The grand Tryal or, Poetical Exercitations upon the book of Job. Wherein, Suitable to each Text of that sacred Book, a modest Explanation, and Continuation of the several Discourses contained in it, is attempted by William Clark |
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| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| III. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. | Cap. XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| IV. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| V. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
 | The grand Tryal |  |
Cap. XVIII.
Thus having long discours'd, and become faint,
With speaking much, Job would have been content,
T'have had some respite for a while, but that
His friends had still resolved to debate
Upon the subject, and still mean't t'evince,
That he was only punish'd for his sins.
Then Zophar now, and learned Eliphaz
Supposing they had argued the case
So fully, as that no more could be said,
Thinking it needlesse any more to plead;
Bildad, a man, who had not spoke much yet,
But listned most o'th' time to their debate,
Resolves now with his friend to argue too,
And try what his brisque Rhetorick can do.
With speaking much, Job would have been content,
T'have had some respite for a while, but that
His friends had still resolved to debate
Upon the subject, and still mean't t'evince,
That he was only punish'd for his sins.
Then Zophar now, and learned Eliphaz
Supposing they had argued the case
So fully, as that no more could be said,
Thinking it needlesse any more to plead;
Bildad, a man, who had not spoke much yet,
But listned most o'th' time to their debate,
Resolves now with his friend to argue too,
And try what his brisque Rhetorick can do.
When, says he, will thy flamming passions cool,
When wilt thou cease to act the angry fool?
Why so enrag'd? why with such bitternesse,
Against thy friends dost thou thy self expresse?
What have we done, that thou shouldst thus accuse
Thy best of friends? in this thou dost abuse
Our gentle nature: I would then advise
Thee in thy language to become more wise,
And not upbraid us thus, as if thou thought
We were all Ideots, Dunces, men of nought.
Thou treat'st us with expressions of scorn,
Words of contempt, words hardly to be born
By men of worth, and ingenuity,
Men, who do live by rules of piety,
As well, as ever thou didst hitherto,
And, in the fear of God, exceed thee now.
When wilt thou cease to act the angry fool?
Why so enrag'd? why with such bitternesse,
Against thy friends dost thou thy self expresse?
What have we done, that thou shouldst thus accuse
Thy best of friends? in this thou dost abuse
Our gentle nature: I would then advise
Thee in thy language to become more wise,
And not upbraid us thus, as if thou thought
We were all Ideots, Dunces, men of nought.
Thou treat'st us with expressions of scorn,
134
By men of worth, and ingenuity,
Men, who do live by rules of piety,
As well, as ever thou didst hitherto,
And, in the fear of God, exceed thee now.
For thou dost rave, and somtimes wilt direct
Thy speech to God, in such a Dialect,
In such expostulating words, as though,
For all the torture thou dost undergo,
Thou'd challenge him as Author: him, who sends
Judgments, where he thinks fit, what he intends
None can oppose: him, who on high doth sit,
And judges all the World as he thinks fit.
Yet with this God, forsooth, thou darst debate,
And with thy Maker thus expostulat,
And that in words too so impertinent,
As none that fear'd that Majesty would vent,
Words so imperious, words so arrogant,
Words so unusual, and extravagant,
Words so approaching open Blasphemy
That wee're affraid to bear thee company.
Thy speech to God, in such a Dialect,
In such expostulating words, as though,
For all the torture thou dost undergo,
Thou'd challenge him as Author: him, who sends
Judgments, where he thinks fit, what he intends
None can oppose: him, who on high doth sit,
And judges all the World as he thinks fit.
Yet with this God, forsooth, thou darst debate,
And with thy Maker thus expostulat,
And that in words too so impertinent,
As none that fear'd that Majesty would vent,
Words so imperious, words so arrogant,
Words so unusual, and extravagant,
Words so approaching open Blasphemy
That wee're affraid to bear thee company.
Thou talks't with God, as if thou didst not know
'Tis he, that made the Heavens, thou blustrest so,
As if thou talk'd with men, and dost so shake
In fits of passion, in discourse so weak,
As one should say—I know not what I speak.
