to thy Kings will teach
Meere Tyranny: so shall these other preach
Rebellion to the People, and shall straine
The word of God, Sedition to maintaine.
They shall not feare to say, that if thy King
Become a Tyrant, thou maist also fling
Obedience off; or from his Crowne divorce him,
Or, by the terror of drawne swords enforce him.
Which false Divinitie, shall to the Devill
Send many soules and bring on thee much evill.
Oh! be thou therefore watchfull; and when e're
These Limbs with Dragons voyces doe appeare,
Repent thy sinne, or take it for a token,
That some great Bulwarke of thy peace is broken,
Which must be soone repair'd or els, all
The greatnes of thy glory, downe will fall.
Take heed of those false prophets, who will strive
Betwixt thy Prince and People to contrive
A disagreement. And, what euer come,
Thy due Allegeance never start thou from.
For (their oppressions though we may withstand
By pleading Lawes, or Customes) not a hand
Must move against them, save the hand of God,
Who makes a King, a Bulwark, or a Rod,
As pleaseth him. Oh! take ye therefore heed
Yee People, and yee Kings (that shall succeed)
Of these Impostors. Of the last beware
Yee Subjects: for, their Doctrines hellish are.
And though they promise Liberty and peace,
Your Thraldome, and your Troubles they'll increase.
Shun oh! yee Kings the first; for, they advise
What will your Crownes and honors prejudice.
When you doe thinke their Prophecies befriend you,
They doe but unto Ramoth-Gilead send you,
Where you shall perish; and poore Micahs word,
Though lesse esteem'd more safety will afford.
They will abuse your piety, and all
Your vertues. To their wicked ends they shall
Apply the Sacred Story; or what ever
May seeme to further their unjust endevor.
Ev'n what the son of Hannah told the Jewes,
Should be their scourge (because they did refuse
The sov'raignty of God, and were so vaine
To aske a King which over them might raigne
As heathen Princes did) that curse they shall
Affirme to be a Law Monarchicall
Which God himselfe established to stand
Throughout all ages, and in ev'ry land.
Which is as good Divinity, as they
Have also taught, who doe not blush to say
That Kings may have both Wives and Concubines;
And, by that Rule whereby these great Divines
Shall prove their Tenet, I dare undertake
(If found it hold) that I like proofe will make
Of any Iewish Custome, and devise
Authority for all absurdities.
But, false it is. For, might all Kings at pleasure
(As by the right of royaltie) make ceasure
Of any mans possessions: why I pray
Did Ahab grieve, that Naboth said him nay?
Why made he not this answer thereunto,
(If what the Prophet said some Kings would do,
Were justly to be done) Thy Vineyard's mine;
And, at my pleasure, Naboth, all that's thine
Assume I may. Why, like a Turky-chick,
Did he so foolishly grow sullen sick,
And get possession by a wicked fact
Of what might have beene his by royall act?
If such Divinity, as this were true,
The Queene should not have needed to pursue
Poore Naboth, as she did; or, so contrive
His death; since by the Kings Prerogative,
She might have got his Vineyard. Nor would God
Have scourg'd that murther with so keene a rod,
On Ahab, had he asked but his due.
For, he did neither plot, nor yet pursue
The murther; nor (for ought that we can tell)
Had knowledge of the deed of Iezabel,
Till God reveal'd it by the Prophet to him.
Nor is it said, that Naboth wrong did do him,
Or disrespect; in that he did not yeeld,
To sell, or give, or to exchange his Field.
The Iewish Commonwealth did so instate,
That, their possessions none could alienate,
But for a time; who ever, for his mony,
Or in exchange, desir'd their patrimony.
And, doubtlesse, we offend, who at this day
Those Freedomes give, or lose, or sell away,
Which were in common right possest of old,
By our Forefathers; and, continue should
To all their after-commers. For, altho
We may dispose of what pertaines unto
Our persons: yet, those dues which former ages
Have left unto us for our heritages,
(And whereunto, the child that borne must be,
Hath ev'ry whit as good a right as we)
Those dues we should preserve with all our might,
By pleading of our just and ancient right,
In humble wise; if so the Sov'raigne state
Our Freedomes shall attempt to violate.
But, when by peacefull meanes we cannot save it,
We to the pleasure of the King must leave it,
And unto God our Iudge: For all the pow'r
In us, consists in saying, This is our.
A King is for a blessing, or a curse:
And therefore (though a Foole he were, or worse,
A Tyrant, or an Ethnick) no man may
So much as in their private clossets, pray
Against his person; though they may petition
Against the wickednesse of his condition.
Nor, is this suffrance due to those alone,
Who subject are unto a Monarchs throne,
But, from all those who either subjects are
To mixed Governments, or popular.
For, though irregularities appeare
In ev'ry State; because but men they are
Whom God exalts to rule: yet, it is he
By whom all Governments ordained be.
And ev'ry Government (although the Name
Be different) is in effect the same.
In Monarchies, the Counsell (as it were
An Aristocracy) one while doth beare
The sway of all; and though they name the King,
Yet, him they over-rule in ev'ry thing.
Sometime againe, the pop'lar voice we see,
Doth awe the Counsell, when in them there be
Some pop'lar Spirits. Aristocracies
Are otherwhile the same with Monarchies.
For, one great man among them gets the pow'r,
From all the rest, and like an Emperour,
Doth act his pleasure. And we know tis common
To have some foolish Favorite, or Woman,
To governe him. So, in a pop'lar State,
Affaires are manag'd by the selfe same fate;
And, either one or moe, away do steale
The peoples hearts, and sway the Commonweale.
Thus God is pleas'd, to humble and to raise:
Thus, he by sev'rall names, and sev'rall wayes,
The world doth govern. Yea, thus, ev'n in one nation,
And in one State, he makes much alteration
In formes of Government; oft changing that
Which is but accedentall to a State.
And, such his Iustice, and his Wisdome is,
That he preserveth by the meanes of this,
Those things which doe essentially pertaine
To that great Power, which over all doth raigne.
Nor is he pleased thus it should be done
In States that meerely civill are alone;
But, also, in the Churches governments,
Allowes the change of outward accidents.
Yea, they to whom he gives the oversights
Of some particular Church, may change old Rites,
The Customes, Formes, or Titles, as occasions
Are offred them; or as the Times, or Nations,
Require a change: provided so, that they
Take nothing which essentiall is, away;
Nor adde what shall repugne or prejudice
Gods Lawes his Kingdome, or the Liberties
Of them ther are his people. For in what
Hath any Church a pow'r, if not in that
Which is indifferent? Or, in what I pray
Will men the Church authority obey,
If not in such like things? Or, who should be
The Iudge what is indifferent, if not she?
A private Spirit knowes what best agrees
With his owne fancy; but the Church best see
What fits the Congregation. From what gives
Offence to one: another man receives
Much comfort: and, his conscience edifies,
By disciplines, which many doe despise.
A Parish is a little Diocesse;
And, as of Cities, Townes, and Villages,
A Bishoprick consists: so, that doth rise
By Tythings, Hamlets, and by Families.
And little diffrence would be in the same,
(Excepting in the largenesse and the name)
If their opinions were allow'd of all,
Who favour not the stile Episcopall:
For, ev'ry Priest would then usurp the same
Authority, whereof some hate the name.
