Iob militant with meditations diuine and morall. By Fra. Quarles.

IOB MILI∣TANT.

THE ARGVMENT.

Iobs Lineage and Integritie, His Issue, Wealth, Prosperitie, His childrens holy Feast: His wise Forecast, and zealous Sacrifice.

Sect. 1.

NOt far from Casius, in whose bountious wombe, * 1.1 Great Pompeys dust lies crowned with his Tombe, Westward, betwixt Arabia and Iudaea, Is situate a Country, called Idumaea, There dwelt a Man (brought from His Linniage, That for his belly, swopt his Heritage,) His name was Iob, a man of vpright Will, Iust, fearing Heauen, eschewing what was Ill, On whom his God had heap't in highest measure, The bountious Riches, of his boundlesse Treasure,

As well of Fortune, as of Grace, and Spirit; Goods for his children, Children to inherit; As did his Name, his Wealth did daily wex, His Seed did germinate in either Sexe A hopefull issue, whose descent might keepe His righteous Race on foote; seuen thousand Sheepe Did pay their Summer-Tribute, and did ad Their Winter Blessings to his Fold: He had Three thousand Camels, able for their loade, Fiue hundred Asses, furnisht for the Road, As many Yoake of Oxen, to maintaine His houshold, for he had a mightie Traine; Nor was there any in the East, the which In Vertue was so rare, in Wealth so rich.

Vpon a time, his Children (to improue The sweete affection of their mutuall loue) Made solemne Feasts; each feasted in his turne, (For ther's a time to mirth, aswell as mourne) And who, by course, was Master of the Feast, Vnto his home inuited all the rest.

Euen as a Hen (whose tender brood forsakes The downy clozet of her Wings, and takes Each it's affected way) markes how they feed, This, on that Crum; and that, on t'other Seed, Mooues, as they mooue; and stayes, when as they stay, And seemes delighted in their Infant-play: Yet (fearing danger) with a busie eye, Lookes here and there, if ought she can espie, Which (vnawares) might snatch a booty from her, Eyes all that passe, and watches euery commer. Euen so the affection of this tender Syre (Being made more feruent, with the selfe-same fyre

Of dearest loue, which flamed in their brests, Preserued (as by Fuell) in those Feasts) Was rauish'd in the height of Ioyes, to see His happy Childrens ten-fold vnitie: As was his Ioy, such was his holy Feare, Lest he, that plants his Engines euery-where, Bayted with golden Sinnes, and re-insnares The soule of man, turning his Wheat to Tares, Should season Error with the taste of Truth, And tempt the frailtie of their tender youth.

No sooner therefore had the dappled skye Opened the Twilight of her waking eye, And in her breaking Light, had promis'd day, But vp he rose, his holy hands did lay Vpon the sacred Altar (one by one) An early Sacrifice for euery Sonne: For who can tell, (said he?) my Sonnes (perchance) * 1.2 Haue slipt some Sinne, which neither Ignorance Pleaded, nor want of heed, nor youth can cure. Sin steales, vnseene, when men sleepe most secure.

Meditatio prima.

WAnt is the Badge of Pouerty: Then he That wanteth most, is the most poore, say we. The Wretch, that Hunger driues from dore to dore, Ayming at present Almes, desires no more. The toyling Swaine, that hath with pleasing trouble, Cockt a small fortune, would that Fortune double,

Which dearely bought with slau'ry, then (alas) He would be deem'd a Man, that's well to passe: Which got, his mind's now tickled with an Itch, But to deserue that glorious stile of Rich. That done, h'enioyes the Crowne of all his labour, Could he but once out-nose his right-hand-neighbour. Liues he at quiet now? Now, he begins To wish, that Vs'rie were the least of sinnes: But great or small, he tryes, and sweet's the trouble, And for it's sake, he wishes all things double. * 1.3 Thus wishing still, his wishes neuer cease, But as his Wealth, his Wishes still encrease.

Wishes proceed from Want: The Richest then, Most wishing, want most, and are poorest men: If he be poore, that wanteth much, how poore Is he, that hath too much, and yet wants more? Thrice happy he, to whom the bounty of Heauen, Sufficient, with a sparing hand, hath giuen: Tis Grace, not Gold, makes Great; seuer but which, The Rich man is but poore; the Poore man, rich. The fayrest Crop of either Grasse, or Grayne, Is not for vse, vndew'd with timely Rayne. The wealth of Croesus, were it to be giuen, Were not thank-worthy, if vnblest by Heauen.

Euen as faire Phoebe, in Diameter, (Earth interpos'd betwixt the Sun and Her) Suffers Eclipse, and is disrobed quite (During the time) of all her borrowed Light; So Riches, which fond Mortals so embrace, If not enlightned with the Beames of Grace, Being interposed with too grosse a Care, They lye obscured, and no Riches are.

My stint of Wealth lyes not in my expressing, With Iacobs Store (Lord) giue me Iacobs Blessing; Or if, at night, thou grant me Lazars Boone, Let Diues Dogs licke all my sores at noone. Lord, pare my Wealth, by my Capacitie, Lest I, with it, or it suite not with me. This humbly doe I sue for, at thy hand, Enough, and not too much, for my command.

Lord, what thou lend'st, shall serue but in the place Of reckoning Counters, to summe vp thy Grace.

THE ARGVMENT.

Satan appeares, and then professes Himselfe mans Enemy, confesses Gods loue to Iob, malignes his Faith, Gaines power ouer all he hath.

Sect. 2.

VPon a time, whē heauēs sweet Quire of Saints, * 1.4 (Whose euerlasting Halleluiah chaunts The highest prayse of their celestiall King) Before their Lord, did the presentment bring, Of th' execution of his sacred Will, Committed to their function to fulfill: Satan came too (That Satan, which betray'd The soule of man, to Deaths eternall shade,

Satan came too) and in the midst he stands, Like to a Vulture 'mongst a Heard of Swans.

Said, then, th' Eternall; From what quarter now, * 1.5 Hath businesse brought thee? (Satan) Whence com'st thou?

Great Lord of Heauen (said th' Infernall) since * 1.6 Thou hast intitled me the Worlds Great Prince, I haue been practising mine old profession, And come from compassing my large Possession, Tempting thy sonnes, and (like a roaring Lion) Seeking my prey, disturbe the peace of Sion; I come from sowing Tares, among thy Wheate; To him, that shall dissemble Peters Seate, I haue been plotting, how to prompt the death Of Christian Princes, and the bribed breath Of cheapned Iustice, hath my Fire inflam'd With spirit of boldnesse, for a while, vnsham'd. ••••come from planting strife, and sterne debate, Twixt priuate man and man, 'twixt State and State, ••ubuerting Truth with all the power I can, Accusing Man to God, and God to Man: I daily sow fresh Schismes among thy Saints; I buffet them and laugh, at their complaints; The Earth is my Dominion, Hell's my Home, I round the World, and so from thence I come.

Said then th' Eternall: True, thou hast not faild * 1.7 Of what thou say'st; Thy Spirit hath preuail'd To vex my little Flocke; Thou hast been bold To make them stray, a little, from their Fold. But say; In all thy hard Aduentures, hath Thine eye obserued Iob my Seruants Faith? Hath open Force, or secret Fraud beset His Bulwarks, so impregnable, as yet?

And hast thou (without enuy) yet beheld, How that the World, his second cannot yeeld? Hast thou not found, that hee's of vpright Will, Iust, fearing God, eschewing what is Ill?

True Lord, (replide the Fiend) thy Champion hath * 1.8 A strong and feruent (yet a crafty) Faith, A forced loue needs no such great applause, He loues but ill, that loues not for a cause. Hast thou not heap'd his Garners with excesse? Inricht his Pastures? Doth not he possesse All that he hath, or can demand, from Thee? His Coffers fil'd, his Land stockt plentiously? Hath not thy Loue surrounded him about, And hedg'd him in, to fence my practice out? But small's the tryall of a Faith, in this, If thou support him, 'tis thy strength, not his. Can then my power, that stands by thy permission, Encounter, where Thou mak'st an Opposition? Stretch forth thy Hand, and smite but what he hath, And prooue thou then, the temper of his Faith; Cease cock'ring his fond humour, veyle thy Grace, No doubt, but hee'l blaspheme thee to thy Face.

Lo, (said th' Eternall) to thy cursed hand, * 1.9 I here commit his mightie Stocke, his Land, His hopefull Issue, and Wealth, though ne'r so much; Himselfe, alone, thou shalt forbeare to touch.

Meditatio secunda.

SAtan beg'd once, and found his Pray'rs reward: * 1.10 We often beg, yet oft returne, vnheard.

If granting be th' effect of Loue, then we * 1.11 Conclude our selues, to be lesse lou'd, then he. True, Satan beg'd, and beg'd his shame, no lesse; 'T was granted; Shall we enuie his successe? We beg, and our request's (perchance) not granted; God knew, perhaps, it were worse had, then wanted.

Can God and Belial both ioyne in one Will; The One to aske, the Other to fulfill? * 1.12

Sooner shall Stygian Darknesse blend with Light, The Frost with Fier, sooner Day with Night. * 1.13 True, God and Satan wild the selfe same Will, But God intended Good; and Satan, Ill: That Will produc'd a seuerall conclusion; He aym'd at Mans, and God, at his confusion. He that drew Light, from out the depth of Shade, And made of Nothing, whatsoere He made, Can, out of seeming Euill, bring good Euents; * 1.14 God worketh Good, though by euill Instruments.

As in a Clocke, one motion doth conuay, And carry diuers wheeles a seuer all way: Yet all together, by the great wheeles force, Direct the Hand vnto his proper course: Euen so, that sacred VVill, although it vse Meanes seeming contrarie, yet all conduce

To one effect, and in a free consent, They bring to passe heauens high decreed Intent.

Takes God delight in humane weakenesse, then? What Glory reapes he from Afflicted men? * 1.15 The Spirit gone, can Flesh and Blood endure? * 1.16 God burnes his Gold, to make his Gold more pure:

Euen as a Nurse, whose childs imperfect pace * 1.17 Can hardly leade his foot from place to place, Leaues her fond kissing, sets him downe, to goe, Nor does vphold him, for a step, or two: But when she sindes that he begins to fall, She holds him vp, and kisses him withall: So God, from man sometimes withdrawes his Hand A while, to teach his Infant-faith to stand; But when he sees his feeble strength begin To faile, He gently takes him vp againe.

Lord, I'm a child; so guide my paces, than, That I may learne to walke an vpright man: So shield my Faith, that I may neuer doubt thee, For I shall fall, if ere I walke without thee.

THE ARGVMENT.

The frighted Messengers tell Iob His foure-fold losse: He rends his Robe, Submits him to his Makers trust, Whom he concludeth to be lust.

Sect. 3.

VPon that very day, when all the rest Were frollike at their elder Brothers feast, * 1.18 A breathless mā, prickt on with winged feare, With staring eyes, distracted here and there, * 1.19 (Like kindled Exhalations in the aire At midnight glowing) his stiffe-bolting haire, Not much vnlike the pennes of Porcupines) Crossing his armes, and making wofull signes, Purboyld in sweat, shaking his fearefull head, That often lookt behind him, as hee fled, He ran to Iob, still ne'rethelesse afraid, His broken blast breath'd forth these words, and said,

Alas (deare Lord the whiles thy seruants plide Thy painfull Plough, and whilest, on euery side Thy Asses fed about vs, as we wrought, There sallied forth on vs (suspecting nought, Nor ought intending, but our chearfull paine) A rout of rude Sabaeans, with their Traine Armed with Death, and deafe to all our Cries, Which, with strong Hand, did in an houre surprize

All that thou hadst, and whilest we stroue (in vaine To gard them, their impartiall hands haue slaine Thy faithfull seruants, with their thirsty Sword; I onely scap't, to bring this wofull word.

No sooner had he clos'd his lips, but see! Another comes, as much agast as he: * 1.20 A flash of Fire (said he) new falne from Heauen, Hath all thy Seruants of their liues bereauen, And burnt thy Sheepe; I, I alone am He, That's left vnslaine, to bring the Newes to thee.

This Tale not fully told, a third ensues, * 1.21 Whose lips, in labour with more heauie Newes, Brake thus; The forces of a triple Band, Brought from the fierce Caldaeans, with strong hand, Hath seyz'd thy Camels, murther'd with the Sword Thy seruants all, but Mee, that brings thee word.

Before the ayre had cool'd his hasty Breath, * 1.22 Rusht in a fourth, with visage pale as death: The while (said he) thy children all were sharing Mirth, at a Feast of thy first sonnes preparing, Arose a Wind, whose errand had more hast Then happy speed, which with a full-mouth Blast, Hath smote the house, which hath thy children reft Of all their liues, and thou art childlesse left; Thy children all are slaine, all slaine together, I onely scap't to bring the Tidings hither.

So said, Behold the man, whose wealth did flow Like to a spring-tide, one bare houre agoe, With the vnpattern'd height of Fortunes blest, Aboue the greatest Dweller in the East; He, that was Syre of many Sonnes but now, Lord of much People, and while-ere could show

Such Heards of Cattell, He, whose fleecy stocke Of Sheepe could boast seuen thousand, in a flocke, See how he lyes, of all his Wealth dispoyl'd, He now hath neither Seruant, Sheepe, nor Child; Like a poore man, arose the Patient Iob, (Stun'd with the newes) and rent his Purple Robe, Shaued the haire from off his wofull head, And, prostrate on the floore he worshipped:

Naked, ah! Poore and naked did I come Forth from the clozet of my mothers Wombe; And shall returne (alas) the very same To th' earth as Poore, and naked, as I came: God giues, and takes, and why should He not haue A priuiledge, to take those things, he gaue? We men mistake our Tenure oft, for Hee Lends vs at Will, what we miscall as Free; He reassumes his owne, takes but the same He lent a while. Thrice blessed be his Name. In all this passage, Iob, in Heart, nor Tongue, Thought God vniust, or charg'd his hand with wrong.

Meditatio tertia.

THe proudest pitch of that victorious spirit Was but to win the World, whereby t'inherit * 1.23 The ayrie purchase of a transitory, And glozing Title of an ages Glory; Would'st thou, by Conquest, win more Fame then Hee? Subdue thy selfe; Thy self's a World to thee:

Earth's but a Ball, that Heauen hath quilted o're With Wealth, and Honour, banded on the floore Of sickle Fortunes false and slippery Court, Sent for a Toy, to make vs Children sport, Mans satiate spirits, with fresh delights supplying▪ To still the Fondlings of the world, from crying, And he, whose merit mounts to such a Ioy, Gaines but the Honour of a mighty Toy.

But would'st thou conquer, haue thy Conquest crown'd By hands of Seraphims, tryumph'd with the sound Of Heauens lowd Trumpet, warbled by the shrill Celestiall Quire, recorded with a Quill, Pluck't from the Pinion of an Angels wing, Confirm'd with Ioy, by heauens Eternall King? Conquer thy selfe, thy rebbel thoughts repell, And chase those false Affections that rebell.

Hath Heauen dispoyl'd what his full hand hath giuen thee? Nipt thy succeeding Blossoms? or bereauen thee Of thy deare latest hope, thy bosome Friend? Doth sad Despaire deny these griefes an end? Despair's a whispring Rebbell, that, within thee, Bribes all thy Field, and sets thy selfe agin thee: Make keene thy Faith, and with thy force, let flee. If thou not conquer him, hee'l conquer thee: Aduance thy Shield of Patience to thy head, And when Griefe strikes, 'twill strike the striker dead; The Patient man, in sorrow, spies reliefe, And by the taile, he couples Ioy with Griefe.

In aduerse fortunes, be thou strong and stout, And brauely win thy selfe, Heauen holds not out His Bow, for euer bent. The disposition Of noblest spirits, doth, by opposition,

Exosperate the more: A gloomie night Whets on the morning, to returne more bright; A Blade well try'd, deserlies a trebble price, And Vertu's purest, most oppo'd by Vice: Braue minds, opprest, should (in despight of Fate) Looke greatest, (like the Sunne) in lowest state.

But ah! shall God thus striue with flesh and blood? * 1.24 Receiues he Glory from, or reapes he Good In mortals Ruine, that he leaues man so, To be o'rewhelm'd by his vnequall Foe?

May not a Potter, that, from out the Ground, * 1.25 Hath fram'd a vessell, search if it be sound? Or if, by furbushing, he take more paine To make it fairer, shall the Pot complaine? Mortall, thou art but Clay: then shall not Hee, That fram'd thee for his seruice, season thee? Man, cloze thy lips; Be thou no vndertaker Of Gods designes; Dispute not with thy Maker.