Consider well now pray, if thou wouldst dare
Address in language so familiar,
Thy self to any Prince on earth, as now
Thou dost to th'King of Kings; Consider too
How much already thou hast rouz'd his wrath,
And make him not pursue thee to the Death.
'Tis he, that made the Heavens, thou blustrest so,
As if thou talk'd with men, and dost so shake
In fits of passion, in discourse so weak,
As one should say—I know not what I speak.
Consider well now pray, if thou wouldst dare
Address in language so familiar,
Thy self to any Prince on earth, as now
Thou dost to th'King of Kings; Consider too
How much already thou hast rouz'd his wrath,
And make him not pursue thee to the Death.
Thus dost thou speak to God, and then anon,
Like one in frantick Fits, thou fall'st upon
Thy honest Friends, men, who do pity thee,
And are indeed much troubled thus to see
One whom they always lov'd, one they esteem'd,
One, whom they never, (but with honour) nam'd:
One, whose afflictions from their very soul,
They're now come hither meerly to condole,
In such disorder. But proceed, my friend,
Only let's know, when thou wilt put an end
To thy Discourse: pray let us understand,
(For all the ills we merit at thy hand)
Only when thou hast done; we ask no more,
But teach us when thy speech thou wilt give ore,
When thou'lt an end of all this language make,
That we may know when it is time to speak.
Like one in frantick Fits, thou fall'st upon
Thy honest Friends, men, who do pity thee,
And are indeed much troubled thus to see
One whom they always lov'd, one they esteem'd,
One, whom they never, (but with honour) nam'd:
One, whose afflictions from their very soul,
They're now come hither meerly to condole,
In such disorder. But proceed, my friend,
Only let's know, when thou wilt put an end
To thy Discourse: pray let us understand,
(For all the ills we merit at thy hand)
Only when thou hast done; we ask no more,
But teach us when thy speech thou wilt give ore,
When thou'lt an end of all this language make,
That we may know when it is time to speak.
Pray what dost mean, my friend, that thou shouldst treat,
Men of our Reputation at this rate?
Pray' what dost take us for? dost think but we
Can all express our minds as well as thee,
Were we inclin'd, with as much foolish heat
Thy rude expressions to retaliat?
Compar'd with thee forsooth, it seems we're all
But very beasts, or what thou'rt pleas'd to call,
In thy sharp passion, men esteem'd by none
To be such bruites, but by thy self alone.
We're all forsooth but Boobies in thy eyes:
How long is't, friend, since thou became so wise?
Sure it must be of late, for formerly,
When thou didst flourish in prosperity,
We knew thee, at the best, but even such,
As we're our selves: but now thou talk'st as much,
As though thy Wit were more than natural,
And thou of late knew more than we do all.
Pray let us know from whence this Wisdom then
Proceeds, in which beyond all other men
Thou dost excell: pray let us know, my friend,
By what unheard of means, thou hast attain'd
To so much Wisdom in so short a space,
For, since we see thee, in thy prosp'rous case,
Not many months are past, and truely then
We thought thee no more wise then other men.
Then cannot I conjecture whence indeed,
This so transcendent wisdom doth proceed;
Nor from what source it has its derivation,
Unless it flow frim suddain inspiration.
Men of our Reputation at this rate?
Pray' what dost take us for? dost think but we
Can all express our minds as well as thee,
Were we inclin'd, with as much foolish heat
Thy rude expressions to retaliat?
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But very beasts, or what thou'rt pleas'd to call,
In thy sharp passion, men esteem'd by none
To be such bruites, but by thy self alone.
We're all forsooth but Boobies in thy eyes:
How long is't, friend, since thou became so wise?
Sure it must be of late, for formerly,
When thou didst flourish in prosperity,
We knew thee, at the best, but even such,
As we're our selves: but now thou talk'st as much,
As though thy Wit were more than natural,
And thou of late knew more than we do all.
