The grand tryal, or, Poetical exercitations upon the book of Job wherein suitable to each text of that sacred book, a modest explanation, and continuation of the several discourses contained in it, is attempted / by William Clark.

Cap. XXXI.

ANd now, my friends you see, you plainly see, What formerly you only heard of me: You see a sad change of my former state, You see me now on Dunghill, who of late On the chief Bench most highly honoured sate. This is my case then, here you see me ly An evidence o' th' instability Of Humane Grandeur, a sad precedent Of Gods displeasure: hither I am sent By his appointment, that the World may see His love▪ and hate alternative in me. One, whom his bountie formerlie did raise And blest with a long tract of golden days, Free of all Sorrow, Poverty, and Pain, And now his wrath has taken down again. Why this is all, my friends, 'tis all you see, This is the sum of what you read in me. Now therefore, as a man about to die, Allow me, pray my friends, the libertie In a few words to make a short relation Of my short life, and show how in my station, I laboured still to live without offence, To God, and Man: so that when I am hence, You may bear witness to the World what were

My dying words, and from this time forbear To call me guilty of what all of you Make it your work to fix upon me now. Then hear me pray, for after this I shall Use no more words——

First then, my friends, I'de have you know that I Have always studied since my Infancy The Art of Continence: for in the least An unclean thought never possess't my breast. I always hated wanton Company, And still dislik'd that Foolish Railery, In which young men their time do poorly waste, Making their sin the Subject of their Jest. Nor did I ere desire to be acquaint With those, whose eyes do make our blood ferment. No, in such Intrigues, I would ne're engage, Lest I might perish by Loves cousenage, And like the foolish young men of our time, To purchase pleasure, think no sin a crime. For this cause, knowing that such Fooleries Do steal in at the Wicket of the Eyes: With these I quickly did confederate, And in my Treaty, firmly stipulate, They should not see a Maid at any rate. They should not on that pleasant Object look, Because the Bait did usher in the Hook: But shun to see that curious piece of Nature▪ Lest I were tempted with its lovely feature.

For with my self I still considered This was a sin by Law prohibited, A crying sin, and therefore to be fear'd In Heavens Court it would be sooner heard Then I my self, and make the Divine wrath Pursue me, and my Familie to death. I thought too with my self, should those, who claim An Interest in Heaven be barr'd, with shame, From Gods good presence by the hateful means Of a poor nasty sin: hence I took pains, So to secure my heart, that, at no time, The thoughts of this abominable crime Might slip into it: and for one short pleasure, I came to forfault an eternal Treasure.

Yes an eternal Store, a Happiness No Humane Art, or Language can express, For one poor Moments pleasure, Lord how sad To think that any man should be so mad, As for a triffle (think on't what he list) Which rather in the Fancy doth subsist Then in Fruition; he should willfully Quit all his interest in Eternity. For sure those men, whom God doth wicked call, In his good time shall be destroyed all: Destroy'd, yes, and that by singular And unknown methods, not as others are,

But my remarkable calamities, Upon their Persons, and their Families They shall be rooted out: and men shall know That God is just.

Besides I know that his all-seeing eye, Was not to be deceiv'd by secrecy: Nor could my sin so cunninglie be hatch't, But in the very thought I should be catch't: My heart should be exposed to his sight, And all my hidden councils brought to light.

Now, as▪ I▪liv'd in spotless continence, So, further, to improve my innocence; In all my dealings I was just, and square, With every man, my actions were fair, Sincere, ingenuous, honest, regular.

For proof of which, I wish my God would try, The value of my lifes integrity, And all my actions as in ballance poize, Then 'twould be fullie seen what was my choice.

Yes 'twould be seen, and that so clearlie too, As from that weighing, without more adoe, The world might see how much I took delite In God, and that I▪ am no hypocrite. For if I ever have endeavoured To cozen mortal man, or studied How to compel a man o're-grown with debt, To let me have his Lands below the rate: Or in my bargains such advantage tane, As would ha' been, perhaps, by other men On such occasions; where necessity Oblig'd th' unwilling Borrower to comply With th' avarice o' th' Lender, nay, if e're I in a durty action did appear:

Then of afflictions would I not complain, Nor thus with sighs resent my present pain. Nor would I think it strange at all to see How others feed, on what was sown by me. How others now my Lands, and Means possesse▪ And worse then any Beggar, here, alace, I who was Lord of all you see around, Deform'd, and dying, grovel on the ground; Nor How my goodly Family of late, Now either is in grave, or dissipate, Like Chaff before the Wind, and I alone Survive these losses, only to bemoan What cannot be recovered; and stead Of living, only do envy the dead.

No, I would not think all these judgements strange, Nor, in that case would I deplore my change, But O, such things I never would practise, O no, I never would permit my eyes To look upon an object, how so e're, I' th' eyes o' world beautiful, and fair, That might occasion sin: no, at no rate,

But all those things I did abominate. I did abhor those hateful practices, And all the names of Whores and Mistrisses, I'de stop my ears: I never had design Upon my Neighbours Wife, or Concubine. For if at any time a Female eye Hath rais'd and swol'n my passion so hie, As I should venture on Adultery: If I have been enticed by a Whore, Or have set Spyes before my Neighbours Door, T' observe the glances of his amorous Wife, Or robb'd him of the pleasures of his life, By close appointments, and dark assignations, Where I have had my will at all occasions:

Then were it just my Wife should be so us'd As I my self had others Wives abus'd, 'Twere just that she her self should prostitute For hire, without he trouble of a sute To every Porter, Foot-man, Slave, or Groom, And for all Comers keep an open open Room, That all l've injured (in that humble state) May their affronts on her retalliate.

