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HOly▪ Daniel was once chief in commission un∣der great Darius, the very first Minister of ••tate. Thus you have him in the Zenith of his Ho∣nours, Lord high President over all the Kings, Councils and Treasures, next and immediatly under himself supreme Governour, together with ••he reason which justifies the Kings great Prudence ••nd Policy in promoting him to so high degree, viz.
Because an Excellent Spirit was found in him—. He was every 〈◊〉〈◊〉 qualified for his station.
But this mighty pre••erment soon contracts an uni••versal E••vy upon him from those whose dim Eye could n••t see, or whose cank••••ed Spirits would no•• weigh his merits in a Righte••••s S••ale.
The Hi•• of H••nour i•• dangerously tro••, though by neve•• so ••air and meritori••us Fe••t.Envious Men hat•• to a••knowle••ge a worth beyond their own, and loo•• with a squint Eye on all above themselves. The pro••motion that f••lls not ••n their own Heads, grieve•• their Hearts, an•• i•• plotted against.
Yet safely may the Heavenly Aspirer fix h•••• steps while he has no Competitor to contend wit•• him; and few are emulo••s of the Celestial Crown The four and twenty▪ ••lders may pass an Eternit•• e'ro any below disturb their Honours, while wea•••• Eyes wax sore at the sight but of a Corone•••• though Darius hims••lf had stuck it on.
They soug••t to find occ••sion, &c. And methinks fancy them sitting in ••lose Consult ••gainst him, an•• ransacking every In••h of his Life and Manners. N•• an un••••r-Officer, but is brought in and strictly ex••••min'd upon Oath, if possibly the l••ast defect mig•••• be found in his Managements or Accounts: And pe••••h••ps the very Attendants of his Family Brib'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Menac'd into an unreserved con••ession and discl••••sure of the dayly Customs of his House, nay 〈◊〉〈◊〉 those of his very Oratory and Bed-chamber. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 must the freedom of his Table ••e allowed him u••••purge••. ••f probably even there but a Syllable mig•••• escape him, which may be A••tificially interpret•• into Treason, or wrench'd (but) into the mispris•••• of it; or but any thing which might bear the lea•• shadow or Reflection of dish••nour or damage to t•••• great P••rson, Dignity or Int••rest of his Roy•••• Master.
But when now after all this, nothing is squeez••
out that can (though but) colour••bly charge him; how do they fret and vex, and are ready to indict even his Care and his Caution? And are vext that they want Eyes to penetrate into the v••ry recesses of his Soul. For it may be, there might sculk some Trayterous and Disloyal thought, which gladly would they tear out from his Heart, and produce in evidence against him. But if, even that he White and Innocent too, they again wax mad, and curse his very Loyalty and Truth, and could wi••h that his Snowy Innocence would take a Crimson Dye, and be (though but superficially) Criminal▪ They ••ought occasion but could find none, forasmuch as he was ••aithful— Neither was there any err••ur or fault found in him, Chap. 6.4.
But now what a plague is it to envy innocence, and ••o make anothers Health ones own Disease? Is the thine Eye evil because mine is Good?
Yet for ever ••e it remarqu'd, to the Honour of ••hese eager Conspirators, that the height of this ••eavourish rage did not distemper them into the ••istraction of perjurious Revenges, nor the detest∣••ble contrivances of Subornation against Daniel. They will not Damn Souls to destroy Bodies. Their ••ery Heathen Cons••iences boggled at that Hellish ••ractice.
And now very despair make these Plotters witty, ••hey alt••r the measu••es of their Counsels. And ••••nce nothing can be discovered defective in his alle∣••iance to his Prince, they will weave a Net that ••hall ensnare him in the exactness of his ob••dience ••o his God. Hi•• very Devotions shall be twisted ••••to a Cord t••at shall strangl•• him. And if he dare ••y servi•••• to ••is M••ker, even that shall be High ••reason ag••inst his King And (to s••ve ••hem the la∣••our) h•• sh••ll 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••im••••lf ••nto the Gr••ve. For, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 th••se men, w•• sh••ll find n•• o••••••sion against this ••aniel, except we find it ag••i••st him concerning the ••••w of his God, verse 5.
But I would wish no greater Judgment upon Plotters than to find them bending their Wits against Heaven, whi••h is ever engaged to destroy them, f••r its own security and Honour. Nor can an Arrow be shot against Piety without hitting God himself direc••ly in the Face. Since all that is in the Worl•• is but his reflection upon the Soul, and he is as much in one Beam or Ray of his Holy∣ness that shines in the Creature below, as in the whole Sun of it that makes Glory above. The Ma∣lic•• that wounds a Saint, would destroy the Deity if it could.
How do I see them Chuckle, and ••less their Wits in this new contrivan••e. A Plot so exquisitely wo∣ven, that there is no room for so much as the least fear or jealousie of its miscarriage and failure. They question not the success in the least. Daniel must turn Atheist to prevent the danger; and forsake his God, or his Life.
Projecting Heads may Plot together, and jum∣ble out a decree of Death. Y••t to as little Repu∣tation or Issue, as a Club of Physicians that vote that disease to be Mortal, which Heaven cures by a ••igg.
The Decree is universally agreed on by Daniels Enemies. And the Monarch address'd for his Royal A••••ent. They Enact him a God (by Law) upon Earth, and make it Death to acknowledge another in Heaven. They put a trouble upon hi••, to receive all the addresses of Men, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thirty Holy-dayes for all his fellow Deities to re••t i••: Whosoever shall ask •• Petition of any God ••r Man f••r thirty Dayes, save of thee, O Kin••. &c. vers. 7.
D••rius consults not his Cabal to unriddle this Flattery in his No••les, mu••h less d••e▪ he apprehend any treacherous design in the bottom, but is willing to interpret it pure Loyalty, and a Politick advance of his Glory, and greater security in his Empire
now at his first approaches u••to it; and therefore easily inclines to the proffered Honour; and (since they will have it so) is content to justle out his Ma∣ker from his Throne for a Month. Therefore God punish'd his rash and unadvised Folly and Pride, whose hand Signs the Decree which afterwards makes his Soul to Ake, and because he did not sleep on't, a-non cannot; and endanger'd the breaking his Heart, as well as his sleep.
The Sagacious Daniel qui••kly penetrates through this shallow desig••. He easily sees the Warrant for his own Execution written on the back-side of this plausible De••ree, yet will not prevent it. His great Soul bids defiance to it, and them that fram'd it. He scorns to live when he ••annot serve his God▪ y••t will serve him: though he dye for it. He will not neglect his Duty for thirty dayes tog••ther, no not to save his Bloo••. But r••solves rather to pass into Immortality to serve him there.
The King having pass'd the Law— The Tre∣panners begin to s••eak about D••ni••ls Lodgings. Malice degen••rate•• them into Eve••-••roppers, they creep up and down un••er his very Win••ows. If the Casement chance to s••ye open, the project thriv••s, their hopes swell, and the Blood capers in their Veins. And he (brave Spirit) opens it on purpose, to let them see and know that he dreaded not their impious Law, nor would slack an A••e of his dayly Zeal and devotion to his God; and thi•• he di••, When he knew, that the Writing was sign'd, vers 10. 'Twas below his great Person and Spirit to deny or dissemble his Religion. Faith and Love makes him trusty to it, against all Conspiracies of Men or De••vils.
And what know we, but some were so impudent as to steal up Stairs and peep through the very Key∣hole to discover (but) the first motion towards a Genuflection. But when those Sacred joynts incline
to bend to the resolved Worship, how greedily do they suck in the very first Spiration, and preparato∣ry ••ighs?
But (brave Belshazzar!) how little do we know what various Passions agitate thy Sacred Breast at this time? What contests between Nature and Gr••••e, ••lesh and Spirit? Or wer't thou all Soul and transported beyond the cares and remembrance of thy Mo••tal and su••fering part, that I hear thee 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i••to su••h Rap••ures as the••e?
Wha••! a••d must I fors••ke my God now, or not Live?* 1.1 and fors••ke him too upon such un∣happy Terms as th••se, to gratifie the wishes of these malicious con••ederating Heathens? Is Devotion become fatal, and must Pra••er it self kill? Cannot I go to my God, but the next st••p must be to the Grave? 'Tis worse than D••ath to live ••ut one day, without him who i•• the Life of my Soul▪ how then sh••ll I live thirty? Must I w••ar thes•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon min•• affections and ••ips, which th••se Men•• envy and can••ing h••ve clapt on me, with design to enslave me f••r ever? R••ther let 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Beasts tear ••p••n a pa••sage for this Captive within me 〈◊〉〈◊〉 p••ss into th•• liberties of e••erl••stingness, than thus to b•• Cag'd up in so insufferable a V••ssalage! Do they think to immure up my Soul? Let th••m r••n•• me from the Court of Da••iu••, my Heaven is not there, as is ••••eirs; my Bod•• is the Kings to his pleasure and ser∣vice, but my Soul is Gods unto his. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 venture an in∣••••rg••ment into the Bowels of the Lio••s, e're they shall ••l••ry over mine Ap••stacy from my Religion and my God.