Lord, 'tis against thy nature to doe ill, Then giue me pow'r to beare, and worke thy Will; Thou know'st what's best, make thou thine owne Conclusion, Be glorifi'd, although in my Confusion.

THE ARGVMENT.

Satan the second time appeares, Before th' Eternall, boldly dares Maligne Iobs tryed Faith afresh, And gaines th' afflicting of his Flesh.

Sect. 4.

ONce more, whē heauens harmonious Quiristers Appear'd before his Throne, (whose Ministers They are, of his concealed will) to render Their strict account of Iustice, and to tender Th' accepted Sacrifice of highest praise, (Warbled in Sonnets, and celestiall Layes) Satan came too, bold, as a hungry Fox, Or rauinous Wolfe amid the tender Flockes,

Satan, (said then th' Eternall) from whence now * 1.26 Hath thy imploymēts driuē thee? whēce com'st thou?

Satan replies: Great God of heauen and earth, * 1.27 I come from tempting, and from making mirth: To heare thy dearest children whine, and roare: In briefe, I come, from whence I came before.

Said then th' Eternall, Hast thou not beheld * 1.28 My seruants Faith, how, like a seuen-fold shield, It hath defended his Integrity Against thy fiery Darts; Hath not thine Eye, (Thine enuious eye) perceiu'd how purely iust He stands, and perfect, worthy of the trust

I lent into his hand, persisting still Iust, fearing God, eschewing what is ill? 'T was not the losse of his so faire a Flocke, Nor sudden rape of such a mighty Stocke; 'T was neither losse of Seruants, nor his Sonnes Vntimely slaughter, (acted all at once) Could make him quaile, or warpe so true a Faith, Or staine so pure a Loue; say (Satan) hath Thy hand (so deepely counterfeiting mine) Made him mistrust his God, or once repine? Can there in all the earth, say, can there be A Man so Perfect, and so Iust, as Hee?

Replies the Tempter, Lord, an outward losse * 1.29 Hopes for repaire, tis but a common crosse: I know thy seruant's wise, a wise forecast, Gricues for things present, not for things are past; Perchance, the tumor of his sullen heart, Brookes losse of all, since he hath lost a part; My selfe haue Seruants, who can make true Boast, They gaue away as much, as he hath lost: Others (with learning made so wisely mad) Refuse such Fortunes, as he neuer had; A Faith's not try'd by this vncertaine Tuch, Others, that neuer knew thee, did as much: Lend me thy Power then, that I might once But sacrifice his Flesh, afflict his Bones, And pierce his Hide, but for a moments space, Thy Darling, then, would curse thee to thy Face.

To which, th' Eternall thus: His body's thine, * 1.30 To plague thy fill, withall, I doe confine Thy power to her lists, Afflict and teare His Flesh at pleasure: But his life forbeare.

Meditatio Quarta.

BOth Goods, and Body too; Lord, who can stand? Expect not Iobs vprightnesse, at my hand, Without Iobs aid; The temper of my Passion, (Vntam'd by thee) can brooke no Iobs Temptation, For I am Weake, and Fraile, and what I can Most boast of, prooues me but a sinfull Man; Things that I should auoyd, I doe; and what I am inioyn'd to doe, that doe I not. My Flesh is weake, too strong in this, alone, It rules my Spirit, that should be rul'd by none But thee; my spirits faint, and hath been neuer Free from the fits of sins Quotidian Feuer. My powr's are all corrupt, corrupt my Will, Marble to Good, and Wax to what is Ill; Eclipsed is my Reason, and my Wit; By interposing Earth 'twixt Heauen, and it: My Mem'ry's like a Searce of Lawne (alas) It Keepes things grosse, and lets the purer passe.

What haue I then to boast, What Title can I challenge more then this, A sinfull man? Yet doe I (sometimes) feele a warme Desier, Raise my low Thoughts, and dull affections, higher, Where, like a soule entrans't, my spirit flies, Makes leagues with Angels, and brings Deities Halfe way to heauen, shakes hands with Seraphims, And boldly mingles wings with Cherubims,

From whence, I looke askaunce, adowne the Earth, Pitty my selfe, and loath my place of birth: But while I thus my lower state deplore, I wake, and prooue the Wretch I was before.

Euen as the Needle, that directs the Howre, * 1.31 (Toucht with the Loadstone) by the secret power Of hidden Nature, points vpon the Pole; Euen so the wauering powers of my Soule, Toucht by the vertue of thy Spirit, flee From what is Earth, and point alone to Thee.

When I haue saith, to hold thee by the Hand, I walke securely, and me thinkes I stand More sirme then Atlas; but when I forsake The safe protection of thine Arme, I quake, Like wind-shaki Reeds, and haue no strength at all, But (as a Vine, the Prop cut downe) I fall:

Yet wretched I (when as thy Iustice lends Thy glorious Presence from me) straight am friends With Flesh and Blood, forget thy Grace, flye from it, And, like a Dog, returne vnto my Vomit; The sawning world, to Pleasure then inuites My wandring Eyes; The flesh presents Delights Vnto my yeelding heart, which thinks those pleasures, Her onely bus'nes now, and rarest treasures, Content can glorie in, whil'st I, secure, Stoope to the painted plumes of Satans Lure: Thus I captiu'd, and drunke with pleasures Wine, Like to a mad man, thinke no state like mine.

What haue I then to boast? What Title can I challenge more then this, A sinfull man? I feele my Griefe's enough, nor can I be Redrest by any, but (Great God) by thee.

Too great thou art, to come within my Roofe, Say but the word, Be whole, and 'tis enough; Till then, my tongue shall neuer cease, mine Eyes Ne'r cloze, my lowly bended Knees ne'r rise; Till then, my Soule shall ne'r want early sobs, My cheekes no Teares, my pensiue Brest, no Throbs, My Heart shall lacke no Zeale, nor tongue expressing. I'le striue, like Iacob, till I get my Blessing:

Say then, Be cleane, I'le neuer stop till then, Heauen ne'r shall rest, till Heauen shall say, Amen.

THE ARGVMENT.

Iob, smote with Vlcers, groueling lyes, Plung'd in a Gulfe of Miseries, His Wife to blasphemy doth tempt him, His three Friends visit, and lament him.

Sect. 5.

LIke as a Truant-Scholler (whose delay * 1.32 Is worse then whipping, hauing leaue to play) * 1.33 Makes haste to be inlarged from the Iayle Of his neglected Schoole, turnes speedy tayle Vpon his tedious booke (so ill befriended) Before his Masters Ite be full ended. So thanklesse Satan, full of winged Haste, Thinking all time, not spent in Mischiefe, waste,

Departs with speed, lesse patient to forbeare The patient Iob, then patient Iob to beare.

Forth from the furnace of his Nostrell, flyes * 1.34 A sulpherous Vapour, which (by the enuious eyes Of this foule Fiend inflam'd) possest the faire, And sweet complection of th'abused Aire With Pestilence, and (hauing power so farre) Tooke the aduantage of his worser Starre, Smote him with Vlcers (* 1.35 such as once befell Th' Egyptian Wizzards,) Vlcers * 1.36 hot and fell, Which like a searching Tetter vncorrected, Left no part of his body vnaffected, From head to foote, no empty place was found, That could b'afflicted with another wound: So noy some was the nature of his Griefe, That (left by Friends, and Wife, that should be chiefe Assister) he (poore he) alone remain'd, Groueling in Ashes, being (himselfe) constrain'd, With Pot-sheards, to scrape off those rip'ned Cores, (Which Dogs disdayn'd to licke) from out his sores.

Which when his Wife beheld, adust, and keene, Her passion waxt, made strong, with scorne & spleene; Like as the Winds, imprison'd in the earth, * 1.37 And barr'd the passage to their naturall birth, Grow fierce; and nilling to be longer pent, Breake in an Earth quake, shake the World, and vent; So brake she forth, so forth her Fury brake, Till now, pent in with shame, and thus she spake.

Fond Saint, thine Innocence finds timely speed, * 1.38 A foolish Saint receiues a Saintly meed; Is this the Iust mans Recompence? Or hath Heauen no requitall for thy painefull Faith,

Other then this? What, haue thy zealous Qualmes, Abstemious Fastings, and thy hopefull Almes, Thy priuate Groanes, and often bended knees, No other End, no other Thankes, but these? Fond man, submit thee to a kinder Fate, Cease to be righteous, at so deare a rate: 'Tis Heauen, not Fortune, that thy Weale debarres; Curse Heauen then, and not thy way ward Starres: 'Tis God that plagues thee, God not knowing why; Curse then that God, reuenge thy Wrongs, and Dye.

Iob then reply'd: God loues where he chastiz'd, Thou speakest like a Foole, and ill aduis'd; Laugh we to licke the sweete, and shall we lowre, If he be pleas'd to send a little sowre? Am I so weake, one Blast or two, should chill me; I'le trust my Maker, though my Maker kill me.

When these sad tidings fill'd those itching eares Of Earths black babbling Daughter (she that heares, And vents alike, both Truth and Forgeries, And vtters, often, cheaper then she buyes) She spred the pinnions of her nimble Wings, Aduanc't her Trumpet, and away she springs, And sils the whispring Ayre, which soone possest The spacious borders of th' enquiring East, Vpon the summon of such solemne Newes, Whose Truth, malignant Fame could not abuse, His wofull * 1.39 Friends came to him, to the end, To comfort, and bewaile their wretched Friend. But when they came, farre off, they did not know, Whether it were the selfesame Friend, or no, (Brim-fill'd with brinie Woe) they wept, and tore (T'expresse their griefe) the garments that they wore,

Seuen dayes and nights they sate vpon the ground, But spake not, for his sorrowes did abound.

Meditatio Quinta.

SAy, is not Satan iustly stiled than, A Tempter, and an Enemy to Man? What could he more? His Wish would not extend To Death, lest his assaults, with death, should end: Then what he did, what could he further doe? His Hand hath setz'd both Goods, and Body too, The hopefull Issue of a holy Straine, In such a dearth of holinesse, is slaine. What hath the Lazar left him, but his Griefe, And (what might best been spar'd) his foolish Wife? Could Mischiefe been more hard (though more in kind) To nip the Flowers, and leaue the Weeds behind?

Woman was made a Helper by Creation, A Helper, not alone for Propagation, Or fond Delight, but sweet Societie, Which Man (alone) should want, and to supply Comforts to him, for whom her Sexe was made, That each may ioy in eithers needfull aide: But fairest Angels, had the foulest fall; And best things (once abus'd) prooue worst of all, Else, had not Satan been so foule a Fiend, Else, had not Woman proou'd so false a Friend.

Euen as the treacherous Fowler, to entice * 1.40 His silly winged Prey, doth first deuise

To make a Bird his stale, at whose false Call, Others may chance into the selfe-same Thrall: Euen so, that craftie Snarer of Mankind, Finding mans righteous Pallate not enclind, To taste the sweetnesse of his guilded Baites, Makes a collater all Sute, and slily waites Vpon the weakenesse of some bosome Friend, From whose enticement, he expects his end.

Ah righteous Iob, what Crosse was left, vnknowne? What Griefe may be describ'd, but was thine owne?

Is this a lust mans case? What doth befall To one man, may as well betide to all.

The worst I'le looke for, that I can proiect, If better come, 'tis more then I expect; If otherwise, I'm arm'd with Preparation; No sorrow's sudden to an Expectation.

Lord, to thy VVisdome I submit my VVill, I will be thankfull, send me Good, or Ill; If Good, my present State will passe the sweeter; If Ill, my Crowne of Glorie shall be greater.

THE ARGVMENT.

Orewhelm'd with griefe, Iob breaketh forth Into impatience: Bans his Birth, Professes, that his heart did doubt, And feare, what, since, hath fallen out.

Sect. 6.

WOrne-bare with griefe, the patient Iob betray'd * 1.41 His seuen-dayes silence, curst his day, & said: Oh that my Day of birth had neuer been, Nor yet the Night, which I was brought forth in! Be it not numbred for a Day, let Light Not make a difference twixt it, and Night; Let gloomy Shades (then Death more sable) passe Vpon it, to declare how fatall 'twas: Let Clouds ore-cast it, and as hatefull make it, As life's to him, whom Tortures bid, forsake it: From her next day, let that blacke Night be cut, Nor in the reckning of the Months, be put: Let Desolation fill it, all night long, In it, be neuer heard a Bridall song: Let all sad Mourners, that doe curse the Light, When light's drawne in, begin to curse this Night. Her euening Twylight, let foule Darkenesse staine, And may her Mid-night expect Light, in vaine;

Nor let her infant Day (but newly borne) Suffer't to see the Eye-lids of the morne, Because my Mothers Wombe it would not cloze, Which gaue me passage to endure these Woes: Why died I not in my Conception, rather? Or why was not my Birth, and Death together? Why did the Midwife take me on her knees? Why did I sucke, to feele such Griefes, as these? Then had this Body neuer been opprest, I had inioy'd th' eternall sleepe of rest; With Kings, and mighty Monarchs, that lie crown'd With stately Monuments, poore I had found A place of Rest, had borne as great a sway, Had been as Happy, and as Rich as they: Why was I not as an abortiue Birth, That ne're had knowne the horrors of the earth? The silent Graue is quiet from the feare Of Tyrants: Tyrants are appeazed there, The grinded Prisner heares not (there) the noyse, Nor harder threatnings of th' Oppressors voyce: Both Rich and Poore are equal'd in the Graue, Seruants no Lords, and Lords no Seruants haue: What needs there Light to him thats comfortlesse? Or Life to such as languish in distresse, And long for death, which, if it come by leisure, They ransack for it, as a hidden Treasure? VVhat needs there Life to him, that cannot haue A Boone, more gracious, then a quiet Graue? Or else to him, whom God hath wal'd about, That would, but cannot finde a Passage out? VVhen I but taste, my Sighes returne my Food, The flowing of my Teares haue rais'd a flood;

When my Estate was prosperous, I did feare, Lest, by some heedlesse, or want of care, I might be brought to Misery, and (alas!) What I did then so feare, is come to passe: But though, secure, my soule did neuer slumber, Yet doe my Woes exceed both Waight, and Number.

Meditatio sexta.

SO poore a thing is Man. No Flesh and Blood Deserues the stile of* 1.42 Absolutely Good: The righteous man sins oft; whose power's such, To sin the least, sins (at the least) too much: The* 1.43 Man, whose Faith disdain'd his Isacks life, Dissembled once, a* 1.44 Sister, for a Wife The righteous* 1.45 Lot, being drunk, did make (at once) His Daughters, both, halfe sisters to their Sonnes: The royall Fauorite of heauen, stood Not guililesse of* 1.46 Adultery, and Blood, And he, whose hands did build the Temple, doth Bow downe his lustfull knees to* 1.47 Ashtaroth The* 1.48 sinfull Woman was accus'd, but none Was found, that could begin to sting a stone. From muddled Springs, can Christall Waters come? In some things, all men sin, in all things, some.

Euen at the soyle, (which Aprils gentle showers Haue fild with sweetnesse, and inricht with flowers) * 1.49 Reares vp her suckling plants, still shooting forth The tender blossomes of her timely Birth,

But, if deny'd the beames of cheerly May, They hang their withred heads, and fade away: So man, assisted by th' Almighties Hand, His Faith doth flourish, and securely stand, But left, awhile, forsooke (as in a shade) It languishes, and nipt with sin, doth fade: No Gold is pure from Drosse, though oft refin'd; The strongest Cedar's shaken with the wind; The fairest Rose hath no prerogatiue, Against the fretting Canker-worme; The Hiue No hony yeelds, vnblended with the Wax, The finest Linnen hath both soyle and bracks: The best of men haue sins; None liues secure, In Nature nothing's Perfect, nothing Pure.

Lord, since I needs must sin, yet grant that I Forge no aduantage by infirmity: Since that my Vesture cannot want a Staine, Assist me, lest the tincture be in Graine.

To thee (my great Redeemer) doe I flye, It is thy Death, alone, can change my Dye; Teares, mingled with thy Blood, can scower so, That Scarlet sinnes shall turne as white as Snow.

THE ARGVMENT.

Rash Eliphaz reproues, and rates, And falsly censures Iob; Relates His Vision; shewes him the euent Of wicked men: Bids him repent.

Sect. 7.

THen Eliphas, his pounded tongue replieu'd, * 1.50 And said, Shuld I cōtēd, thou would'st be grieu'd; Yet what man can refraine, but he must breake His angry silence, hauing heard thee speake?