Yea, many a one would then his Parish make
A little Popedome, and upon him take
(Considering his meane pow'r) as much as he
That Vniversall Bishop claimes to be:
And, prove more proud, and troublesome, then they
Against whose Lordlinesse they now inveigh.
This therefore is my Rule; that Government
(What e're it be) in which to me God lent
My birth and breeding; that, untill my end,
I will obey, and to my pow'r defend.
Yea, though it tyrannize, I will denay
No more obedience, then by Law Imay:
Ev'n by those Lawes and Customes which do stand
In force, and unrepealed in that Land.
What right another had, e're I was borne,
Or how, or for what sinne, Gods hand hath torne
His Kingdome from him, I will never care;
Let them go answer that who Subjects were,
(When lost it was) and had that meanes, and calling,
And yeares, which might prevented have his falling.
Or should another Country take me home
As one of hers; when thither I did come
I would nor seek, nor wish to innovate
The Titles, or the Customer of that State,
To what some other Countries better thought:
But, leave such things to those to whom I ought.
And, there, if any Faction shall constraine
That I one part must take, I will maintaine
What bore the Sov'raignty when I came thither;
And, I and that will stand and fall together.
The same obedience, also, keep I shall,
To governments Ecclesiasticall
Where e're I come; if nothing they command
Which doth Gods word, essentially, withstand:
Or, indirectly, or directly, thwart
His glory, or the purity pervert
Of Christian Principles; nor further strife,
Nor cause, nor countenance an evill life.
The Hyerarchy, here, I will obey,
And reverence, while I in England stay.
In Scotland if I liv'd, I would deny
No due respect to their Presbyterie.
Geneva should I visit, I would there
Submit my selfe to what their customes were.
Yea, wheresoe're I am, I will suppose
The Spirit in that Church much better knowes
What best that place befitteth, then I do:
And, I will live conformed thereunto,
In ev'ry thing that's meerly politick,
And injures not the Doctrines Catholick.
To ev'ry temp'rall pow'r I'le be the same,
By whatsoever cognizance, or name,
Men please to call it. If I should be sent
To Poland, where a mixed government
Establisht is; I would not tell them, there,
That any other Custome better were.
Were I in Switzerland, I would maintaine
Democrity; and, think to make it plaine,
That for these Times, those Cantons, and that Nation,
There could not be a better Domination.
In Venice, far before a Monarchy
I would prefer an Aristocratie.
In Spaine, and France, and in Great Britaine here,
I hold no Governments more perfect are
Then Monarchies. And, if Gods will should be,
Beneath a Tyrant to envassaile me,
I would perswade my selfe, that heavy yoake
Were best, for some respects; and, to the stroke
Ev'n of an iron Mace would subject be,
In body; with a minde that should be free
From his inforcement, (if he did withstand,
Or bid me what Gods Law doth countermand.)
There is, I know, a middle-way that lyes
Ev'n just betwixt the two extremities,
Which to sedition, and to faction tend.
To find which tract, my whole desire I bend;
And wish it follow'd more. For, if we tread
That harmlesse path, we cannot be mis-led;
Nor sham'd, though blam'd we be. To ev'ry man
I faine would give his due; and all I can
I doe endeavor it. I would not wrong
My Country; neither take what doth belong
To Cesar: nor infringe, or prejudice,
The Vniversall Churches liberties;
Nor for her outward Discipline prefer
Or censure, any Church particular;
Or any State, but as befit it may,
His Muse, which nought but needfull truths doth say.
Nor have I any purpose to withdraw
Obedience, or respect from any Law
That's positive; or, to dishearten from
Those Customes, which a Christian state become.
Nor have I any thought to scandalize,
Or speake amisse of Principalities;
Or, to traduce mens persons: but, I fall
On errors of mens lives in generall,
And, on those great Abuses, which I see
To blemish ev'ry Calling and Degree.
Of Dignities and Persons, I observe
All meanes I can, their honors to preserve,
When I reprove their faults. And, ev'n as he
That hunteth Foxes, where Lambes feeding be,
May fright that harmlesse flock, and suffer blame
Of some By-standers, (knowing not his Game)
When from his Dogs, those Innocents are free,
And none but their devourers bitten be.
So, though my reprehensions, often are
Mistook by foolish Readers; they are far
From reprehending those, or taxing that
Which is unfitting for my shooting at.
I speake those things which will advantage rather
Then harme: and hence this blinded age may gather
Much light. This little Volume doth relate
Nought else but what is like to be our Fate;
If sin encrease; and what in former times
Did fall on other Nations for their crimes,
I utter what our welfare may encrease,
And helpe confirme us in a happy peace;
Which they will never compasse, who pursue
To speake what's pleasing, rather then what's true.
How ever, here my thoughts deliv'red be:
Let God as he shall please, deliver me.
And if what here is mention'd, thou dost heed
(Oh Britaine!) in those times that shall succeed,
It may prevent much losse, and make thee shun
Those mischiefes, whereby Kingdomes are undone.
But, to thy other sins, if thou shalt adde
Rebellions (as false Prophets will perswade)
Which likely are to follow, when thou shalt
In thy profession of Religion halt:
Then, will thy Kings and People scourge each other,
For their offences, till both fall together:
By weakning of your pow'rs, to make them way,
Who seeke and look for that unhappy day.
Then, shall disorder ev'rywhere abound,
And neither just nor pious man be found.
The best shall be a Bryer or a Thorne,
By whom their neighbours shall be scratcht & torne.
Thy Princes shall to nothing condiscend
For any merit just, or pious end;
But either for encreasing of their treasure,
Or for accomplishing their wilfull pleasure:
And unto what they sell or daigne for meed,
There shall be given little trust or heed.
For, that which by their words confirme they shall,
(The royall Seales uniting therewithall)
A toy shall frustrate; and a gift shall make
Their strictest Orders no effect to take.
The Iudge, without a bribe, no Cause shall end:
No man shall trust his brother, or his friend:
The parents and the children shall despise
And hate, and spoile each other: she that lies
Within her husbands bosome, shall betray him:
They who thy people should protect, shal slay them:
The aged shall regarded be of none:
The poore shall by the rich be trodden on:
Such grievous insolencies, everywhere
Shall acted be; that good and bad shall feare
In thee to dwell; and, men discreet shall hate
To be a Ruler, or a Magistrate;
When they behold (without impenitence)
So much injustice, and such violence.
And, when thy wickednesse this height shall gain,
To which (no doubt) it will e're long attaine,
If thou proceed: Then, from the bow that's bent
(And halfe way drawne already) shall besent
A mortall arrow; and it pierce thee shall
Quite through the head, the liver, and the gall.
The Lord shall call, and whistle from afarre,
For those thy enemies that fiercest are:
For those thou fearest most; and they shall from
Their Countries, like a whirlewind hither come.
They shall nor sleep, nor stumble, nor untie
Their garments, till within thy fields they lye.
Sharp shall their arrowes be, and strong their bow.
Their faces shall as full of horror show
As doth a Lions. Like a bolt of thunder,
Their troups of horse shall come, & tread thee under
Their iron feet. Thy foes shall eate thy bread,
And with thy flocks both clothed be, and fed.