But hold! whither does this Noble but Te∣merarious Zeal transport th••e Daniel?* 1.2 Is this th•• kindness to thy dearest self? An•• hast thou no re∣gard to the Glorious and sweets ••f Life? Is that Holy Fire, that devours its own Altar? And call••st thou that
Zeal that hurls thee into nothing, and temps thee to an Annihilation? Is Death so d••sireable? and such a Death as will gratifie thine Enemies too? Whose M••lice will Feast it self on thy Ruines, with greater Luxury than the Lyons Banqu••t on thy Flesh? What is this but to Execute the Plot against thine own Life, which they can∣not p••rf••ct without thee? and will thy God thank thee for destroying thy s••lf, and throwing ••way thy life for •• Nicety, the Ceremony an•• Cark•••• of Devotion, which his Grace is so r••ady to disp••nce with, an•• for so little •• time as a M••nth too? Is he not the Father of Spirits, and regards more the Orator•• of a sigh than all the lusci∣ou•• Expr ssions of the Lips? Vn••erst••nds he not the Lan∣guage of the Soul, ••n•• heark••ns to the very desires of the Humble? Maist thou not Offer up the pur••r Sacrifice from the s••cret Altar of a Flaming 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and be safe? What an advantage hast thou to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Conspiracy by a Mental▪ Devotion, an•• to Countermine the Villa••••••s of th••ir Cursed Policy by looking up thy Soul in its self?
Ah no! The brave Vot••ry s••orns to compound with his God for his Life,* 1.3 nor will save himself by so mu••h as Latching the Door of his Lips; he will not ••ti••le the vent of his Soul, tho it self were sure to fly through it: He will glorifie God with his speech, tho he speak himself into Air; he will not di••figure the Bo∣dy of his Duty, to save his own from mangling; and would rather the Lyons should open their Mouths to swallow him, than he by shutting up his, to ••m∣prison his Zealand Affections. He resolve•• that his Mouth shall Confess unto God (and the World) ••hat his Heart believ••th unto Salvation; and (while his Enemies were watching) imagine this devout Sup∣plicant thus pouring out his Soul unto God.
The Prayer.
GOD of my Soul and of my B••ing, the Glorious Ie∣ho••••h that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ever∣lastingness, and hum••l••st thy self to b••••old the things that are in Heaven and Earth— ••ear ••nd have mercy. Thou art God alone, and b••sides thee there is none else: What is this Darius, whom these m••n have blasphemously Ex••ulted to Rob thee of thy Glory and Worship, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a God of him that cannot help, that cannot save ••••rs••lf or others—O Pardon their Sin. And this they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 done with d••sign to Rob me too, of this Glorious Liberty of Access to thee my God, who art the very Life ••f my Soul, and whose loving kindness is better than Life, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 without whom Life is none at all. They would shut 〈◊〉〈◊〉 from thy Presence, but do not thou; Op••n the Door 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy Grace and my Soul, that I m••y fly unto thee; and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 [these] these mine Enemies lye in wait for my 〈◊〉〈◊〉; yet let me Praise thee with joyful Lips, and Serve 〈◊〉〈◊〉 without fear. What, though they have decreed to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 away my life, are not my Times in thy hand? and ••ithout thee sh•••••• ••ot fall an hair from my Head. O 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me a Faith beyond my Fear, and a Courage beyond 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Malice, that I may dye rather than disown thee; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 D••voting my self a Sacrifice to thy Glory, may 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the World know that thou Lord, art the only God 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Souls of thy Servan••s who put their 〈…〉〈…〉. R••deem thy Church and People—
〈◊〉〈◊〉 Noise interrupt•• him: The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cry out amain,* 2.1 〈…〉〈…〉 Traitor a••ai••st our 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, away with him to the Lyo••s, Darius ••••••s••lf cannot sav•• hi••.
Th••se, we may su••pose, were the Evide•• to Swe••r against him▪ who could safely 〈…〉〈…〉 (without fear of Perjury) that they h••
making his Petitions to the God of Heaven, and so breaki••g the Decree.)
And now ha•• the Plot taken effect, the Inno••ent man falls by the Councils of the Wicked: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 art thou O Lord, yet le•• me talk with th••e of 〈…〉〈…〉: Wher••fore d••th the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the Wicked prosper? Wher••fore are ••hey happ•• 〈…〉〈…〉? Jer. 12.1. So foolish was I and ignorant—Surely thou didst set them in slippery 〈◊〉〈◊〉, thou cast est them down in••o 〈…〉〈…〉 are they brou••ht into D••∣sol••••ion as in a 〈…〉〈…〉 wi••h Terrours, P ••l. 73.1••, 19.22.
Now may you see them troop together with j••y and speed to Darius Court, where they subti••••y r••∣pe••t th•• Co••••ent•• of the Law to the King, with a Cursed P••licy of d••signing to oblige him to a sacred and inviolable observance of his own E••ict, e're ever they discover the Transgressor, who (they knew) was so dear to him, that (for hi•• sak••) he might have strai••'d hi•• Prerogative unto the length of a Pa••don, (i••po••••••ble.) But having once oblig'd him by the honour of his Royal word to confirm the de∣cr••e, then they presume to produce the Indictment and thus A••••res••:
O King Live for Ever.
THat Dani••l who pretends so mu••h Love an•• Loyal••y to thy Royal Person, so mu••h Vene∣••••tion an•• respect to all thy Laws, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, he is th•• 〈…〉〈…〉 Ung••••t••ful man th••t he is, whom 〈…〉〈…〉 of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou hast 〈…〉〈…〉 whose very weight 〈…〉〈…〉 in hi•• Loy••lty 〈…〉〈…〉 th•••• ••he su••limity 〈…〉〈…〉 into fo••ly too; he 〈…〉〈…〉 other Go••, as if ••••ou O King we••t not 〈◊〉〈◊〉
enough for him, who hast been so kind and Royal to him. Never has the large••se of Princely Bounty 〈◊〉〈◊〉 unluckily mi••carried by ing••atitude and Trea∣chery, which dares be so insolent to give so per∣nicious an Ex••mple of first Violating that Law, which he should have valued infinit••ly dearer than his Life, and rather than have prostituted it to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Co••••empt, should have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the war∣m••st Blood of hi•• H••art to it•• Glory. We pray therefore that he may (Suffer the Pains and Penalties of the Irrevoca•••••• Decree he has so Prophan••ly despis••d, may r••ceive the just R••com∣p••••se of his h••ughty R••bellion and Pride.)— Be thrown to the Lyons.
Now is the King almost dead, with sorrow, the fatal News m••re wounds his Royal Heart than the P••i••oners: The King himself suffers in this Plot, and is persecuted in the Captive; and now is basely betrayed to sign the Decree, which Seals his own vexation and trouble: For 'tis they, and not Daniel▪ were guilty of the Treason ag••inst his Royal tranquility and peace.
Unhappy Dani••l! to b•• so lov'd and so hated! so pa sionately lov'd by Darius, so universally 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by his Nobles. Here•••• n••t one of all the Peers h••s a pitty for thee, they joy••••ly address for thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Executi••n; (N••min•• Co••tradicent••.) The King, singly demures, and while he does so, they imp••tientl•• ad••r••ss a second time, (and had not so ••••••••••erously 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hithe••to. now to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thei•• Plot to perish in ••m••rio.) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 makes them fo••••••et good mann••rs, they 〈…〉〈…〉 and uncourly▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 O Ki••••, that the L••w•• the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it, that no Decr••e nor 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which the King 〈…〉〈…〉, v. 15. q. 〈◊〉〈◊〉
We have 〈…〉〈…〉 a B••y, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Re••el may no•• be pardoned, t••e Laws of t••y Kingdom will not
bear it, tho thou wouldst; therefore in vain dost thou labour to ••eliver him, for dye he must and shall.
But now met••••nks how do I see the great Darius hugging him in his A••ms; whilst he beholding him (as he fears) with his last Eyes, breaths out his very Heart to him in such dear Expressions as these?
Daniel, my dearest Dani••l, the brightest Star that ever illustrated a Princes Court; the faith∣fullest Servant that ever bless'd a Master; the ve∣ry Glory and Flow••r of my Kingdom and Palace, who art passing up into those more glorious Man∣sions, where only dwell su••h Spirits▪ as thine. Thou wi••t no more envy the toys of Regality, nor need the aiery Honours of an Earthly Palace; I am distre••sed fo•• thee my dearest Daniel; how willingly could I uncloath my self from these vain Badges of Majesty to pass into Spirit with thee? But ••tay, may not thy God meet thee in the Den, as (I have heard) Sha••rach's did him in the Fur∣nace; and methinks I have Faith to believe he will; and least thine Enemies should think so too, and send in Russians more cruel than the Beasts to de∣stroy thee, my care shall obviate that danger▪ while I Seal thee up under the Protection of Hea∣ven and thy God.
How stately passes the Captive 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Den,* 3.1 richl•• laden with the Troph•••••• of his Princes affections, and the gra∣ces of his God! He leaves nothing behind him, th•••• he should take to Heaven with him, but the thought ••f Revenge.
Know you not who I am? know you not me.
I'll shun you then; my Soul no more can 〈◊〉〈◊〉
Yet you unmov'd our sad laments cou'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉
Ha—who is this? that thus with hasty steps makes to my poor Abode; If I mi∣•••• not, it is the Warriour that has troubled Israe••
yes, yes, 'tis Sisera. — Speak, speak my Lord, why come you thus alone? where, where are all the mighty Captains that were wont to wait upon you, marking your Frowns and Smiles as sure por∣tents of Life and Death; the Signals of the Nations Peace, or dire Calamity.