O sudden change! Many hast thou directed, And strengthned those, whose minds haue been deie∣cted, Thy sacred Thewes, and sweet Instructions, did Helpe those were falling, rays'd vp such as slid: But now it is thy case, thy soule is vext, And canst not helpe thy selfe, thy selfe perplext; Thou lou'dst thy God, but basely for thy profit, Fear'st him, in further expectation of it; Iudge then: Did Record euer round thine eare, That God for sooke the heart, that was sincere? But often haue we seene, that such as plow Lowdnesse, and Mischiefe, reape the same they sowe? So haue proud Tyrants from their throanes bin cast, With all their of spring, by th'Almighties Blast;

And they, whose hands haue bin imbrew'd in blood, Haue with their Issue dyed, for want of Food:

A Vision lately' appeard before my sight, * 1.51 In depth of darknesse, and the dead of night, Vnwonted feare vsurpt me round about, My trembling bones were sore, from head to foot: Forthwith, a Spirit glanc'd before mine eyes, My Browes did sweat, my moystned Haire did rise, The Face I knew not, but a while it stayd, And in the depth of silence, thus it said,

Is man more Iust, more pure then his Creator? Amongst his Angels, (more vpright by nature Then Man) he hath found Weaknes, how much more Shall he expect in him, that's walled ore With mortall Flesh, and Blood, founded, and floor'd With Dust, and with the Wormes to be deuour'd? They rise securely with the Morning Sunne, And (vnregarded) dye ere Day be done; Their Glory passes with them, as a Breath, They dye (like Fooles) before they thinke of death.

Rage then, and see who will approue thy rage, * 1.52 What Saint will giue thy railing Patronage? Anger destroyes the Foole, and he that hath A wrathfull heart, is slaine with his owne wrath; Yet haue I seene, that Fooles haue oft been able To boast with Babel, but haue falne with Babel: Their sons despairing, roare without reliefe In open Ruine, on the Rocks of Griefe: Their haruest (though but small) the hungry eate, And robbers seaze their wealth, though ne'r so great: But wretched man, were thy Condition mine, I'de not despaire, as thou dost, nor repine,

But offer vp the broken Sacrifice Of a sad soule, before his angry eyes, Whose Workes are Miracles of admiration, He mounts the Meeke, amidst their Desolation, Confounds the worldly wise, that (blind-fold) they Grope all in Darknesse, at the noone of Day: But guards the Humble from reproach of wrong, And stops the current of the crafty Tongue. Thrice happy is the man his Hands correct: Beware, lest Fury force thee to reiect Th' Almighties Tryall; He that made thy Wound In Iustice, can, in Mercy, make it sound: Feare not, though multiply'd Afflictions shall Besiege thee; He, at length, will rid them all; In Famine he shall feed, in Warre defend thee, Shield thee from Slander, and in Griefes attend thee, The Beasts shall strike with thee eternall Peace, The Stones shall not disturbe thy fields Encrease; Thy House shall thriue, replenisht with Content, Which, thou shalt rule, in prosprous Gouernment, The number of thy Of-spring shall abound, Like Summers Grasse vpon a fruitfull ground, Like timely Corne, well rip'ned in her Eares, Thou shalt depart thy life, struck full of yeeres: All this, Experience tels: Then (Iob) aduise, Thou hast taught many, now thy selfe be wise.

Meditatio septima.

THe perfect Modell of true Friendship's this: A rare Affection of the soule, which is * 1.53 Begun with rip'ned Iudgement, doth perseuer With simple Wisdome, and concludes with Neuer. 'Tis pure in substance, as refined Gold, That buyeth all things, but is neuer sold: It is a Coyne, and most men walke without it; True Loue's the Stampe, Iehouah's writ about it; It rusts, vnvs'd, but vsing makes it brighter, 'Gainst Heauen high Treason 'tis, to make it lighter. 'Tis a Gold Chaine, linkes soule and soule together * 1.54 In perfect Vnitie, ties God to either. Affliction is the Touch, whereby we prooue, Whether't be Gold, or guilt with fained Loue. The wisest Moralist, that euer diu'd Into the depth of Natures bowels, striu'd With th' Augar of Experience, to bore Mens hearts so farre, till he had found the Ore Of Friendship, but, despaying of his end, My Friends (said he) there is no perfect Friend. * 1.55 Friendship's like Musick, two Strings tun'd alike, Will both stirre, though but onely one you strike. It is the Quintessence of all Perfection Extracted into one; A sweet connexion Of all the Vertues, Morall and Diuine, Abstracted into One. It is a Mine,

Whose nature is not rich, vnlesse in making The state of others wealthy by partaking:

It bloomes and blossoms, both in Sunne and shade, Doth (like the Bay in winter) neuer fade: It loueth all, and yet suspecteth none, Is prouident, yet seeking not her owne: * 1.56 'Tis rare it selfe, yet maketh all things common, And is iudicious, yet it iudgeth no man.

The * 1.57 noble Theban, being asked, which Of * 1.58 three (propounded) he suppos'd most rich In vertues sacred Treasure, thus reply'd, Till they be dead, that doubt cannot be try'd.

It is no wise mans part, to waigh a Frend, Without the glosse, and goodnesse of his End: For Life, without the Death considered, can Affoord but halfe a story of the Man.

'Tis not my friends Affliction, that shall make Me either Wonder, Censure, or Forsake: Iudgement belongs to Fooles; enough that I Find hee's afflicted, not enquier, Why: It is the hand of Heauen, That selfesame Sorrow Grieues him to Day, may make me grone to Morrow:

Heauen be my comfort; In my highest griefe, I will not trust to mans, but Thy reliefe.

THE ARGVMENT.

Iob counts his sorrowes, and from thence Excuses his Impatience; Describes the shortnesse of mans Time, And makes confession of his Crime.

Sect. 8.

BVt wretched Iob, sigh't forth these words, & said, * 1.59 Ah me! that my Impatience were waigh'd With all my Sorrowes, by an equall hand, * 1.60 They would be found more pondrous then the sand, That lyes vpon the new-forsaken shore; My Griefes want vtt'rance, & haue stopt their Dore: And wonder not; Heau'ns shafts haue struck me dead, And God hath heapt all Mischiefes on my head: Will Asses bray, when they haue grasse to eate? Or lowes the Oxe, when as he wants no meate? Can Pallates find a rellish in distast? Or can the whites of Egges well please the tast? My vexed soule is daily fed with such Corruptions, as my hands disdaine to touch. Alas! that Heauen would heare my hearts Requste, And strike me dead, that I may find some Rest: What hopes haue I, to see my end of griefe, And to what end, should I prolong my life?

Why should not I wish Death? My strength, (alas) Is it like Marble, or my flesh like Brasse? What Power haue I to mitigate my Paine? If e're I had, that Power now is vaine, My friends are like the Riuers, that are dry In heat of Summer, when necessity Requireth water; They amazed stand To see my Griefe, but lend no helping hand. Friends, begge I succour from you? Craued I Your Goods, to ransome my Captiuity? Shew me my faults, and wherein I did wrong My Patience, and I will hold my tongue; The force of reasonable words may mooue, But what can Rage or Lunacy reprooue? Rebuke you (then) my words, to haue it thought My speech is frantick, with my griefe distraught? You take a pleasure in your friends distresse, That is more wretched then the Fatherlesse: Behold these Sores: Be iudg'd by your owne eyes, If these be counterfeited miseries; Ballance my words, and you shall find me free From these foule crimes, wherewith ye branded me, And that my speech was not distaind with sin, Only the language, sorrow treated in.

Is not mans Day prefixt, which, when expyr'd, * 1.61 Sleepes he not quiet, as a seruant hir'd? A seruants labour doth, at length, surcease, His Day of trauell findes a Night of peace, But (wretched) I with woes, am still opprest, My mid-day torments see no euen of Rest, My nights (ordaind for sleepe) are fill'd with griefe, I looke (in vaine) for the next dayes reliefe:

With Dust, and Wormes my flesh is hid, my sorrow's Haue plough'd my skin, and filth lyes in her furrowes: My dayes of ioy are in a moment gone, And (hopelesse of returning) spent and done: Remember (Lord) my life is but a puffe, I, but a man, that's Misery enough, And when pale Death hath once seald vp my sight, I ne're shall see the pleasures of the light, The eye of man shall not discouer me, No, nor thine (Lord) for I shall cease to be; When mortals dye, they passe (like clouds before The Sunne) and back returne they neuer more, T'his earthly house he ne're shall come agin, And then shall be, as if he ne're had bin: Therfore my tongue shall speak, while it hath breath, Prompted with griefe, and with the pangs of death: Am I not weake and saint? What need'st thou stretch Thy direfull hand vpon so poore a Wretch? When as I thinke that night shall stop the streames Of my distresse, thou fright'st me then, with dreames, So that my soule doth rather chuse to dye, Then be inuolued in such miserie; My life's a burthen, and will end: O grieue No longer him, that would no longer liue. Ah! what is Man, that thou should'st raise him so High at first, then, sinke him downe so low? What's Mā? Thy glory's great enough, without him: Why dost thou (thus) disturbe thy mind about him?

Lord, I haue sin'd, (Great Helper of mankind) I am but Dust and Ashes, I haue sin'd: Against thee (as a marke) why hast thou fixt me? How haue I trespas't, that thou thus afflict'st me?

Why, rather, didst thou not remoue my sin, And salue the sorrowes that I raued in? For thou hast heapt such vengeance on my head, That when thou seek'st me, thou wilt find me dead.

Meditatio octaua.

TH' Egyptians, amidst their solemne Feasts, Vsed to welcome, and present their Ghests, With the sad sight of Mans Anatomie, Seru'd in with this loud Motto, All must dye. Fooles often goe about, when as they may Take better vantage of a neerer way; Looke well into your bosomes; doe not slatter Your knowne infirmities: Behold, what matter Your flesh was made of: Man, cast back thine eye, Vpon the weaknesse of thine Infancie; See how thy lips hang on thy mothers Brest, Bawling for helpe, more helplesse then a Beast.

Liu'st thou to Childhood? Then, behold, what toyes Doe mocke the sense, how shallow are thy ioyes: Com'st thou to Downy yeeres? see, how deceits Gull thee with golden fruit, and with false baits, Slily beguile the prime of thine affection: Art thou attaind at length to full perfection Of ripened yeeres? Ambition now hath sent Thee on her frothy errand, Discontent Payes thee thy Wages: Doe thy grizly haires Begin to cast account of many cares

Vpon thy head? The sacred lust of gold Now fires thy spirit, for fleshly lust, too cold, Makes thee a slaue to thine owne base desire, Which melts and hardens, at the selfe same Fire: Art thou Decrepit? Then thy very breath Is grieuous to thee, and each griefe's a Death: Looke where thou list, thy life is but a span, Thou art but Dust, and, to conclude, A Man.

Thy life's a Warfare, Thou a Souldier art, Satan's thy Foe-man, and a faithfull Heart, Thy two edg'd Weapon, Patience thy Shield, Heauen is thy Chiefetaine, and the world thy Field.

To be* 1.62 afraid to dye, or wish for death, Are words and passions of despairing breath: Who doth the first, the Day doth faintly yeeld, And who the second, basely flies the Field.

Man's not a lawfull Steares-man of his dayes, His bootlesse wish, nor hastens, nor delayes: We are Gods hired Workmen; He discharges Some, late at Night, (and when he list) inlarges Others at Noone, and in the Morning, some: None may relieue himselfe, till He bid, Come: If we receiue for one halfe day, as much As they that toyle till Euening, shall we grutch?

Our life's a Road, in death our Iourney ends, We goe on Gods Embassage, some, he sends Call'd with the trotting of hard Misery, * 1.63 And others, pacing on Prosperity: * 1.64 Some lagge, whilest others gallop on, before; All goe an end, some faster, and some slower.

* 1.65 Lead me that pace (great God) that thou think'st best, And I will follow with a dauntlesse brest:

VVhich (ne'rthelesse) if I refuse to doe, I shall be wicked, and yet follow too. Assist me in my Combate with the flesh, Relieue my fainting powers, and refresh My feeble spirit: I will not wish to be Cast from the world; Lord, cast the world from me.

THE ARGVMENT.

Bildad, man's either state expresses, Gods Mercy' and Iustice Iob confesses; He pleads his cause, and begs reliefe, Foyl'd with the burthen of his griefe.

Sect. 9.

SO Bildads silence (great with tongue) did breake, * 1.66 And, like a heartlesse Comforter, did speake: How long wilt thou persist to breath thy mind In words, that vanish as a storme of wind? Will God forsake the Innocent, or will His Iustice smite thee, vndeseruing ill? Though righteous death thy sinfull sons hath rent From thy sad bosome, yet if thou repent, And wash thy waies with vndissembled teares, Tuning thy Troubles to th' Almighties eares, The mercy of his eyes shall shine vpon thee, And showre the sweetnesse of his Blessings on thee:

And though (a while) thou plunge in misery, At length hee'l crowne thee with prosperity: Run back, and learne of sage Antiquity, What our late births, to present times, deny, See, how, and what (in the worlds downy age) Befell our fathers in their Pilgrimage; If Rushes haue no myre, and Grasse no raine, They cease to flourish, droope their heads, & wayne: So fades the man, whose heart is not vpright, So perisheth the double Hypocrite; His hopes are like the Spiders web, to day That's flourishing, to morrow swept away: But he that's iust, is like a flowring tree, Rooted by Christall springs, that cannot be Scorcht by the noone of day, nor stir'd from thence, Where, firmely fixt, it hath a residence, Heauen neuer failes the soule that is vpright, Nor offers arme to the base Hypocrite: The one, he blesses with eternall ioyes, The other, his auenging hand destroyes.

I yeeld it for a truth; (sad Iob reply'd) * 1.67 Compar'd with God, can man be iustifi'd? If man should giue account what he hath done, Not of a thousand, could he answere one: His hand's all-Power, and his heart all pure, Against this God, what flesh can stand secure? He shakes the Mountaines, and the Sun he barres From circling his due course, shuts vp the Starres, He spreads the Heauens, and rideth on the Flood, His Workes may be admir'd, not vnderstood: No eye can see, no heart can apprehend him, Lists he to spoyle? What's he can reprehend him?

His Will's his Law. The smoothest pleader hath No power in his lips, to slake his Wrath, Much lesse can I pleade faire Immunitie, Which could my guiltlesse Tongue attaine, yet I Would kisse the Footstep of his Iudgement-seate: Should he receiue my crie, my griefe's so great, It would perswade me, that he heard me not, For he hath torne me with the fiue-fold knot Of his sharpe Scourge, his plagues successiue are, That I can find no ground, but of Despaire. If my bold lips should dare to iustifie My selfe, my lips would giue my lips the lye. God owes his mercy, nor to Good, nor Bad; The wicked oft he spares, and oft does adde, Griefe, to the Iust mans griefe, woes after woes; We must not iudge man, as his Market goes. But might my prayers obtaine this boone, that God Would cease these sorrowes, and remoue that Rod, Which moues my patience, I would take vpon me, T'impleade before him, your rash Iudgement on me, Because my tender Conscience doth perswade me, I'm not so bad, as your bad Words haue made me.

My life is tedious, my distresse shall breake * 1.68 Into her proper Voyce, my griefes shall speake; (Iust Iudge of Earth) condemne me not, before Thou please to make me vnderstand wherefore. Agrees it with thy Iustice, thus to be Kind to the Wicked, and so harsh to Me? Seest thou with fleshly Eyes? Or doe they glance By fauour? Are they clos'd with Ignorance? Liu'st thou the life of Man? Doest thou desire A space of time to search, or to enquire

My sinne? No, in the twinkling of an eye, Thou seest my heart, seest mine Immunitie Frō those foule crimes, wherwith my friends, at pleasure Taxe me, yet thou afflict'st me, in this Measure: Thy hands haue form'd, and fram'd me, what I am, When thou hast made, wilt thou destroy the same? Remember, I am built of Clay, and must Returne againe (without thy helpe) to Dust. Thou didst create, preserue me, hast endu'd My life with gracious blessings, oft renew'd Thy precious Fauours on me: How wert thou, Once, so benigne, and so cruell now? Thou hunt'st me like a Prey, my plagues encrease, Succeed each other, and they neuer cease. Why was I borne? Or why did not my Tombe, Receiue me (weeping) from my Mothers Wombe? I haue not long to liue; Lord, grant that I May see some comfort, that am soone to dye.

Meditatio nona.