Thy Dwellers, they shall cary from their owne,
To Countries which their fathers have not knowne.
And, thither shall such mischiefes them pursue,
That they who seeke the pit-fall to eschew,
Shall in a snare be taken. If they shall
Escape the sword, a Serpent in the wall
To death shall sting them: yea (although they hap
To shun a hundred plagues) they shall not scape;
But, with new dangers, still be chac'd about,
Vntill that they are wholly rooted out.
The Plowman, then, shall be afraid to sow;
Artificers their labour shall forgoe;
The Merchant man shall crosse the Seas no more,
(Except to flye and seeke some other shore)
Thy ablest-men shall faint: thy wise-ones, then,
Shall know themselves to be but foolish men.
And they who built and planted by oppression,
Shall leave their gettings to the foes possession.
Yea, God wil scourge thee, England, seven times more
With seven times greater Plagues then heretofore.
Then, thy Allies their friendship shall withdraw;
And, they that of thy greatnesse stood in awe,
Shall say (in scorne) Is this the valiant Nation,
That had throughout the world such reputation,
By victories upon the shore? Are these
That people, which were masters of the seas,
And grew so mighty? yea that petty Nation,
That were not worthy of thy indignation,
Shall mock thee too; and all thy former fame,
Forgot shall be, or mention'd to thy shame.
Mark how Gods plagues were doubled on the Icews
When they his milde corrections did abuse:
Marke what, at last upon their Land he sent;
And, look thou for the selfe same punishment,
If them thou imitatest. I or their sin,
At first, but eight yeares Bondage they were in.
Their wickednesse grew more; and God did then,
To Eglon, make them slaves, eight yeares and ten.
They disobeying, still, the God of heaven;
Their yeares of Servitude were twenty seven,
To Iabin and to Midian. Then, prevailed
Philistia forty yeares; and, when that failed,
To make them of their evill wayes repent,
There was, among themselves, a fatall rent;
And, they oft scourg'd each other. Still, they trod
The selfe same path; and, then the hand of God
Brought Ashur on them; and, did make them beare
His heavy yoake, untill the seventieth yeare.
And last of all the Romane Empire came,
Which from their Country rooted out their Name.
That foolish project which they did embrace,
To keep them in possession of their place,
Did lose it. And, like Cain, that vagrant Nation,
Hath now remain'd in fearfull Desolation
Nigh sixteene hundred yeares: and, (whatsoe're
Some lately dreame) in vaine, they look for here
A temp'rall Kingdome. For, as long agoe
Their Psalmist said; No Prophet doth foreshaw
This thraldomes end. Nor shall it end untill
The Gentiles their just number doe fulfill:
Which is unlike to be untill that houre
In which there shall be no more temporall pow'r,
Or temporall Kingdome. Therefore, gather them
(Oh Lord!) unto thy new Ierusalem,
In thy due time. For, yet, unto that place
They have a promist right, by thy meere grace.
To those who shall repent, thy firme Election
Continues in this temporall rejection.
Oh! shew thy mercy in their desolation,
That thou maist honor'd be in their salvation.
Yea, teach us also, by their fearfull fal,
To hearken to thy voice, when thou dost call;
(Lest thou in anger, unto us protest,
That we shall never come into thy rest)
For, we have follow'd them in all their sin:
Such, and so many, have our warnings bin:
And, if thou still prolong not thy compassion,
To us belongs the selfe same Desolation.
And it will shortly come, with all those terrors
That were on them inflicted, for their errors.
Then, woe shall be to them, that heretofore
By joyning house to house, expell'd the poore.
And field have into field incorporated,
Vntill their Towneships were depopulated.
For, desolate their dwelling shall be made:
Ev'n in their blood the Lord shall bathe his blade:
And they that have by avarice, and wiles,
Erected Pallaces and costly Piles;
Shall think, the stones and timbers, in the wall,
Aloud, to God, for vengeance on them call.
Then, woe shall be to them who early rise
To eate, and drinke, and play, and wantonnize;
Still adding sin to sin: for, they the paine
Of cold, and thirst, and hunger, shall sustaine;
And be the servile slaves of them that are
Their Foes; as to their Lusts they captives were.
Then, wo to them who darknesse more have lov'd
Then light; and good advice have disapprov'd:
For, they shall wander in a crooked path,
Which neither light, nor end, nor comfort hath
And, when for Guides, and Counsell they do cry,
Not one shall pity them, who passeth by.
Then, wo to them that have corrupted bin,
To justifie the wicked in his sin;
Or, for a bribe, the righteous to condemne:
For, flames (as on the chaffe) shall seize on them:
Their bodies to the dunghill shall be cast;
Their flowre shall turne to dust; their stock shal wast,
And all the glorious titles they have worne,
Shall but encrease their infamy and scorne.
Then, wo to them that have beene rais'd aloft
By good mens ruines; and by laying soft
And easie pillowes, under great mens armes,
To make them pleas'd in their alluring charmes.
Then, wo to them, who being growne afraid
Of some nigh perill, sought unlawfull aid;
And, setting Gods protection quite aside,
Vpon their owne inventions have rely'd.
For, God their foolish hopes will bring to nought;
On them, their feared mischiefe shall be brought;
And, all their wit and strength, shall not suffice,
To heave that sorrow off, which on them lies.
Yea, then, oh Britaine! woe to ev'ry one,
That hath without repentance evill done:
For, those who doe nor heed, nor beare in mind
His visitings, Gods reaching hand will find;
And they with howling cries and lamentation,
Shall sue and seeke, in vaine, for his compassion.
Because they carelesse of his Mercies were,
Till in consuming wrath he did appeare.
But, still, we set far off that evill day;
In dull security we passe away
Our pretious time; and with vaine hopes and toyes,
Build up a trust which ev'ry puffe destroyes.
And therefore, still when healing is expected,
New and unlookt for troubles are effected.
We gather Armies, and we Fleets prepare;
And, then, both strong and safe we think we are.
But, when we look for victories, and glory,
What followes, but events that make us sory?
And tis Gods mercy that we turne our faces
With so few losses, and no more disgraces.
For, what are most of those whom we commend
Such actions to; and whom we forth do send
To fight those Battels, which the Lords we call,
But, such as never fight for him at all?
Whom dost thou make thy Captaines, and dispose
Such Offices unto, but unto those
(Some few excepted) who procure by friends,
Command and pay, to serve their private ends?
Their language, and their practices declare,
That entertained by Gods Foe they were.
Their whoring, swearing, and their drunkennesse,
Do far more plainly to the world expresse
What Generall they doe belong unto,
Then all their Feathers and their Ensignes doe.
These, by their unrepented sins, betray
Thy Cause. By these, the honor, and the day
Is lost: and when thou hopest that thy trouble
Shall have an end, thy danger waxeth double.
We wisht for Parliaments; and them we made
Our God: for, all the hope that many had
To remedy the publike discontent,
Was by the wisdome of a Parliament.
Well; Parliaments we had; and what in being,
Succeedeth yet, but greater disagreeing,
With greater grievances then heretofore?
