Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Her ayd implor'd, the Queene refuses
To helpe them, and her selfe excuses:
But (urg'd by Mordecai) consents
To die, or crosse their foes intents.

Now when the servant had returrn'd the words
Of wretched Mordecai, like pointed swords
They neere impierc't Queene Esters tender heart,
That well could pity, but no helpe impart;
Ballac'd with griefe, and with the burthen foyld,
(Like Ordnance over-charg'd) she thus recoyl'd:

Goe, Hatach, tell my wretched kinsman thus,
The case concernes not you alone, but us:
We are the subject of proud Hamans hate,
As well as you; our life is pointed at
As well as yours, or as the meanest Iew,
Nor can I helpe my selfe, nor them, nor you:
You know the Custome of the Persian State,
No King may breake, no subject violate:
How may I then presume to make accesse
Before th'offended King? or rudely presse
(Vncall'd) into his presence? How can I
Expect my suit, and have deserv'd to dye?
May my desiers hope to find successe,
When to effect them, I the Law transgresse?
These thirty dayes uncall'd for have J bin
Vnto my Lord; How dare I now goe in?
Goe, Hatach, and returne this heavy newes
And shew the truth of my vnforc'd excuse.

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Whereof when Mordecai was full possest,
His troubled Soule he boldly thus exprest:

Goe, tell the fearfull Queene; too great's her feare,
Too small her zeale; her life she rates too deare:
How poore's th'adventure, to ingage thy blood,
To save thy peoples life, and Churches good?
To what advantage canst thou more expose
Thy life than this? Th'ast but a life to lose;
Thinke not, thy Greatnesse can excuse our death,
Or save thy life, thy life is but a breath
As well as ours, (Great Queene) thou hop'st in vaine,
In saving of a life, a life to gaine:
Who knowes if God on purpose did intend
Thy high preferment for this happy end?
If at this needfull time thou spare to speake,
Our speedy helpe shall (like the morning) breake
From heaven, together with thy woes; and be
That succours us, shall heape his plagues on thee.

Which when Queen Ester had right well perus'd,
And on each wounding word had sadly mus'd,
Startled with zeale, not daring to deny,
She rouz'd her faith, and sent this meeke reply:

Since heaven it is endowes each enterprize
With good successe, and onely in us lies
To plant, and water; let us first obtaine
Heavens high assistance, lest the worke be vaine:
Let all the Iewes in Susa summon'd be,
And keepe a solemne three dayes Fast, and we,
With all our servants, and our maiden traine,
Shall fast as long, and from our thoughts abstaine:
Then to the King (uncall'd) will I repaire,
(Howe'r my boldnesse shall his Lawes contraire,)
And brauely welcome Death before mine eye,
And scorne her power: If I dye, I dye.

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Meditat. 10.

As in the winged Common-wealth of Bees,
(Whose carefull Summer-providence foresees
Th'approching fruitlesse Winter, which denies
The crowne of labour) some with laden thighs
Take charge to beare their waxy burthens home;
Others receive the welcome load; and some
Dispose the waxe; others, the plot contrive;
Some build the curious Comb, some guard the Hive
Like armed Centinels; others distreine
The purer honey from the waxe; some traine,
And discipline the young, while others drive
The sluggish Drones from their deserved Hive:
Thus in this Common-wealth (untaught by Art)
Each winged Burger acts his busie part;
So man (whose first creation did intend,
And chiefly pointed at no other end,
Then (as a faithfull Steward) to receive
The Fine and quit-rent of the lives we live)
Must suit his deare indeavour to his might;
Each one must lift, to make the burthen light,
Proving the power, that his gifts afford,
To raise the best advantage for his Lord,
Whose substitute he is, and for whose sake
We live and breath; each his account must make,
Or more, or lesse; and he whose power lacks
The meanes to gather honey, must bring waxe:
Five Talents double five; two render foure;
Wher's little, little's crav'd, where much, there's more:
Kings by their Royall priviledge may do,
What unbefits a mind to search into,

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But by the force of their prerogatives,
They cannot free the custome of their lives:
The silly Widow (from whose wrinkled browes
Faint drops distill, through labour that she owes
Her needy life, must make her Audite too,
As well as Kings, and mighty Monarks doe:
The world's a Stage, each mortall Acts thereon,
As well the King that glitters on the throne,
As needy beggers: Heav'n Spectator is,
And markers who acteth well, and who amisse.

What part befits me best, I cannot tell:
It matters not how meane, so acted well.