HE that's the truest Master of his owne, Is neuer lesse alone, then when alone, His watchfull Eyes are plac't within his Heart; His Skill, is how to know himselfe; his Art, How to command the pride of his Affections, With sacred Reason: How to giue Directions Vnto his wandring Will; His* 1.69 Conscience checks his More looser thoughts; His lowder sinnes, she vexes

With srights, and feares; Within her owne precincts, She rambles with her* 1.70 Whips of wire, ne'r winks At smallest faults. Like as a tender Mother (Howe're she loues her darling) will not smother His childish fault, but she (her selfe) will rather Correct, then trust him to his angry Father: Euen so the tender Conscience of the wise, Checks her beloued soule, and doth chastise, And iudge the Crime her selfe, lest it should stand, As liable to a seuerer Hand.

Fond soule, beware, who e're thou art, that spies Anothers Fault, that thou thine owne, chastize, Lest, like a foolish man, thou iudge another, In those selfe-crimes, which in your brest you smother.

Who vndertakes, to dreine his brothers eye Of noysome Humors, first, must clarifie His owne, lest when his brothers blemish is Remoou'd, he spie a souler Blame in his.

It is beyond th' extent of Mans Commission, To iudge of Man: The secret disposition Of sacred Prouidence is* 1.71 lockt, and seal'd From mans Conceit, and not to be reueal'd, Vntill that Lambe breake ope the Seale, and come VVith Life and Death, to giue the VVorld her Doome.

The Ground-worke of our Faith, must not relie On bare Euents; Peace and Prosperitie Are goodly Fauours, but no proper Marke, VVherewith God brands his Sheepe: No outward barke Secures the body, to be sound within. The Rich man liu'd in Scarlet, dyed in Sinne. Behold th' afflicted man; Affliction mooues Compassion; but no Confusion prooues.

A gloomie Day brings oft a glorious Euen: The Poore man dyed with sores, and liues in Heauen. To Good and Bad, both Fortunes Heauen doth share, That both, an after-change, may hope, and feare.

I'le hope the best (Lord,) leaue the rest to thee, Lest, while I iudge another, thou iudge me; It's one mans VVorke, to haue a serious sight Of his owne sinnes, and iudge himselfe aright.

THE ARGVMENT.

Zophar blames Iob; Iob equall makes His wisdome vnto theirs: He takes In hand to pleade with God; and then Describes the fraile estate of men.

Sect. 10.

THen Zophar from deepe silence, did awake * 1.72 His words, with lowder language, & be spake: Shall Prattlers be vnanswer'd, or shall such Be counted iust, that speake, for babbling much? Shal thy words stop our mouths? He that hath blam'd And scoft at others, shall he dye vnsham'd? Our eares haue heard thee, when thou hast excus'd Thy selfe of Euill, and thy God accus'd: But if thy God should pleade with thee at large, Thoud'st reape the sorrowes of a double Charge.

Canst thou, by deepe enquirie, vnderstand The hidden Iustice of th' Almighties hand? Heauens large Dimensions cannot comprehend him; What e're he doe, what's He, can reprehend him? What Refuge hast thou then, but to present A heart, inricht with the sad compliment Of a true Conuert, on thy bended knee, Before thy God, t'attone thy God and thee? Then doubt not, but he'l reare thee from thy sorrow, Disperse thy Clouds, and, like a shining Morrow, Make cleare thy Sun-beames of Prosperitie, And rest thy Soule in sweet Securitie: But he, whose heart, obdur'd in sinne, persists, His Hopes shall vanish, as the morning Mists.

But Iob, euen as a Ball, against the ground * 1.73 Banded with violence, did thus rebound:

You are the onely Wisemen, in your brests, * 1.74 The hidden Magazen of true Wisdome rests, Yet (though astunn'd with sorrowes) doe I know A little, and (perchance) as much as you; I'm scorned of my Friends, whose prosprous state, Surmises me (that haue expyr'd the Date, Of Earths faire Fortunes) to be cast away, From Heauens regard, thinke none belou'd, but they; I am despised, like a Torch, that's spent, Whil'st that the wicked blazes in his Tent: What haue your wisdoms taught me, more then that, Which Birds and Beasts (could they but speak) would chat? Digests the Stomake, 'ere the Pallat tastes? O weigh my Words, before you iudge my Case. But you referre me to our Fathers dayes, To be instructed in their wiser Layes.

True, length of dayes brings Wisdome; but, I say, I haue a Wiser teacheth me, then they: For I am taught, and tutor'd by that Hand, Whose vnresisted power doth command The limits of the Earth, whose Wisdome schooles And traines the Simple, makes the learned, Fooles: His hand doth rayse the poore, deposes Kings; On him, both Order, and the Change of things Depend, he searches, and brings forth the light, From out the shaddowes, and the depth of night.

All this, mine owne Experience hath found true, * 1.75 And in all this, I know as much as you. But you auerre; If I should pleade with God, That he would double his seuerer Rod. Your tongue belyes his Iustice, you applie Amisse, your Med'cine, to my Maladie; In silence, you would seeme more Wise, lesse weake; You hauing spoke, now lend me leaue to speake. Will you doe wrong, to doe Gods Iustice right? Are you his Counsell? Need you helpe to fight His Quarrels? Or expect you his applause, Thus (brib'd with selfe-conceit) to pleade his Cause? Iudgement's your Fee, when as you take in hand Heauens cause, to pleade it, and not Heauen command. If that the foulenesse of your Censures could Not fright you, yet, me thinkes, his Greatnes should, Whose Iustice, you make Patron of your lyes; Your slender Maxims, and false Forgeryes, Are substanc't, like the dust, that flies besides me; Peace then, and I will speake, what ere betides me. My soule is on the Rack, my teares haue drown'd me, Yet will I trust my God, though God confound me;

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

He, He's my Towre of strength; No hypocrite Stands, vnconfounded, in his glorious sight: Ballance my words; I know my case would quit Me from your censures, should I argue it. Who takes the Plaintiffes pleading? Come, for I Must pleade my Right, or else (perforce) must dye. With thee (Great Lord of Heauen) I dare dispute, If thou wilt grant me this my double Sute; First, that thou slake these sorrowes, that surround me, Then, that thy burning Face doe not confound me; Which granted, then take thou thy choyse, let me Propound the Question, or, else, answere Thee. Why dost thou thus pursue me, like thy Foe? For what great Sinne do'st thou afflict me so? Break'st thou a withred Leafe? Thy Iustice doth Summe vp the Reck'nings of my sinfull Youth; Thou keep'st me Pris'ner, bound in fetters fast, And, like a thread-bare Garment, doe I wast.

Man, borne of Woman, hath but a short while * 1.76 To liue; his Dayes are fleete, and full of toyle; He's like a Flower, shooting forth, and dying, His Life is as a Shaddow, swiftly flying. Ah! being so poore a thing, what need'st thou mind him? The nūber of his daies, thou hast confin'd him; Then adde not plagues vnto his Griefe, O giue Him peace, that hath so small a time to liue; Trees, that are fell'd, may sprout againe, Man neuer; His dayes are numbred, and he dyes for euer, Hee's like a Mist, exhaled by the Sunne, His dayes once done, they are for euer done. O, that thy Hand would hide me close, and couer Me in the Graue, till all thy Wrath were ouer!

My desperate sorrowes hope for no Reliefe, Yet will I waite my Change. My day of griefe Will be exchang'd, for an eternall Day Of Ioy: But now, thou dost not spare to lay Full heapes of Vengeance on my broken soule, And writest my sinnes, vpon an ample scrowle; As Mountaines (being shaken) fall, and Rocks, (Though firme) are worne, & rent with many knocks: So strongest men are batter'd with thy Strength, Loose ground, returning to the Ground at length: So Mortals dye, and (being dead) ne'r mind The fairest Fortunes, that they leaue behind. While man is man (vntill that death bereaue him Of his last breath) his Griefes shall neuer leaue him.

Meditatio decima.

DOth Hist'ry then, and sage Chronologie, (The Index, pointing to Antiquitie,) So firmely grounded on deepe Iudgement, guarded, And kept by so much Miracle, rewarded With so great Glorie, serue, but as slight Fables, To edge the dulnesse of mens wanton Tables, And claw their itching eares? Or doe they, rather, Like a concise Abridgement, serue to gather Mans high Aduentures, and his transitorie Atchiuements, to expresse his Makers glorie? Acts, that haue blowne the lowdest Trumpe of Fame, Are all, but Honours, purchac't in His name.

Is * 1.77 he, that (yesterday) went forth, to bring His Fathers Asses home, (to day) crown'd King?

Did * 1.78 he, that now, on his braue Palace stood, Boasting his Babels beautie, chew the cud An hower after? Haue not Babes been crown'd, And mightie Monarchs beaten to the ground? Man vndertakes, Heauen breathes successe vpon it; What Good, what * 1.79 Euill is done, but Heauen hath done it?

The * 1.80 Man, to whom the World was not asham'd, To yeeld her Colours, he, that was proclam'd A God, in humane shape, whose dreadfull Voyce Did strike men dead, like Thunder, at the noyse; Was rent away, from his Imperiall Throne, Before his flowre of Youth was fully blowne, His Race was rooted out, his Issue slaine, And left his Empire to another Straine.

Who, that did e're behold the ancient Rome, Would rashly, giuen her Glorie such a doome, Or thought her subiect to such Alterations, That was the * 1.81 Mistresse, and the Queene of Nations?

Egypt, that in her walls, had once engrost More Wisdome, then the World besides, hath lost Her Senses now; Her wisest men of State, Are turn'd, like Puppets, to be pointed at: If Romes great power, and Egypts wisdome can Not aide themselues, how poore a thing is Man?

God Playes with Kingdomes, as with Tennis-balls, Fells some that rise, and rayses some that falls: Nor Policie can preuent, nor secret Fate, VVhere Heauen hath pleas'd, to blow vpon a State. If States be not secure, nor Kingdomes, than How helpelesse (Ah!) how poore a thing is Man!

Man's like a Flower, the while he hath to last, Hee's nipt with frost, and shooke with euery blast, Hee's borne in sorrow, and brought vp in teares, He liues, a while in sinne, and dyes in feares.

Lord, I'le not boast, what ere thou giue vnto me, Lest e're my brag be done, thou take it from me. No man may boast, but of his owne, I can * 1.82 Then boast of nothing, for I am a Man.

THE ARGVMENT.

Rash Eliphaz doth aggrauate The sinnes of Iob, malign's his state, VVhom Iob reprouing, iustifies Himselfe, bewailes his miseries.

Sect. 11.

DOth vaine repining (Eliphaz replies) * 1.83 Or words, like wind, beseeme the man that's (wise? Ah sure, thy faithlesse heart reiects the feare Of heauen, dost not acquaint thy lips with prayre: Thy words accuse thy heart of Impudence, Thy tongue (not I) brings in the Euidence: Art thou the first of men? Doe Mysteries Vnfold to thee? Art thou the onely wise? Wherein hath Wisdome been more good to you Then vs? What know you, that we neuer knew?

Reuerence, not Censure, fits a young mans eyes, We are your Ancients, and should be as wise; Is't not enough, your Arrogance derides Our counsels, but must scorne thy God besides? Angels (if God inquier strictly) must Not plead Perfection: then, can man be iust?

It is a truth receiu'd, these aged eyes Haue seen't, and is confirmed by the wise, That still the wicked man is voyd of rest, Is alwayes fearfull, falles, when he feares least, In troubles he despaires, and is deiected, He begs his bread, his death comes vnexpected, In his aduersity, his griefes shall gaule him, And, like a raging Tyrant, shall inthrall him, He shall aduance against his God, in vaine, For Heauen shall crush and beate him downe againe; What if his Garners thriue, and goods encrease? They shall not prosper, nor he liue in peace, Eternall horrour shall begirt him round, And vengeance shall both him and his confound, Amidst his ioyes, despaire shall stop his breath, His sons shall perish, with vntimely death; The double soule shall dye, and in the hollow Of all false harts, false harts themselues shall swallow.

Then answered Iob, All this, before I knew, * 1.84 They want no griefe, that find such friends as you? Ah, cease your words, the fruits of ill-spent houres! If heauen should please to make my fortunes yours, I would not scoffe you, nor with taunts torment ye, My lips should comfort, and these eyes lament ye: What shall I doe? Speake not, my griefes oppresse My soule, or speake (alas) they'r ne'r the lesse;

Lord, I am wasted, and my pangs haue spent me, My skin is wrinkled, for thy Hand hath rent me, Mine enemies haue smit me in disdaine, Laught at my torments, iested at my paine: I swel'd in wealth, but (now) alas, am poore, And feld with woe) lye grou'ling on the floore, In dust and sackcloth, I lament my sorrowes, Thy Hand hath trencht my cheekes with water-fur∣rowes, Nor can I comprehend the cause, that this My smart should be so grieuous as it is: Oh Earth! If then an Hypocrite I be, Couer my cryes, as I doe couer thee, And witnesse Heauen, that these my Vowes be true, (Ah friends!) I spend my teares to Heau'n, not you. My time's but short, (alas!) would then, that I Might try my cause with God, before I dye.

Since then I languish, and not farre from dead, * 1.85 Let me, a while, with my Accusers plead (Before the Iudge of heauen, and earth) my right, Haue they not wrong'd, and vext me, day and night? Who, first, layes downe his Gage, to meet me? Say, I doubt not (Heauen being Iudge) to win the day: You'l say, perchance, Wee'l recompell our word, E're simple Truth should, vnawares, afford Your discontent; No, no, forbeare, for I Hate lesse your Censures, then your Flattery; I am become a By-word, and a Taber, To set the tongues, and eares of men, in labour, Mine eyes are dimme, my body's but a shade, Good men that see my case, will be afraid, But not confounded; They will hold their way, And in a bad, they'l hope a better day;

Recant your errours, for I cannot see One man, thats truly wise, among you Three; My dayes are gone, my thoughts are mis-possest, The silent night, that heauen ordain'd for rest, My day of trauell is, but I shall haue Er'e long, long peace, within my welcome graue; My neerest kindred, are the wormes, the earth My mother, for she gaue me, first, my birth; Where are my hopes then? where that future ioy, Which you false-prophecy'd I should enioy? Both hopes, and I, alike, shall trauell thither, Where, clos'd in dust, we shall remaine together.

Meditatio vndecima.

THe Morall Poets, (nor vnaptly) faine, That by lame Vulcans help, the pregnant braine Of soueraign* 1.86 Ioue, brought forth, & at that birth; Was borne* 1.87 Minerua, Lady of the earth.

O strange Diuinity! but sung by rote; Sweet is the tune, but in a wilder note.

The Morall sayes, All Wisedome that is giuen To hood-wink't mortals, first, proceeds from heauen: Truth's errour, Wisedom's, but wise insolence, And light's but darknesse, not deriu'd from thence; Wisdom's a straine transcends Morality, No Vertu's absent, Wisedome being by. Vertue, by constant practice, is acquir'd, This (this by sweat vnpurchas't) is inspir'd:

The master-piece of knowledge, is to know But what is Good, from what is good in show, * 1.88 And there it rests: * 1.89 Wisdome proceeds, and chuses The * 1.90 seeming Euill, th' apparant Good refuses; Knowledge deseru's, alone; Wisedome applyes, That, makes some fooles, this, maketh none but wise; The curious hand of knowledge doth but pick Bare simples, Wisedome pounds them, for the sicke; In my affliction, knowledge apprehends, Who is the Authour, what the Cause, and Ends, It findes that Patience is my sad reliefe, And that the Hand that caus'd, can cure my griefe: To rest contented here, is but to bring Clouds without raine, and heat without a Spring: What hope arises hence? The Diuels doe The very same: They know, and tremble too; But sacred Wisedome doth* 1.91 apply that Good, Which simple Knowledge barely vnderstood: Wisedome concludes, and in conclusion, proues, That wheresoeuer God corrects, he loues: Wisedome digests, what knowledge did but tast, That deales in futures, this, in things are past: Wisedom's the Card of Knowledge, which, without That Guide, at random's wreckt on euery doubt: Knowledge, when Wisedome is too weak to guide her, Is like a head-strong Horse, that throwes the Rider: VVhich made that great * 1.92 Philosopher auow, He knew so much, that he did nothing know.

Lord, giue me VVisdome to direct my wayes, I beg nor riches, nor yet length of dayes, O grant thy seruant VVisedome, and with it, I shall receiue such knowledge as will fit

To serue my turne: I wish not Phoebus waine, Without his skill to driue it, lest I gaine Too deare an Honour, Lord, I will not stay, To pick more Manna, then will serue to day.