And reason good: for, we depended more
On outward meanes, then on Gods will that sends
All punishments; and all afflictions ends.
Beleeve it should our Parliaments agree
In ev'ry motion: should our Sov'raigne be
So gracious, as to condiscend to all
Which for his weale and ours, propose we shall;
Ev'n that Agreement, till our sins we leave,
Shall make us but secure; and helpe to weave
A snare, by whose fine threds we shall be caught,
Before we see the mischiefe that is wrought.
Whilst we by Parliaments do chiefly seek
Meere temp'rall ends, the King shall do the like:
Yea, till in them we mutually agree
To helpe each other; and unfained be
In lab'ring for a Christian Reformation;
Each Meeting shall beget a new vexation.
This Iland hath some sense of what she ayles,
And very much, these evill times bewayles:
But, not so much our sinnes doe we lament,
Or mourne that God for them is discontent,
As that the Plagues they bring disturb our pleasures,
Encrease our dangers, and exhaust our treasures.
And, for these causes, now and then we fast,
And pray, as long as halfe a day doth last.
For, if the Sunne doe but a liitle cleare
That cloud, from which a tempest we doe feare,
What kind of griefe we took, we plainly shew
By those rejoycings which thereon ensue:
For, in the stead of such due thankfulnesse,
As Christian zeale obligeth to expresse;
To Pleasure (not to God) we sacrifize;
Renue our sins: revive our vanities;
And, all our vowed gratitude expires,
In Games, in Guns, in Bels, in Healths, or Fires.
We faine would be at peace; but few men go
That way, as yet, whereby it may be so.
We have not that humility which must
Effect it: we are false, and cannot trust
Each other, no nor God with true confessions:
Which shewes that we abhor not our transgressions.
It proves, that of our errors, we in heart
Repent not, neither purpose to depart
From any folly. For all they that are
Sincerely penitent doe nothing feare
So much as their owne guile; nor seeke to gaine
Ought more, then to be reconcil'd againe:
And, they that are thus minded, never can
Be long unreconcil'd to God, or man.
When we should stoop, we most our selves exalt;
And (though we be) would not be thought in fault.
Nay, though we faulty be, and thought, & known,
And proved so; and see that we are throwne
By our apparant errors, into straits,
From which we cannot get by all our sleights:
Yet, still our selves we vaunt and justifie,
And struggle, till the snare we faster eye.
We sin, and we to boast it have no shame,
Yet storme when others doe our follies name:
And rather then we will so much as say
We did amisse (though that might wipe away
The staine of all) I think that some of us
So wilfull are, so proud, and mischievous,
That we our selves would ruine, and our Nation,
To keep our shadow of a Reputation.
Oh! if we are thus headstrong, tis unlike
We any part of our proud failes will strike
Till they have sunke our Vessell in the Sea,
Or by the furious windes, are torne away.
Twere better, tho, we did confesse our wound,
Then hide it till our state grew more unsound.
Twere better we some wealth, or office lost,
Then keep them, till our lives, and all, it cost:
And therefore, let us wisely be advised,
Before we by a tempest be surprised.
Downe first with our Top-gallants and our Flags;
In stormes, the skilfull'st Pilots make no brags.
Let us (if that be not enough) let fall
Our Misne-yeard, and strike our top sailes all.
If this we find be not enough to doe,
Strike Fote-saile, Sprit-saile, yea and Main saile too.
And, rather then our Ship should sink or rend;
Let's over board, goods, mast, and tackling send.
Save but the Hull, the Master, and the Men;
And we may live to scoure the seas agen.
Beleeve it England, howsoever some
(Who should for elec thy plagues before they come)
Endevor to perswade thee that thou hast
A hopefull time, and that the worst is past.
Yet I dare boldly tell thee, thou hast nigh
Worne out Gods patience by impiety.
And, that unlesse the same we doe renue
By penitence, our folly we shall rue.
But, what am I, that me thou should'st beleeve?
Or, unto what I tell thee, credit give?
It may be this adultrous Generation
Expecteth tokens of her desolation;
And therefore I will give them signes of that
Which they are almost now arrived at.
Not signes, so mysticall as most of those
Which did the ruine of the Iewes disclose;
But, signes as evident as are the day.
For, know ye Britanies, that what God did say
Ierusalems destruction should foreshew,
He spake to ev'ry State that should ensue.
And, that he nought of her, or to her spake,
For hers alone, but also for our sake.
One signe that Gods long-suffring we have tired,
And that his patience is almost expired,
Is this; that many Iudgements he hath sent,
And still remov'd them e're we did repent.
For, God (ev'n by his Holinesse) did sweare,
(Saith Amos) such a Nation he will teare
With Bryers, and with Fish hookes rend away
The whole posterity of such as they.
Cleane teeth (saith God) I gave them, and with bread
In many places, them I scantly fed;
And yet they sought me not: Then I restrained
The dewes of heav'n; upon this Field I rained,
And not on that; yea, to one City came
Some two or three, to quench their thirsty flame;
Yet, to returne to me, no care they tooke:
With Blastings then, and Mildewe, I them strook;
And mixt among their Fruits the Palmer-worme;
Yet, they their lives did not a jol reforme:
Then did I send the Pestilence (said he)
Devoured by the Sword, their youngmen be;
Their Horse are slaine, and up to heaven ascends
Their stinke; yet I discover no amends.
The selfe same things thy God in thee hath done,
Oh England! yet, here followes thereupon
So small amendment, that they are a signe
To thee; and their sharp Iudgement, will be thine.
The second Token which doth fore declare
When Cities, States, and Realmes, declining are,
Ev'n Christ himselfe hath left us: For, (saith he)
When Desolation shall approaching be,
Of wars, and warlike rumors ye shall heare;
Rare signes and tokens will in heaven appeare;
Downe from the Firmament the Stars shall fall;
The hearts of many men, then, saile them shall;
There will be many scandals and offences;
Great Earth quakes, Schismes, Dearths, and Pestilences;
Realme, Realme; and Nation, Nation shall oppose;
The nearest friends, shall be the greatest foes.
Against the Church shall many tyrannize;
Deceivers, and false Prophets, shall arise;
In ev'ry place shall wickednesse abound;
And, Charity shall very cold be found.
This, Christ himselfe did prophecy: And we
Are doubtlesse blind, unlesse contest it be,
That at this houre, upon this Kingdome here,
These marks of Desolation viewed are.
How often have we scene prodigeous lights,
O'respread the face of heav'n in moonlesse nights?
How many dreadfull Meteors have there beene
In this our Climate, lately heard and seene?
Who knoweth not that but a while agoe
A Blazing Star did threat, if not foreshow
Gods Iudgements? In what age, tofore, did here
So many, who did Saints and Stars appeare,
Fall (as it were) from heav'n? Or who hath heard
Of greater Earth-quakes, then have lately scar'd
These quarters of the world? How oft, the touch
Of Famine have we had? But, when so much
Devoured by the Pestilence were we,
As in this present yeare our people be?
Of Wars, and martiall rumors, never more
Were heard within these confines heretofore;
When were all Kingdomes, and all Nations through
The world, so opposite as they are now?
We know no Country, whether nigh or far,
But is engag'd, or threatned with some War.
