Heavenly pastime, or, Pleasant observations on all the most remarkable passages throughout the Holy Bible of the Old and New Testament newly allegoriz'd in several delightful dialogues, poems, similitudes, and divine fancies / by John Dunton, author of The sickmans passing-bell.

An Imagined Discourse between the Prodi∣gal Son and his Father.

The Argument.

The Son return'd, relates the wretched state He underwent; when absent does create A tenderness in his ag'd Sire, whose Love On his repentance ne're the less does prove.

Son.

ALass dear Sir, my disobedience has bin so great, that without shame, I dare not lift my Eyes to look upon your aged Face, without confusion, and disordered countenance; I cannot hear you speak thus kindly to the man that is un∣worthy to be called your Son, but merits more the name of slave.

Fa.

Come to my Arms, my dear dear Child, I cannot see you stand thus cringing, nor can I permit you this range distance.

Son.

The more your kind indulgence showes it self, the greater are my wretched Crimes, to leave so good a Father, leaving him in tears for my de∣parture, nay to spend the substance he had gotten on the lewd profane debauches of the flattering world, whilst he was sighing for absence.

Fa.

O! Name not what is past, but let your future care prevent the like revolt, the like extravigance.

Son.

I dare not think I am forgiven; I am sure I could not well expect forgiveness from the man I had so much offended.

Fa.

All, all's forgiven, whilst I sign this pardon with this kiss, this kind embrace, nay with my aged tears that spring from streams of joy.

Son.

Thus low I bend to meet your blessing, and will henceforth be circumspect and cautious how I move, least I again, though unwittingly, offend such innate goodness, such a tender Father.

Fa.

Arise my Son, and may ten thousand blessings and happinesses more than your aged Sire can wish, fall all you: but tell my Son, tell of the strange adventures that befel your absence.

Son.

My Father shall be obeyed — Then know great Sir, that when I left your Mansion in my pompous Gaityes, I soon betook my self to places of resort, and found the joval crew that courted me to recreate my Fancy with delights made up of Plea∣sure; Riotting and Musick was our recreation for the most, though sometimes we dwelt upon a Harlots smile, and spent at other times the flying hours in gaming, or beholding some vain Pagentary, till in the end my stock being gone, I soon had lost my gay Companions, who studied then to shun me more, than they had done to court my Favour: when ashamed to return home, I wandred as a man forlorn and friendless over many a dewy Plain, and through a thousand devious Paths; till in the end I met a humane shape, though dreadful to behold,

who seemed to take compassion on me, and used many subtil arguments to bring to his lure, till in the end I was content to yeild to his desire, Imagining what he pretended was real and substantial; but having got me in his power, he shackled me with Chains; and loaden with strong fetters sent me out to feed his swine, yet scarce would suffer me to feed upon the Husk••; nor was Famine all, for still my Stripes were as grievous as my wants; which lamentable case made me begin to cast about and think from what a happiness I fell; bewailing sore my rashness, till in the end, inspired or prompted by some good Angel, I resolved to leave my Hellish Tyrant, and throw my self at the Feet of you my Father, and to try, if peradventure I might move you to compassionate your wretched Son.

F.

In a blessed hour were your resolves, and more happy was the moment when I again recei••ed my much beloved Son, for whose return loud Instruments of Musick shall proclaim, and feasting for his sake last many a day; then let us in and order it.

Son.

A thousand thanks your now obedient Son (if I dare own that name) returns, resolving for the Future to devote my cheif indeavours to de∣serve such favour.