THE ARGVMENT.

Bildad, the whil'st he makes a show To strike the wicked, giues the blow To Iob: Iobs Misery, and Faith; Zophar makes good what Bildad saith.

Sect. 12.

SAid Bildad then, When will ye bring to end, * 1.93 The speeches, whereabout ye so contend? Waigh eithers words, lest ignorant confusion Debarre them of their purposed conclusion▪ We came to comfort, fits it then that we Be thought as beasts, or fooles accounted be? But thou, Iob, (like a mad man) would'st thou force God, to desist his order, and set course Of Iustice? Shall the wicked, for thy sake (That would'st not taste of Euill) in Good partake? No, no, his Lampe shall blaze, and dye, his strength Shall faile, or shall confound it selfe, at length, He shall be hampred with close hidden snares, And dog'd, where e're he starts, with troups of feares:

Hunger shall bite, destruction shall attend him, His skin shall rot, the worst of deaths shall end him, His feare, shall be a thousand link't together, His branch, aboue, his root, beneath, shall wither, His Name shall sleepe in dust, with dust, decay, Odious to all, by all men chas't away, No Son shall keepe aliue his House, his Name, And none shall thriue, that can alliance clame, The after-age shall stand amaz'd, to heare His Fall, and they that see't, shall shake for feare: Thus stands the state of him that doth amisse, And (Iob) what other is thy case, then this?

But Iob reply'd, How long (as with sharpe swords) * 1.94 Will ye torment me, with your poynted words? How often haue your biting tongues defam'd My simple Innocence, and yet, vnsham'd? Had I deseru'd these plagues, yet let my griefe Expresse it selfe, though it find no reliefe, But if you needs must weare your tongues vpon me, Know, 'Tis the hand of God hath ouerthrowne me; I roare, vnheard; His Hand will not release me; The more I grieue, the more my griefes oppresse me: He hath dispoyld my ioyes, and goes about (My Branches being lopt) to stroy the Root, His Plagues, like souldiers, trench within my bones, My friends, my kindred fly me all at once, My neighbours, my familiars haue forgon me, My houshold stares, with strangers eyes, vpon me: I call my seruant, but his lips are dumbe, I humbly beg his helpe, but hee'l not come, My owne wife loathes my breath, though I did make My solemne suit, for our dead childrens sake:

The poore, whose wants I haue supply'd, despise me, And he that liu'd within my brest, denyes me, My bones are hide-bound, there cannot be found One piece of skin, (vnlesse my gummes) that's sound, Alas! complaints are barren shaddowes, to Expresse, or cure the substance of my woe. Haue pitty, (oh my friends) haue pitty on me, 'Tis your Gods hand and mine, that lyes vpon me, Vexe me no more. O let your anger be (If I haue wrong'd you) calm'd with what ye see; O! that my speeches were ingrauen, then, In Marble Tablets, with an yron Pen: For sure I am, that my Redeemer liues, And though pale death consume my flesh, and giues My Carkas to the wormes, yet am I sure, Clad with this selfe-same flesh (but made more pure) I shall behold His glory; These sad eyes Shall see his Face, how-e're my body lies, Mouldred in dust; These fleshly eyes, that doe Behold these Sores, shall see my Maker too.

Vnequall hearers, of vnequall griefe, Y'are all ingag'd to the selfe-same beliefe, Know ther's a Iudge, whose Voyce will be as free, To iudge your words, as you haue iudged me.

Said Zophar then, I purpos'd to refraine * 1.95 From speaking, but thou mou'st me back againe: For hauing heard thy haughty Spirit breake Such hasty termes, my Spirit bids me speake:

Hath not the change of Ages, and of Climes, Taught vs, as we shall our succeeding times, How vain's the tryumph, and how short the blaze, Wherein the wicked sweeten out their dayes?

Though for a while his Palmes of glorie flourish, Yet, in conclusion, they grow seire, and perish: His life is like a Dreame, that passes o're, The eye that saw him, ne're shall see him more: The Sonne shall slatter, whom the Syre opprest, And (poore) he shall returne, what he did wrest; He shall be bayted with the Sinnes, that haue So smil'd vpon his childhood, to his Graue, His Plenty (purchac't by oppression) shall Be Hony, tasted, but digested, Gall; It shall not blesse him with prolonged stay, But euilly come, it soone shall passe away; The man, whose griping hath the poore opprest, Shall neither thriue in state, nor yet find rest In soule; nought of his fulnesse shall remaine, His greedy Heyre shall long expect, in vaine; Soak't with extorted Plenty, others shall Squeeze him, and leaue him dispossest of all; And when his Ioyes doe in their height abound, Vengeance shall strike him groaning, to the ground, If Sword forbeare to wound him, Arrowes shall Returning forth, anoynted with his Gall, No shade shall hide him, and an vnblowne Fyer Shall burne both him, and his. Heauen, like a Cryer, Shall blaze his shame, and Earth shall stand his Foe, His wandring Children shall no dwelling know; Behold the mans Estate, whom God denies, Behold thine owne, pourtracted to thine Eyes.

Meditatio duodecima.

CAn mercy come from bloody Cain? Or hath His angry Brow a smile? Or can his Wrath Be quencht with ought, but righteous Abels Blood? Can guiltie Pris'ners hope for any Good From the seuerer Iudge, whose dismall Breath Doomes them to die, breathes nothing else but Death? Ah righteous Iudge, wherein hath Man to trust? Man hath offended, and thy Lawes are Iust; Thou frownest like a Iudge, but I had rather, That thou would'st smile vpon me like a Father▪ What if thy Esau be austere and rough? Thou hast a Iacob that is smooth enough: Thy Iacobs tender Kid brings forth a blessing, While Esau's tedious Ven'zon is a dressing. Thy face hath smiles, as well as frownes, by turnes; Thy fier giueth light, as well as burnes. What if the Serpent stung old Adam dead, Young Adam liues, to breake that Serpents Head? Iustice hath struck me with a bleeding wound, But Mercy Powr's in Oyle, to make it sound. The milke-white Lambe confounds the roaring Lion, Blasted by Sinah, I am heal'd by Sion: The Law finds guiltie, and Death Iudgement giues, But sure I am, that my Redeemer liues.

How wretched was mans case, in those darke dayes, * 1.96 When Law was onely read? which Law dismaies,

And, taking vantage, through the breach of it, The Letter kils, and can no way admit Release by Pardon; for by Law we dye. Why then hop'd man, without a reason Why? Although there was no Sunne, their Morning eies, Saw, by the Twilight, that the Sunne would rise. The Law was like a mistie Looking-Glasse, Wherein the shaddow of a Sauiour was, Treates in a darker straine, by Types and Signes, And what should passe in after-dayes, diuines. The Gospell sayes, That He is come, and dead, And thus the Riddle of the Law is read. * 1.97 Gospell is Law, the Myst'ry being seal'd; And Law is Gospell, being once reueal'd.

Experience tells vs, when as Birth denies To man (through Natures ouer-sight) his eyes, Nature (whose curious workes are neuer vaine) Supplies them, in the power of his Braine: So they, whose eyes were barr'd that glorious sight Of the Messiah's day, receiu'd more Light, (Inspyred by the Breath of Heauen) then they, That heard the tidings of that happy Day.

The man, that with a sharpe contracted eye, * 1.98 Looks in a cleare Perspectiue-Glasse, doth spie Obiects remote, which, to the sense, appeare (Through helpe of the Perspectiue) seeming neere. So they that liu'd within the Lawes Dominion, Did heare farre off, a Bruit and buzz'd Opinion, A Sauiour (one day) should be borne; but hee That had a Perspectiue of Faith, might see That long-expected Day of Ioy as cleere, As if the Triumph had been then kept there.

Lord, so direct me in thy perfect VVay, That I may looke, and smile vpon that Day: O! bathe me in his Blood, spunge euery Staine, That I may boldly sue my Counter-paine: O! make me Glorious in the Doome he giues, For sure I am, that my Redeemer liues.

THE ARGVMENT.

Earths happinesse is not Heauens brand: Arash recounting of Iob's crimes: Iob trusts him to th' Almighties hand: God tyes his Iudgements, not to Times.

Sect. 13.

THen Iob replyde: O, let your patience proue, * 1.99 You came (not to afflict me but) in Loue. O! beare with me, & heare me speak at leisure, My speech once ended, mock, & scoffe your pleasure; Myst'ries I treat, not Toyes; If then I range A thought beyond my selfe, it is not strange; Behold my case, and stand amaz'd, forbeare me; Be still, and in your deeper silence heare me.

Search you the hearts of man (my Friends) or can You iudge the Inward, by the Outward man? How haps the Wicked then, so sound in Health, So ripe in Yeeres, so prosperous in Wealth?

They multiplie, their House is fill'd with Peace, They passe vnplagu'd, their fruitfull Flockes encrease; Their Children thriue in ioyfull Melodie, Prosperous they liue, and peacefully they dye; Renounce vs (God) say they (if God there be▪ What need we knowledge of thy VVord, or Thee? VVhat is th' Almighty, that we should adore him? VVhat bootes our prayer, or vs, to fall before him?

'Tis not by chance, their vaine Prosperitie Crownes thē with store, or Heauē, not knowing, why: But you affirme, That in conclusion they Shall fall. But not so sudden, as you say: But can ye limit forth the space, confine, How long, or when their Lampes shall cease to shine? Will any of you vndertake to teach Your Maker, things so farre aboue your reach? The Bad man liues in plentie, dyes in peace: The Good, as doe his howres, his griefes encrease; Yet both the Good and Bad alike shall haue, Though Liues much differing, yet one cōmon graue. I know your mining thoughts; You will demand, VVhere is the wickeds Power? And where stand Their loftie Buildings, are they to be seene? Enquire of wandring Pilgrims, that haue beene Experienc'd in the Roade, and they'l relate The Princely greatnesse of their Tow'rs, and State: Liue any more secure, then they? Or who Dare once reprooue them, for the Deeds they doe? He liues in Power, and in Peace he dies, Attended in his pompeous Obsequies. How vaine are then the comforts of your breath, That censure goodnesse, or by Life, or Death?

Said Eliphaz: What then remaines? Thy tongue * 1.100 Hath quit thy selfe, accus'd thy God of Wrong. Gaines he by mans vprightnesse? Can man ad To his Perfection, what He neuer had? Feares He the strength of mā? Doth He torment him, Lest that his vntam'd power should preuent Him? What need I waste this breath? Recall thy senses, And take the Inuentorie of thy Offences: Thou tookst the poore mans Pawne, nor hast thou fed Thy needy Brother, with thy prosp'rous Bread; Thy hands peruerted Iustice, and haue spoyl'd The hopelesse Widdow, with her helpelesse Child. Hence spring thy sorrowes (Iob;) 'Tis Iustice, then, Thou should'st be plagu'd, that thus plagu'd other mē. Is Heauen Iust? Can Heauens Iust Creator Let passe (vnpunisht) Sinnes of so high nature? Hath not Experience taught, that for a while, The Wicked may exalt their Crests, and smile, Blowne vp with Insolence: but in conclusion They fall, and good men laugh at their confusion? Iob, adde not sinne to sinne, cease to beguile Thy selfe, thinking to quench thy fire with Oyle; Returne thee to thy God, confesse thy crimes; Returne, and he will crowne thy after-times With former Blessings, and thy Riches shall Be as the Sand: for God is all in all; His face shall welcome thee, and smile vpon thee, And cease that mischief, his iust Hand hath done thee; He shall be pleased with thy holy Fiers, And grant the issue of thy best Desires.

Iob answer'd then: Although my soule be faint, * 1.101 And Griefes weigh down the Scale of my complant,

Yet would I pleade my Cause (which you defam'd) Before my Maker, and would pleade, vnsham'd; Could I but find him, I would take vpon me, To quit the Censures you haue passed on me. His Iustice hath no limits, is extended Beyond conceit, by man vnapprehended; Let Heauen be Vmpire, and make Arbitration, Betwixt my guiltlesse heart, and your taxation. My Embrion thoughts and words are all inroll'd, Pure will he find them, as refined Gold; His steps I followed, and vprightly stood, His Lawes haue been my Guide, his Words my food; Hath he but once decreed? (alas!) there's none Can barre: for what he wills, must needs be done; His Will's a Law: If he hath doom'd, that I Shall still be plagu'd, 'tis bootelesse to replie. Hence comes it, that my sore afflicted spright Trembles, and stands confounded at his sight; His hand hath struck my spirits in amaze, For I can neither end my Griefes nor Dayes.

Why should not Times in all things be forbid, * 1.102 When to the Iust, their time of sorrow's hid? Some mooue their Land-markes, rob their neighbour Others, in gage, receiue the Widowes Oxe, Some grinde the Poore, while others seeke the Prey; flocks; They reape their Haruest, beare their Graine away; Men presse their Oyle, and they distraine their Store, And rend the Gleanings, from the hungry poore. The Citie roares, the Blood, which they haue spent, Cryes (vnreueng'd) for equall punishment; Early they murther, and rob late at night, They trade in Darkenesse, for they hate the Light;

The sinne (vnpunisht) thriuing, vncontroll'd, And what by Force they got, by Force they hold.

O Friends! Repeale your words, your speeches bring No lawfull Yssue, prooue not any thing: Your deeper Wisdomes argue (in effect) That God doth, or not know, or else neglect: Conclude with me, or proue my words vntrue, I must be found a Lyer, or else you.

Meditatio tertiadecima.

THe VVisest men, that Nature e're could boast, For secret knowledge of her power, were lost, Confounded, and in deepe amazement stood, In the discouery of the Chiefest Good: Keenely they hunted, beat in euery Bracke, Forwards they went, on either hand, and backe Return'd they Counter; but their deepe-mouth'd Art, (Though often challeng'd Sent, yet) ne'r could start, In all th' Enclosures of Philosophy, That Game, from squat, they terme, * 1.103 Felicity: They iangle, and their Maxims dis-agree, As many men, so many minds there be.

One digs to Pluto's Throane, thinkes there to find Her Grace, rak't vp in Gold: Anothers mind Mounts to the Courts of Kings, with Plumes of Honour, And feather'd Hopes, hopes, there, to seize vpon her; A third, vnlockes the painted Gates of Pleasure, And ransacks there, to find this peerelesse Treasure.

A fourth, more sage, more wisely melancholy, Perswades himselfe, her Deity's too holy, For common hands to touch, he rather chuses, To make a long dayes iourney to the Muses: To Athens (gown'd) he goes, and from that Schoole Returnes vnsped, a more instructed foole.

Where lies she then? Or lies she any where? Honours are bought and sold, she rests not there, Much lesse in Pleasures hath she her abiding, For they are shar'd to Beasts, and euer sliding; Nor yet in Vertue, Vertu's often poore, And (crush't with Fortune) begs from dore to dore, Nor is she sainted in the Shrine of wealth, That makes men slaues, is vnsecur'd from stealth; Conclude we then, Felicity consists Not in exterior Fortunes, but her lists Are boundlesse, and her large extension Out-runnes the pace of humane apprehension; Fortunes are seldome measur'd by desert, The fairer face, hath oft the fouler heart; Sacred felicity doth ne're extend Beyond it selfe:* 1.104 In it all wishes end: The swelling of an outward Fortune can Create a prosperous, not a * 1.105 happy man; A peacefull Conscience is the true Content, And wealth is but her golden Ornament.

I care not, so my Kernell rellish well, How slender be the substance of my shell; My heart being vertuous, let my face be wan, I am to God, I onely seeme to man.

THE ARGVMENT.

Bildad showes mans impurity; Iob setteth forth th' Almighties power, Pleads still his owne Integrity: Gods Wisedome no man can discouer.

Sect. 14.

SAid Bildad then, With whom dost thou contest, * 1.106 But with thy Maker, that liues euer blest? His Powr's infinite, mans light is dimme, And knowledge darknesse, not deriu'd from Him: Say then, Who can be iust before Him? No man Can challenge Purity, that's borne of Woman. The greater Torch of heauen in his sight, Shall be asham'd, and lose his purer light; Much lesse can man, that is but liuing Dust, And but a fairer Worme, be pure and iust.