Pray let us know from whence this Wisdom then
Proceeds, in which beyond all other men
Thou dost excell: pray let us know, my friend,
By what unheard of means, thou hast attain'd
To so much Wisdom in so short a space,
For, since we see thee, in thy prosp'rous case,
Not many months are past, and truely then
We thought thee no more wise then other men.
Then cannot I conjecture whence indeed,
This so transcendent wisdom doth proceed;
Nor from what source it has its derivation,
Unless it flow frim suddain inspiration.
But seriously, my friend, when I reflect
On what I've heard, what I did not expect
From such a man as Job: and when I see
How most unjustly we're accus'd by thee,
As men come hither, without all intent
Of comforting, but meerly to torment
Thy soul, with bitter words: and multiply
Thy sorrows by our unkind company;
Whilst, with debates we make thy pains encrease,
When, God knows, we endeavour nothing lesse.
On what I've heard, what I did not expect
From such a man as Job: and when I see
How most unjustly we're accus'd by thee,
As men come hither, without all intent
Of comforting, but meerly to torment
Thy soul, with bitter words: and multiply
Thy sorrows by our unkind company;
Whilst, with debates we make thy pains encrease,
When, God knows, we endeavour nothing lesse.
When thus, I say, in sadnesse, I reflect
On the rash words, which I have heard thee speak,
As, if thou were't in pure vindictive rage,
Resolv'd for lewd, and horrid crimes to stage,
Not only us, who are but silly men,
Such as thy self, but even to arraign
The Government of Heavens: as if that God
Did upon thee unjustly use his Rod:
On thee, a creature just, and innocent;
Who never yet knew what transgression mean't,
And, on that ground, thou dost conclude that he
Must be unjust, who thus tormenteth thee.
On the rash words, which I have heard thee speak,
As, if thou were't in pure vindictive rage,
Resolv'd for lewd, and horrid crimes to stage,
Not only us, who are but silly men,
Such as thy self, but even to arraign
The Government of Heavens: as if that God
Did upon thee unjustly use his Rod:
On thee, a creature just, and innocent;
Who never yet knew what transgression mean't,
And, on that ground, thou dost conclude that he
Must be unjust, who thus tormenteth thee.
When I reflect on this, and seriously
Observe thy carriage in this misery,
I think thou art so far from being more
Prudent, and knowing then thou wert before,
That thou art down-right mad.—
For who, but one that's rap't out of his wits,
Whose mind is troubled by invading fits,
Would make so great a noise? thus cry, and howl,
And in his anger tear his very Soul,
As thou dost now thy self in wrath expresse,
As though thou were't first Martyr in the case.
How from my Soul do I commiserat
A man in such a sad distracted state:
Why dost thou think but other men as well
As thou, my friend, the same afflictions feel?
Thy case indeed is no ways singular,
Nor are thy sufferings extraordinar:
Then why, my friend, art thou become so vain,
To think thou shouldst not feel, what other men
As good, as thee, do dayly undergo,
And make not half this noise of it, if so,
I do, with sorrow look upon thy state,
And think indeed it is more desperate
Then that of those shut up in Hospitals,
For most of these have lucid intervals,
But thou hast none; their fury may be tam'd,
By strength of Medicine, and they reclaim'd
By time to their own wits: thine doth encrease,
And seems to be a madness in excess.
Thy fury seizes on thee more, and more,
Beyond the approved cure of Hallebore.
For thou dost think that God, to favour thee,
Should alter his established decree,
And even be pleas'd, on thy account, to change
The so well ordred course of Nature:—strange
That any mortal man endu'd with reason,
Should dar to hatch within his breast such treason
Against Heavens King! dost think that God will make
The lofty Rocks within their Sockets shake,
Or mash the Frame of Nature, for thy sake?
Dost think he'll make the Earth turn desolate,
To complement thee in thy sad estate?
Or make Men, Beasts, Birds, Fishes in the Sea,
Endure the same afflictions with thee?
That the whole Universe, from Pole, to Pole,
Might, with one voice thy miseries condole.
