The Wisdome of Solomon Paraphrased Written by Thomas Middleton |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIIII. |
| XV. |
Chapter XV.
|
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
 |
Chapter XV.
The Wisdome of Solomon Paraphrased |  |
Chapter XV.
Uer. 1
But God will neuer die his hands with bloud,
His heart with hate, his throne with crueltie,
His face with furies map, his browe with cloud,
His raigne with rage, his crowne with tyrannie:
Gratious is he, long-suffering, and true,
Which ruleth all things with his mercies view.
His heart with hate, his throne with crueltie,
His face with furies map, his browe with cloud,
His raigne with rage, his crowne with tyrannie:
Gratious is he, long-suffering, and true,
Which ruleth all things with his mercies view.
Gratious, for where is grace but where he is?
The fountaine-head the euer-boundlesse streame,
Patient, for where is patience in amisse,
If not conducted by pure graces beame:
Truth is the moderator of them both,
For grace and patience are of truest groth.
The fountaine-head the euer-boundlesse streame,
Patient, for where is patience in amisse,
If not conducted by pure graces beame:
Truth is the moderator of them both,
For grace and patience are of truest groth.
Ver. 2
For grace-beginning truth, doth end in grace,
As truth-beginning grace, doth end in truth,
Now patience takes the moderators place,
Yong-olde in suffering, olde-yong in ruth:
Patience is olde in being alwaies yong,
Not hauing right, nor euer offering wrong,
As truth-beginning grace, doth end in truth,
Now patience takes the moderators place,
Yong-olde in suffering, olde-yong in ruth:
Patience is olde in being alwaies yong,
Not hauing right, nor euer offering wrong,
So this is moderator of Gods rage,
Pardoning those deeds, which wee in sin commit,
That if wee sin, shee is our freedomes gage,
And wee still thine, though to be thine vnfit:
In being thine (ô Lord) wee will not sin,
That we thy patience, grace, and truth may win.
Pardoning those deeds, which wee in sin commit,
That if wee sin, shee is our freedomes gage,
And wee still thine, though to be thine vnfit:
In being thine (ô Lord) wee will not sin,
That we thy patience, grace, and truth may win.
Uer. 3
O grant vs patience in whose grant we rest,
To right our wrong, and not to wrong the right,
Giue vs thy grace (ô Lord) to make vs blest,
That grace might blesse, & blisse might grace our sight:
Make our beginning and our sequell truth,
To make vs yong in age, and graue in youth,
To right our wrong, and not to wrong the right,
Giue vs thy grace (ô Lord) to make vs blest,
That grace might blesse, & blisse might grace our sight:
Make our beginning and our sequell truth,
To make vs yong in age, and graue in youth,
Wee know that our demaunds rest in thy will,
Our will rests in thy word, our worde in thee,
Thou in our orisons, which dost fullfill,
That wished action, which wee wish to bee:
Tis perfect righteousnes to know thee right,
Tis immortalitie to know thy might.
Our will rests in thy word, our worde in thee,
Thou in our orisons, which dost fullfill,
That wished action, which wee wish to bee:
Tis perfect righteousnes to know thee right,
Tis immortalitie to know thy might.
Verse 4 5
In knowing thee, we know both good and ill,
Good, to know good and ill, ill to know none,
In knowing all, wee know thy sacred will,
And what to do, and what to leaue vndone:
We are deceiu'd, not knowing to deceiue,
In knowing good and ill, wee take and leaue.
Good, to know good and ill, ill to know none,
In knowing all, wee know thy sacred will,
And what to do, and what to leaue vndone:
We are deceiu'd, not knowing to deceiue,
In knowing good and ill, wee take and leaue.
The glasse of vanitie, deceit, and showes,
The painters labour, the beguiling face,
The diuers-coloured image of suppose,
Cannot deceiue the substance of thy grace:
Only a snare, to those of common wit,
Which couets to be like, in hauing it.
The painters labour, the beguiling face,
The diuers-coloured image of suppose,
Cannot deceiue the substance of thy grace:
Only a snare, to those of common wit,
Which couets to be like, in hauing it.
Uerse 6
The greedy lucre of a witlesse braine,
This feeding auarice on sencelesse minde,
Is rather hurt, then good, a losse, then gaine,
Which couets for to loose and not to finde:
So they were coloured with such a face,
They would not care to take the idols place.