Besides, I know this was a sin so foul, And so provocking, as my very soul Did still abhor it: I did still detest This treacherous Crime, nor would I in the least By any means into ••s Clutches fall; Nor would I hearken to th' Adulteress call, Though by the Laws it were not capital.

A sin I alwayes thought in Heavens sight So black and ugly, that it hates the light No more than God hates ••t: a dreadful sin, From whence his wrath doth usually begin Against its Actors, and pursues the Chace To th'utmost extirpation of their Race.

This was my life, this was my conversation, Thus without blemish in my reputation, I alwayes liv'd, and never deviate From Virtues narrow road: and, as with hate I still rejected all incontinence. So in the peace of a good Conscience, I liv'd secure, whilst I administrate Both in my publick, and my private state, Justice to all men: for to th' meanest slave Within my Walls, I'de the same way behave In point of right, when they'd to me complain Of any wrong, as to the greatest men I'th' Countrey, in their sutes, and after all, I thought it but my duty.—

For in my mind I oft considered That those poor slaves, though they by Law were made My servile Subjects, yet both they and I Were subject to that King who sits on high That Supream Judge, who deals impartially With all men..

So that if I during my eminence, To any of these men had done offence; Had I refus'd to hear their exclamations, Or of their wrongs refus'd them reparations; Had I abused that authority, Which I had o're those wretches, what could I, Pray what could I with reason have expected Might be my doom? for if I had neglected My duty to the meanest here below, Or e're deny'd them justice, even so When God in justice 'gainst me should proceed, I might my sin then in my judgement read.

For with my self, my friends, I alwayes thought That though those men I had with Money bought, And so by Law had pow'r of life and death Over them all, and might have in my wrath Kill'd them, like beasts, yet these poor souls were men, As well as I, and that a time was, when Those now distinguished by Law, and I Did undistinguish'd in the belly ly. For in the womb what the Almighty frames This only Man, and that he Woman names: No more distinction there: no in that Cell Without Precedence all as Brethren dwell; There is no Master, there's no Servant there; For in the sight of God all do appear But as one Plastick matter, out of which His mighty hand doth form both poor and rich. He whom the world doth honourable name, And he whom mean, and base, is there the same. There's no such thing there, as we birth do call, For there's but one birth in t' th' Original, One common source, from whence we trindle all. Though as we daily see how from one spring Several petty Rivers issuing, Swoln up by other Rivers in the stream, Do purchase to themselves a lofty name. So the poor aery notion of blood, Though in the fountain barely understood To be one species (what so e're esteem Th' applause of men put on it in the stream) As it in several Veins scaturiats, Is valued by the Worlds Book of Rates. Which slights the Fountain, but respects the Streams, And this Blood base, and that Blood Noble names. But in the Mass there is no difference, No formal quality, no excellence. Nor even in the stream can sharpest eye Perceive a Physical disparity 'Twixt this, and t' other Blood, for all appear Of the same colour all are equal there: Yes, let a Princes, and a Peasants Veins Be Launc'd together, there's no difference Betwixt the two: for both of them to th' eye

Appear to be of a bright Scarlet dye. Only as Iron, Copper, Lead, or Brasse, Esteemed but base Mettals in the Masse. Are soon, by Princes orders rais'd as high, As Gold in value: and do signify As much in Commerce, and in Bargains go, At no lesse rate if they will have it so. Even so a Princes favour, when it shines, On this, or 'tother Blood, in direct Lines, It raises soon the value of the thing, And this, or 'tother Blood to hight doth bring. Which were as mean as others in the spring.

Yet let me tell you, in a sober sense, I truly think there is great difference Betwixt that Blood stamp'd by a Prince, and that, On which unspoted Virtue sets a rate, The first, like vapours by the Sun exhal'd From Lakes, and Ditches, justly may be call'd, Which do not firmly in the Clouds remain, But quickly either in Hail, Snow, or Rain, Do from their stations tumble down again. For as by Princes smiles, that Blood was rais'd, So by their frowns, it is as soon debas'd. Their anger taints that current in a tryce; On which their favour lately set a price, Which now diverted from its former course, Appears as low, and cheap as in the source. But that by virtue rais'd, we may compare To Elemental waters, which do there Dwell, with a firm design of remanence, And are not easily to be pumped thence. For that by virtue rais'd, cannot be stain'd, So long as that its motion doth attend, Which gave its Being: and through Princes wrath, The owner of that Blood may bring to death, Yet still it lives in his Posterity, And runs i'th' Channel of a Memory, For Virtue's only true Nobility.