All places, either present woes bewaile;
Or else things feared make mens hearts to faile,
False Prophets and Deceivers we have many;
We scarcely find integrity in any:
The Name of Christ, begins in ev'ry place
To suffer persecution and disgrace;
And, we the greatest jeopardies are in,
Among our neighbours, and our nearest kin.
Strange Heresies do ev'rywhere encrease,
Disturbing Sion, and exiling peace.
Impletie doth multiply. True love
Growes cold. And, if these tokens doe not prove
Our fall drawes on, unlesse we doe amend:
I know not when our folly shall have end.
A third apparant signe which doth declare
When some devouring Plague approacheth neere,
Is when a Nation doth anew begin
To let Idolatry to enter in;
And openly, or secretly give place
To Heresie, where Truth establisht was:
Or when like Ieroboam, to possesse
An outward profit, or a temporall peace,
They either change Religions, or devise
A worship which doth mixe Idolatries
With truth. For this, ev'n for this very crime,
The King of Ashur, in Hoshea's time
Led Isr'el captive. And, both from the sight
Of God; and from the house of David quite,
They were cut off for ever, and did neither
Serve God nor Idols, but ev'n both together;
In such a mixt Religion as is that
Which some among us, now, have aymed at.
Marke England; and I prethee marke it well,
If this offence which ruin'd Israel,
On thee appeare nor: and, if so it be,
Amend; or looke for what it threatens thee.
The fourth true token which doth fore expresse
The ruine of a Land for wickednesse,
Is when the Priests and Magistrates begin,
To grow extreamly impudent in sin.
This Signe, the Prophet Micah giveth us;
And he (not I) to you cryes loudly thus:
Heare, oh ye house of Iacob, and all ye
That Princes of the house of Israel be:
Ye Iustice hate; and ye pervert what's good;
Ye build the wals of Sion up with blood;
Ierusalem with sin, ye up have rear'd;
Your Judges passe their censures for reward;
Your Priests doe preach for bire, your Prophets doe
Like them, and prophecy for mony too.
And, for this cause shall Sion mount (saith he)
Ev'n like a plowed field become to be;
And like a Forrest hill where bushes grow,
The City of Ierusalem shall show.
Change but the names, oh Britain, and that token
Of desolation, unto thee is spoken.
For, what this day thy Priests and Princes are,
Their actions, and the peoples cries declare.
A fifth sure evidence that God among
Thy ruines will entomb thy fame e're long,
(If thou repent not) is ev'n this, that thou
Dost ev'ry day the more ungodly grow,
By how much more the blessed meanes of grace
Doth multiply it selfe in ev'ry place.
God sends unto thee many learned Preachers,
Apostles, Pastors, and all kind of teachers;
His Visions, and his Prophecies upon thee
He multiplies. And (that he might have won thee
To more sincerity) on all occasions,
By counsell, by entreatie, and perswasions,
He hath advis'd, allured, and besought thee:
With precept upon precept, he hath taught thee;
By line on line; by miracle; by reason;
In ev'ry place; in season, out of season;
By little and by little; and by much
(Sometime) at once: yet is thy nature such,
That still thou waxest worse; and in the roome
Of pleasant Grapes, more Thistles daily come:
And, thou that art so haughty, and so proud,
For this, shalt vanish like an empty cloud;
And, as a Lion, Leopard, or a Beare,
Thy God, for this, shall thee in pieces teare.
If thou suppose my Muse did this devise,
Goe take it from Hosea's prophesies
The sixth undoubted signall when the last
Good dayes of sinfull Realmes are almost past.
Is when the people neere to God shall draw
In word, to make profession of his Law:
And, by their tongues his praises forth declare;
Yet, in their hearts from him continue far.
To such a Land, their destiny displayes
Isaiah: for even thus the Prophet sayes:
God will produce a marvell in that State,
And doe a worke that men shall wonder at;
The wisdome of their wisest Counsellor,
Shall perish, and their prudent men shall erre.
On their deepe Counsels, sorrow shall attend;
Their secret plots shall have a dismall end;
Their giddy projects which they have devised,
Shall as the Potters clay be quite despised.
Like Carmel, Lebanon shall seeme; and be
Like Lebanon, shall make mount Carmel be.
Their pleasant Fields like Desarts shall appeare;
And, there shall Gardens be, where Desarts are.
God keep (thou Brittish Ile) this plague from thee
For, signes thereof upon thy Body be.
Thou of the purest worship mak'st profession;
Yet, waxest more impure in thy condition.
Thou boastest of the knowledge of Gods word,
Yet, there unto in manners to accord
Thou dost refuse. Thou makest protestation
Of pietie; yet hatest reformation.
Yea when thy tongue doth sing of praise divine,
Thy heart doth plot some temporall designe.
And, some of those, who in this wise are holy,
Begin to shew their wisedome will be folly.
For, when from sight their snares they deepest hide,
By God Almighties eyes they are espide.
The seaventh Symptome of a dreadfull blow,
(If not of a perpetuall overthrow)
Is when a slumbring Spirit doth surprize
A nation; and hath closed up their eyes:
Or when the Prophets and the Seers are
So clouded, that plaine truths do not appeare:
Or when the Visions evidently seene
Are passed by, as if they had not beene:
Or when, to Nations who can reade, God gives
His Booke; and thereof doth unseale the leaves,
And bids them reade the same, which they to do
Deny; or plead unablenesse thereto.
Black signes are these. For if that Book to them,
Still darke; or as a Book unsealed seeme;
Or, if they heed no more what here is said,
Then they that have the Booke, and cannot reade;
The Iudgements, last repeated, are the doome,
That shall on such a stupid Nation come.
This Signe is come on us; for, loe, unsealed
Gods Book is now among us; and revealed
Are all the Mysteries which doe concerne
The children of this present age to learne.
So well hath he instructed this our Land,
That we not only reade, but understand
The secrets of his Word. The prophecies
Of his chiefe Seers, are before our eyes,
Vnveiled: true interpretations
Are made, and many proper applications
Ev'n to our selves; yet is our heart so blind,
That what we know and see, we do not mind.
We heare, and speake, and much adoe we keepe;
But we as senselesse are as men asleep
What then we doe. Yea, while that we are talking,
What snares are in the way where we are walking,
We heed not what we say, but passe along;
And many times, are fast ensnar'd among
Those mischiefes, and those faults we did condemne,
Before our tongues have left to mention them.
For our neglect of God in former times,
(Or for some present unrepented crimes)
A slumbring Spirit so possesseth us,
That our estate is wondrous dangerous.
We see and heare, and tell to one another
Our perils, yet we headlong hast together
To wilfull ruine: and are growne so mad,
That when our friends a better course perswade,
Or seeke to stop us (when they see we run
That way in which we cannot ruine shun)
We persecute those men with all our soule,
That we may damn ourselves without controule.
The eight plaine Signe, by which I understand
That some devouring mischiefe is at hand,
Is that maliciousnesse which I doe see
Among Prsfessors of one Faith, to be.
We that have but one Father, and one Mother,
Doe persecute, and torture one another.
So hotly, we oppose not Antichrist,
As we our fellow brethren doe resist.