Alass! Alass! The God of Iacob has pre∣vailed, and they're no more; the Battel has devoured them, and their slaughter'd Carcasses ly scattered on the Plains of Israel.
How! is the mighty Jabins Army overthrown.
It is, and still the danger is too near to ad∣mit of time to tell the dreadful ruine; for the well flesh'd Foe besmear'd with blood and slaughter, hastily pursue; O had you seen the fearful havock Barak's Sword has made; how wheeling with a swift reverse it mowed down Ranks of men? You wou'd have trembled.
My Lord, I tremble at the thoughts of his wide wasting fury; but see the Enemies upon the Mountain-tops.
'Tis true, — With speedy steps they hither∣ward advance, Now! now! My life is in your hands, se∣cure me from their fury by denyal, and stay my thirst with water, and I'll largely recompence your care.
Doubt not, my Lord, of safety in my Tent; — Here, here, Drink, drink thou mighty Man of War, drink what my homely Tent affords.
'Tis Nectar most delicious, and has much re∣freshed my weary Soul;—But I'll repose, and leave my safety to your conduct.
This covering my Lord; —Ha? —wha•• a suddain drowsiness has seized the Man of blood —Why can it be that he can securely snore, when Death is hovering round him—Now, now's the time to be revenged for all the slaughter he ha•• caus'd; for all the Widdows and sad Orpha•••• tears, burnt Towns, deflowred Virgins, ravish'•• Matrons, and the bleeding Wombs, whence gas∣ping
Infants by rude hands were torn: Heaven prompt my Zeal to act the Tragedy. This sharp Instrument well fits my purpose; and now to free my Country from his future rage. —Thus —thus I seal his Eye-lids with eternal slumber.— The deed is done; convulsive Death now triumphs over him, whose breath has doom'd so many thou∣sands to the Grave: unfear'd he lyes, whose name was wont to make the Sons of Ia••ob tremble, and at whose approach the well fenced Towns were sligh∣ted, whilst for safety the Amazed Inhabitants lur∣ked in the Caves and solitary Wildernesses.
And Ruth answered; intreat me not to leave thee, ••or to depart from thee; for whether thou goest I will go, ••nd where thou dwellest there will I dwell: thy People ••all be my People, and thy God my God. Verse. 17. ••here thou dyest will I dye, and there I will be buried; ••e Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death ••a•• thee and me.
Here we have the resolution of Ruth portray'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lively colours: so that if we consider her Sex, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Woman, her Nation a Moabite; we may boldly ••••onounce of her what our Saviour did of the Cen∣••••rion, Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great ••aith, no, not in Israel.
Intreat me not t•• le••ve thee.
Some read i••, be not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 against me, as it is in the ••••rgen of the ne•• Translation Where we see that t••••se ar•• ••o be accounted our adv••rsar••es and a∣gainst us, who pers••••••d•• us fr•••• our vo••a•••• to Ca∣na••••, fro•• going to Go••s true R••ligion. They may be ou•• Fath••rs, they canno•• b•• our ••rien••s; though they promise us all outwa••d Profits and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet in very deed they are ••or with us, but agains•• us, and so must be acco••••••ed.
Where thou L••dgest, I will lod••e.
A good Companion saith the L••tine Proverb, i•• proviati••••. I may add also p•••• divers ri••. Ruth, s•• be it she may enjoy Naomie's graci•••••• company, wi•••• be content with any lodging, though happily it may be no better than Iacob had, Gen. 28.
Thy People shall be my People,
Haman being offended with Mordicai, as if it ha•• been lean and weak revenge to spit his spight upo•• one person, hated all the Jews for Mordicai's sake the mad Bear stung with one Bee, would nee•• throw down the whole Hive. But clean contrar•• Naomi had so graciously demeaned her self, th•• Ruth for her sake is fallen in love with all the Jew•• Farewel M••ch••n, farewel Chemosh, farewel 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Welcome Israel▪ welcome Canaan, welcome Be••••∣lehe••; all of a suddain she will turn Convert, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 will turn Proselite.
Thy God shall be my God.
Iehos••phat when he joyned wi••h Aha••. 1 King. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 said unto him, my People is as thy People, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 H••rses are as thy H••••ses, (that is) he would com•• with him in a politick League, but Ruth goes ••••••∣ther to an unity in Religion, Thy God shall be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 God.
Where thou dyest will I dy.
Here Ruth supposeth two things, that she 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her mother in law should both dye. It is appio••••
once to dy. Secondly, That Naomi as the eldest, should dy first: for according to the ordinary cu∣stom of Nature, it is the most probable and likely, that those that are most stricken in years, should first de∣part this Life. Yet I know not whether the Rule or Exceptions be more general; and therefore let both Young and Old prepare for Death, the first may dy soon, but the second cannot live long.
And there will I be buried.
Where she supposed two things more, first, that those that survived her, would do her that favour to bury her, which is a common courtesie, not to be de∣nyed to any: It was an Epitaph written upon the Grave of a Beggar, Nudas eram vivus, mortuus ecce tegor. 2ly. She supposeth they would bury her, according to her instructions, near to her Mother Naomi.
As it is good to enjoy the company of the Godly while they are living, so it is not amiss, if it will stand with convenience to be buried with them after death: The old Prophets bones escaped a bur••ing by being buried with the other Prophets, and the Man who was tumbled into the grave of Elisha, was revived by the virtue of his Bones. And we read in the Acts and Monuments, That the body of Peter Martyr's wife was buried in a dunghil, but afterwards being taken up in the Reign of Q. Eli∣zabeth, it was honourably buried in Oxford, in the Grave of one Frideswick, a Popish-the-Saint; to this end, that if Popery, which God forbid, should over-spread our Kingdom again, and if the Papists should go about to untomb Peter Martyrs Wifes Bones, they should be puzzled to distinguish be∣twixt the Womans body and the Reliques of that their Saint, so, good it is sometimes to be buried with those who some do account pious; though perchance in very deed they be not so.
The Lord do so to me and more also.
To ascertain Naomi of the seriousness of her inten∣tions herein, Ruth backs what formerly she had said, with an Oath, lined with an execration.
If ought but Death
See here the large extent of a Saints love, it lasts till Death, and no wonder, for it is not founded upon Honour, Beauty, Wealth, or any other sinister respect in the party beloved, which is subject to Age or Mutability, but only on the Grace and Pi∣ety in him; which Foundation because it alwayes lasteth, the love which is built upon it, is also per∣petual.
Part thee and me.
Death is that which parteth one Friend from a∣nother; Then the dear Father must part with his dutiful Child, then the dutiful Child must forget his dear Father, then the kind Husband must leave his constant Wife, then the constant Wife must los•• her kind Husband, then the careful Master must be sundred from his industrious Servant, then the industrious Servant must be sundred from his careful Master. Yet this may be some comfort to those, whose Friends death hath taken away; that as our Saviour said to his Disciples. Yet a little while, and ••ou shall not see me, and yet a little while, and you shall see me again. So yet a little while, and we shall no•• see our Friends; and yet a little while, and we shall see them again in the Kingdom of Heaven, for, n•••• mi••••umur, sed pr••mittumur, we do not foregoe them, but they go before us.
SEe'st thou not that Orpah thy Sister has left me, and is again returned to her People; why should'st thou then remain, since Heaven's Eternal King has taken to himself Chilion, the dear. Pledge of your tender Love? there live happy, since all hopes are vanished, that from my aged Womb more Sons should spring.
Have I not lived with you these many years, even when wall-breaking Famine bared the sun-burnt Fields, and Men as well as Beasts (by thousands) fell, to fat the Bosom of our Common Mother.
'Tis true you have; but then Heavens plenteous hand showred blessings on me; then my Husband and my careful Sons drew breath. But now.—
Now — why — Can you once imagine that want can cause my love to wast, no, for your own, and my dead Chilions sake, I'll love you still, and render you ••he Duty that becomes a Daughter in Law.
Thy tender years can never undergo the ••ardship that poor wandring Na••mi may meet with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 she can be setled in the place where first she ••rew her Breath; therefore consider, and whilst ••ou are in Moabs borders, think of the plenty that ••bounds in your own indulgent Mothers Womb.
I have already cast the business in my Mind, and am resolved, that Winters chilling Storms, nor Summers scorching beat attended with the sharp Con∣tests of poverty and pining want, shall never part us; Death it self in all his dismal shapes is not of force to shake my fixed determination.
You yet are young, and have not stru∣gled with Misfortunes, nor contended with the world, and therefore know not of what force they are; consider how belated Naomi (in her long Jour∣ney) must be often forced to make the Ground her Bed; and underneath some spreading Tree lie stretched: Exposed to all the injuries of wea∣ther, whilst soft sleep flys from her careful Breast, and she with sighs and groans is forced to wound the murmuring Air.
If upon some bleak Mountains top, whose co∣vering is Snow and Globes of Solid Ice, where Win∣ters lasting Tyranny still Reigns, you should be forced 〈◊〉〈◊〉 make your Bed, I'de there repose: This Arm should be your Pillow, whilst your Daughter, your obedie•••• Ruth froze to your side.
Could you do this—Yet think again, and well consider, that old Age comes fast on me, and I shall soon be summoned to the Grave; where you being left a stranger in the Land of Israel; and far from your Relations; meet with much contempt and scorn from the proud Daughters of the Land. Then will be the time of your repentance, the•• you'll blame that ill starr'd day you left your Coun∣try and your Friends for the sad company of wretch∣ed Naomi.