Whereat Iob thus: Doth heauens high Iudgement stand, * 1.107 To be supported by the weaker hand? Wants Hee thy helpe? To whom dost thou extend These, these thy lauish lips, and to what end? No, Hee's Almighty, and his Power doth giue Each thing his Being, and by Him they liue: To him, is nothing darke, his soueraigne Hands Whirle round the restlesse Orbs, his Pow'r cōmands

Th' euen poys'd Earth; The Water-pots of heauen He empties at his pleasure, and hath giuen Appoynted lists, to keepe the Waters vnder, The trembling Skies he strikes amaz'd, with thunder: These, these the Trophies of his Power be, Where is there e're a such a God as He?

My friends, These eares haue heard your censures on me, * 1.108 And Heauens sharp hand doth waigh so hard vpō me So languishing in griefe, that no defence Seemes to remaine, to shield my Innocence: Yet while my soule a gaspe of breath affords, I'le not distrust my Maker, nor your words Deserue, which Heauen forfend, that euer I Proue true, but I'le plead guiltlesse till I dye, While I haue breath, my pangs shal ne'r perswade me To wander, and reuolt from Him, that made me. Er'e such thoughts spring from this confused brest, Let death and tortures doe their worst, their best. What gaines the Hypocrite, although the whole Worlds wealth he purchase, with the price on's soule? Will Heauen heare the voyce of his disease? Can he repent, and turne, where-e're he please? True, God doth sometime plague with open shame The wicked, often blurres he forth his Name From out the earth, his children shall be slaine, And who suruiue, shall beg their bread in vaine; What if his Gold be heap'd, the Good man shall Possesse it, as true Master of it All, Like Moths, their houses shall they build, in doubt And danger, euery houre to be cast out, Besieg'd with Want, their lips make fruitlesse moane, Yet (wanting succour) be relieu'd by none.

The worme of Conscience shall torment his brest, And he shall rore, when others be at rest, Gods hand shall scourge him, that he cannot flye, And men shall laugh, and hisse, to heare him cry.

The purest metall's hid within the Mould, * 1.109 Without, is grauell, but within, is Gold; Man digs, and in his toyle he takes a pleasure, He seekes, and finds within the turfe, the Treasure, He neuer rests, vnsped, but (vnderneath) He mines, and progs, though in the fangs of death: No secret, (how obscure soeuer) can Earths bosome smother, that's vnfound by man; But the Diuine, and high Decrees of heauen, What mind can search into? No power's giuen To mortall man, whereby he may attaine The rare discouery of so high a straine, Diue to the depth of darknesse, and the deepes, Renounce this Wisedome: The wide Ocean keepes Her not inclos'd; 'Tis not the purest Gold Can purchase it, or heapes of siluer, told, The Pearles, and peerelesse Treasures of the East, Resined Gold, and Gemmes, are all, the least Of nothings, if compar'd with It, as which, Earths masse of treasure, (summ'd) is not so Rich; Where rests this Wisedome then? If men enquire Below, they find her not; or, if they (higher) Soare with the Prince of Fowles, they still despaire, The more they seeke, the further off they are.

Ah friends! how more then men? how Eagle-eyde Are you, to see, what to the world beside Was darke? To you, alone, (in trust) was giuen To search into the high Decrees of Heauen:

You read his Oracles, you vnderstand To riddle forth mans Fortunes by his Hand, Your wisedomes haue a priuiledge to know His secret Smiling, from his angry Brow: Let shame preuent your lips, recant, and giue To the Almighty his Prerogatiue, To him, the searching of mens hearts belong, Mans iudgement sinkes no deeper then the tongue; Hee ouerlookes the World, and in one space Of time, his Eye is fixt on euery place: He waigh'd the Waters, ballanc'd out the Ayre, What-e're hath Being, did his Hands prepare; He wills that Mortals be not ouer-wise, Nor iudge his Secrets with censorious eyes.

Meditatio quartadecima.

TIs Vertue to flye Vice: Ther's none more stout, Then he that ventures to pick Vertue out, Betwixt a brace of vices: Dangers stand, Threatning his ruine, vpon either hand; His Card must guide him, lest his Pinnace runne Vpon Charibdis, while it Scylla shun: In moderation all Vertue lyes; 'Tis greater folly to be ouer-wise, Then rudely ignorant: The golden meane, Is but to know enough; safer to leane To Ignorance, then* 1.110 Curiositie, For* 1.111 lightning blasts the Mountaines that are high:

The first of men, from hence, deseru'd his fall, He sought for secrets, and sought death, withall: * 1.112 Secrets are vnfit obiects for our eyes, They blind vs in beholding: he that tryes To handle water, the more hard he straines And gripes his hand, the lesse his hand retaines: The mind that's troubled with that pleasing itch, Of knowing Secrets, hauing flowne a pitch Beyond it selfe, the higher it ascends, And striues to * 1.113 know, the lesse it apprehends: That secret Wiseman, is an open Foole, Which takes a Councel-chamber, for a Schoole.

The eye of man desires no farther light, Then to descry the obiect of his sight, And rests contented with the Sunnes reflection, But (lab'ring to behold his bright complection) If it presume t'outface his glorious Light, The beames bereaue him, iustly, of his sight: * 1.114 Euen so the mind should rest in what's reueal'd, But ouer-curious, if in things conceald, She wade too farre, beyond her depth, vnbounded, Her knowledge will be lost, and she confounded. * 1.115 Farre safer 'tis, of things vnsure, to doubt, Then vndertake to riddle secrets out.

It was demanded once, What God did doe Before the World he framed? Whereunto Answere was made, He built a Hell for such, As are too curious, & would* 1.116 know too much.

Who flies with Icarus his father, shall Haue Icarus his fortunes and his fall. A noble Prince, (whose bounteous hand was bent, To recompence his seruants faith, and vent

The earnest of his fauours,) did not proffer, But wil'd him, boldly, to preuent his offer: Thankfull, he thus reply'd, Then grant vnto me This boone, With-hold thy princely secrets from me.

That holy* 1.117 Man, in whose familiar eare Heauen oft had thundred, might not come too neare: The Temple must haue* 1.118 Curtaines; mortall hearts Must rest content to see his* 1.119 Hinder parts.

I care not (Lord) how farre thy Face be off, If I but kisse thy Hand, I haue enough.

THE ARGVMENT.

Iob wisheth his past happinesse, Shewes his state present, Doth confesse That God's the Authour of his griefe, Relates the purenesse of his life.

Sect. 15.

OH! that I were as happy as I was, * 1.120 When heauens bright fauours shone vpon my face, And prospred my affaires, inrich't my ioyes, When all my sonnes could answere to my voyce; Then did my store, and thriuing flockes encrease, Offended Iustice sought my hands, for peace; Old men did honour, and the young did feare me, Princes kept silence (when I spake,) to heare me,

I heard the poore, relieu'd the widdowes cry, Orphans I succour'd, was the blind mans eye, The Cripples foot, my helplesse brothers drudge, The poore mans Father, and th'oppressours Iudge; I then supposed, that my dayes long Lease Would passe in Plenty, and expire in Peace, My Roots were fixed, and my Branches sprung, My Glory blaz'd, my Pow'r grew daily strong; I speaking, men stood mute, my speeches moou'd All hearts to Ioy, by all men were approou'd, My kindly words were welcome, as a latter Rayne, and were Oracles in a doubtfull matter.

O sudden change! I'm turn'd a laughing-stock * 1.121 To boyes, & those, that su'd to tend my Flock, And such, whose hungry wants haue taught their hands To scrape the earth, and dig the barren lands, For hidden roots, wherewith they might appease Their Tyran'-stomakes, these, (euen very these) Flout at my sorrowes, and disdaining me, Poynt with their fingers, and cry, This is He: My honour's foyld, my troubled spirit lyes Wide open to the worst of iniuries, Where-e're I turne, my sorrow, new, appeares, I'm vex't abroad, with slouts, at home, with feares, My soule is faint, and nights that should giue ease To tyred spirits, make my griefes encrease, I loathe my Carkas, for my rip'ned sores Haue chang'd my garments colour with their cores: But what is worst of worsts, (Lord) often I Haue cry'd to Thee, a stranger to my cry, Though perfect Clemency, thy nature be, Though kind to all, thou art vnkind to me.

I ne'r waxt pale, to see another thriue, Nor e're did let my' afflicted brother striue With teares, alone, but I (poore I) tormented, Expect for succour, and am vnlamented; I mourne in silence, languish all alone, As in a Desart, am relieu'd by none; My sores haue dyed my skin with filth, still turning My Ioyes to Griefe, and all my Mirth to Mourning.

My Heart hath past Indentures with mine Eye, * 1.122 Not to behold a Maide: for what should I Expect from Heauen, but a deseru'd reward, Earnd by so foule a sinne? for death's prepar'd, And flames of wrath, are blowne for such: Doth He Not know my Actions, that so well knowes me? If I haue lent my hand to slie deceit, * 1.123 Or if my steps haue not been purely strait, What I haue sowne, then let a Stranger eate, And roote my Plants vntimely from their seate. If I with Lust haue e're distain'd my life, Or been defiled with anothers Wife, In equall Iustice, let my Wife be knowne Of all, and let me reape as I haue sowne: For Lust, that burneth in a sinfull brest, Till it hath burnt him too, shall neuer rest. If e're my haste did treate my Seruant ill, Without desert, making my Pow'r, my Will, Then how should I before Gods Iudgement stand, Since we were both created by one Hand? If e're my power wrong'd the Poore mans Cause, Or to the Widdow, length'ned out the Lawes: If e're (alone) my lips did taste my bread, Or shut my churlish doores, the poore vnfed,

Or bent my hand to doe the Orphane wrong, Or saw him naked, vnapparell'd long; In heapes of Gold, if e're I tooke delight, Or gaue Heauens worship, to the heauenly* 1.124 Light, Or e're was flattred by my secret Will, Or ioyed in my Aduersaries Ill; Let God accurse me from his glorious Seate, And make my Plagues (if possible) more great.

Oh! That some equall hearer, now were by, To iudge my righteous Cause; Full sure am I, I shall be quitted, by th' Almighties hand. What, therefore, if censorious tongues withstand The Iudgement of my sober Conscience? Compose they Ballads on me, yet from thence, My simple Innocence shall gaine renowne, And on my head, I'le weare them, as my Crowne: To the Almighties Eare will I reueale My secret Wayes, to Him, alone, appeale: If (to conclude) the Earth could find a tongue, T'impeach my guiltlesse hands of doing wrong: If hidden Wages (earn'd with sweat) doe lye, Rak't in her furrowes, let her Wombe denie To blesse my Haruest, let her better Seeds Be turn'd to Thistles, and the rest, to Weedes

Meditatio quintadecima.

THe man, whose soule is vndistain'd with Ill, Pure from the check of a distemp'red Will,

Stands onely free from the distracts of Care, And flies a pitch aboue the reach of Feare: His bosome dares the threatning Bow-mans arme, His Wisdome sees, his Courage feares no harme, His brest lyes open to the reeking Sword; The Darts of swarthy Maurus can afford Lesse dread, then danger, to his well prepar'd And settled mind, which (standing on her Guard) Bids Mischiefe doe the worst she can, or will, For he that doth no Ill, deserues no Ill.

Would any striue with* 1.125 Samson for renowne, Whose brawny Arme can strike most pillers downe? Or try a fall with* 1.126 Angels, and preuaile? Or with a Hymne, vnhinge the strongest* 1.127 Iayle? Would any from a Pris'ner, prooue a* 1.128 Prince? Or with* 1.129 slow speech, best Orators conuince? Preserue he then, vnstained in his brest, A milke-white Conscience; let his soule be blest With simple Innocence: This seuenfold shield No dart shall pierce, no sword shall make it yeeld; The sinowy Bow, and deadly-headed Launce, Shall breake in shiuers, and the splinters glaunce Aside, returning backe from whence they came, And wound their hearts with an eternall shame. The Iust and Constant mind, that perseueres Vnblemisht with false pleasures, neuer feares The bended threatnings of a Tyrants brow, Death neither can disturbe, nor change his Vow; VVell guarded with Himselfe, he walkes along, VVhen, most alone, his stand's a* 1.130 thousand strong

Liues he in VVeale, and full Prosperitie? His wisdome tells him, that he liues, to die.

Is he* 1.131 afflicted? Sharpe Afflictions giue Him hopes of Change, and that that he dyes, to liue.

Is he* 1.132 reuil'd and scorn'd? He sits, and smiles, Knowing him* 1.133 Happie, whom the World reuiles. If Rich, he giues the poore; and if he liue In poore estate, he finds rich friends to giue; He liues an Angell in a mortall forme; And, hauing past the brunt of many a Storme, At last, arriueth at the Hauen of Rest, Where that Iust Iudge, that rambles in his brest, Ioyning with Angels, with an Angels voyce, Chaunts forth sweet Requiems of Eternall Ioyes.

THE ARGVMENT.

Elihu Iob reprooues, reprooues His Friends alike, he pleades the case With Iob in Gods behalfe, and mooues Him to recant, and call for Grace.

Sect. 16.

THus Iob his ill-defended Cause adiournes, * 1.134 And silence lends free libertie of turnes, To his vniust Accusers, whose bad cause Hath left them grounded in too large a pause: Whereat Elihu (a young Stander-by, Whose modest eares, vpon their long reply

Did waite) his angry silence did awake, And (crauing pardon for his Youth) bespake.

Young Standers-by doe oftentimes see more, * 1.135 Then elder Gamesters: Y'are too blame all foure; T'ones cause is Bad, but with good proofes befriēded, The others Iust and Good, but ill defended. Though reason makes the man, Heauen makes him wise, Wisdome in greatest Clerks not alway lyes: Then let your silence giue me leaue to spend My Iudgement, whil'st your heedfull Eares attend. I haue not heard, alone, but still expected To heare, what more your spleenes might haue obie∣cted, Against your wofull Friend; but I haue found Your reasons, built vpon a sandy ground. Flourish no Flags of Conquest: Vnderstand, That hee's afflicted by th' Almighties hand: He hath not fayld to crosse your accusations; Yet I (though not with your foule exprobations) Will crosse him too. I'me full, and I must speake, Or, like vnuented vessels, I must breake, And with my tongue, my heart will be relieu'd, That swells, with what my patience hath conceiu'd: Be none offended, for my lips shall tread That ground (without respect) as Truth shall leade; God hates a flattring language: then how can I Vnliable to danger, flatter any?

Now, Iob, to thee I speake, O, let my Errant * 1.136 Be welcome to thine eares, fortruth's my warrant; They are no slender Trifles that I treate, But things digested with the sacred heate Of an inspired knowledge; 'Tis no rash Discharge of wrath, nor wits conceited flash;

I'le speake, and heare thee speake as free, for I Will take no vantage of thy Miserie.

Thy tongue did challenge to maintaine thy case With God, if he would vayle his glorious Face: Be I the man (though clad with clay and dust, And mortall like thy selfe) that takes the trust To represent his Person; Thou dost terme Thy selfe most Iust, and boldly dost affirme, That Heauen afflicts thy soule without a reason. Ah Iob! these very words (alone) are Treason Against th'Almighti's will. Thou oughtest rather Submit thy passion to him, as thy Father, Then pleade with him, as with thy Peere. Is he Bound to reueale his secret VVill to thee? God speaketh oft to man, not vnderstood, Sometimes in* 1.137 Dreames, at other times thinks good, To thunder Iudgement in his drowzy eare; Sometimes, with hard afflictions scourge, doth teare His wounded soule, which may at length giue ease (Like sharper Physicke) to his foule Disease: But if (like pleasing Iulips) he afford The meeke Expounders of his sacred VVord, VVith sweete perswasions to recure his griefe, How can his sorrowes wish more faire Reliefe? Ah, then his body shall waxe young and bright; Heauens-face that scortcht before, shall now delight, His tongue with Triumph, shall confesse to men, I was a Leper, but am cleare agen. Thus, thus that Spring of Mercy oftentimes Doth speake to man, that man may speake his crimes. Consider, Iob; My words with Iudgement weigh; VVhich done (if thou hast ought) then boldly say;

If otherwise, shame not to hold thy peace, And let thy VVisdome with my words encrease.