The Protestant, the Protestant defies;
And, we our selves, our selves doe scandalize.
Our Church we have exposed to more scorne;
And her faire seamlesse Vestment rent, and torne,
By our owne fury, more then by their spight
Who are to us directly opposite.
To save an Aple, we the Tree destroy;
And, quarrels make for ev'ry needlesse toy:
From us, if any brother differ shall
But in a crotcher, we upon him fall
As eagerly, and with as bitter hate,
As if we knew him for a Reprobate.
And, what event all this doth signifie,
Saint Paul (by way of caveat) doth imply.
Take heed (saith he) lest while ye bite each other,
You, o'your selves, consumed be together.
Another Signe which causeth me to feare
That our confusion is approaching neere,
Are those Disunions which I have espide,
In Church and Commonwealth, this present tide.
We cannot hide these rents; for they doe gape,
So wide, that some their Iawes can hardly scape.
Would God, the way to close them up we knew,
Else, what they threaten, time will shortly shew:
For, all men know, a City or a Land,
Within it selfe devided, cannot stand.
The last black signe that here I will repeat,
(Which doth to kingdomes desolation threat)
Is when the hand of God Almighty brings
The people, into bondage, to their Kings.
I say, when their owne King shall take delight,
Those whom he should protect, to rob, and smite.
When they who fed the Sheep, the Sheep shall kill,
And eate them; and suppose they doe no ill.
When God gives up a Nation unto those
That are their neighbours, that they may, as foes,
Devoure them. When (oh England!) thou shalt see
This come to passe, a signe it is to thee
That God is angry; and a certaine token
That into pieces thou shalt quite be broken:
If not by so raine strength, by force at home;
And, that thy greater torment will become.
This Vengeance, and this fearfull preparation,
Of bringing ruine on a sinfull Nation,
(If they remaine impenitent) the Lord
Doth menace; and, by Zachary record,
To make us wise. Oh! let us therefore learne,
What now is comming on us, to discerne.
For, (well considered if all things were)
From this Captivity we seeme not farre.
It now already seemes to be projected;
Nay, little wants of being quite effected.
For, they that are our Shepheards, now, are they
That fleece us, and endevor to betray
Our lives and freedomes. Those great men that be
Our neighbours (and can claime no more then we)
Would sell us: and, attempt to gaine a pow'r,
Whereby they may, at pleasure, us devoure:
And had not we a King, as loth to make
His people slaves, as from himselfe to take
His lawfull right; (or, were there not some lett
Vnheeded, which is unremoved yet)
E're this (and justly too) the hand of heaven
Into perpetuall bondage us had given.
And, if we do not more Gods will regard,
That mischiefe is but for a time deferr'd.
Our King is just and mercifull; and tho
Some may (with loyall, and a gilded show
Of pious equity) a while assay
To lead his judgement in his youth astray;
Yet, God (I hope) will keep him so, that he
Shall still be just, (though we ungodly be)
And, make him in the fittest houre expresse
His royall Judgement, and his Righteousnesse:
But, if God should from us (as God forbid)
Take him, as once he good Iosiah did,
He also will (unlesse we mend) perchance,
In times to come, a Shepheard here advance,
Who shall not plead for what his Youngmen say
Is just; but, take the same, perforce, away.
An Idoll Shepheard, who shall neither care
To find or seek, for those that strayed are;
Nor guard the Lambs; nor cure what hath a wound;
Nor cherish those that fume to him are found;
But, take the fat, and rob them of their fleeces;
And eate their flesh; and break their bones in peeces.
More Signes I might, as yet, commemorate,
To shew Gods patience is nigh out of date.
But, these are signes enough, and so apparant,
That twenty more will give no better warrant
To what I speake. Yet, if these false appeare,
That's one signe more, our fall approacheth neere.
Be mindfull, therefore, while it is to Day;
And, let no good occasion slip away.
Now rend your hearts, ye Britains, wash & rinse them
From all corruption: from all evill clense them.
Goe offer up the pleasing sacrifice
Of Righteousnesse: from folly turne your eyes.
Seeke peace, and follow it, with strict pursuit:
Relieve the needy; Iudgement execute:
Refresh the weary; right the fatherlesse:
The strangers, and the widowes wants redresse:
Give praise to God; depend with lowly faith,
On him; and what his holy Spirit saith:
Remember what a price thy ransome cost;
And, now redeeme the time that thou hast lost.
Returne, returne thou (oh back-sliding Nation)
And, let thy teares prevent thy desolation.
As yet, thou maist returne; for, Gods embrace
Is open for thee, if thou hast the grace,
To give it meeting. Yet, repentance may
Prevent the mischiefes of that evill day,
Which here is menace'd:yet, thou maist have peace,
And by discreet endeavoring, encrease
Each outward grace, and ev'ry inward thing,
Which will additions to thy comfort bring.
If this thou doe, these fearfull threatnings all,
(Repeated here) to mercies change he shall.
We cannot say, it will excuse thee from
All chastisement; or that no blow shall come.
For, peradventure, thou so long hast bin
Vnpenitent, that some loud-cring sin
Hath wak'd that Vengeance, which upon thy crimes
Must fall (as once in Jeremiahs times)
Without prevention; to exemplifie
Gods hate of sin to all posterity.
But, sure we are, that if he doth not stay
His threatned hand, the stroke that he doth lay
Will fall the lighter; and become a blessing,
Thy future joyes, and vertues more encreasing,
Then all that large prosperity and rest
Which thou, so long together, hast possest.
God (with a writers inke horne) one hath sent,
To set a marke on them that shall repent;
And bids him promise in his Name, that they
Who shall (recanting) leave their evill way,
And in their hearts, bewaile the grievous crimes,
And miseries of Sion, in their times;
That they shall be secure, and saved from
The hand of these Destroyers, which must come:
Or else by their destruction find a way
To that repairing which will ne're decay.
Yea thou, oh Britaine! if thou couldst reforme
Thy manners, might'st expell the dreadfull storme
Now threatned; and thy foes (who triumph would,
The ruine of thy glory to behold,
And jeere thee when thou fallest) soone shall see
Thy God returning, and avenging thee
On their insultings: yea, with angry blowes
He would effect their shamefull overthrowes.
Or turne their hearts. For when from sin men cease,
God makes their enemies, and them, at peace.
Moreover, thou shalt have in thy possessing,
Each inward grace, and ev'ry outward blessing;
Thy fruitfull Herds shall in rich pastures feed;
Thy soile shall plentiously encrease thy seed;
Thy Flock, shall neither Shepherds want, nor meat;
Cleane provander, thy stabled beast shall care;
There shall be Rivers in thy Dales; and Fountaines
Vpon the tops of all thy noblest Mountaines:
The Moone shall cast upon thee beames as bright
As now the Sunne; and with a sevenfold light
The Sun shall blesse thee He that reignes in thee,
To all his people reconcil'd shall be;
And they shall find themselves no whit deceived,
In those good hopes which are of him conceived:
But he, (and they, who shall his throne possesse
When he is gone) shall reigne in righteousnesse;
And be more carefull of thy weale (by far)
Then parents of their childrens profits are
Thy Magistrates, with wisdome shall proceed
In all that shall be counsell'd or decreed.