Then where's the man, that boasts of Noble Race▪ Can he his Blood from other Fountain trace, Then that o'th' Womb, in which the poorest slave, Who has no foot of Earth besides his Grave, Has as much interest, as he, and can Derive his Line from th' ancient House of Man, As well as those, who, with great vanity, Can point the series of their Family. O then, what fools must these be understood, Who void of Virtue, only boast of Blood! Who think their Birth affords them liberty, Beyond the vulgar, in all villany, And sin according to their quality. Sure these must be the worst of men, sure these Of humane blood must be the very lees: Yet such there are, and such will always be,

Who by the fable of their Pedigree, Make way through every sin, as if, what shame Forbids the Vulgar, were allow'd to them. And when they've made a way in luxury, Their own Estates, then do they by, and by, Practise new arts, and fall on several ways, How they may live, and waste some foolish days, Though they at last should beg from door, to door, Yet whilst they can, they feed upon the poor.

Why now should all these men of quality, Consider, but sometime, as well as I, Have always done, that as we all do flow From the head fountain of the Womb, even so When we in streams have squandred here, and there Where, in the eyes o'th' world, we do appear, One rais'd in value far above another, And now disdain to give the name of Brother, To such as are indeed as good as we, In th' eves of God: not dreaming we shall see Those Monuments of our low Birth once more, In the same rank with us, as we before Have seen, why after all, alacc, we find, We're all but Dust, all of one common kind. For in our pride, when we have run our course, As once we lay together in the source, So Noble, Base, and Mean, all die as men, And in the Grave we poorly meet again. And then brave Blood! thou quaint device of men! How wilt thou rank thy Lineages then! Pray, what will be thy value, what thy rate, When in the Grave we're all incorporate: When in the cloysters of Mortality, As in the Womb we undistinguish'd ly, What's then the use of thy vain Heraldry All poor, and low, all naked there appear, And we know none of thy distinctions there. Then why should I have done the least offence, To any Creature, who in Natures sense, Is of as good Extraction, and as dear, Doth in Gods sight, as I my felf appear.

These were my thoughts, these were my meditations, These were my reasons, which at all occasions, Mov'd me for all men, to have Charity: So that with no man I dealt cruelly. But, on the contrair, when the poor mans cause Was ruin'd by the rigour of the Laws; (As oft it happens) their severity. I'd temper with some grains of equity, And do him all the favour I could do With a safe Conscience: the poor widow too, Whose Cause before me lay, I'd chearfully Assist: and to period speedily Conduct her suit.

Nor was I less kind in my private state To all in want, for I would never eat, Nor with contentment, take my daily fare, Unless some Orphans with me had a share.

For from my youth I had great tenderness Both for the Widow, and the Fatherless: To these, when some Relations had refus'd, And others of 'em crav'd to be excus'd From being Tutors, I'de in Charity, Take on my self th' office of Tutory Of these poor Creatures, though th' administration I knew would yield me nothing but vexation, And that,— When with great pains, I had recovered Their squandred means, and in some fashion made Provisions for them, when they came to be Of age (though truly strangers all to me) Why after all my toil, I might conclude, To meet with nothing but ingratitude From these my Pupills▪ as is ordinar, For most of honest men who Tutors are, Yet knowing well that men in Charity Each others wants are oblig'd to supply, Though with their own loss, an in such a case, Had I refurd that Office to embrace, VVhy those poor Orphans had become a prey To every Petty-fogger, who'd betray Their Pupills interest, and not care a whit, To ruine them, for their own benefit, That I might this prevent without regard To th' trouble of it, or my bad reward, I never would refuse at all occasions To take upon me such administrations.

But not to these alone my charity Extended, whose weak pupularity Did render them obnoxious to the tricks Of all contriving Guardian Empyricks: But ev'n to those of age, whom poverty Had hurried into want, and misery, At all times I'de extend my charity. I'de give them food, I'de give them raiment too, And pensions out of my own stores allow For their subsistence: so that I may say VVith a safe Conscience,— If ever mortal stood before my door, VVhom th' only hand of God had rendred poor, (For of such canting Rogues, as do oppress The Countrey with a begging idleness, I do not mean) but if e're he, I say, VVho truly merit Alms, did go away, VVhen begging at my door, without supply Of both food and apparel, or did ly VVithout my walls, in winters cold, and snow, Naked, so far as ever I did know.

For on the contrare, I did with much care Cloathing provide for those, who truly were Objects of Charity, that every day Those Creatures, for my well-being, would pray, And when they on their Garments look't, would blesse The man who kindly clad them with his Fleece.

If ever I took pleasure to oppresse, Or, in the least injure the fatherlesse, By unjust suits: though by my influence Upon the Judges, I might have from thence Expected what I pleas'd, and they had been Well pleas'd to favour me, though they had seen On my side flat injustice: yet would these Jump o're the belly of the Laws, to please So great a man as I was: no, my friends, I scorn'd to use my power for such bad ends, I did abhor such shifts, and did detest Those sneaking Judges, who would dar to wrest Justice, to favour any man, or bend The bow of Law so high, to please a friend.

If ever then, I say, I did practise Such unjust courses, or did make a prize Of any Orphan, as I might ha' done In former times, had I been such an one, As I've been represented, when my state Was high, and powerful, thus I imprecate, If I be guilty of such villany, Then let this arm you see be instantly ▪Torn from my shoulder, let the flesh anon In a foul Gangreen rot off from the bone.