And you, you VVisemen, that are silent here, * 1.138 Vouchsafe to lend my lips your rip'ned care, Let's call a parlie, and the cause decide; For Iob pleades guiltlesse, and would faine be tride; Yet hath his boldnesse term'd himselfe Vpright, And taxt th'Almightie for not doing right; His Innocence with Heauen doth he pleade, And that vniustly he was punished: O Puritie by Impudence suborn'd! He scorn'd his Maker, and is iustly scorn'd: Farre be it from the heart of man, that He, VVho is all Iustice, yet vniust should be. Each one shall reape the Haruest he hath sowne, His meede shall measure, what his hands haue done. VVho is't, can claime the Worlds great Soueraignty? VVho rays'd the Rafters of the Heauens, but He? If God should breathe on man, or take away The breath he gaue him, what were man, but Clay? O, let thy heart, th'vnbridled tongue, conuince! Say; Dare thy lips defame an earthly Prince? How darst thou then maligne the King of Kings, To whom, great Princes are but poorest things? He kicks down kingdoms, spurns th' Emperial crown, And with his blast, puffes mighty Monarchs downe. 'Tis vaine to striue with Him; and if He strike, Our part's to beare, not (fondly) to mislike, (Misconstruing the nature of his drift) But husband his Corrections to our thrift. If he afflict, our best is to implore His Blessing with his Rod, and sinne no more.

What if our torments passe the bounds of measure? It vnbesits our wills, to stint his pleasure; Iudge then, and let th' impartiall world aduise, How farre (poore Iob) thy Iudgement is from wise: Nor are these speeches kindled with the fire Of a distempred spleene, but with desire, T' inrich thy wisdome, lest thy furie tie Presumption to thy rash infirmitie.

Meditatio sextadecima.

FOr mortals, to be borne, waxe old, and die, Lyes not in Will, but bare Necessitie, Common to beasts, which, in the selfe-degree, Hold by the selfe-same Patent, euen as wee: But to be Wise, is a diuiner action Of the discursiue Soule, a pure abstraction Of all her powers, vnited in the will, Ayming at Good, reiecting what is Ill; It is an Influence of inspired Breath, Vnpurchased by birth, vnlost by death, Entayl'd to no man, no, nor free to all, Yet gently answers to the eager call Of those, that, with inflam'd affections, seeke, Respecting tender Youth and Age alike; In depth of dayes, her spirit not alway lyes, Yeeres make man Old, but Heauen returnes him Wise; Youths Innocence, nor riper Ages strength Can challenge her, as due; (Desired) length

Of dayes, produced to decrepit yeeres, Fild with experience, and grizly haires, Can claime no right; Th' Almighty ne'r engages His gifts to times, nor is He bound to Ages, His quickning Spirit, to sucklings oft reueales, What to their doting Grandsires he conceales, The vertue of his breath; can vnbenumme The frozen lips, and strike the speaker dumme: Who put that mouing power into his tongue, Whose lips did right the chaste Susanna's wrong, Vpon her wanton false Accusers death? What secret fire inflam'd that* 1.139 fainting breath That blasted Pharo? Or those ruder tongues, That school'd the faithlesse* 1.140 Prophet, for the wrongs He did to sacred Iustice? Matters not How slight the meanes be in it selfe, or what In our esteemes, so wisedome be the message; Embassadours are worthyed in th' Embassage: God sowes his Haruest to his best encrease, And glorifies himselfe, how-e're he please.

Lord, if thou wilt, (for what is hard to thee?) I may a Factor for thy glory be, Then grant that (like a faithfull seruant) I May render back thy stock with Vsury.

THE ARGVMENT.

God reapes no gaine by mans best deeds; Man's misery from himselfe proceeds: Gods Mercy and Iustice are vnbounded; In workes of Nature man is grounded.

Sect. 17.

ELihu, thus his pausing lips, againe Disclos'd, & said, (Rash Iob) dost thou maintain * 1.141 A rightfull Cause, which in conclusion, must Auow thee blamelesse, and thy God vniust? Thy lawlesse words implying, that it can Aduantage none, to liue an vpright man? My tongue shall schoole thee, and thy friends that would (Perchance) refell'd thy reasons, if they could: Behold thy glorious Makers greatnesse, see The power of his hand, say then, Can He Be damag'd by thy sinne, or can He raise Aduantage, by th'vprightnesse of thy wayes?

True, th'afflicted languish oft in griefe, And roare to Heauen (vnanswer'd) for reliefe, Yet is not Heauen vniust, for their fond cry, Their sinne bewailes not, but their misery. Cease then, to make him guilty of thy crimes, And waite his pleasure, that's not bound to times,

Nor heares vaine words. The sorrowes thou art in, Are slight, or nothing, ballanc'd with thy sin: Thy lips accuse thee, and thy foolish tongue, To right thy selfe, hath done th'Almighty wrong.

Hold back thine answere; Let my flowing streame Find passage, to surround my fruitfull Theame, * 1.142 I'le raise my thoughts, to plead my Makers case, And speake, as shall befit so high a place: Behold th'Almighty's Meeke, as well as Strong, Destroyes the Wicked, rights the Iust mans wrong, Mounts him to honour; If by chance he stray, Instructs, and showes him where he lost his way: If he returne, his blessings shall encrease, Crowning his ioyes with plenty and sweet peace; If not, th'intailed sword shall ne'r depart His stained house, but pierce his hardned heart; Ah sinfull Iob! these plagues had neuer bin, Had'st thou been guiltlesse (as thou boasts) from sin: But thy proud lips against their Maker plead, And draw downe heapes of vengeance on thy head; Looke to thy selfe, seeke not to vnderstand The secret causes of th' Eternals hand, Let wisedome make the best of misery, Know who inflicts it, aske no reason why: His will's beyond thy reach, and his Diuine And sacred knowledge farre surpasseth thine. Ah! rather, praise him in his workes, that lye (Wide open to the world) before thine eye; His meaner Acts, our highest thought o'retops, He pricks the Clouds, stils downe the raine by drops; Who comprehends the Lightning, or the Thunder? Who sees, who heares them, vnamaz'd with wonder?

My troubled heart chils in my quiuering brest, To rellish these things, and is dispossest Of all her powers: Who euer heard the voyce Of th'angry heauens, vnfrighted at the noyse? The beast by nature daz'd with sudden dread, Seekes out for couert to secure his head: If God command, the dusky clouds march forth Into a Tempest; From the freezing North He beckens Frost, and Snow; and from the South, He bloweth Whirlewinds with his angry Mouth. Presumptuous Iob! if thou canst not aspire So high, to comprehend these things, admire. Know'st thou the progresse of the rambling Clouds? From mortall eyes, when gloomy darknesse shrouds The Lamps of heauen, know'st thou the reason why? Can'st thou vnriddle heauens Philosophy? Know'st thou th'vnconstant nature of the Wether? Or whence so many Winds proceed, and whither? Wer't thou made priuie, or a stander-by, When God stretch't forth his spangled Canopy? Submit thy selfe, and let these secrets teach, How farre his Myst'ries doe surmount thy reach: For Hee's Almighty, and his sacred will Is iust, nor renders an vnearned ill; His workes are obiects for no soaring eyes, But wheresoe're he looks, he findes none wise.

Meditatio septimadecima.

THe World's an Index to Eternity, And giues a glance of what our cleerer Eye, In time, shall see at large; nothing's so slight, Which, in its nature, sends not forth some light, Or Memorandum of his Makers Glory: No Dust so vile, but pens an ample story, Of the Almighties power, nor is there that, Which giues not man iust cause to wonder at.

Cast downe thine eyes, behold the pregnant Earth, (Her selfe but one) produceth at one birth, A world of diuers natures: From a seed Entirely one, things hot and cold proceed, She suckles with one milke, things moyst, and dry, Yet in her wombe is no repugnancy.

Or shall thy Reason ramble vp so high, To view the Court of wilde Astronomie? Behold the Planets, round about thine eares, Whirling like fire-balles in their restlesse Spheares. At one selfe-instant moouing seuerall wayes, Still measuring out our short, and shorter dayes.

Behold the parts, whereon the World consists, * 1.143 Are limited in their appoynted lists, Without rebellion, vnapt to varie, * 1.144 Though being many, diuers, and contrary: Looke where we lift, aboue, beneath, or vnder, Our eyes shall see to learne, and learne to wonder;

Their depth shall drowne our iudgements, and their height, Besides his wits, shall driue the prime conceit: Shall then our daring mindes presume t' aspire To heauens hid Myst'ries? shall our thoughts inquire Into the depth of secrets, vnconfounded, When in the showre of Nature they are drowned?

Fond man, be wise, striue not aboue thy strength, Tempt not thy Barke beyond her Cables length; And, like Prometheus, filch no sacred fire, Lest Eagles gripe thee: Let thy proud desire Suite with thy fortunes; Curious minds, that shall Mount vp with Phaeton, shall haue Phaetons fall. Vnbend thy bow betimes, lest thou repent Too late, for it will breake, or else stand bent.

I'le worke at home, ne'r crosse the scorching Line, In vnknowne lands, to seeke a hidden Mine: Plaine Bullion pleaseth me, I not desire Deare Ingots from th' Elixars piercing fire; I'le spend my paines, (where best I may be bold) To know my selfe, wherein I shall behold The world abridg'd, and in that world,* 1.145 my Maker, Beyond which taske, I wish no Vndertaker.

Great God, by whom it is, what-e're is mine, Make me thy Viceroy in this* 1.146 World of thine; So cleare mine eyes, that I may comprehend My slight Beginning, and my sudden End.

THE ARGVMENT.

Godquestions Iob, and prooues that man Cannot attaine to things so high, As diuine secrets, since he can Not reach to Natures; Iobs reply.

Sect. 18.

FOrth from the bosome of a murm'ring Cloud, * 1.147 Heauens great Iehouah did, at length, vnshrowd His Earths-amazing language Made terrible with Feare and Maiesty) equally (Challeng'd the Düell) he did vndertake His grumbling seruant, and him thus bespake,

Who, who art thou, that thus dost pry in vaine, Into my secrets, hoping to attaine, With murmuring, to things, conceal'd from man? Say (blear-ey'd mortall) who art thou, that can Thus cleare thy crimes, and dar'st (with vain applause) Make me defendant in thy sinfull cause? Loe, here I am; Engrosse into thy hands The soundest weapons; Answere my demands:

Say, Where wer't thou, whē these my hands did lay The Worlds foundation? canst thou tell me? Say, Was Earth not measur'd by this Arme of mine? Whose hand did ayde me? Was I help't by thine?

Where wert thou, when the Planets first did blaze, And in their Spheares sang forth their Makers praise? Who is't that tames the raging of the Seas, And swathes them vp in mists, when-e're he please? Did'st thou diuide the Darknesse from the Light? Or know'st thou whence Aurora takes her flight? Did'st ere enquire into the Seas Abysse, Or mark'd the Earth, of what a bulke she is? Know'st thou the place whence Light or Darknesse springs? Can thy deepe age vnfold these secret things? Know'st thou the cause of Snow, or Haile, which are My fierce Artill'ry, in my time of warre? Who is't that rends the gloomy Clouds in sunder, Whose sudden rapture strikes forth Fire, & Thunder? Or who bedewes the Earth with gentle showres, Filling her pregnant soyle with fruits and flowres? What Father got the Raine? from what chill wombe Did Frosts, and hard-congealed Waters come? Canst thou restraine faire Maia's course, or stint her, Or sad Orion vshering in the Winter? Will scorching Cancer at thy summons come, Or Sun-burnt Autumne with her fruitfull wombe? Knowst thou Heauens course aboue, or dost thou know Those gentle Influences here below? Who was't inspir'd thy Soule with Vnderstanding? And gaue thy Spirit, the spirit of Apprehending? Dost thou command the Cesternes of the Skie, To quench the thirsty soyle; or is it I?

Nay, let thy practice to the Earth descend, * 1.148 Proue there, how farre thy power doth extend; From thy full hand will hungry Lions eate? Feed'st thou the empty Rauens that cry for meate?

Sett'st thou the Season, when the fearefull Hind Brings forth her painefull birth? Hast thou assign'd The Mountaine Goate her Time? Or is it I? Canst thou subiect vnto thy soueraigntie, The vntam'd Vnicorne? Can thy hard hand Force him to labour on thy fruitfull land? Did'st thou inrich the Peacock with his Plume? Or did that Steele-digesting Bird assume His downie flags from thee? Didst thou endow The noble Stallion with his Strength? Canst thou Quaile his proud courage? See, his angry breath Puffes nothing forth, but feares, summ'd vp in death? Marke with what pride his horny hoofes doe tabor The hard resounding Earth; with how great labor, How little ground he spends: But at the noyse And fierce Alar'm of the hoarse Trumpets voyce He breakes the rankes, amidst a thousand Speares Pointed with death, vndaunted at the feares Of doubtfull warre; he rushes like a Ranger, Through euery Troope, & scornes so braue a danger. Doe loftie Haggards cleaue the flitting Ayre, With Plumes of thy deuising? Then how dare Thy rauenous lips thus, thus, at randome runne, And counter-maund what I the Lord haue done? Think'st thou to learne (fond Mortall) thus, by diuing Into my secrets, or to gaine by striuing? Pleade then: No doubt, but thine will be the Day; Speake (peeuish Plaintiffe) if th'ast ought to say.

Iob then reply'd: (Great God) I am but Dust, * 1.149 My heart is sinfull, and thy hands are Iust; I am a Sinner (Lord,) my words are wind, My thoughts are vaine, (Ah Father) I haue sinn'd:

Shall Dust replie? I spake too much before, I'le close these lips, and neuer answere more.

Meditatio octauadecima

O Glorious Light! A light, vnapprehended By mortall Eyes! O Glorie, neuer ended, Nor e're created, whence all Glorie springs In heauenly bodies, and in earthly things! O power Immense, deriued from a Will Most Iust, and able to doe all, but ill! O Essence pure, and full of Maiestie! Greatnesse (it selfe) and yet no Quantitie; Goodnesse, and without Qualitie; producing All things from out of Nothing, and reducing All things to nothing; past all comprehending, Both First and Last, and yet without an Ending, Or yet beginning; filling euery Creature, And not (it selfe) included; aboue Nature, Yet not excluded, of it Selfe subsisting, And with it Selfe, all other things, assisting; Diuided, yet without diuision; A perfect Three, yet Three, entirely One; Both One in Three, and Three in One, together; Begetting, and begotten, and yet neither; The Fountaine of all Arts, Confounding Art; Both All in All, and All in euery part; Still seeking Glorie, and still wanting none; Though Iust, yet reaping, where Thou ne'r hast sowne!

Great Maiestie, since Thou art euery where, O, Why should I misdoubt thy Presence here? I long haue sought Thee, but my ranging heart Ne'r quests, and cannot see thee where thou art: There's no Defect in thee, thy light hath shin'd, Nor can be hid (Great God,) but I am blind. O, cleare mine eyes, and with thy holy Fire Inflame my brest, and edge my dull desire: Wash me with Hysope, clense my stained thoughts, Renew my spirit, blurre forth my secret faults; Thou tak'st no pleasure in a Sinners death, For thou art Life, thy Mercy's not beneath Thy sacred Iustice: Giue thy seruant power To seek aright, and (hauing sought) discouer Thy glorious Presence; Let my blemisht Eye See my saluation yet before I dye. O, then my Dust, that's bowell'd in the ground, Shall rise with Triumph at the welcome sound Of my Redeemers earth-awaking Trumpe, Vnfrighted at the noyse; no sullen Dumpe Of selfe-confounding Conscience shall affright me, For Hee's my Iudge, whose dying Blood shall quite me.

THE ARGVMENT.

God speakes to Iob the second time: Iob yeelds his sinne, repents his crime. God checks his Friends, restores his health, Giues him new issue, double wealth.

Sect. 19.

ONcemore the Mouth of heauē rapt forth a voice, * 1.150 The troubled Firmament was fill'd with noise, The Rafters of the darkned Skie did shake, For the Eternall thundred thus, and spake:

Collect thy scattred senses, and aduise, Rouze vp (fond man) and answere my replies.

Wilt thou make Comments on my Text, and must I be vnrighteous, to conclude thee, Iust? Shall my Decrees be licenced by thee? What, canst thou thunder with a Voyce like Me? Put on thy Robes of Maiestie; Be clad With as bright glorie (Iob) as can be had; Make fierce thy frownes, and with an angry face Confound the Proud, and his high thoughts abase, Pound him to Dust: Doe this, and I will yeeld, Thou art a God, and need'st no other shield.

Behold, the Castle-bearing Elephant, * 1.151 That wants no bulke, nor doth his greatnesse want

An equall strength. Behold his massie bones, Like barres of Yron; like congealed stones, His knottie sinewes are; Him haue I made, And giuen him naturall weapons for his aide; High Mountaines beare his food, the shady boughes His Couerts are; Great Riuers are his Troughs, Whose deepe Carouses would, to standers-by, Seeme at a watring, to draw Iordan drie: What skilfull huntsman can, with strength, out-dare him? Or with what Engins can a man ensnare him?