Let that not trouble my dear Adopted Mother; for when unf••iendly Death with his cold Icy hand, shall grasp your Life, I'll mourn much like a Widdow Turtle, till in floods of swelling Grief I'm wasted to Eternity; and then our bodies shall not be disjoyned; but in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Grave we'll lie, till our returning Souls shall wake 〈◊〉〈◊〉
drowsie courses; and hand in hand we take our way to Heaven.
Can there be such constant Faith in Wo∣man? O thou glory of our Sex! let me embrace thee. Thus whilst my poor heart o'reflows with Joy, O thou dear recompence of all my toils; who makest amends forHusband and for Sons loss; may Heavens Favours shour upon your Head, and you be blessed in all you undertake.
Your kind Expressions are too large a retribu∣tion for what I have resolved; but see the Morning Dawn salutes the World: let's lose no time, but strait begin our Iourney to the wish'd Bethlehem of Juda.
Be it as you have said, my only Comfort and blest Solace of my age.
WWhat means the Prophet with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 stern Aspect to gaze upon a Monarch•• misery, suffices it not that my slaughter••d People ••at the Plains with streams of blood, and that my burning Citys cloud the Lamp of Heaven with as∣cending smoak.
No haughty man, 'tis not enough; the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Jacob is displeased with such small Vengeance.
Then try to turn away his wrath with S••••crifice, let ten thousand Altars blaze with fat 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Bulls and Rams, the spoil that once belonged to Amaleks now fallen Sons.
In vain thou urgest such ab••mination, such Sacrifices would be odious in the Nostrils of that God Who dwells between the Cherubims, whose f••erc••
wrath can be appeased with no less Sacrifice than thy curst Life.
Ha—my life—why sure the fear of death is past now, know you not that your King has pro∣mised Life.
I know him, who in sparing you and your unlawful Spoils has made himself a Rebel to the King of Kings.
Yet he's your Lord, and ought to be obeyed, to him I appeal, to him, who has already sign'd my pardon.
In vain are all Appeals to Mortal Man, when God, the mighty God, in whose strong Hands is all the Breath of Life; has doom'd you dead.
How—doom'd me dead! O name not such another fatal Word — Spare, spare my Life, and all the Treasures I have hid▪ when first the Rumour of the dreadful War alarm'd my affrighted coast are ••t your service.
Your Treasure perish with you; not all the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the Vniverse shall rescue you from Death.
O draw not, draw not in this rage your 〈…〉〈…〉 Sword! Consider I am a Man, a Father, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••onarch; Seest thou not what Robes of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 adorn me? seest thou not this awful Circle 〈◊〉〈◊〉 o're with Gems: This Scepter, at whose wave the Princes cring'd, and kiss'd the dust; seest not him, to whome a thousand knees were wont to ••end; him on whose Breath, dependeth Life and Death, now prostrate on the ground, imploring 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for himself.
All this I see, and as far as humane fr ail∣•••• can bear sway, am moved; yet must not, dare not, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not disobey my God.
O! consider once again, that my Mother 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Queen in distant Lands; O think what grief will be to her to hear her only Son is slain.
In vain is all you urge, and this last ••aying whets my Anger more, when I consider how your
blood-bedaubed Hands have made the Nations mourn; how your destroying Sword has raised the Widdows cries and tender Infants sighs; lo! the many slaughters you have made in Jacob's borders, rendred thousands c••ild∣less; wherefore the self same Fate be on the Womb that bare you, whilst thus—thus—I execute Gods wrath on thy pernicious Head.
Oh—Oh—I'm slain—I'm slain? I that have scaped a thousand deaths in battel, tamely fall a Victim to the Zealous Fury of an inraged Prophet.
Thus what Saul left undone, my aged hand finished, and atton'd for Jacobs Land.
SPeak, speak young Stripling, is it as my Captain has related, darest thou, that art but a Youth, Expose thy self against this Mon∣ster that defies my Host.
My Lord, I dare, though not presuming on the Arm of flesh, but totally relying on the Living God, who has delivered me from the devouring Rage of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and of Bears; nor dare I now doubt the assistance of his power to b••ing low the haughty Pride of this bold Philistine that has defied tbe Armies of the living God.
Bold is your Spirit, and your courage brave, the two first steps to Glorious Actions shine in you, but yet consider, he's a man of War, mighty in strength, and dreaded by the most ••e∣doubted Captain of the Israelites.
Great King. did I rely on my own strength, I must confess his monstrous shape might dash my resolution, but his strength, on whom the high success de∣pends, is capable by meanest things, to quell the mighty, and bring low all strength and power: with him there's nought impossible.
Spoke like a Champion worthy to subdue the world; A Champion on whose Head your King will stake the Di••dem of Israel,—my Armour there—so, put it on, and gird your self in Walls of shining Steel, to fit you for the danger.
Alas my Lord, it needs not, for with these few stones I'le quell your Foe, and make him kiss the the humble Plain.
Braver in bold resolutions still— Well go thou worthy, and be prosperous; may the bright Minister of Heaven protect you from his rage, and make him fall before you.
All thanks great King, and may the God Iacob prosper you; while thus your Servant posteth to assured Victory.
Ha—ha—ha—how am I moved to laughter, when I think the King of Israel in forty days could find no fitter man than this to fight me, sure this unarmed Stripling is but sent to mock me as ima∣gining when he has teized me with some Railery, to run away, and escape my following fury by reason of my heavy Armour.
Why laughs the Monstrous Philistine? why with wide Iaws dare he disdain my youth? knew I no other God than Moloch, and accursed Dagon, I should not come resolved to the Combat.
How! to the Combate; Knowest thou with whom, poor youth, thou art to fight? Hast thou not heard of the sad Slaughters I have made? how this powerfull hand has broke through the affrighted Squadrons of the Foe, and mowed with
Whirlwinds Fury on each side, cutting through Groves of Spears, a bloody way to Victory, till h••••ps of slain have ••ali'd me in; and thinkest thou with a Staff to drive me hence? May Moloch and great Dag•••• blast thy foolish thoughts.
Not all the bloody deeds thou hast done, can fright the Son of Jesse, n••r once dismay the Man that h••t avow'd to vi•• oppressed Israel of so great a curb, that henceforth haughty man may not so boldly trust in Arms of Flesh.
Why hoverest thou then round me at this rate, and shunnest my fury, art afraid to come within my reach? Come to me, and I will give thy Flesh to the Fowls of the Air, and to the Beasts of the Field: Tear thee in ten thousand pieces, and thy scattered Limbs set up as Trophies of my Victory in all the Coasts of Israel, when this fatal Sword has made its Monarch stoop to the Phili••••••nes yoke.
In vain are all thy unregarded Threats; A••∣though thou comest to me with a Sword, •• Spear and Shield, and I to thee in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the God of the Armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
O how hot is my revenge! To what a height boils up my ragi••g Fury; O that thou wert this moment in my reach, how would I toss thee in the Air, and pash thy falling Body on the Rocks.
I'll not be long e're I advance to t••y destructi∣on; for this day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hands; and I will smite thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the Carkasses of the Philistines this day unto the Fowls of the Air, and to the wild Beasts of the Earth, that all the Earth may know there is a God in Israel; and all this Assembly shall know, that the Lord saveth not with Sword and Spear, and he will give it into our hands.
I'll not endure this longer, but chastize thy Insolence with flaming Steel; whose very touch shall make thee fly in sunder.
Nor will I fail to meet your utmost fury; and thus I'll thunder on ••our lofty Front, and bring you to the ground.
O horrour! Death and Ruine; what dark Mist is this benights my Eyes? what dreadful bolt on flaming Wings, thrown by some envious power, ••as thus o'rethrown the great Goliah, and laid all his Trophies level with the dust.
Now Monster, now know there's a God in Israel; and as I promised, thus I take thy head; — 'Tis done — done with the Sword thou threatenedst mine: And thus I bear it to the King, taking thy Ar∣mour as my lawful prize.
MY Lord, I wonder you'l expose your self at this rate, to my Fathers rage; Know you not that he seeks your life?
Yet God, the God of Abraham, is able 〈◊〉〈◊〉 defend me from his rage, seeing I have done nothin•• that deserves his hate; but in the uprightness of my heart go in and out before him.
Know you not, that I was given to you as a snare, to sound the secrets of your heart, and to pry into your Councils.
I know it, my dear Love, my happiness, and all I prize on this side Heaven; but dare not think that such virtue, tenderness, and innate goodness, can be wrought upon to prove a Traytoress to him, that can ad∣mire nothing but the eternal maker of the glorious Vniverse, above her.
I question not your love, but sure it is, my Father urges me continually to lay open your se∣crets, that he may find occasion against your life; but hitherto his threats and promises have proved ineffectual.
And ever will, I hope, my Ioy. — Nay, nay, I dare not doubt it; it were sin once to mistrust your
Virtue. It shall never sink into my thou••hts, that Mi∣chal will betray her David.
And dare you trust to that, consider well, what glittering Gems, a Prince in Marriage, and a Kingdom at command, may tempt me ••o consider I'm a Woman, and that all the Sex is ••rail.
All this, and all the Splendid Pomp the haugh∣tiest Monarch can bestow, I have considered; yet cannot once Imagine they can move my Love to entertain so base a thought.