For why should I, who firmly did believe, The eye of God did all mens ways perceive, And that, that God, who surely hears the cry Of all oppressed, will undoubtedly In his good time, upon such wicked men, Death, and Destruction, plentifully rain. Why, my good friends, should I who stood in awe, Of his great Power, ha' violate his Law: No, no, I knew my Maker was too high To be out-brav'd by such a one as I, And therefore I such practises forbore, Through fear of him: and truly did abhore All unjust dealings, that I might comply In all my actings with that Majesty, Who is all justice, and pure equity.

Again, because I did my self perswade, Gold was the root of every thing that's bad; And that the love of Riches did entice, The best of men to be in love with vice; (For he, whose Soul doth in his Coffers dwell, With Bag, and Baggage, marches straight to Hell.) For this cause, when in wealth I did abound, And my huge riches made a mighty ••ound Amongst my neighbours, I would never rate

My happinesse by th' bulk of my Estate. No, no, I look'd on all I did enjoy Not worth my thoughts, nor would I e're employ The least part of my time in valuing My self in that contentment Gold doth bring: For, though as much as many I possess't, Yet on that dust my spirit did not rest, I never look'd on't as a sure defence 'Gainst misery, nor plac'd my confidence In that weak Rampart, as if all my store, (Although I had possess'd some ten times more) Had e're been able to withstand one hour, The Battery of Divine Wrath. No, no▪ what's all, that we on Earth possesse, Our Lands, our Stores, our Money, what, alace, Do all these triffles signify when wrath From Heaven assault us! or approaching Death Hangs out his bloody Flag, and bids us soon Yeeld up our Fortresse, or he'll throw it down. O where are all our Stores, and Treasures then! Where all our Wealth, which with much toile, and pain, We'd had rear'd up, as a most sure defence Against all troubles! where's that confidence, Which in our count'nance did before appear, Where's all our hope! where all our courage! where Are all our mighty Allies, where is all The valour of our boasting Mineral! Oh, where is all its force when death appears, And we're invested by an host of fears! Nay, where are they, when Heavens King in wrath, Against their master doth his Sword unsheath, Why, these same peaceful Warriors assoon, As they perceive the enemy take down Their glorious Ensigns, pack up all anon, And in a moment they are fled, and gone, Leaving their hopelesse master all alone. Tendure the Siege. O brave Assistants! O stout Legionaries! O hopes of men! O firm Auxiliaries! Who make your owners foolishly believe You can do wonders, when they do perceive, What glorious show you make in time of peace, But dar not look an enemy i'th' face. Who then would trust to those same cowardly troops, In time of trouble? who would place their hopes In such a crew of aery painted things, Which we call riches! Creatures that have wings; And on the high boughs of prosperity Do sweetly chirp, but when adversity Begins to fire, away like smoke they fly. In such vain things then would I never trust, Nor valu'd them more then as useful dust, By which we live with some convenience, But in them ne're would place my confidence.

Because I knew such emptie things as these, Were only the Concomitants of Peace: And when afflictions winds began to roar, In rising Billows signify'd no more, Then wicker anchors, hausers made of dust, Or Ropes of Feathers, in which none would trust. Therefore, my friends, I never valued My self, upon what I had purchased: I never thought I should be more esteem'd, ▪Cause I was rich, or should be happy nam'd, Because in plenty: or 'cause Means encreass't, To be repute above my neighbours bless't; Or, because wealthie, that I liv'd in ease: No, I knew always better things, then these I knew indeed, and to this hour I know, There's nothing more ridiculous here below, Nothing more silly, nothing more absurd, Nothing more indiscreet: yea, in a word, Nothing more wilfully irrational, Amongst us mortals, then for men to call This, or that Person Prudent, Knowing, Wise, Only because he's rich, and to despise Others, 'cause poor, and say they have no wit, Because they have not reap'd such benefit In their transactions, as those others have, And so by each mans successe do conceive He's wise, or foolish. Whereas commonlie, The first are men of small sagaci••••e, Dull, and Phlegmatick, and the latter are Often in parts, and prudence singular. For God has ordred, in his Providence, It should be so, that men may learn from thence Th' Art of contentment, whilst they seriously Observe, with what discreet variety, He doth bestow his Gifts, Knowledge to these, Wealth to these others: and that none possess All blessings upon Earth: for he whom Wealth Doth crown with plenty, usually of health Is destitute; whilst he whom poverty Puts to sad pinches, with his Family, Enjoys it fullie▪ he whom parts adorn Is despicably poor, and laugh't to scorn, By those whom Means have rendred boldly proud, Whil•••• of rich fools the world doth talk aloud, As th' only wise men. To some he allows Wealth without issue, others he endows With a fair Off-spring: but scarce competence For feeding of 'em with convenience. To others he gives both, but thinks not fit, T' enrich them with a treasury of wit: And all that God to us would signify, By this remarkable variety Of Dispensations is undoubtedly This only.——

That since all blessings do from him alone Proceed, and that 'tis in the power of none To become masters of these qualities, And be Rich, Fruitful, full of Health, and Wise, Or to attain by toile, or strength of art, That which he only freely doth impart, To whom he will, that men may not be proud Of what to them is by his Grace allow'd, Nor boast of any prosperous condition, Which cann't be say'd to be their acquisition.