Observe thy carriage in this misery,
I think thou art so far from being more
Prudent, and knowing then thou wert before,
That thou art down-right mad.—
For who, but one that's rap't out of his wits,
Whose mind is troubled by invading fits,
Would make so great a noise? thus cry, and howl,
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As thou dost now thy self in wrath expresse,
As though thou were't first Martyr in the case.
How from my Soul do I commiserat
A man in such a sad distracted state:
Why dost thou think but other men as well
As thou, my friend, the same afflictions feel?
Thy case indeed is no ways singular,
Nor are thy sufferings extraordinar:
Then why, my friend, art thou become so vain,
To think thou shouldst not feel, what other men
As good, as thee, do dayly undergo,
And make not half this noise of it, if so,
I do, with sorrow look upon thy state,
And think indeed it is more desperate
Then that of those shut up in Hospitals,
For most of these have lucid intervals,
But thou hast none; their fury may be tam'd,
By strength of Medicine, and they reclaim'd
By time to their own wits: thine doth encrease,
And seems to be a madness in excess.
Thy fury seizes on thee more, and more,
Beyond the approved cure of Hallebore.
For thou dost think that God, to favour thee,
Should alter his established decree,
And even be pleas'd, on thy account, to change
The so well ordred course of Nature:—strange
That any mortal man endu'd with reason,
Should dar to hatch within his breast such treason
Against Heavens King! dost think that God will make
The lofty Rocks within their Sockets shake,
Or mash the Frame of Nature, for thy sake?
Dost think he'll make the Earth turn desolate,
To complement thee in thy sad estate?
Or make Men, Beasts, Birds, Fishes in the Sea,
Endure the same afflictions with thee?
That the whole Universe, from Pole, to Pole,
Might, with one voice thy miseries condole.
Alace, my friend, thou rav'st, thou rav'st indeed,
If thou foment such fancies: pray take heed
What thou dost think, at least what thou dost speak,
For thy expressions show thy judgement weak.
And (which is yet a sign more evident
Of thy distemper, and an argument
Of thy disordred mind) with confidence,
Because we seem to doubt thy innocence,
Thou calls't us fools, and dunces, which implyes
As much as thou think'st thou art hugely wise.
Whilst all wise men conclude, without debate,
That every man wise in his own conceit,
Is but a fool: of which alace I see,
A too true demonstration in thee.
If thou foment such fancies: pray take heed
What thou dost think, at least what thou dost speak,
For thy expressions show thy judgement weak.
And (which is yet a sign more evident
Of thy distemper, and an argument
Of thy disordred mind) with confidence,
Because we seem to doubt thy innocence,
Thou calls't us fools, and dunces, which implyes
As much as thou think'st thou art hugely wise.
Whilst all wise men conclude, without debate,
That every man wise in his own conceit,
Is but a fool: of which alace I see,
A too true demonstration in thee.
And therefore, with more reason, I'd request,
Then thou hast us, thou would not speak at least,
For, in this troubled state, I'd thee advise
To hold thy peace, and we shall think thee wise,
At least, as we have heard, with patience
All thy discourse, and taken no offence
At thy injurious words, so thou wouldst hear
What I intend to speak, which, though I fear
Will quadrat too much with thy case, yet I
With all discretion, shall forbear t'apply,
But only shall endeavour to expresse,
In a few words, my judgement on the case.
Then thou hast us, thou would not speak at least,
137
To hold thy peace, and we shall think thee wise,
At least, as we have heard, with patience
All thy discourse, and taken no offence
At thy injurious words, so thou wouldst hear
What I intend to speak, which, though I fear
Will quadrat too much with thy case, yet I
With all discretion, shall forbear t'apply,
But only shall endeavour to expresse,
In a few words, my judgement on the case.
I see, my friend then (though thou still dost plead,
Not guilty) yet a man may plainly read,
In thy afflictions what's the cause of all
Thy miseries; which I do freely call
Thy crying sins; thy unjust dealings:—hence
Those woes, from these thy sufferings commence.