This feeding auarice on sencelesse minde,
Is rather hurt, then good, a losse, then gaine,
Which couets for to loose and not to finde:
So they were coloured with such a face,
They would not care to take the idols place.
Then be your thoughts coherent to your words,
Your words as correspondent to your thought,
Tis reason you should haue what loue affords:
And trust in that which loue so dearely bought:
The maker must needs loue what he hath made,
And the desirers free of either trade.
Your words as correspondent to your thought,
Tis reason you should haue what loue affords:
And trust in that which loue so dearely bought:
The maker must needs loue what he hath made,
And the desirers free of either trade.
Verse 7
Man, thou wast made, art thou a maker now?
Yes, tis thy trade, for thou a potter art,
Tempring softe earth, making the clay to bow,
But clayie thou, dost beare too stout a hart:
The clay is humble to thy rigorous hands,
Thou clay, too tough against thy Gods commaūds.
Yes, tis thy trade, for thou a potter art,
Tempring softe earth, making the clay to bow,
But clayie thou, dost beare too stout a hart:
The clay is humble to thy rigorous hands,
Thou clay, too tough against thy Gods commaūds.
If thou want'st slime, beholde thy slimie faults,
If thou want'st clay, beholde thy clayie breast,
Make them to be the deepest centres vaults,
And let all clayie mountaines sleepe in rest:
Thou bear'st an earthly mountaine on thy back,
Thy harts chiefe prison-house thy souls chief wrack.
If thou want'st clay, beholde thy clayie breast,
Make them to be the deepest centres vaults,
And let all clayie mountaines sleepe in rest:
Thou bear'st an earthly mountaine on thy back,
Thy harts chiefe prison-house thy souls chief wrack.
Uer. 8
Art thou a mortall man, and mak'st a God,
A God of clay, thou but a man of clay,
O suds of mischiefe, in destruction sod,
O vainest labour in a vainer playe:
Man is the greatest worke which God did take:
And yet a God with man is nought to make.
A God of clay, thou but a man of clay,
O suds of mischiefe, in destruction sod,
O vainest labour in a vainer playe:
Man is the greatest worke which God did take:
And yet a God with man is nought to make.
Hee that was made of earth, would make a heau'n,
If heauen may be made vpon the earth,
Sins heires, the ayres, sins plants, the planets seau'n,
Their God a clod, his birth, true vertues dearth:
Remember whence you came whither you goe,
Of earth, in earth, from earth to earth in woe.
If heauen may be made vpon the earth,
Sins heires, the ayres, sins plants, the planets seau'n,
Their God a clod, his birth, true vertues dearth:
Remember whence you came whither you goe,
Of earth, in earth, from earth to earth in woe.
Verse 9
No, quoth the potter, as I haue beene clay,
So will I end with what I did begin,
I am of earth, and I doe what earth may,
I am of dust, and therefore will I sin:
My life is short, what then? I'le make it longer,
My life is weake, what then? I'le make it stronger.
So will I end with what I did begin,
I am of earth, and I doe what earth may,
I am of dust, and therefore will I sin:
My life is short, what then? I'le make it longer,
My life is weake, what then? I'le make it stronger.
Long shall it liue in vice, though short in length,
And fetch immortall steps, from mortall stops,
Strong shall it be in sin, though weake in strength,
Like mounting Eagles, on high mountaines tops:
My honour shall bee placed in deceit,
And counterfait new shewes of little weight.
And fetch immortall steps, from mortall stops,
Strong shall it be in sin, though weake in strength,
Like mounting Eagles, on high mountaines tops:
My honour shall bee placed in deceit,
And counterfait new shewes of little weight.
Uerse 10
My pen doth almost blush at this replie,
And faine would call him wicked to his face,
But then his breath would answere with a lie,
And staine my inck with an vntruths disgrace:
Thy maister bids thee write, the pen sayes no,
But when thy maister bids, it must be so.
And faine would call him wicked to his face,
But then his breath would answere with a lie,
And staine my inck with an vntruths disgrace:
Thy maister bids thee write, the pen sayes no,
But when thy maister bids, it must be so.
Call his hart ashes: oh too mild a name,
Call his hope vile, more viler then the earth,
Call his life weaker then a clayeie frame,
Call his bespotted heart, an ashye hearth:
Ashes, earth, clay, conioyn'd to heart, hope, life,
Are features loue, in being natures strife.