As Harbours, when it blowes tempestuously;
As Rivers, unto places over-dry;
As Shadowes are to men opprest with heat;
As to a hungry stomack, wholsome meat;
To thee, so welcome, and as much contenting,
Thy Nobles will become, on thy repenting.
Thy Priests shal preach true doctrine in thy Teples;
And make it fruitfull by their good examples.
Thy God, with righteousnesse shall them aray,
And heare and answer them, when they do pray.
Thy eyes, that much are blinded, shall be cleare;
Thy eares that yet are deafned, then shall heare;
Thy tongue, that stāmers now, shall then speak plain;
Thy heart shall perfect understanding gaine;
The preaching of the Gospell shall encrease;
Thy God shall make thy comforts and thy peace,
To flow as doth a River; they who plant,
The blessing of their labour shall not want;
Thy poorest people shall at full be fed;
The meek, shall of no tyrant stand in dread;
Thou shalt have grace and knowledge, to avoid
Those things, whereby thy rest may be annoid;
Thou shalt possesse thy wished blessings all;
And, God shall heare thee still before thou call.
But, as a Chime, whose frets disord red grow,
Can never cause it selfe in tune to goe,
Nor chime at all, untill some cunning hand
Doth make the same againe in order stand:
Or, as the Clock, whose plummers are not weight,
Strikes sometimes one for three, and sixe for eight;
So fareth it with men and kingdomes all,
When once from their integrity they fall.
They may their motion hurry out of frame,
But have no pow'r to rectifie the same
That curious hand which first those pieces wrought,
Must mend them still; or they will still be nought.
To thee I therefore now my speech convert,
Thou famous Artist, who Creator art
Of heav'n and earth, and of those goodly spheares,
That now have whirled many thousand yeares,
(And shall untill thy pleasure gives it ending)
In their perpetuall motion, without mending.
Oh! be thou pleased, by thy pow'rfull hand,
To set in order this depraved Land.
Our whole foundation, Lord, is out of course;
And ev'ry thing still groweth worse and worse;
The way that leads quite from thee, we have tooke;
Thy Covenant, and all thy Lawes are broke;
In mischiefes, and in folly, is our pleasure;
Our crying sins have almost fill'd their measure;
Yet, ev'ry day we adde a new transgression,
And still abuse thy favour and compassion.
Our Governors, our Prelats, and our Nobles,
Have by their sins encrease, encreast our troubles.
Our Priests, and all the People, have misgone;
All kind of evill deeds, we all have done.
We have not lived as those meanes of grace
Require, which thou hast granted to this place:
But rather worse then many who have had
Lesse helpes then we, of being better made.
No Nation under heav'n so lewd hath bin,
That had so many warnings for their sin,
And such perpetuall callings on, as we,
To leave our wickednesse, and turne to thee.
Yet, we in stead of turning, further went;
And when thy Mercies and thy Plagues were sent
To pull us backe; they seldome wrought our stay,
Or moved to repentance one whole day.
No blessing, no affliction, hath a pow'r
To move compunction in us, for one houre,
Vnlesse thou worke it. All that I can speake
(And all that I have spoken) till thou breake
And mollifie the heart, will fruitlesse be,
Not onely in my hearers, but in me.
If thou prepare not way for more esteeme
All these Remembrances will foolish seeme.
Nay these, in stead of moving to repent,
Will indignation move and discontent;
Which will mens hardned hearts obdurate more,
And make their fault much greater then before.
Vnlesse thou give a blessing, I may strive
As well to make a marble stone alive,
As to effect my purpose: yea, all this
Like wholesome counsell to a mad man is,
And, I for my good meaning shall be torne
In pieces, or exposed be to scorne.
For, they against thy word doe stop their eare;
And, wilde in disobedience, will not heare.
In this, we all confesse ourselves to blame,
And that we therefore have deserved shame.
Yea, Lord we doe acknowledge, that for this
There nothing else to us pertaining is,
(Respecting our owne worth) but desolation,
And finall rooting out, without compassion.
But gracious God, though such our merit be,
Yet, mercy still pertaineth unto thee.
To thee the act of pard'ning and forgiving,
As much belongs (oh Father everliving)
As plagues to us: and it were better far
Our sinnes had lesse then their deservings are,
Then that thy Clemency should be outgone,
By all the wickednesse that can be done.
As well as theirs whose lives now lest them have,
Thou canst command those bodies from the grave,
Who stink, and putrifie, and buried be
In their corruption. Such, oh Lord! are we.
Oh! call us from this grave; and shew thy pow'r
Vpon this much polluted Land of our,
Which is not only sick of works unholy,
But almost dead and buried in her folly.
Forgive us all our slips, our negligences,
Our sins of knowledge, and our ignorances;
Our daring wickednesse; our bloody crimes;
And all the faults of past and present times.
Permit not thy just wrath to burne for ever;
In thy displeasure doe not still persever;
But, call us from that pit of Death, and Sin,
And from that path of Hell which we are in.
Remember, that this Vineyard hath a Vine,
Which had her planting by that hand of thine.
Remember, when from Egypt thou remov'dst it,
With what entire affection, then, thou lov'dst it.
How thou didst weed and dresse it heretofore;
How thou didst fence it from the forrest Bore;
And think how sweet a vintage then it brought,
When thy first worke upon her thou hadst wrought:
Remember, that without thy daily care,
The choicest plants, soone wilde and fruitlesse are;
And, that as long as thou dost prune and dresse,
The sowrest Vine shall bring a sweet encrease.
Remember, also Lord, how still that Foe,
Who first pursued us, doth seek to sow
His tares among thy wheat; and to his pow'r,
Break downe thy fence, and trample, and devoure
The seeds of grace, as soone as they doe sprout;
And is too strong, for us to keep him out.
Oh! let not him prevaile such harme to do us,
As he desires, but, Lord, returne unto us.
Returne in mercy. Though thou find us slack
To come our selves, fetch, draw, and pull us back
From our owne courses, by thy grace divine,
And set, and keep us, in each way of thine.
We from our foes have saved beene by thee;
And in thy love, oh Lord! triumphed we.
But now behold, disgrac'd thou throw'st us by,
And we before our adversaries flye.
At us our neighb'ring Nations laugh and jeere,
And, us they scorne, whom late we made to feare.
Oh God arise, reject us not for aye;
No longer hide from us thy face away:
But, come, oh come with speed to give us aid,
And let us not be lost though we have straid.
Vouchsafe that ev'ry one in his degree,
The secret errors of his life may see;
And, in his lawfull calling all his dayes,
Performe his Christian duty, to thy praise.
Give peace this troublous age; for, perilous
The times are growne, and no man fights for us
But thou oh God! nor do we seek or crave,
That any other Champion we may have.
Nay give us troubles, if thy will be so,
That we may have thy strength to beare them too;
And in affliction thee more glorifie,
Then heretofore in our prosperity.
For when thy countenance on us did shine,
Those Lands that boasted of their corne and wine,
Had not that joy which thou didst then inspire,
When we were boyld and fryde in blood and fire.