Besides, if we'll but think how mean esteem God has for Riches, we will quickly blame That vulgar apprehension, which doth pitch, Its silly slubbering fancy on the rich; Who generally are but men of base, Unworthy, and unhallowed Principles, Men of mean spirits, and deceitful hearts, Great Master of the most pernicious arts Of couz'ning, and oppression: men of wealth, Term'd by the world, because by cunning stealth They've rais'd Estates: men they are seldom bred In any Learning, scarce intituled To moral virtue: men who take no pleasure In any Science, but upon their treasure Do fix their Souls: and yet dare do no more, Then with devout eyes, gaze upon their Ore, But thinks't a sin to touch that sacred score. Hence those poor Silk-worms, with great toile, and pain, Spin out their Bowels, to make orhers gain: Not living, mean time, on the precious fruit Of their own Labours (which without dispute, Is none of theirs,) on Leaves they meanly feed. And 'midst their riches are half-famished, They're men, whose sordid labours have no end, For when great store of riches they have gain'd, They vex themselves no lesse in the tuition, Of these sad toyes, then in their acquisition. For there's a certain Idol, on which all Those Sons of Earth do every moment call An Idol by these had in great esteem, Which in their phrase security they name, This they with vows, this they with offerings load, This is their patron, this their houshold god: Yet that security they can never find, For all their art, in which their troubled mind Doth fully rest, for still some point doth lake, Of this, or 'tother evident to make A compleat Right, and sure establishment Of what these men, have purchased, or lent. So on they go in all the Chicanries, Which their well hired Scriv'ners can devise To make it out: though to make them secure, Many an honest Fam'ly should endure Great want, and hunger, for they seize on all

Their Debtors means, and constantly do baule About the Courts of Justice, for supply Of legal Forces; for security, Of what they've seiz'd, whilst in a modest sense, They call these rascally actings diligence.

They're men, whose riches one would apprehend, 'Bove want had rais'd them, so as they might spend Their days in peace, without all anxious cares, Yet are they night-mar'd with continual fears, That all their wealth may be before they dy, Converted to a scene of poverty; Or if their treasures they entire should save, And never bid them farewell, till the Grave Should shrowd them from their sight, yet still their fear Encreases, and they anxious appear, In all their looks, for still they fear at least, Their idle Heirs may prodigally waste In a few years, what they in many gain'd, And that dear wealth luxuriously spend; Which they had purchas'd with much sweat, and toile, That wealth, they fear, shall now become the spoile Of Whores, and Gamesters: hence most anxiously, They waste their days, in great perplexity, How they should mould, and order their affairs, That they may from the rapine of their Heirs, Preserve their Means. Besides, although they are For most part without issue, yet their care Is not a whit the lesse, then that of these Whose gaping mouths; but not their Means encrease, For then they're tortur'd with anxieties, How their Estates they firmly may devise, And answer all mens importunities, Who do expect.— At length when they have cruciat their brain, In setling on't, and o're, and o're again, Have form'd their Wills, vex'd with a thousand fears, Not knowing whom to institute their Heirs: Whilst all their friends, and languishing relations, Do feed themselves with aery expectations, And by their several interests do strive, To be their Heirs, whilst they are yet alive; Age, and diseases creeping on apace, Makes them in haste resolve upon the case, They make some deeds, and all to these transmit, Who least expected: yet for all their wit, It oft e••lls out, the deeds, which they cause draw At such times in formality of Law Are defective: so that they're hardly cold, When th' Tables being opened, some lay hold On this, or 'tother clause: hence angry Pleas Burst out on all hands, and each one doth seize On what he can: suits are commenc'd, and all The disappointed to their actions fall: With heat, and clamour each of 'em pretends

His Title to it, and what Gold, and Friends Can do is then essay'd: much time is spent, In their loud pleadings, many an argument Is shot on all hands: whilst they do debate, Like fools, and children, with great noise, and heat, For the possession of a fools Estate. At last, when with such bauling wearied, And by their actions much impov'rished, All those, who are concern'd incline to treat, And their expence begin to calculat, They find that Lawyers, Proctors, Scriviners, And Clerks, not they, have been the truest Heirs Of the poor Mole: and that which now remains, Scarce countervails their losse of time, and pains.

These are your rich-men now, these are the men Whom you call wise, of whom scarce one of ten, As I've observ'd, do either live, or dy, Like men of wit, and judgement, these are they Whom th' world esteeme; though neither happy, wise, Nor learn'd, nor moral; whilst they do despise All that are owners of those qualities, Because perhaps they're poor.—

O, partial world, that puts no other rate. On men, but by the weight of their Estate! Who from thy unjust scales record'st no more, Then only this man's rich, and that man's poor. Who naked virtue slights, and puts a price, At all occasions, upon guilded vice: Allowing nought for value, though men do By daily commerce, in the weight allow A fifth part lesse, to fine Wares in the pound, Then to course Ware; but riches make a sound, And proudly triumph all the world around. Hence are their owners held in great esteem, Though of small parts, whilst men the poor do name But fools, and dunces, though these do possess Within their breasts, more solid happiness, Then riches can afford, and generally Are men of Virtue, Learning, Piety: Men of true solid Knowledge, men of Wit, Men, who do reap more lasting benefit, I'th' product of one single contemplation, Reduc'd thereafter into conversation, By art and prudence in the application, Then rich, laborious Spiders do possess I'th' thoughts of all their Cobweb-purchase▪

Yet all rich men, my friends, I do suppose Are not of this kind: no, I mean of those Only, who set their souls upon their dust, And in their changeling riches put their trust. For I know many, who great means possess, Yet as the least part of their happiness, They do esteem them; but as piously They live, so with contentment, when they dy, They leave their means to their posterity.