Call his hope vile, more viler then the earth,
Call his life weaker then a clayeie frame,
Call his bespotted heart, an ashye hearth:
Ashes, earth, clay, conioyn'd to heart, hope, life,
Are features loue, in being natures strife.
Verse 11
Thou mightst haue chose more stinging wordes then these
For this he knowes he is, and more, then lesse,
In saying what he is, thou dost appease,
The foming anger which his thoughts suppresse:
Who knowes not, if the best be made of clay,
The worst must needs be clad in foule array.
For this he knowes he is, and more, then lesse,
In saying what he is, thou dost appease,
The foming anger which his thoughts suppresse:
Who knowes not, if the best be made of clay,
The worst must needs be clad in foule array.
Thou in performing of thy maisters will,
Dost teach him to obay his lords commaunds,
But he repugnant is, and cannot skill
Of true adoring, with heart-heau'd vp hand:
Hee hath a soule, a life, a breath, a name,
Yet is he ignorant from whence they came.
Dost teach him to obay his lords commaunds,
But he repugnant is, and cannot skill
Of true adoring, with heart-heau'd vp hand:
Hee hath a soule, a life, a breath, a name,
Yet is he ignorant from whence they came.
Uerse 12
My soule, saith he, is but a mappe of shoes,
No substance, but a shadow for to please,
My life doth passe, euen as a pastime goes,
A momentary time to liue at ease:
My breath a vapour, and my name of earth,
Each one decaying of the others birth.
No substance, but a shadow for to please,
My life doth passe, euen as a pastime goes,
A momentary time to liue at ease:
My breath a vapour, and my name of earth,
Each one decaying of the others birth.
Our conuersation best, for there is gaines,
And gaine is best in conuersations prime,
A mart of lucre in our conscience raignes,
Our thoughts as busie agents for the time:
So we get gaine ensnaring simple men,
It is no matter how, nor where, nor when.
And gaine is best in conuersations prime,
A mart of lucre in our conscience raignes,
Our thoughts as busie agents for the time:
So we get gaine ensnaring simple men,
It is no matter how, nor where, nor when.
Verse 13
We care not how, for all misdeedes are ours,
We care not where, if before God or man,
We care not when, but when our crafts haue powres,
In measuring deceit with mischiefes fanne:
For wherefore haue we life, forme, and ordaining,
But that we should deceiue, and still be gaining?
We care not where, if before God or man,
We care not when, but when our crafts haue powres,
In measuring deceit with mischiefes fanne:
For wherefore haue we life, forme, and ordaining,
But that we should deceiue, and still be gaining?
I made of earth, haue made al earthen shops,
And what I sell is al of earthy sale,
My pots haue earthen feete, and earthen tops,
In like resemblance of my bodies vale:
But knowing to offend the heauens more,
I made fraile images of earthy store.
And what I sell is al of earthy sale,
My pots haue earthen feete, and earthen tops,
In like resemblance of my bodies vale:
But knowing to offend the heauens more,
I made fraile images of earthy store.
Uer. 14
O bold accuser of his owne misdeedes,
O heauy clod more than the earth can beare,
Was neuer creature clothde in sauage weedes,
Which would not blush when they this mischief hear:
Thou toldst a tale which might haue bin vntolde.
Making the hearers blush, the readers olde.
O heauy clod more than the earth can beare,
Was neuer creature clothde in sauage weedes,
Which would not blush when they this mischief hear:
Thou toldst a tale which might haue bin vntolde.
Making the hearers blush, the readers olde.
Let them blush still that heares, be olde that reades,
Then boldnes shal not raigne, nor youth in vice,
Thrice miserable they which rashly speeds,
With expedition to this bold deuice:
More foolish than are fooles, whose misery
Cannot be changde with new felicitie.
Then boldnes shal not raigne, nor youth in vice,
Thrice miserable they which rashly speeds,
With expedition to this bold deuice:
More foolish than are fooles, whose misery
Cannot be changde with new felicitie.
Ver. 15
Are not they fooles which liue without a sence,
Haue not they misery which neuer ioy?
Which takes an idoll for a Gods defence,
And with their self-willd thoghts themselues destroy?
What folly is more greater than is here?
Or what more miserie can wel appeere?
Haue not they misery which neuer ioy?
Which takes an idoll for a Gods defence,
And with their self-willd thoghts themselues destroy?