Yet once more—what if my Father should threaten me with Death and torture if I disobeyed his lawful will; and if he finds me trifle with him; rashly put in execution what he threats.
Nor can this make me once imagine, my dear happiness, that you would give me to his Fury; though in this case I'de willingly meet his fierce wrath, when high, to save my Love from such a danger: There is no Torment so outragious, that I would not with a smile embrace, look pleasantly on Death, and tamely bow my head at your rough Fathers Feet, whilst his blood-thirsty Sword cut off my dayes—Thank the hand that took my Life for yours, and bless the King for such a Favour with my dying breath.
Let me embrace my Lord, and let him be assured, that neither hopes of Glory, Threats, nor promises, shall move me to betray him. Rather than I'll prove false to him I love as Life, I'll undergo whatever witty Horror can invent, be for ever banished from my Native Land, to live in lonely Desarts, and dye comfortless in some dark pathless Wilderness; no, all I urged wa••, but to try how much you valued me.
O! you ravish me with too much joy; I was before confined, and now 'tis doubly done: no more but to our Chambers, where the first fruits of our Love were reaped, and there I will tell my Love how much I am transported.
I am obedien••, and with eager Eye•• feed∣ding on your manly beauties, thus cast the Daughter of a King into your Arms to lead her where you please.
WWhat fears my Brother David? wherefore shuns he me?
You know, my Lord, that Men in danger ever dread, especially when they suspect the danger near.
Why, what of danger; whence do these affrighting thoughts proceed? why is the mighty Warriour thus disturbed.
Know you not that your Father seeks my Life; and are not you ••is darling Son.
And does my presence create a fear in David?
Let my Lord pardon when thus low I beg it? If I have some doubts that your Commission is to bring me to your Fathers presence.
Far be that thought from Iesse's valiant Son, whom I must chide for wronging me in such
A nature: O? canst thou once Imagine that an Action so ignoble can e're lurk within my breast? Can you suspect the Man (wh••se Soul moves in sweet harmony with yours) can be so basely tretch∣erous, as to betray his Friend,
Forgive me, my rash fear, my Lord, and I'le not dare to fear again, I must confess, your love to me has been so great, that I condemn my selfe for once so much as harbouring a suspicion, that you e're intended to harm me.
Let this dear kind Embrace sign your free granted Pardon, and in Oblivions darkest Land, let your hard censures ever rest.
O boundless Love! how can I, how shall I de∣serve it! What recompence is David capable to make that in the smallest measure can requite the Heir Ap∣parent to his Fathers Scepter—thus low.—
No more this cringing distance, but to my Arms: I know thy Innocency, and will become a shield to save you from my Fathers wrath; through me, he makes his way to Davids Breast, if Fate de∣cree his ruine.
O my dear Lord; You make me blush, and at the same time to weep for joy, to hear what you express; such faith, such constancy, such boundless Love, was ne∣ver known from man to man before.
Although I know you must succed my Fa∣ther in his Throne, yet will not I for Empire-sake, that by succession should descend to me; suffer my Love to lessen.
O! My Lord no more; I am confirmed that I am happy in so brave a Friend, happy as Man can wish; and must make it still the business of my Life, to recom∣pence so great a favour.
All I request is, that you would be kind to my Posterity, when Heaven incircles your calm 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with the bright Diadem of Israel.
Whatever my dear Friend can wish, I'le do; nor shall there be ought wanting in me to retaliate th•• kindness of my—
I ask no more, nor will I dare to doubt your Generosity; but see the Captains of my Fathers Host approach, which urges my departure; but ••'re long I'll find a ••eans to meet my Friend, and tell him all my Fathers thoughts. Till then, ten thousand blessings on your Head.
All thanks to my Kind Lord; and may the God, whose Eyes survey the secrets of each Heart, shower ••lessings on you, and make your Posterity flourish in the Tents of Jacob.
••Ne doth seldom begin wickedness at the top: Vices have their degrees as well as Virtues; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at first began to grow cool in the worship ••he true God, conversations with him were not often nor so pleasing, the pleasures of the World 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him, the delights of the Court charmed 〈◊〉〈◊〉, actions that are so free, soon become evil, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 evil ones turn themselves into custom, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 into habit; this Child of God saw the Daugh∣ters
of men, these strange Beauties which pricked him by their Novelty, he became a man, and made of them his Goddesses. The Daughters of the Moa∣bites, and of the Amorites, those of Egypt, of Sidon, of Idumaea, and so many others, whereof God had for∣bidden him any alliance, were the Idols of his Heart, after they had been the Plague and Poison of his understanding. He which had pronounced so many excellent Parables against Love, which had so many times advertised Youth, that the Lips of an unchast woman distilled honey at the beginning, but at the end they gave a portion of Wormwood, was taken by the eyes, inchained with infinite af••fections; his Love was pompous; his Luxury •• sumptuous: he loved as much for glory, as for co••••cupiscence, he would act the King in his unchastnes•• as stately, as in the Furniture of his Temple. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 had about seven hundred Women, which were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Queens, and with that three hundred Concubine•• which is according to the Scripture account, a tho••••sand wives, which he had shut in the Seraglio, for th•• pleasure of his eyes and of his flesh, and of so man•• loves, there is but one Son to be found, Rehobo•••• void of wisdome and understanding. What 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Prince do among so many delights, so many ••••••lurements, so many charms, and so many bewit••••ings! A Man is oft-times much hindred, by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 troublesome brain of one Woman only. What se••••••ous business could he then set himsef to, that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them multiplyed by hundreds? These strange ••••came each of them with all the inventions of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Nation for to surprise him, there was one 〈◊〉〈◊〉 would gain him to her, another that would 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him, another that would draw him from one 〈◊〉〈◊〉 another, even unto the bottom of Hell; It is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more easie to become a fool with a woman tha•• make her wise; he had endeavour'd perhaps to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them to his Religion, but they perverted 〈◊〉〈◊〉
and drew him to theirs. He took their loves, and afterwards their behaviours, and at last their Super∣stition.
Every one of these Women would bring her God into esteem: And thought not her self to have any credit in her love, if she did not make her false Deity to partake thereof.
THis is the place, the happy place, ap∣pointed by the God of Israel to give ••li••ah rest. And see, according to his word, the Widdow, in whose House I must sojourn till wastful ••amine destroys the Land, makes her retreat to ••hose vast D••sarts, where the scorching Sun forbids ••he falling showers.
Ha! What stranger is this, that hasts to our 〈◊〉〈◊〉, wretched, half starved City, whose faint inhabi∣••••••ts resemble Death's pale Image, and seem rather ••andring shades, than Mortal substances.
Haste, haste, thou happy Woman, whom Hea∣••en ordains to find refreshment for a weary Travel∣••••r, hast I say, and fetch me bread and water speedi∣•••• to stay my fleeting Soul.
Alas Sir! As for bread, 'tis become so great 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that scarce a Morsel's to be found in this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 City; Water indeed we have, yet that of late is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 o're plenty.
Can it be that such a stately Pile, such lofty Edifices are so quickly drained of that which is the Staff of Life.
Know you not Sir, that Meagre Famine, with dread∣ful howlings, terrifies the Nation; tearing up with bra∣zen Talents the long barren Soil, crushing with Iron Teeth the hardest Flints, whilst all her Bones appear through her close cleaving Skin; and her sunk Eyes and shrivled Dugs make her look frightful to poor pining Mortals.
I know for sin, for dire heart hardning sin, the just i••censed Majesty of Heaven has chas'd away the swelling Clouds, grown big with showers, whose gentle distillation should assist kind Nature in per∣forming her desired task, and close the crannies of the yauning Earth; nor shall the cattaracts give rain in years to come, so Iacobs God decrees.
If Earth deny her Fruits much longer, wh•• can live! since we already see so many thousands gas∣ping for a moments Life; and hear no other cries than what proceed from sad necessitie, whilst nothing that's unclean, is left unfed upon; As for my self, all I have left, is but a handful of course meal, and a small qua••∣tity of Oyl, nay, and half that's my Sons to dress, whic•• am gathering these few sticks for, that we may eat an•• dye.
Dread not Death? since Heaven is carefu•• of your preservation; dress instantly what now yo•• have, and still your store shall be continued.
It cannot be—or if it do remain with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 unconsumed a while, it soon will wast, and then we hav•• no more to eat, nor know we where to buy; for now pur•• Gold and Silver, once a precious bane, is gladly give for the vilest things, with which the worst of Creat•••••• heretofore were fed.
Dispute not what I bid, but do as I comman•• and live, dare you doubt that ought's impossible wi•••• God, who sent me to preserve your life, whi••••
••ll the streets are paved with dead and dying wretches.
My Heart misgives me, and something as it were, does wisper me in my Ear, that it is a Prophet; speak; therefore totally relying on your word, I'le instant∣ly make tryal: If I live, I live, at the worst I can but dy. —Ha—all I have taken out cannot be mist; the Cruse and the Barrel fill again by Miracle.
And so they shall, till plenteous Harvest bends with Golden Ears the feeble stalks, and Wine and Oyl is every where abounding.
Blessed for ever be the Name of Israels God, Who has sent his Servant to his Hand-maid, to preserve her by wayes unexpected, from a Death that could not but by miracle have been prevented.
No more, but dress what's in thy hand whilst I revive, and render thanks to his all glorious Name who has vouchsafed this favour.