Nay such, as waste their profitable years, Without a mixture of some worldly cares, Pleasing themselves with things o'th' present tense, And lay up nothing for convenience, In their old age: nor labour t' entertain Their Fam'lies by some sober, lawful gain; If it be in their power; though men of parts, Of Virtue, Knowledge, Literature, and Arts, I hold for Fools, and Sinners: I confess I never was in love, with Idleness, In any man; nor do I think it just Men should live idlie, and pretend they trust In Providence; no, there's great difference, 'Twixt trusting in, and tempting Providence. For, though, at first, th' Almightie did demise To man this vast, and spacious superfice O'th' Earth, to have, and hold it for his use; That without manuring, it might produce All that the state of Humane Life requir'd Or th' int'rest of Society desir'd, Yet was this noble Grant original Quickly renvers'd, and cancell'd by the Fall; For now perceiving that such affluence Was inconsistent with mans innocence After the forfaulture in Paradise, On other terms, he did this Earth devise To th' sons of men, that it should yield them nought, But what with labour, and great toil they bought. Hence 'tis if any man should think t' obtain The good things of this Earth, without some pain, For all his Virtue, Wit, and Literature, 'Tis just that by a second forfaulture, His portion of this Earth he should amit, And be condemn'd to live upon his Wit, 'Cause contrair to the tenour of his Grant, He doth not labour to supply his want.

As you have heard me then impartially Discourse of that stupendious vanity, Which we call Wealth: I hope you will believe My friends, that I, when Rich, did not conceive My self the happier cause I did possess Those things, which only Fools call Happiness. No, for if I could in Prosperity, Have only brag'd of Riches, certainly Then had I merit in all just mens eyes T' ha' been thought neither happy, just, nor wise.

And now, my friends, since you have patiently Heard an account of my Morality, In the next place, I must request of you To hear th'account of my Religion too: That when I'me gone, you freely may declare These passages of me, which now you hear, And, as good men, your justice testifie, At least in showing how you heard me die:

That th' unjust World at length may be asham'd To have me without Reason so defam'd: From such just men, as you, I do expect No less; to you therefore I shall direct, My full, but last Confession of Faith, That, if not in my life, yet after death Has stop'd my mouth, when you hear any speak, Of your deceased friend, with disrespect, You may assure them, I was no such man, As I was represented: nay you can, (If you believe what I now speak is true) You can, I say that Argument pursue, With so much Candor, Art, and Eloquence, As you may soon perswade all men of sense How much I've been abus'd, how much injur'd By bloody Tongues, and they may be assur'd That all the ill things they have heard of me, When I've been censur'd in a high degree By foul-mouth'd Tiplers, 'have been only Lies, Unjust Reproaches, and base Calumnies.

First then, my friends, I since my Infancie, Firmly believ'd, that from Eternitie There was one God, who all things did create, One only God; whose Power doth regulate The universal World in Soveraignty, And doth by a Supream Authority Give Laws to all: and save that God alone, Man of a Woman born should worship none. And therefore those, that did the Sun adore, The Moon, or Stars, I truly did abhore.

Nay, though those splendid Creatures I esteem'd Beyond all others, which his hands had fram'd, Yet were those glorious parts of the Creation Only the subject of my admiration, But not of my devotion: for indeed As in a Picture, I in these would read The immense Power of him, whose mighty hand At first did mould them, by whose sole command They did exist; and to this Power obey Their first directions: whilst the Sun by day, The Moon, and Stars by night the World survey, By his sole order, and acknowledge none For their Superiour, but Heavens King alone. Hence would I looke on them with admiration, But at no time, with secret veneration, Only as those at Court a leg will make T' th' Princes Servants, for their Masters sake: So when I'de see the Sun, at morning rise, With great devotion, I would turn my eyes To th' East, and with uplifted hands, confess Gods greatness, and my own unworthiness, T' approach the Throne of that bright Deity, Who keep'd such servants in his Family, As was that Creature, in one single beam Darting more splendor, then all those we name

Kings here on Earth, with all their glorious shows, Patch'd up in one can on the World impose. Again, when I this Creature could espy Shining at Noon-tyde in his Majesty; Then would my soul fly out in admiration, Of him, who's Author of the whole Creation, When such a member of it in its Sphere So worthy admiration doth appear, And through that glorious Prospect I'de descry The beauty of the Divine Majesty- As at great distance. When again at night I'de see it from the World withdraw its light, Then would I think, what's all our glory here, When even th' illustrious Sun, which did appear In stately splendor, but some hours ago, Is now extinct, with all it pompous show. Then, when I'de see the Moon, and Stars draw out, Like the Night-watch, and walk the Round about This spacious Globe; I'de think, O what must he, Who entertains such Guards, what must he be! What must he be, to whom those glorious things, Perform such service! sure he's King of kings: For there's no Prince on Earth, with all his power That can command those Forces, for one hour To stop their march: nay not the Sun by day, Nor in the night will Moon, and Stars obey Their Edicts, but proceed in their Carreer, And on their duty still by turns appear, As their instructions from their Master bear.