Thy judgements clearly do thy sins expresse
To all of us, though thou wilt not confesse:
But cunningly wouldst still plead innocent,
And truly there's no greater argument
Of guilt, then still denying, when impeach'd:
But, for all thy defences, God has reach'd
Thee in his justice, and has punish'd thee
For thy foul sins, in manner, as we see.
Not guilty) yet a man may plainly read,
In thy afflictions what's the cause of all
Thy miseries; which I do freely call
Thy crying sins; thy unjust dealings:—hence
Those woes, from these thy sufferings commence.
Thy judgements clearly do thy sins expresse
To all of us, though thou wilt not confesse:
But cunningly wouldst still plead innocent,
And truly there's no greater argument
Of guilt, then still denying, when impeach'd:
But, for all thy defences, God has reach'd
Thee in his justice, and has punish'd thee
For thy foul sins, in manner, as we see.
Now, as in wrath our God is formidable,
So all his orders are inviolable:
He lets the wicked man in villany
Proceed and flourish, undisturbedly,
For a long time, until he doth attain
To the full Zenith of his joyes, and then
He draws the Reins, and doth his pride compesce,
In the bright noon-tide of his happinesse:
So from his earthly glory in a tryce,
He tumbles down, as from a precipice.
So all his orders are inviolable:
He lets the wicked man in villany
Proceed and flourish, undisturbedly,
For a long time, until he doth attain
To the full Zenith of his joyes, and then
He draws the Reins, and doth his pride compesce,
In the bright noon-tide of his happinesse:
So from his earthly glory in a tryce,
He tumbles down, as from a precipice.
His radiant lustre shall be no more seen,
But his great name, as though he ne'er had been,
Shall be raz'd out of the Records of Fame,
And none shall know he was, or whence he came;
Nay, those who knew him in prosperity,
Shall now abhor his very memory.
But his great name, as though he ne'er had been,
Shall be raz'd out of the Records of Fame,
And none shall know he was, or whence he came;
Nay, those who knew him in prosperity,
Shall now abhor his very memory.
His wealth, and power, in which he did confide,
Shall fail him: all his arts and tricks beside,
By which he us'd to couzen other men,
Shall be most quaintly disappointed then.
His council shall be overturned all,
And by his own devices he shall fall.
Shall fail him: all his arts and tricks beside,
By which he us'd to couzen other men,
Shall be most quaintly disappointed then.
His council shall be overturned all,
And by his own devices he shall fall.
The course of life he in this Earth doth steer,
Shall be like Ships 'mongst shelves, in constant fear,
With dreadful thoughts he shall be overlaid,
Of his own shadow he shall be afraid.
Shall be like Ships 'mongst shelves, in constant fear,
With dreadful thoughts he shall be overlaid,
Of his own shadow he shall be afraid.
Sad apprehensions shall upon him seize,
And, in his spirits, he shall find no ease.
For, when he means by pleasures, to divert
His sorrows, and alleviate his heart
By serene thoughts, his conscience by, and by
Shall lay before him his impiety:
Which shall him also in his sleep affright,
And steal upon him, like a Thief, by night.
And, in his spirits, he shall find no ease.
For, when he means by pleasures, to divert
His sorrows, and alleviate his heart
138
Shall lay before him his impiety:
Which shall him also in his sleep affright,
And steal upon him, like a Thief, by night.
Shall apprehend that plots are every where
Laid for his life, and that men do prepare
Actions, Indytements, Jurors, evidence
Against him, and his frighted conscience
Makes him believe that men do ly in wait
To catch him, and that every man doth hate
Both him, and all his execrable race,
And that he's the discourse of every place.
Laid for his life, and that men do prepare
Actions, Indytements, Jurors, evidence
Against him, and his frighted conscience
Makes him believe that men do ly in wait
To catch him, and that every man doth hate
Both him, and all his execrable race,
And that he's the discourse of every place.