With eager Willi••gness I fly, to do what you ••••mmand.
LOng live the King of Israel—why is it my Lord has sent to speak un∣to his Servant? Why is such an honour as the pre∣sence of a King conferred upon unworthy Naboth? Thus low I beg to know the reason.
Rise worthy Subject, 'tis a Monarch bids you leave that Posture, 'tis your King that has a Suit to Naboth.
Can Israels great and glorious Prince, the Ruler of the God of Iacobs Heritage, on whose Breath my Life depends, sue to his Subject, or seek ought of him, that his obedience shall not rea∣dily comply with?
You will oblige me much, if my Expectations are but answered, 'tis a small Request, yet prized by me at no low rate.
Speak mighty Monarch! Let your Servant know your Pleasure, nay command, and be obeyed.
Have you not a Vineyard joyning to the Palace of your King.
I have great Sir, your Servant has a poor Inheritage, in which he takes delight to recreate himself, and pass the flying day in rural Labour•••• one while guiding the growing Tendrils where to clime, directing the rich Vines to their beloved Elm, at other whiles pruning the luxurious branches cultivating the hard Soil, and drawing softer Mol••
about their spreading Roots; and when the long wish'd Harvest comes, 'tis my delight to crop the swelling Clusters, and press out the Necterous Juyce, Umbrag'd by the lea••••e Verdure from the Suns hot Beams, and taught to know the Works of Nature.
'Tis sure you cannot but be much delighted with the pleasant divertisement, since you s••em so much transported with relating it. But to urge my meaning home; suppose your King should be desirous to possess it, Would Naboth without grudging part with what does render him such pleasure.
How most gracious Lord—what part with my Inheritance! O let me on my knees im∣plore my King would urge this thing no further.
Nay, let not Naboth be mistaken, Ahab asks it not without a price; Its value you shall have in Ophirs of finest Gold, or else a Vineyard far exceeding it in Circuit, and abounding more in Trees, producing Nectar and Ambrosia.
But let the King of Israel consider, that the Vineyard he demands is his poor Subjects dear In∣heritage; O rather ask Life, and take it at your pleasure.
Then I have sued in vain, and you but tri••le with your Prince; consider who demanded it, and mourn for your rash refusal.
Ha— 1the King has left me, and in such a rage, as does presage no less than ruine to poor Naboth; yet let the angry Monarch use me as he please, I'll never yield to part with my Inheritance.
Stay haughty Rebel, stay thy rapid wheels, pollute not Jezreel with thy Bazlick breath, A Queen commandeth thee to retire.
O! art thou found in all thy dazling Pomp and Gallantry, thou baneful mischief of the world, worst of things, whose Whoredoms and prodigious Witchcraft•• have caused Jacobs Seed so long to mourn under the Scourge of Heaven, and polluted all the Land with blood of Innocents.
Ha— Inglorious Traytor, darest thou this to me, am not I still a Queen? A Queen whose nodd, Whilst Ahabs power remain'd, made Princes star∣tle; and whose Frowns and Smiles were sure pre∣sages of Life, or of Death; then know your di∣stance, and be dumb.
Yes, witness the consecrated Priests that fell •• Sacrifice to your revenge! Witness the blood of Naboth, ••nd the many mischiefs more the wicked Iezabel ha•• done, causing not only Ahabs fall, but Jorams and un∣thinking Ahazia's Fates.
How! Is Ioram slain, as it was reported by your cruel hand; consider well, Had Zimri peace who slew his Master; no, fierce vengeance followe•• ••lose, nor shall the bold aspiring Iehu escape li••••
mischief, but o're taken by the stratagems of an inra∣ged Queen: new Tortures, and unheard of Torments shall overthrow his pride, and then too late you'll know the keenest vengeance of a Queen provoked, like Ahabs wife.
In vain are all your threats; your power's too short to execute your will: this moment ends your malice, with your life, that so the Prophets words may be full∣fill'd. — Slaves, who waits there! — Ha, A Troop of Eunuchs. — Yes, yes, fit panders for a lustful Queen! Come, throw your gawdy Mistriss down, that so much pride in falling, may be made the fluttering sport of Winds.
Ha, ha, ha, can you imagine Tyrant, that those who live but by my Smiles, dare use their Queen at such a rate? Their Queen, on whom their Lives and Fortunes Centre.
Dare, yes! He dies that dare gainsay, or once delay what I command. — Slaves obey, or Tortures shall force out your wretched lives. He that a moment longer trifles with my pleasure, shall not live to see the falling Sun.
How! Slaves stand off; unhand me Villains. Dare you thus approach your Queen! Vile wretches, Monsters, damn'd ingrateful Monsters! Are you turn'd▪ Traytors too? Ah, Ah, I fall; whilst all my Pride and Glory is dasht in death. O World, instable world, for ever now adieu.
So, 'tis as I wish'd; I knew the fawning slaves durst not refuse compliance. There let the Pride and Bane of Israel lie trampled till I take possession of the Kingdom, and extinguish Ahabs house.
HOw, — set my House in order; why must death with his cold hand, make Iudah Kingless, whil••t in Tears the Widdow Nation drowns, and the calm Air is tormented with her sighs?
'Tis the Decree of him that gave you life, and has preserved you to this day; by him I am commissioned to relate the doleful message, and command you to prepare for immortality.
Dye! O terrible; the very thoughts of Death affright me more than the Convulsions of expiring life can pain! O! Can it be, that he who ruled the chosen Seed, whose hand so long has held a golden Scepter, and every where received the loud applauses of the glad Plebeans, must in the prime of strength and glory, have his luster shro••ded in a Grave; and there be made the sport and food of crawling Worms.
Consider Sir, that you was born to dye; and
that stern death claims as his due, the lives of Adams Sons, as forfeited by our great Parent, and subjected to his power; nor can the glittering vanities, in whom frail men too often put their confidence, keep back his shaft a moment, when his Commission is to seize their breath; therefore let not the King delay to set his house in order.
O fatal sound! but stay good Prophet, stay, is there no mercy for your King? must, must his rising Sun so soon endure a black Eclipse; his life so soon set in the gloomy Grave? O for a longer course of days, that I might live, if but to tell of all the wonders God has done for wretched me! O with what adoration wou'd I bend before the footstool of his mercy-seat, would he be but in∣treated for my life.
Vrge it n•• more; Deaths Harbinger I am, nor will the ghastly Terror long delay the execution; there∣fore be wise O King, and do as I have bid before it be too late, before the King of Judah be no more.
Alas! Alas! The strong Disease by preying on the vital powers, has weakned me to that de∣gree, that now I am unfit to take recognisance of worldly things, I know not what my Treasures are, nor how to call my Fields and Vineyards by their proper names; nor can I tell the number of my Servants, nor whom I design the Scepter of Ierusalem: I have put off too long these matters, and now through fear and sickness, am quite unca∣pable of stating 'em; but could I live, I'de be no more so negligent.
Your hopes of life I fear are vain, therefore consider well what I have said; and think them not my words, but his on whom the breath of life depends: and so great King, in Tears I take my leave.
O stay▪ thou sacred Prophet stay, if but to close the wretched eyes of an expiring Monarch▪ Hah, will not the man of God vouchsafe to see his
King put off his Scepter, Crown, and Robes of Ma∣jesty, to be soon clad with vile corruption, loath∣some putrefaction, and deserted by his cringing Courtiers, who will fly the scent, and turn their faces to adore the rising Sun. O now too plain I know, that all the glories of the world are fading shadows; things not worth our smallest care. — But see, the Prophet is return'd, and my heart leapeth with joy, in expectation of some milder sentence. Speak, speak most sacred seer, is there not yet some hopes of a Reprieve for poor con∣demned Hezekiah.
There is: the God of mercy has inclined his Ear to your low supplication; your humility has conquer'd his displeasure, and melted▪ him into compassion: Fifteen years are added unto your days, and for a sign of confir∣mation, Heavens glorious Lamp shall Retrograd•• no less than ten degrees upon the Dial of Ahaz.
I am confirmed, and dare not be so bold as to dispute ought further, than the sign he is pleased to seal his mercy with.
See then 'tis done; and now it much concerns you to imploy this large addition to the Glory of the Donor.
That shall be all my care; nor will I dare to displease that God that has shew'd such favour to his worthless Servant as this, to snatch him from the Jaws of death, and respite his declining body from the Grave.
A Happy day unto the beauteous fair, wel∣come thou loveliest of woman-kind▪ welcom my Queen, to the soft stretched out Arms of a transported Monarch; whom your charms have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 beyond what words can tell.
—Al••••, great Emperor, I blush to think that ought in me should be of force to give delight to him, whose aweful word commands so many Monarchs, yet at the same time must confess, a joy surprizing seizes every part, that he••l vouchsafe thus to esteem his hand∣maid.
Amongst the Beauties of the Land, there's none so charming, so inchanting fair; none so worthy of a glittering Diadem as my beloved Hester; nor could so much amazing brightness (as beams from her starry eyes) shine better than upon her kind Ahasuerus. O what transports found my Age when fired by those warm Joys that spread themselves throughout all your parts.
It shall be still the care of your obedient Queen to do what best may please her gracious Lord; who from a low Estate has daign••d to raise her high above the Persian Princesses.