What folly is more greater than is here?
Or what more miserie can wel appeere?
Call you them gods which haue no seeing eyes?
No noses for to smell, no eares to heare,
No life but that which in deaths shadow lies,
Which haue no hands to feele, no feete to beare:
If gods can neither heare, liue, feele, nor see,
A foole may make such gods of euery tree.
No noses for to smell, no eares to heare,
No life but that which in deaths shadow lies,
Which haue no hands to feele, no feete to beare:
If gods can neither heare, liue, feele, nor see,
A foole may make such gods of euery tree.
Uerse 16
And what was he that made them but a foole?
Conceiuing follie in a foolish braine,
Taught and instructed in a wodden schoole,
Which made his head run of a wodden vaine:
Twas man which made them, he his making had,
Man full of wood, was wood, and so ran mad.
Conceiuing follie in a foolish braine,
Taught and instructed in a wodden schoole,
Which made his head run of a wodden vaine:
Twas man which made them, he his making had,
Man full of wood, was wood, and so ran mad.
He borrowed his life, and would restore
His borrowed essence to another death,
He faine would be a maker, though before
Was made himselfe, and God did lend him breath:
No man can make a god like to a man,
He sayes he scornes that worke, he furder can.
His borrowed essence to another death,
He faine would be a maker, though before
Was made himselfe, and God did lend him breath:
No man can make a god like to a man,
He sayes he scornes that worke, he furder can.
Verse 17
He is deceiude, and in his great deceit,
He doth deceiue the folly-guided harts,
Sin lies in ambush, he for sin doth waite,
Here is deceit deceiude, in either parts:
His sin deceiueth him, and he his sin,
So craft with craft is mewed in either gin.
He doth deceiue the folly-guided harts,
Sin lies in ambush, he for sin doth waite,
Here is deceit deceiude, in either parts:
His sin deceiueth him, and he his sin,
So craft with craft is mewed in either gin.
The crafts-man mortall is, craft mortall is,
Each function nursing vp the others want,
His hands are mortall, deadly what is his,
Onely his sins buds in destructions plant:
Yet better he, than what he doth deuise,
For he himselfe doth liue that euer dies.
Each function nursing vp the others want,
His hands are mortall, deadly what is his,
Onely his sins buds in destructions plant:
Yet better he, than what he doth deuise,
For he himselfe doth liue that euer dies.
Uer. 18
Say, call you this a God? where is his head?
Yet headlesse is he not, yet hath he none:
Where is his godhead? fled; his power? dead;
His raigne? decayed; and his essence? gone:
Now tell me, is this God the God of good?
Or else Siluanus monarch of the wood.
Yet headlesse is he not, yet hath he none:
Where is his godhead? fled; his power? dead;
His raigne? decayed; and his essence? gone:
Now tell me, is this God the God of good?
Or else Siluanus monarch of the wood.
There haue I pierst his barke, for he is so,
A wooden god, fainde as Siluanus was:
But leauing him, to others let vs go,
To senslesse beasts their new adoring glasse:
Beasts which did liue in life, yet died in reason,
Beasts which did seasons eate, yet knew no season.
A wooden god, fainde as Siluanus was:
But leauing him, to others let vs go,
To senslesse beasts their new adoring glasse:
Beasts which did liue in life, yet died in reason,
Beasts which did seasons eate, yet knew no season.
Ver. 19
Can mortall bodies, and immortall soules
Keepe one knit vnion of a liuing loue?
Can sea with land? can fish agree with foules?
Tygers with lambes, a serpent with a doue?
Oh no, they cannot; then say, why doe wee,
Adore a beast which is our enimy.
Keepe one knit vnion of a liuing loue?
Can sea with land? can fish agree with foules?
Tygers with lambes, a serpent with a doue?
Oh no, they cannot; then say, why doe wee,
Adore a beast which is our enimy.
What greater foe than folly vnto wit?
What more deformitie than vgly face?
This disagrees, for follie is vnfit,
The other contrary to beauties place:
Then how can senslesse heads, deformed shoes,
Agree with you when they are both your foes.
What more deformitie than vgly face?
This disagrees, for follie is vnfit,
The other contrary to beauties place:
Then how can senslesse heads, deformed shoes,
Agree with you when they are both your foes.
|
Chapter XV.
The Wisdome of Solomon Paraphrased | |