When on his pillow he shall lay his head,
Thinking by sleep from terrors to be freed,
Then shall fresh terrors, like a rapid stream
Break in upon his fancy, in a dream.
Then shall he start out of his sleep, and call
For Sword, for Helmet, Corslet, Shield,—for all.
Then sleep again, but, in a tryce awake,
And nimbly to his feet himself betake:
So sleep, and wake, and wake, and sleep, by fits,
All the long night, like one out of his wits.
Thinking by sleep from terrors to be freed,
Then shall fresh terrors, like a rapid stream
Break in upon his fancy, in a dream.
Then shall he start out of his sleep, and call
For Sword, for Helmet, Corslet, Shield,—for all.
Then sleep again, but, in a tryce awake,
And nimbly to his feet himself betake:
So sleep, and wake, and wake, and sleep, by fits,
All the long night, like one out of his wits.
His Creditors on all his Means shall seize,
Turn out his Family, bring him by degrees
To such a sad, penurious exigent,
As he, and his shall have no aliment.
Turn out his Family, bring him by degrees
To such a sad, penurious exigent,
As he, and his shall have no aliment.
Then wasting sorrow, want of sleep, and food,
With all things, that to nature are allow'd,
Shall in his Loines, his Body, and his Head,
A complication of diseases breed:
By which the hateful wretch shall every day,
In some dark corner, rot, and pine away.
With all things, that to nature are allow'd,
Shall in his Loines, his Body, and his Head,
A complication of diseases breed:
By which the hateful wretch shall every day,
In some dark corner, rot, and pine away.
Then all his hopes, by which he formerly,
In th'hottest fits of his adversity,
Would cheer his drooping spirits, and recall
His almost parting soul, then shall they all
Abandon him, and he shall then appear
Upon all hands environed with fear.
Like a poor Malefactor, who has tane
His leave of all his friends, and with some pain
Mounted the Ladder? when he looks about,
Of deaths approach he makes no longer doubt,
Concluding 'cause attended now by none,
But th'horrid Executioner alone,
Sure he must dy,—for all his hopes are gone.
In th'hottest fits of his adversity,
Would cheer his drooping spirits, and recall
His almost parting soul, then shall they all
Abandon him, and he shall then appear
Upon all hands environed with fear.
Like a poor Malefactor, who has tane
His leave of all his friends, and with some pain
Mounted the Ladder? when he looks about,
Of deaths approach he makes no longer doubt,
Concluding 'cause attended now by none,
But th'horrid Executioner alone,
Sure he must dy,—for all his hopes are gone.
Fear, while he lives, shall dwell within those walls,
Which his indeed he most unjustly calls;
Because by fraud, and rapine purchased,
In his own Chamber fear shall make its bed,
Fear with him shall at Table dayly feed.
Until at length, for all his art, and pain,
By which he would his purchases retain:
An unseen Moth shall enter his Estate,
Which in short time most sensibly shall eat
The fruit of all his labours: then, when all
His miseries do seem apace to fall
Upon him, he begins to stir, and fain
Would weather out his troubles, but in vain,
For soon he sees (let him do what he can)
It quite surmounts the art, and wit of man,
To save those ill-got Means, which every day,
Like gangren'd Members, sensibly decay.
Which his indeed he most unjustly calls;
Because by fraud, and rapine purchased,
In his own Chamber fear shall make its bed,
Fear with him shall at Table dayly feed.
Until at length, for all his art, and pain,
By which he would his purchases retain:
An unseen Moth shall enter his Estate,
Which in short time most sensibly shall eat
139
His miseries do seem apace to fall
Upon him, he begins to stir, and fain
Would weather out his troubles, but in vain,
For soon he sees (let him do what he can)
It quite surmounts the art, and wit of man,
To save those ill-got Means, which every day,
Like gangren'd Members, sensibly decay.
Then all his joynts do quiver, when annon
He by his Books perceives that all is gone.
All's gone: all's lost, all his so vast Estate
Like hidden smoak, is now evaporat:
His Lands, his Means, all his effects are now
Consum'd to ashes, and he knows not how.