Thou shalt be still more highly in esteem; to you shall bend all Knees: Princes shall wait upon your train; and whatsoever conduces to the Glory
of the greatest Potentate shall be at your command, only be pleasing to your admirer, and Life and Death shall hang upon your breath.
In me, great Emperor, Obedience still shall shine; whatever you command that I can do, my readi∣ness in a compliance with my will, shall testifie the high esteem I have for him that is s••le Monarch of the East.
O now you charm me more than ever! now fresh Joys are strugling in my Breast: A passion rises, not to be allayed but by the soft inspiring touch of your alluring Beauti••s. Then let's my fair, my much beloved Queen, to our retirement; where feeding my insatiate Eyes with many an eager gaze, I will tell thee all the secrets of my heart.
Lead me my Lord, wheree're you please; for your sole will is my law.
Ten thousand blessings on my darling hap∣piness; who by this quaint humility, makes me more indebted to her Love.
HOw's this! Will not the stubborn Jew bend to the Favourite of a mighty King?
To him that next his Monarch sways the Empire of the East, to whom Crown'd Heads give way.
To man, great Sir, I dare not bend my knee▪ to God alone that Tribute I must pay; to him both heart and knee I bow, but to no mortal dare presume it, lest I rob him of his honour.
Seest thou not how the Servants of great Ahasuerus, far above you in the rolls of Honour, cringe when I pass by; and yet dare you refuse to Grace my state, by standing on a nicety, waving what is but in it self a Complement: know, wretch∣ed Captain! it is not veneration due to powers Divine, that I expect, but such obeisance as be∣comes a Monarchs Counsellor, the chief among the Princes.
'Tis what I cannot give. In this case vain is all you urge; nor dare I pass such Complements.
You dare not; nay, you will not: it is your proud and stubborn nature, or a set d••sign to cast a stain upon my greatness; which may in some measure shroud its luster. But, by sad experience you shall quickly know, whose anger you pro••oke by your irreveren••e; such havock, such a slaugh∣ter shall be made of your stiff-necked Tribe, that e're the silver Moon twi••e waine her Orb, not one shall live in all the Coasts of Media, or the Land made fruitful by the Streams of Euphrates. The thing is r••solved, and I will about it strait.
There is a God that limits your fierce rage, that can in the midst of a••l your pride, bring your am∣bition low, and frustrate all your wicked purposes; nor shall the means to move him to compassionate his Captive People, be by Mord••••ai neglected. Prayers and Fast∣ing shall be rise throughout the scattered Tribes; nor must the Queens endeavours want to cross the purposes of this blood-thirsty man▪ whose fall will let him know ex∣perimentally, there is a God that can correct his inso∣lence. — Yet must these measures speedily be put in
execution, to supersede the mischief his dire malice is swelled big with, lest innocence should suffer for what is unjustly called a crime in me. First then I will haste and let the Queen know his intentions.
HAman the Son of Amedatha, of the Kindred of Agag, and the People of Amalek, were highly favored by Ahasuerus Emperor of Persia. I find not what precious properties he had; sure he was a Pearl in the Eye of Ahasuerus, who commanded all his Subjects to do lowly reverence unto him; only M••rdecai the Iew excepted himself from the rule, denying him the payment of so humble observance.
I fathom not the depths of Mordecais refusal, per∣chance Haman interpreted this reverence farther than it was intended, as a divine honour, and there∣fore Mordecai would not blow wind into so empty a bladder, and be accessary to puff him up with self-conceit; or because Amalek was the Devils first fruits, which first broke the peace with Israel, and God commanded an Antipathy against them, or he had some private countermand from God, not to reverence him: Whatever it was, I'de rather
accuse my self of Ignorance, than Mord••cai of Pride.
Haman swells at this neglect, will not his knees bow? his neck shall break within a Haltar; but oh! this was but poor and private revenge; one Lark will not fill the belly of s••ch a Vultur. What if Mordecai will not stoop to Haman, must Haman stoop to Mordecai to be revenged of him alone? Wherefore he plotteth with the Kings Sword to cut off the whole Nation of the Iews.
Reparing to Ahasuerus, he requested that all the Iews might be destroyed. He backs his Petition with three Arguments: first, it was a scattered Na∣tion, had they inhabited one intire Country, their extirpatio•• would have weakned his Empire, but being dispersed, though killed every where, they would have been missed no where; secondly, his Empire would be more uniform, when this ir∣regular People, not observing his Laws, were take•• away; ten thousand Talents Haman would pay in∣to the Bargain, into the Kings Treasure.
What, out of his own Purse? I see his Pride was above his Covetousness; and spightful men count the revenge a purchase which cannot be over bought; or perchance this Money should arise out of the confiscation of their Goods. Thus Ahasuerus should lock all the Iews into his Chest, and by h••••p of Hamans Chymistry convert them into silver. See how this grand destroyer of a whole Nation pleads the Kings profit. Thus our puny depopulators al∣ledge, for doing the King and their Country good; and we will believe them, when they can perswade us that the private Coffers are the Kings Exchequer, But never any wounded the Common Wealth, but first they kissed it, pretending the publick good.
Hamans Silver is Dross with Ahasuerus, only his pleasure is currant with him: If Haman will
have it so, so it shall freely be, he will give him and not sell him his Favour.
'Tis woful when great Judges see Parties accused by other mens eyes, but condemn them by their own mouths. And now Posts were sent throughout all Persia to execute the Kings cruel decree. I had al∣most forgotten, how before this time Mordecai had discovered the Treason, which two of the Kings Chamberlains had plotted against him, which good Service of his, though not presently paid, yet was sco••ed up in the Chronicles, not rewarded but re∣cor••ed, where it slept, till a due occasion did a∣waken it. Perchance Hamans envy kept it from the Kings knowledge; and sometimes Princes to reward the desert of Men, want not mind, but minding of it.
To proceed; see the Iews all pitifully pensive, and fasting in Sakcloath and Ashes, even to Queen ••sther herself, (which unknown to Haman) was one of that Nation. And to be brief, Esther invites Ahasuerus and Haman to a Ban••uet, whose life shall shall pay the reckoning, and next day they are both invited to a second Ent••r••ainm••nt.
Mean time Haman provides a Gal••owes fifty Cu∣bits high, to hang Mordecai o••; fi••e Cubit•• would have served the turn; and had it took effect, the b••••ght of the Gallows had bu•• se•• his Soul so much ••he farther on his journey towards Heaven; his Stomach was so sharp set, he could not stay till he had din'd on all the Iews, but first he must break his fast on Mordecai, and fit it was that this bell-weather should be sacrificed before the rest of the flock, wherefore he comes to the Court to get leave to put him to death.
The night before Ahasuerus had passed without sleep, the Chronicles are called for either to invite Slumber, or to entertain waking with the less tediousness. Gods hand in the Margin points
Reader to the place were Mordecai's Good service was related, and Ahasuerus a••keth Haman (newly come to his presence) what shall be done to the Man, whom the King delighted to honour?
Haman being now (as he thought) to measure his own happiness, had been much to blame if he made it not of the largest size. He cats out a Gar∣ment of Honour, Royal both for matter and making, for Mordecai to wear: By the Kings command, he becomes Mordeca's Herauld and Page, lacqueying by him, riding on the Kings Steed, (who he hoped by this time would have mounted the Wooden Horse) and then pensive in Heart, hasts home to bemo••n himself to his Friends· Hamans Wife proves a true Prophetess, presaging his ruine. If the Feet of a Favourite begin to slip on the steep Hill of Honour, his own weight will down with him to the bottom; once past Noon with him, 't••s presently night. For at the next Feast, Ahasuerus is mortally incen∣sed against him, for plotting the Death of Esther, with the rest of her people. For had his project succeeded, probably the Iews had not been spared for a Jew being Queen, but the Queen had been killed for being a Iew. Haman in a careless sorrowful po∣sture, more minding his Life than his Lust, h••d cast himself on the Queens bed, Will he force the Queen, said Ahasuerus, before me in the House. These words rang his passing Bell in the Court, and a••∣cording to the Persian Fashion, they covered hi•• Face, putting him in a winding sheet that was dead in the Kings Favour. The next news we he••r o•• him is, that by exchange, Haman inherits the Gibbe•• of Mordecai, and Mordecai the House and greatnes•• of Haman. The decree against the Iews being ge∣nerally reversed.
WHat a strange temper is this! Can Iob still cringe and bend to him, who from the height of happiness suffered him unpity∣less to fall under such a load of sad adversity? Know you not yet your substance is destroyed; your Sons that should have been the comfort of your Age, slain; and your self in every part, afflicted with tormenting, torturing and consuming Sores.
Yet must we not repine, since it is the pleasure of that great Omnipotent who made us out of nothing, breathed into us breath of life; and from whom all we did enjoy, pro••eeded.
Yet better it is you never had had being, than to be thus contemptible, thus miserable, to undergo this ill-star'd; what wellcomer can be than death, to one who labours under such an Agony? Then turn your praises into curses, that his wrath may vex yet hotter; and by putting a full period to your days, take you from this sad world of wo.
Base wicked woman, vile and foolish; darest thou let a thought so monstrous harbour in thy breast! much more, how darest thou urge me to such damn'd Impiety? Shall Job, on whom he showred his favours, once move his lips, though in the softest murmur, when he is pleased to stay his giving hand, or call back what he gave; no, nothing ever shall prompt me to a guilt so horrible.