Hast thou beheld the huge Leuiathan, * 1.152 That swarthy Tyrant of the Ocean? Can Thy bearded hooke impierce his Gils, or make him Thy landed Pris'ner? Can thy Angles take him? Will he make suite for fauour from thy hands, Or be enthralled to thy fierce Commands? Will he be handled as a Bird? Or may Thy fingers bind him for thy childrens play? Let men be wise, for in his lookes, he hath Displayed Banners of vntimely death. If Creatures be so dreadfull, how is he More bold then wise, that dares encounter Me? What hand of man can hinder my designe? Are not the Heauens, and all beneath them, mine? Dissect the Greatnesse of so vast a Creature, By view of seuerall parts: Summe vp his feature, Like Shields, his Scales are plac't, which neither Art Knowes how to sunder, nor yet Force can part, His Belching rucks forth flames, his mouing Eye Shines like the glory of the morning Skie; His craggie Sinewes are like wreathes of brasse, And from his mouth, quicke flames of fier passe,

As from an Ouen, the temper of his Heart Is like a Nether-milstone, which no Dart Can pierce, secured from the threatning Speare; Affraid of none, he strikes the World with feare: The Bow-mans brawnie arme sends Shafts in vaine, They fall like Stubble, or bound backe againe: Stones are his Pillow, and the Mud his Downe; In earth none greater is, nor equall, none, Compar'd with him, all things he doth deride, And well may challenge to be King of Pride.

So said, th'amazed Iob bent downe his eyes * 1.153 Vpon the ground, and (sadly) thus replyes.

I know (Great God) there's nothing hard to Thee, Thy thoughts are pure, and too too deepe for me: I am a Foole, and my distempered Wits, Longer out-strayed my Tongue, then well befits; My knowledge slumbred, while my Lips did chat, And, like a Foole, I spake I knew not what. Lord, teach me Wisdome, lest my proud Desire, Cinge her bold Feathers in thy sacred Fire; Mine Eare hath oft been rounded with thy storie, But now these very Eyes haue seene thy Glorie. My sinfull Words I not (alone) lament, But, in the horror of my Soule, repent * 1.154 Repent with Teares in Sackcloth, mourne in Dust; I am a sinfull man, and Thou art Iust.

Thou Eliphaz, that mak'st my sacred Word, * 1.155 An Engine of Despaire (said then the Lord) Behold, full vyals of my Wrath, attends On thee, and on thy two too-partiall Friends; For you haue iudg'd amisse, and haue abus'd My Word to worke your Ends; falsely accus'd

My righteous Seruant: Of you all, there's none Hath spoke vprightly, as my Iob hath done. Haste then (before my kindling Fire begin To slame) and each man offer for his Sin, A Sacrifice, by Iob my seruants hand, And for his sake, your Offrings shall withstand The Wages of your sinnes; for what can I, If Iob, my Seruant, make request, denie?

So strait they went, and (after speedy pardon Desir'd, and had,) the righteous Iob (for guerdon Of his so tedious Griefe) obtain'd the health Of a sound Body, and encrease of Wealth; So that the second Haruest of his store, Was double that, which he enioy'd before.

Ere this was blazed in the Worlds wide Eares, (The frozen brests of his Familiars, And cold Allyes, being now dissolu'd in Griefe,) His backward Friends came to him with Reliefe, To feede his Wants, and with sad showring eyes, To moane his (yet supposed) Miseries: Some brought him Sheepe, to blesse his emptie Fold, Some precious Earerings, others, Rings of Gold. God blest his loines, from whence there sprang again, * 1.156 The number of his children that were slaine, Nor was there any in the Land so rare In vertue, as his Daughters, or so faire. Long after this, he liu'd in peace, to see * 1.157 His childrens children, to the fourth Degree, Till at the length, cut short by Him, that stayes For none, he dyed in Peace, and full of Dayes. * 1.158

Meditatio vltima.

EVill's the defect of Good, and as a shade, That's but the Ruines of the Light decay'd: It hath no * 1.159 Beeing, nor is vnderstood, But by the * 1.160 Opposition of Good. What then is man? whose purest thoughts are prest For Satans warre, which from the tender brest, With Infant silence, haue consented to Such sinfull Deeds, as (babes) they could not doe? What then is man, but Nothing, being Euill, His Lunatick affections doe vnleuell, What Heauen created by iust Waight and Measure; In Pleasures sincke, he takes a swinelike Pleasure; His span of life, and beautie's like a Flower, Faire flourishing, and fading in an hower. He breakes into the World with Teares, and then Departs with Griefe, nor knowing How, nor When. His life's a Bubble, full of seeming Blisse, The more it lengthens, the more short it is; Begot in darknesse, hee's brought forth, and cryes For succour, passes ore the Stage, and dyes; Yet, like a Moale, the earth he vndermines, Making the World, the Forge of his designes: He plots, complots, foresees, preuents, directs; He hopes, he feares, he doubts, pursues, effects; Each hath his Plot, each one his course doth bend, Each hath his Proiect, and each one his end.

Thus restlesse man doth still his soule molest, To finde out (that which hath no Being) Rest; Thus trauels sinfull man in endlesse toyle; Taking a pleasure in his owne turmoyle. Fond man, first seeke to purchase that diuine And sacred Prize, and all the World is thine: Great Salomon made suit for Wisedome, and he found Not (barely) Wisedome, but that Wisedome, crown'd With Diademes of wealth, and faire encrease Of princely Honours, with long dayes of peace.

(With safe respect, and awfull reuerence To Mystryes) Meditation doth commence * 1.161 An earnest doubt: Was Iobs dispoyled Flock Restored double? Was his former Stock Renew'd with double vantage? Did heauen adde To all his fortunes, double what he had? Yet those sweet Emblemes of his dearest loue, (His sonnes) whom Death vntimely did remoue From off the face of the vnthankfull earth, Why likewise sprang not they in double birth?

Bruit beasts, that perish once, are lost for euer, Their substance, and their All consume, together. * 1.162 Once hauing giuen a farewell to the light, They dye, and with them is perpetuall night: But man, (vnorgan'd by the hand of Death) Dyes not, is but transplanted from beneath, Into a fairer soyle, or as a stranger, Brought home, secure from the worlds pleasing Danger Iobs Flocks were lost, and therefore double giuen, His Issu's equall shar'd 'twixt Earth and Heauen, One halfe in heauen, are glorious in their doome, Ingag'd as* 1.163 Pledges, till the other come.

Great God! my Time's but short, and long my Way, My Heart hath lost her Path, and gone astray, My spirit's faint, and fraile, my soul's imbost, If thou helpe not, I am for euer lost; Though Dust and Ashes, yet am I thy Creature, How e're my sinnes are great, thy Mercy's greater: Of Nothing did'st thou make me, and my sinne Hath turn'd me back to Nothing, once agin: Create me a new heart, (great God) inspire My cold Affections with thy sacred Fire:

Instruct my Will, and rectifie my Wayes, O teach me (Lord) to number out my Dayes.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Chap. 1. 1.
• * 1.2

  Job sacrifice••.
• * 1.3

  Hor. Car. lib. 3. Od. 24.—improbae

  Crescunt diui∣tiae, tamen

  Curtae nescio quid semper ab∣est rei.

  Non qui parum habet est pau∣per,

  Sed qui plus cu∣pit. Sen ad Luc.

  —Multa pe∣tentibus

  Desunt multa. Bene est cut Deus obtulit

  Parca, quod satis est, manu.

  Hor car. lib. 3. Ode 16. Simile.
• * 1.4

  Chap 16.
• * 1.5

  God questions Satan.
• * 1.6

  Satans answere.
• * 1.7

  God speakes to Satan.
• * 1.8

  Satans reply.
• * 1.9

  God licences and limits Sa∣tan.
• * 1.10

  Obiect.
• * 1.11

  Resol.
• * 1.12

  Obiect.
• * 1.13

  Resol.
• * 1.14

  Volens agit De∣us per malum instrumentum. Simile.
• * 1.15

  Obiect.
• * 1.16

  Resp.
• * 1.17

  Simile.
• * 1.18

  Chap. 1. v 13.
• * 1.19

  The first Mes∣senger.
• * 1.20

  The second Messenger
• * 1.21

  The third Messenger.
• * 1.22

  The fourth Messenger.
• * 1.23

  Alexander.
• * 1.24

  Obiect.
• * 1.25

  Res.
• * 1.26

  God questi∣ons Satan.
• * 1.27

  Satan an∣swere.
• * 1.28

  God replies to Satan.
• * 1.29

  Satans an∣swere.
• * 1.30

  Gods reply.
• * 1.31

  Simile.
• * 1.32

  Chap. 2. 7.
• * 1.33

  Simile.
• * 1.34

  Iob smote with vlcers.
• * 1.35

  Ezod. 9. 10.
• * 1.36

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• * 1.37

  Simiie.
• * 1.38

  The speech of Jobs wife.
• * 1.39

  Eliphaz, Tsophar, Buildad.
• * 1.40

  Simile.
• * 1.41

  Chap 3. Iob curses his birth-day.
• * 1.42

  Hor lib. 2. car. ode. 16. Nihilest exom ni parte beatum.
• * 1.43

  Gen. 22. 10.
• * 1.44

  Ibid. 20. 2.
• * 1.45

  Gen. 19. 33.
• * 1.46

  2 Sam. 11. 4, 15
• * 1.47

  1 King 11 5.
• * 1.48

  Iohn 8 9.
• * 1.49

  Simile.
• * 1.50

  Eliphaz speech Chap. 4.
• * 1.51

  The Vision.
• * 1.52

  Chap. 5.
• * 1.53

  The descripti∣on of true friendship.
• * 1.54

  Sali••s homo ami∣co amicus Ter. Phorm Act. 3. scn 3.
• * 1.55

  Aristotle.
• * 1.56

  1. Cor. 13.
• * 1.57

  Epaminond as.
• * 1.58

  Chahrias, or Jphicrates, or himselfe.
• * 1.59

  Chap. 6.
• * 1.60

  Jobs speech.
• * 1.61

  Chap 7.
• * 1.62

  Mahu est miles qui Imperate rem gemens sequitur. Sen.
• * 1.63

  Hor. car. lib. 2. od. 3.
• * 1.64

  Omnium versatur vrna, serius Ocyius sors exitura.
• * 1.65

  Epictet. Euchi∣rid. cap. 77.
• * 1.66

  Bildads speech. Chap. 8.
• * 1.67

  Chap. 9. Jobs reply.
• * 1.68

  Chap. 10.
• * 1.69

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.70

  Juuenal. Sat. 13. Occultum qua tientean•• ••o tortore slagcl∣••um.
• * 1.71

  Hor. car. lib. 3. Ode 29. Prudens sulturi temporis exi∣tum, caliginosa nocte, prenut Deus. Luk 16. 22.
• * 1.72

  Chap. 11. Zophars speech.
• * 1.73

  Chap 12.
• * 1.74

  Iobs reply.
• * 1.75

  Chap 13.
• * 1.76

  Chap 14. The shortnes of Mans life.
• * 1.77

  1. Sam. 10. 1.
• * 1.78

  Dan 4 30.
• * 1.79

  Malum poenae.
• * 1.80

  Alexander.
• * 1.81

  Terrarum Do∣mina Gentium que Roma. Martial.
• * 1.82

  Nemo gloriari debet, nisi de suo, Sen. ad Lucil.
• * 1.83

  Chap. 15. Eliphaz his speech.
• * 1.84

  Chap. 16. Jobs answere.
• * 1.85

  Chap. 17.
• * 1.86

  The Father of the gods.
• * 1.87

  The Goddesse of wisedome.
• * 1.88

  Tla••o in Me none.
• * 1.89

  Prudentia so∣la pralt & du∣cit ad recte saciendum.
• * 1.90

  Lipsius ciuil. doct. lib. 1. cap. 7
• * 1.91

  Non vt sciamus, quid sit virtus, perscrutamur, sed vt boni essi∣ciamur. Arist. Eth. 2. cap. 2.
• * 1.92

  Socrates. Hoc vnum scit, me nihil scire.
• * 1.93

  Chap. 18. Bildads speech.
• * 1.94

  Chap. 19. Jobs reply.
• * 1.95

  Chap. 20. Zophar's speech.
• * 1.96

  Obiect.
• * 1.97

  Lex est Euan∣gelium vela∣tum, & Euan∣gelium est lex reuelata. Simile.
• * 1.98

  Simile.
• * 1.99

  Chap 21. Iobs answere.
• * 1.100

  Chap. 22. Eliphaz his reply
• * 1.101

  Chap. 23. Iobs speech.
• * 1.102

  Chap. 24.
• * 1.103

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, id est, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.104

  Arist. Eth. Felicit as propter se oppetitur.
• * 1.105

  Non possiden∣tem multa, vocaris Recte beatum Rectius occupat nomen beati, qui, &c. Hor. car. lib. 4. od. 9.
• * 1.106

  Chap. 25. Bildads speech.
• * 1.107

  Chap. 25. Jobs reply.
• * 1.108

  Chap. 27.
• * 1.109

  Chap. 28.
• * 1.110

  Cypr. in Symp.
• * 1.111

  Etiam de Deo vera dicere pe∣riculosum est. Ferumtque summos Fulmina men∣tes, Hor. car. lib. 2. od. 10.
• * 1.112

  Boetius 3. de Cons. Philos. Non est fas ho∣mini cunctas diuini oper is machinas, vel ingenio com prehendere, vel sermone ex∣plicare.
• * 1.113

  Melius sciun∣tur, nesciendo, S Aug. lib. 2. de ord. Simile.
• * 1.114

  Raymond Se∣bond, Theol. na∣tural cap. 24.
• * 1.115

  Melius est du∣bitare de incer∣tis, quàm litiga∣re de occultis, S. Aug. lib. 8. de Gen. ad liter. cap. 5.
• * 1.116

  Nec scire, sa•• est, omnia—Hor. car. lib 4. od. 4.
• * 1.117

  Exod. 24. 2.
• * 1.118

  Exod. 26. 2.
• * 1.119

  Ibid 33. 23.
• * 1.120

  Chap. 29.
• * 1.121

  Chap. 30.
• * 1.122

  Chap. 31.
• * 1.123

  Iobs innocency.
• * 1.124

  It was the Cu∣stome of that ig∣norant Nation, to worship the Sunne and Moone.
• * 1.125

  Iudg. 16. 30.
• * 1.126

  Gen. 32. 24.
• * 1.127

  Acts 16. 26.
• * 1.128

  Gen 41. 40.
• * 1.129

  Exod. 4. 10.
• * 1.130

  Conscientia mil∣le testes.
• * 1.131

  Hor. car. lib. 4. Ode 9.—Secund's Temporibus du∣••b••que reclus.
• * 1.132

  Mat. 5. 11.
• * 1.133

  V•••• nunquam tristis esse? Bene viue Isod. Soli∣loq. lib. 11.
• * 1.134

  Chap. 32.
• * 1.135

  Elihus speech.
• * 1.136

  Chap. 33. Elihu speakes to Iob.
• * 1.137

  Lucret. lib. 5. 1168.—Persomnia sapeloquentes Aut morbo de∣lirantes, &c. Et celata diu in medium pecca∣ta dedisse.
• * 1.138

  Chap 34.
• * 1.139

  Exod. 4. 11.
• * 1.140

  Ionah 1. 10.
• * 1.141

  Chap. 35.
• * 1.142

  Chap. 36.
• * 1.143

  Boetius Cons. Philos.
• * 1.144

  Raymond Sebond. Theob. Natural. cap. 4.
• * 1.145

  Raymond Se∣bond, Theol. na∣tural cap. 1.
• * 1.146

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.147

  Chap 38. God speakes to Job out of a Cloud.
• * 1.148

  Chap. 39.
• * 1.149

  Iobs confession.
• * 1.150

  Chap. 40. God speakes to Iob out of a Cloud the se∣cond time.
• * 1.151

  The Eliphant.
• * 1.152

  Chap 41. The Whale.
• * 1.153

  Chap. 42. Iobs Contri∣tion.
• * 1.154

  Iobs repen∣tance.
• * 1.155

  God reprooues Iobs three friends.
• * 1.156

  The number of Iobs children supplied.
• * 1.157

  His long life.
• * 1.158

  His peaceable death.
• * 1.159

  Non ens & malum consun∣duntur.
• * 1.160

  Non ens non intelligitur nisi per oppositionem Entis.
• * 1.161

  Obiect.
• * 1.162

  Res.
• * 1.163

  Non amiss•…•… ••ed praen••…••….