Thus shall he perish, 'spite of all his wit,
And thus at length upon the Dung-hill sit,
Asking a farthing of each one goes by,
A sad example of humane vanity.
He by his Books perceives that all is gone.
All's gone: all's lost, all his so vast Estate
Like hidden smoak, is now evaporat:
His Lands, his Means, all his effects are now
Consum'd to ashes, and he knows not how.
Thus shall he perish, 'spite of all his wit,
And thus at length upon the Dung-hill sit,
Asking a farthing of each one goes by,
A sad example of humane vanity.
But that's not all, for, lest some spurious brat,
Sprung from his Loynes might yet repullulat.
And, in his life, revive the memory
Of such a man, th'Almighty by, and by,
Doth, at on blow, his Family destroy,
And leaves this Creature neither Girle, or Boy:
The World of his whole Issue he doth cleanse,
And utterly consumes him, root, and branch.
Sprung from his Loynes might yet repullulat.
And, in his life, revive the memory
Of such a man, th'Almighty by, and by,
Doth, at on blow, his Family destroy,
And leaves this Creature neither Girle, or Boy:
The World of his whole Issue he doth cleanse,
And utterly consumes him, root, and branch.
His memory on no record shall stand,
But if thereafter any shall demand,
(Who may be curious in such things, as these)
When they perceive some scattered vestiges,
Of stately buildings—who did this erect?
The neighbours shall no other answer make,
Save, that they know not, nor did ever hear,
That any great man did inhabit there.
His memory all Writers shall disclaim,
And, in discourses, he shall have no name.
But if thereafter any shall demand,
(Who may be curious in such things, as these)
When they perceive some scattered vestiges,
Of stately buildings—who did this erect?
The neighbours shall no other answer make,
Save, that they know not, nor did ever hear,
That any great man did inhabit there.
His memory all Writers shall disclaim,
And, in discourses, he shall have no name.
His name shall wholly be obliterat,
And, with oblivion be consolidat:
It shall be chac'd out of the World, for shame
That e'r men should a' known so vile a name,
And never man shall after of it dream.
And, with oblivion be consolidat:
It shall be chac'd out of the World, for shame
That e'r men should a' known so vile a name,
And never man shall after of it dream.
His memory shall be condemn'd, and none,
Brother, or Sister,, Daughter, Grand-child, Son,
Nephew, or Niece shall him survive, to show
If ever such a man did live, or no.
For none shall represent him, none shall dar
Own Blood with him, or call himself his Heir.
But even those wretches, who by Law might claim
His Honours, shall b'oblig'd to change their name.
Brother, or Sister,, Daughter, Grand-child, Son,
Nephew, or Niece shall him survive, to show
If ever such a man did live, or no.
For none shall represent him, none shall dar
Own Blood with him, or call himself his Heir.
But even those wretches, who by Law might claim
His Honours, shall b'oblig'd to change their name.
Posterity shall, with amazement, hear
His fall, and shall be Thunder-struck, with fear,
Nay the most grave, and stayd amongst them all
Shall tremble, when perhaps to mind they call,
That such a thing once in the World did live,
Which to its maker such offence did give.
His fall, and shall be Thunder-struck, with fear,
Nay the most grave, and stayd amongst them all
Shall tremble, when perhaps to mind they call,
That such a thing once in the World did live,
140
Sure these the Exits of the wicked are,,
In which Gods Justice doth it self declare:
These are the goodly Dwellings, in which all,
Who on their Riches, not on God do call.
Do here, on earth, reside: there all their Treasures
Are hoorded up, there all their worldly Pleasures:
This is the Dwelling, this the firm abode
Of those unhappy men, who fear not God.
In which Gods Justice doth it self declare:
These are the goodly Dwellings, in which all,
Who on their Riches, not on God do call.
Do here, on earth, reside: there all their Treasures
Are hoorded up, there all their worldly Pleasures:
This is the Dwelling, this the firm abode
Of those unhappy men, who fear not God.
| The grand Tryal | |