Thus, for respect to him, who these did frame, Which, as so many Heralds do proclaim His Glory far, and wide; at all occasions, I'de honour them with pious Contemplations, As Servants of that Heavenly Majesty, Under whose feet all things created ly: And by the splendor of such things, as these I would the glory of their Maker guess; As Artists, by Proportions Rules will show The Bodies bulk, by measure of the Toe. But, all my life-time, I would ne're allow To any of 'em that honour, which is due To God alone: though such Idolatry Were not by Law repute Grand Fellony.

Hence in this God alone I put my trust, And 'cause he was impartially just: When any one did me an injury, To him alone I would my self apply. I never was vindictive, never knew That humour, which is but unknown to few, That prompts men to revenge: I'de never strive T' encroach upon his high Prerogative, To whom alone Revenge doth appertain, But would (shut up in patience) remain: Until that God did think it proper time

For him to punish, and revenge the Crime.

Yea though my cruel Enemies, God knows, Would every day, when from their Bed they rose, Bitterlie curse me, and my Family Instead of Morning Prayer, yet would not I Though these did hate me, as I hate the Devil, To their unguarded souls wish any evil.

Nay though my followers, when they would perceive How much I was injur'd: would trulie grieve To see my usage, and at all occasions Would own my Quarrel with dire imprecations, And often wish it were to them allow'd To take revenge, angrie they were withstood By my commands: and often would repeat, Would we had of those Villains flesh to eat, Who have injur'd our Master, we would make Those Slaves a bloody Victim for his sake. Yet would I ne're consent, I'de ne're agree That ever man should take revenge for me: But on the contrair I would pardon those Who wrong'd me, were they even my greatest Foes: I never on revenge would meditate, Nor thought my self oblig'd at any rate, To quarrel those, who did me injuries, Which rather then resent I would despise.

But O I took delight in Charity. By taking always opportunity T' assist all Persons, whom I knew to be In want, as oft as they apply'd to me. The wearied Traveller, whose lean Purse did shrink Below the credit of a cup of Drink; Whose Visage, and Apparel look'd so thin, He was a very Bug-bear to an Inn: All destitute, or'edaub'd with Dust, and Sweat, Readie to take up lodgings in the Street; Into my House I'de always kindlie take, And entertain him, for his Makers sake.

Now though those Virtues did possess my breast, And I all sinful courses did detest: Yet, if at any time, I'de chance to fail, And some strong sin against me did prevail Then would I not my Conscience abuse, By framing of some pitiful excuse: As once poor Adam did t' extenuate The error, which he could not pailiate: No no, such stale devices I abhor'd, And therefore, when I fail'd, I'de in a word, Upon my knees, with hands uplifted, cry, Lord I have sin'd: Lord I have wilfully Incurr'd thy anger at this sad occasion, And so deserve to bear thy indignation. For, trust me, such as freelie do confess Their sins, and with an open heart address Themselves to God, are always better heard,

Then those, whose cautious Mouths, as if affear'd T' accuse their Hearts, do mincingly declare What hardly they desire that God should hear.

And here, my friends, I must again protest, I don't remember ever in my breast, Such sinful thoughts did entertainment find, As those, to which too many are inclin'd. For (trust me now) though I in Wealth, and Power Did live for many years, yet to that hour That God was pleas'd to visit me, I never Would use that Power, on what account soever, To th' prejudice of any man, although, Had I inclin'd t' have us'd my Neighbours so, As others did, I might have done with ease, What ever might a rich mans humour please. For I to others could ha' given Law And made all in my District, stand in aw; Yet I'de not injure the most despicable, Nor do offence to th' meanest of the Rabble.

But what needs more! O now that God would hear What I have spoke: O that he would declare, From what I have express'd in my defence, His just opinion of my Innocence. O that my God would hear me, O that he Who knows Hearts-secrets would declare me free, From those Aspersions, Lies, and Calumnies Thund'red against me, by my Enemies. For O should he a hearing once allow, I'de laugh at these, and all their Libels too. Nay let them write a Volumn, if they will Yes, let them rail, and article their fill: Let them paint out my actings, as they please, And break my reputation by degrees: Let them me Rogue, let them me Villain call, Let God but hear me, I'de contemn them all.

For all, what these invidious men could say Against me, in their wrath, should in the day That God should hear me, prove for my defence, And, stead of sullying, clear my Innocence: For then their malice should it self declare And in its own true Colours should appear:

But to my Judge I freely could confess My hidden sins: and for the sins, which these Lay to my charge; I'de give such evidence Before him of my injur'd Innocence, As I should by him be acquit from thence. O let him hear me then, let God but hear My Case himself, and then I do not fear What all the World can say: for I do still Assert my Innocence, (take it as you will.)

