Miscellaneous works of George Wither

George, wer't not fit, ere from thy hands it pass
To dress thy self by thy Considering-Glass?
It hath now six months been expos'd to show,
And some say, Forth in publick let it go.
Some, cry, Conceal it; for it may undo thee,
Or at the best, bring outward mischief to thee.
Say, shall, or shall I not divulge the same?
Shall it be spar'd, or given to the flame?
Quickly, resolve, before it bee too late,
And Cautions needful, grow quite out of date.

Dost thou beleeve, that many men will read it?
Or, if they do, that any much will heed it?
Except it bee, to seek how to abuse thee.
Or, finde out somewhat whereof to accuse thee?
What ever thou shalt write, Self-interest
No more will entertain, then shall consist
With her own Principles. Thou, to the SOT
Writ'st Greek: the worldly-wise regard it not;
And if, among Swine, thou thy pearls dost cast,
They'l tear thee, or defile thee at the least.
Yet, if thy Conscience doth incline thee to it,
More fear thou to neglect it, than to do it;
For, from thy Duties thou art not excus'd,
Although thy pains bee slighted and abus'd.
And, it were better, mischief should befall
Unto one single person, then to all:
He perishing with an ill Conscience too,
Because, hee did not, what hee ought to do.

To make this, and transcribe it, I confess,
Much pains requir'd not, and the cost is less.

In Ink and Paper: yet, perhaps, it may
Be better worth, than to be thrown away:
And though to my particular offence
It may redound, a tenfold recompence,
It will repay thy Country by return:
And for thy self alone, thou art not born.

My Country! why, perhaps my Country-men,
Think, they need not my service; and, what then?
Am I oblig'd, if they bee minded so,
To serve them still, whether they will or no?
I, fifty years, have serv'd them in my turn,
To that end, for which (I think) I was born,
For no reward, but injuries and scorn.
They, my Good Meanings, have repay'd with ill,
And, can it be expected, I should still,
Serve them on such hard terms? Then, so I will.

Hast thou composed, without fear or wit,
What, may mens discontented humours fit?
Scribled enough, since here the Scœne did alter,
To purchase Newgate, or, to win a Halter?
If so, and that which is deserved follows,
They will, perhaps, attend thee to the Gallows:
There, either rail upon thee, or, else say,
Thou wert a bold fool, and so go their way.
And, if thou writ'st but sober Truth and Reason,
Or, that, which wise men think to be in season,
This will be all the world will give the for't,
She'll say, that, Thou, not worth the hanging art.
Not, worth the hanging! Hah! that's somewhat tho;
And may be worth as much, for aught I know,
As to be made a Viscount, or an Earl,
A Marquess, or a Duke------
For, great my Earthly Expectations are not,
And, if they come to nothing, much I care not.

I know, which way, to make mine honour greater
Than that, for which I must become a Debter
To other men; and, can augment the same
By that, which some do think, will do me shame.

But, hark! in policy a while delay
To publish this; thou hast a Game to play
For Prelats Lands, which lately purchas'd were;
Thy Claims thereto, now in great hazard are,
And, thou, wilt both to borrow, and to pay,
Disabled bee, if they bee took away:
Thy other Lands, by Cheaters were bereft,
And, if thou lose these too, there's nothing left.
Their Temp'ralties, must bee restored again,
And, thou concerning them, writ'st here, such plain,
Such down-right Truths, that if there should be found
Surviving (or, new made) on English Ground
A Bishop who will then thy cause befriend,
It may presage that all the rest will mend:
And, that, here constituted, wee shall see,
Such Bishops, as Saint Paul said they should bee:
(Which our Scotch-brethren, I suppose, will grant
To bee within, our Solemn Covenant)
But, that, is in great hazard; therefore, try
Their Holiness, and their Humility:
And if, as may bee wish'd, thou shalt not speed,
Then, with what thou intendest streight proceed.

Out! Out Upon't! this Motion is so evil,
That, 'tis a meer suggestion of the Devil.
This, is that foolish policy, that brings
Destruction upon Nations, and their Kings.
'Tis in effect, as if my heart should say,
Do, as most Worldlings do; and when that way
Thou proved hast, and thereby reap'st no good,
From thenceforth, put thy trust alone in GOD.