Oh! give againe that joy, although it cost us
Our lives. Restore thou what our sin hath lost us,
Thy Church, in these Dominions Lord preserve
In purity: and teach us thee to serve
In holinesse and righteousnesse, untill
We shall the number of our dayes fulfill.
Defend these Kingdomes from all overthrowes,
By forraine enemies, or home-bred foes.
Our King with ev'ry grace and vertue blesse,
Which may thine honour and his owne encrease.
Inflame our Nobles with more love and zeale,
To thy true Spouse, and to this Common weale.
Inspire our Clergie in their severall places,
With knowledge, and all sanctifying graces;
That by their lives and doctrines they may reare
Those parts of Syon, which decayed are.
Awake this People, give them soules that may
Beleeve thy word, and thy commands obey.
The Plagues deserv'd already, save them from.
More watchfull make them, in all times to come.
For blessings past, let hearty thanks be given.
For present ones, let sacrifice to heav'n
Be daily offred up. For what is needing
(Or may be usefull in the time succeeding)
Let faithfull prayers to thy throne be sent,
With hearts and hands upright and innocent:
And let all this the better furthred be,
Through these Remembrances, now brought by me.
For which high favour, and emboldning thus
My spirit, in a time so dangerous;
For chusing me, that am so despicable,
To be employed in this honorable
And great employment (which I more esteeme,
Then to be crowned with a Diadem)
For thy enabling me in this Embassage;
For bringing to conclusion this my Message;
For sparing of my life, when thousands dy'd,
Before, behind me, and on ev'ry side;
For saving of me many a time since then,
When I had forfeited my soule agen;
For all those griefes and poverties, by which
I am in better things made great, and rich,
Then all that wealth and honor brings man to,
Wherewith the world doth keepe so much adoe:
For all which thou to me on earth hast given;
For all, which doth concerne my hopes of heaven;
For these, and those innumerable graces,
Vouchsafed me, at sundry times, and places,
(Vnthought upon) unfained praise I render:
And, for a living sacrifice, I tender
To thee (oh God) my body, soule, and all,
Which mine I may, by thy donation, call.
Accept it blessed Maker, for his sake
Who did this offring acceptable make,
By giving up himselfe. Oh! looke thou not
Vpon those blemishes which I have got
By naturall corruption; or by those
Polluted acts which from that ulcer flowes.
According to my skill, I have enroll'd
Thy Mercies; and thy Iustice I have told.
I have not hid thy workings in my brest;
But as I could, their pow'r I have exprest.
Among our great assemblies, to declare
Thy will and pleasure, loe, I doe not feare:
And though by Princes I am checkt and blamed,
To speake the truth, I am no whit ashamed.
Oh! shew thou, Lord, thy mercy so to me,
And let thy Love and Truth, my guardians be.
Forgive me all the follies of my youth;
My faulty deeds; the errors of my mouth;
The wandrings of my heart, and ev'ry one
Of those good workes that I have lest undone.
Forgive me all wherein I did amisse,
Since thou employd'st me in performing this:
My doublings of thy calling me unto it;
My feares, which oft disheartned me to doe it;
My sloth, my negligences, my evasions,
And my deferring it, on vaine occasions,
When I had vowed that no worke of mine,
Should take me up, till I had finisht thine.
Lord, pardon this; and let no future sin,
Nor what already hath committed bin,
Prophane this Worke; or cause the same to be
The lesse effectuall to this land, or me.
But to my selfe (oh Lord) and others, let it
So moving be, that we may ne're forget it.
Let nor the evill, nor the good effect
It takes, or puffe me up, or me deject:
Or make me thinke that I the better am,
Because I tell how others are to blame:
But, let it keep me in a Christian feare,
Still humbly heedfull what my actions are.
Let all those observations I have had,
Of others errors, be occasions made
To mind me of mine owne. And, lest I erre,
Let ev'ry man be my Remembrancer;
With so much charity, as I have sought
To bring their duties more into their thought.
And, if in any sin I linger long,
Without repentance; Lord, let ev'ry tongue
That names me, check me for it: and, to me
Become, what I to others faine would be.
Oh! let me not be like those busie broomes,
Which having clensed many nasty roomes,
Doe make themselves the fouller: but sweet Father,
Let me be like the precious Diamond rather,
Which doth by polishing another stone,
The better shape and lustre, set upon
His owne rough body. Let my life be such,
As that mans ought to be, who knoweth much
Of thy good pleasure. And, most awfull God,
Let none of those, who spread of me abroad
Vnjust reports, the Devills purpose gaine,
By making these my warnings prove in vaine
To those that heare them: but let such disgraces,
Reflect with shame, upon their Authors faces,
Till they repent. And let their scandall serve
Within my heart true, meaknesse to preserve;
And that humility, which else, perchance,
Vaine glory, or some naturall arrogance
Might overthrow, if I should think upon
(With carnal thoghts) some good my lines have done
Restraine, moreover, them who out of pride,
Or ignorance, this Labour shall deride.
Make them perceive, who shall prefer a story
Composed for some temporall friends glory,
Before those Poems which thy works declare,
That vaine and witlesse their opinions are:
And if by thee I was appointed; Lord,
Thy Iudgements and thy Mercies to record,
(As here I do) set thou thy mark on those,
Who shall despightfully the same oppose:
And let it publikely be seene of all,
Till of their malice they repent them shall.
As I my conscience have discharged here,
Without concealing ought for love, or feare;
From furious men let me preserved be,
And from the scorne of tooles deliver me.
Vouchsafe at length some comforting refection,
According to the yeares of my affliction.
On me, for good, some token please to show,
That they who see it, may thy bounty know;
Rejoyce, with fellow-feeling of the same,
And joyne with me, in praising of thy Name.
And left (oh Lord!) some weake ones may despise
My word, because of such necessities,
As they have brought upon me, by their spight,
Who to my Studie have beene opposite:
Oh! give me that which may sufficient be,
To make them know that I have served thee.
And that my labours are by thee regarded,
Although they seeme not outwardly rewarded;
Those Honors, or that Wealth, I doe not crave,
Which they affect, who most endevored have
To please the World. I onely aske to gaine
But food and rayment, Lord, for all my paine;
And that the slaunders, and the poverties,
Wherewith my patience thou shalt exercise,
Make not these Lines, or me, become a scorne,
Nor leave me to the world-ward, quire forlorne.
Yet, in preferring of this humble Suit,
I make not my request so absolute,
As that I will capitulate, or tye
To such conditions, thy dread Majesty.
For, if to honour but an earthly Prince
My Muse had sung, it had beene impudence
To prompt his bounty; or, to doubt he might
Forget to doe my honest Labours right.
Doe therefore as thou pleasest: only give
Thy Servant grace contentedly to live,
And to be thankfull, whatsoever shall
In this my weary Pilgrimage befall.
Such things thou dost command me to require,
With earnest, and an absolute desire:
With which I come: beseeching I may finde
Thy love continue, though none else be kinde;
That blessednesse eternall I may get,
Though all I lose on earth, to compasse it;
And that, at last, when my accompt is eaven,
My payment may be summon'd up in heaven.
Lord, this willp ease me: call me quickly thither,
And pay me there my wages all together:
Not that which mine by merit seemes to be;
But, what by thy meere grace is due to me.

The Conclusion.