And now, my friends, that I may put an end To my Discourse, because I apprehend You'r weary now of hearing, as indeed I am of speaking: I shall therefore plead

No more upon the case: but once for all, My great Creator I to witness call; That what I have profess'd, dear friends, to you, Is not at all devis'd, but simply true. For all my life, I safely may assert, Before that God, who fully knows my heart; That, to my knowledge, truly I did never, In what state, or capacity soever, Do any unjust thing: for to this day, (What e're men speak) I can with freedome say, If any man, who serv'd me, can complain That ever I his Wages did retain.

If of my ground the increase I have eat, Without first paying for the toil, and sweat Of those, who labour'd it, or in the least Muzzled the mouths of either man or beast Who did tread out my corns: or did refuse At any time the labourers honest dues; If ever I did strive to multiply My Revenues by fraud and usury:

Then let those grounds (which I do yet expect I may possess) be cursed for my sake: Let Cockle, stead of Barley, stead of Wheat, Let Thistles all my grounds emacerate.

Now I have done, my friends, shall add no more, But once again, as I have done before, I do conjure you by the love you owe To your own souls, my dearest friends, although You have no love for me; that you'll declare Hereafter to the world, what now you hear: This favour I expect you'll not deny T' allow, for all that's past, to th'memory Of one shriev'd by your selves, but boldly show Th' abused world, more then as yet they know. And tell that Job, whom ev'n good men envy'd Wicked men hated, and all now deride, Of avarice, hypocrisie, and pride, Did clear himself, and as he liv'd he dy'd.

Notes

• 1. I made a cove∣nant with my eyes, why then should I think upon a maid.
• 2. For what portion of God is there from above? and what in∣heritance from the Almighty on high.
• 3. Is not destruction to the wicked, and a strange punishment to the workers of iniquity.
• 4. Doth not he see my ways, and count my steps.
• 5. If I have walked with vanity, or if my foot hath hasted to deceit.
• 6. Let me be weigh∣ed in an even bal∣lance, that God may know my integrity.
• 7. If my step hath turned out of the way and my heart walk∣ed after my eyes, and if any blot hath clea∣ved to my hands.
• 8. Then let me sow, and let another eat, yea, let my off spring be rooted out.
• 9. If mine heart hath been deceived by a woman, or if I have laid wait at my neighbours door.
• 10. Then let my wife grind unto ano∣ther, and let others bow down upon her.
• 11. For this is an hainous crime, yea, itis an iniquity, to be punished by the judge
• 12. For it is a fire that consumeth to destruction, & would ••••o•• out all mine in∣crease.
• 13. If I did despise the cause of my man∣servant▪ o•• of my maid-servant, when they contended with me.
• 14. What then shall I do when God ri∣seth up, and when he visiteth what shall I answer him.
• 15 Did not he that made me make him? and did not one ta∣shion us in the womb?
• 16. If I have with∣held the poor from their desire, or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail.
• 17. Or have I eat∣en my morsel my self, and the father∣less hath not eaten thereof.
• 18. For from my youth he was broght up with me, as with a father, and I have guided her from my mothers womb.
• 19. If I have seen any p••••ish for want of cloa••••ing, or any poor without cove∣ring.
• 20. If his ••o••nes have not blessed me, and if he ••••re not warmed with the fleece of my sheep,
• 21. If I have lift up my hand against the fatherlesse, when I ••aw my help in the gate.
• 22. Then ••et mine arm fall from my shoulder bla••••, and mine 〈◊〉〈◊〉 be broken from the bone.
• 23. For destructi∣on from God, was •• terror to me, and by reason of his high∣nesse. I could not en∣dure.
• 24. If I have made gold my ho••••, or have said to ••••ne gold thou art my confi∣dence.
• 25. ••f I rejoiced because my 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••cause mine hands had got∣ten much.
• 26. If I beheld the sun, when it shined, or the moon walk∣ing in brightness.
• 27. And my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand.
• 28. This also were an iniquity to be pu∣nished by the judge, for I should have denyed the God that is above.
• 29. If I rejoyced at the destruction of him that hated me, or lift up my self when evil found him.
• 30. Neither have I suffered my mouth to sin, by wishing a curse to his soul.
• 31. If the men of my tabernacle said not, O that we had of his flesh▪ we can∣not be satisfied.
• 32. The stranger did not lodge in the streets, but I opened my door to the tra∣veller.
• 33. If I c••••ered my transgression as A∣dam, by hiding my iniquity in my bo∣som.
• 34. Did I fear a great multitude, or did the contempt of families terrifie me, that I kept silence, and went not out of the door.
• 35. O that one would hear me, behold my desire is that the Al∣mighty would answer me, and that mine adversary had written a book.
• 36. Surely I would take it upon my shoulder, and bind it as a crown to me.
• 37. I would declare unto him the num∣ber of my steps, as a Prince would I go nigh unto him.
• 38. If my land cry against me, or that the furrows likewise complain.
• 39. If I have eaten the fruits thereof without money, or have caused the own∣ers thereof to lose their life.
• 40. Let thistles grow in stead of wheat, and cockle in stead of barley.