No, no; I bought those Lands without offending
My Conscience, or a wrong to them intending:
And either still mine by GOD's help I'll make them,
Or, let the Prelates, if it must be, take them;
Although I know them no Appurtenance
To them belonging by GOD's Ordinance.
A Covenant within his sight I took,
Which, though by some is sleighted be, and broke,
I dare not sleight it so, but, to this hour
Have kept it (and will keep it) to my pow'r.

Art thou then thus resolv'd? Yes, and till death
Resolved am, whilst I have Pen or Breath,
Thus to be still resolv'd, unless GOD leaves mee,
Or else to change my mind his warrant gives mee.
I'll trust GOD in the first place, not the last
Alone, and when all other hopes are past.
If Prelates, Parliaments, and Kings bereave mee
Of all I have, He, helpless will not leave mee.

But, probable it seems, that, if hereby
Imprisonment, or extreme Poverty
Befals now thou art old, that they who most
Thy hazard urge, will leave thee to be lost:
What if they do? thou hast a better hold:
GOD leaveth no man because hee is old;
And never had he firm Dependences
On him, that's frighted with such Toyes as these.
Recall to mind, that many years ago,
When such Adventures thou wert urg'd unto
It fell out otherwise. But there is yet
Another fear: Therefore consider it.
Thou hast Relations, who to thee are dear;
May these not suffer more than they can bear,
By what may come? Alas! I'll not dissemble,
My feares for them, do make my flesh to tremble;

And when I minde their hazards and their fears,
Spight of Philosophy I let fall tears.

But why, my Soul, art thon dejected so?
My Heart, why sad within mee, dost thou grow?
Still trust in GOD, for hee will bee their aid.
Of these vain Bug-bears be thou not afraid;
For they are GOD's much more than they are thine:
To him therefore the charge of them resign
This needless care, is but for Three, at most,
And, to the Father, Son, and holy Ghost,
If thou commit them, hee will raise up Friends
To make for all their losses large amends.

But, they have said, and so do many say,
That men are much estranged at this day
From what they were: that, in these latter times
They are grown much more hardned in their crimes,
And far less sensible than they were then
Of sufferings, which befel to honest men,
Who (when their pains might that way be bestown)
Preferr'd the common good before their own:
And that their number too, who now are griev'd,
Is more than their, by whom to be reliev'd,
They may have hope. Alas! if it be thus,
GOD only can, and he must succour us.

If it be so, our case is very sad:
Yet fear not, Balm in Gilead may be had.
Thy Pains, and this Adventure such times need:
On good Intentions, good Effects succeed;
And, hee at last will finde it so, who scatters
His Bread, although it be upon the waters:
For God is still the same; his Truth will never
Be Falshood, but continue Truth for ever.
Hee, who thee hath preserv'd so many years
Amid so many Dangers, Foes, and Fears,

As thou hast passed through (and thy Oppressors
Destroy'd from time to time, with their Successors)
Will still preserve thee; or, else, thither take thee
From them, where, hee'l secure for ever make thee;
And, be to Wife and Children at their need,
A Husband, and a Father in thy steed.

Well; I beleeve this; with my self, therefore
Hereof, I will expostulate no more.
I have so well, in my Considering-Glass,
View'd, what my heart now is, with what it was,
And, for what may befall, prepar'd it so,
That, whither GOD will send it, let it go:
Take it among you, Newters, Friends, and Foes,
And his Will be fulfilled, WIN or LOSE:
Who since I am excused from the cost
Of Publication (because all I've lost)
Will in the best time, some mans heart incline
To add his contribution unto mine;
That, what now six months hath perused been
In private, may more publickly bee seen.

Geo. Wither.

Decemb. 13. 1660.

University of Virginia Library

[George, wer't not fit, ere from thy hands it pass]

In stead of a Dedication, or an Epistle to the Reader, this Expostulation of the Author with Himself, is here inserted.