Then you it seems will suffer patiently, and stand the mark of fierce indignation tamely.
Whatever he inflicts it is for our good; his chastening is to try if we are worthy of his favours; nor will he wound beyond what he designs to heal. His mercies are past numbring, which in the midst of Iudg∣ment he oft calls to mind, and makes a full recom∣pence for what he takes away; therefore ever will I praise, and with just adoration bless his holy name; nay though he kill me, yet will I trust in him; and with dying Arms embrace the wounding Shaft sent by his hand to let out life.
Well, well, I see then all I urge will work no effect on your meek mind, inured to slavery, serve him still, and be the subject of his Tyranny; bear all the Stripes he can bestow; and fawning, kiss the hand that strikes you: do this and more, whilst loud I laugh at the dull man that hugs his misery, and will not daigne to pity him.
All you have said is my resolve, no pain, nor loss, nor scorn, shall shake my dear integrity; all tor∣ments witty horror can invent, were they comprised in one, shall never break my constancy, or make me prove a Rebel to the King of Heaven: but with Faith un∣moved I will trust in him till lifes last Sand is run, expecting then to see him as he is, and Hymn his. Throne with Songs of praise.
If that be your resolve, I will fly the Mansion of such sorrow, and seek shelter elsewhere, whilst his Arrows beat on you.
Yet shall I not be comfortless; his hand shall still sustain me, and my Eyes shall yet see happy days.
NOw, now, 'tis almost come to pass as the grim Ghost related; Israel is ov••••thrown, My Sons are slain in Battel, and the bloody Foe makes havock of the flying people.
Great King, 'tis true, the smiling Plains that looked so gay, when first saluted by the Morning Sun put on a crimson Robe, and wear instead of Flora's ma∣ny coloured mantle, the sad Livery of Death.
Yet Saul still lives, — he lives to see the mighty ruine—to see his Children slain, and all his mighty men of War fall by the Sword.
And still may live to be revenged of his now Tyrannizing Foes, live to return as many deaths as now his Eyes behold the Philistins to triumph in.—
O! Name not Life, for that is the only thing that now is grievous to me—Wretch that I am, why did I fly? why fell I not amid'st the file•• of War? Why, why did not I break through the pointed Squadrons, and there bravely fighting, ru∣shed upon a thousand Swords, and from a thousand enraged hands received a Death that well beseemed •• Monarch.
O! Let not Israels King dispair; although the Fortune of the War now turns against him, ••et fresh Armies may be raised, and the Foe repelled; live, live? If but to be revenged.
No —Heaven decrees my fall, and cutting short my Glories, dates them with this day, draw
then your Sword, and e're the Philistins overtake us, sheath it in my Breast, f••r now my Life is grown burthensome.
What means the King by this c••mmand, can be imagine that his Servant dares stret•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his ••and against the Lords anointed.
O let me beg you would not dispu••e what I request, Renown and Glory will attend you for so brave a Deed, nor can you do me better service than to let out my afflicted Soul.
Command me to kill my self, and I will obey, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bid me meet the following Foe, and charge A Squa∣d••on with my single Arm, I'le gladly do it, but dare not ••tretch my hand against my Sovereign.
The Enemy is now at our heels, and time ••dmits no longer argument; see—see without your ••elp, your King can find a way to the dread Pallace 〈◊〉〈◊〉 magnificent Death: Whilst falling thus —upon ••is Sword, his loathed Life takes flight.
Hold, hold my Lord for Heavens—▪ ••is past recall, the desperate Deed is done, the cru•••• word has pierced his Heart, and I'le not long survive; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 imitating his Example, fall thus by his side, 'tis 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 'tis done, my blood flows fast, now, now I swim 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dazy mists, and now a gloomy darkness seales my 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
WHat would my Lord with me, the lowliest of his Handmaids? why ••is Honour heaped on me thus unexpectedly, to ••ntroduced into the closet of a King.
There is a mighty Cause,—See at your feet a ••arch bends, and wounds the Air with sighs.
O! Rise my Lord for Heavens sake, what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you by this complement.
Thus low to beg a Favour of the fair inchanting 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
Of me! Beg ought of me, what can the vali∣ant, the Victorious King of Israel request, th••t is in my power to give, when tribu••ary Nations heap on him the Riches of the Eastern World, and Sceptred Princes pay him Homage.
O! Read my blushes, and you'll know what it is that I petition for, or if you understand the Language of my Eyes, they'll tell you plain 'tis in your power to ease my labouring restless thoughts.
Alass my Lord I understand you not, or if I do, I dare not.
How dare not—Can so much Beauty, so much brightness, in whose lovely Face the Graces chose t•• dwell—be cruel, when a Scepter is at her feet.
Cruel! great Monarch, no my nature is too soft to harbour cruelty; consider I am a woman.
Yes, and the wonder of your Sex, the glorious Masterpiece, and cheifest boast of Nature, who started when she formed you to behold a work so fair, and cried a lucky hit.
O me! You'll make me blu••h to death, if thus you flatter your unworthy Hand-Maid.
Such Beauty as adores the lovely Bersheba, is not capable of flattery, but casts it off, as Christal dx•••• her stains; the utmost praises of the smoothest Tong•••• cannot enough describe your rare Perfections, O! how 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fair Cheeks the Roses and the Lillys strive for mastery▪ How your bright Eyes, more bright than rising Stars •• dart Beams of comfort; what Nectre dwells upon th•••• ruby Lips, inclosing Orient Pearls, and what a fragra•••• send they forth, what curling Amber dangles on your ••ory Shoulders, and how those gentle Hills of war•• Snow expose the happy Vails between—Oh! I am ••••••vished with a Sight so much transporting,—Oh! languish, and shall soon expire, unless you yeild 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Love.
How, love my Lord, is that the thing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 press your hand-maid for.
Yes Love, and an enjoyment of those Beauties I admire; grant these, and be sole Mistress of a Mo∣narchs Heart.
Alass my Lord, know you not I am Vria's Wife.
I do, but you was born to be a Queen, and this happy Womb designed to be the first abo••e of P••inces, those Breasts to nourish him, who after me must weild the Scepter of Jerusalem.
O speak no more my Lord, it never can be.
Yes you shall be adorned with Robes of Majesty, and with an awful nod, command the Knees of crin∣ging Courtiers.
But would you have me, for the trif••ng ho∣nours that attend on state, break my marriage vows, sully my Virtue, and leave a lasting stain upon my Fathers House.
Uria is my Servant, fighting now against the Amorites—All shall be done in secret, what we do shall not reach his Ears.
Yet if I should dishonour him, by giving my self into the arms, though of a Monarch; how if he should come to know it, should I look him in the face, or stand the fury of an inraged Husband.
Let not such thoughts disturb my Love, my Power and Credit shall protect your Fame; what tongue, and d••••es move against the darling Favourite of a King; Come, come thou all composed of transport and delight, trifle not with a Monarchs Passion, till it quite burn out, and in expiring leave him miserable.
'Tis true my Lord. I am your subject, and ••ought not to dispute your will, but yet methinks ••n this case—
Come, come thou beauteous Object of my t••oughts, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 these vain fears aside, and let us retire strait to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Alcove strewed all with Roses and with fragrant ••essimine, shining with Saphiers, dazling Diamonds ••nd Rubies, overlaid with Gold Imbroidery, studded
every where with Orient Pearl, and wrought by the most curious needle work of Egypt and Palastine, a soft re∣cumbancy that can only be sutable to the dazling beauties of my Bersheba.
My Lord I am amazed at what you tell, and am unworthy to approach a place so glorious, or if I should presume, it might set me a longing the o••tner to se it, than perhaps might be convenient.
O no my Love, it can be only graced by your fair Eyes, then let us hence, and in the midst of transports I'll relate what you must needs delight to hear.
To your conduct my Lord, I recommend my self, you are my Sovereign, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i'll not prove dis∣obedient to what you command.
In this your kind, and thus to joys we hast, A Queen thou shalt be when some dayes are past,
WHy is it my lovely Sister that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 slight me thus, what have I done th••
you should prove regardless at this rare? wherefore neglect you him that loves you as his Life?
My Brother, it was far from Tamar's know∣ledge that you were indisposed; the fi••st news I received was from the King, our Father.
That's strange; I thought the Son of David could not have been in such disorder, but the Court e,re now had rung on it.
I fear'd indeed you was not well by reason of your absence, but ••ad the relation from non•• but 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I named. But what is the reason all your S••r••ants a••e re∣tired?
It was my command; because I would be private with my lovely Sister.
Ha! What means this eager gazing on me? Why this wildness in your looks? Why t••emble you, and wherefore ebbs and flows the bl••od in your dis••rde••ed Countenance? Sure you are taken with s••me suddain 〈◊〉〈◊〉; shall I go and call the Kings Ph••sitians?
It needs not; you are the only Physitian can case my grief: it is you alone can s••••e your Brothers life.
Alas, I have no skill in Physi••k; ••now not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 disease.
You bear about you what will ease my ••••in. The distemper that torments me i•• Lov••s ••urning Feaver, which long time h••s pr••y'd upon ••y spirits.
Love. — Why, can you conceive y••••r Si••ter ••••tes you? Sure you will not inj••re her so much.
Then come to my Arms, my lovely dear, ••ar inchanting Tamar, and con••ei•• me none of Davids Son.
How—why, am not I your Sis••e••? — Ha••, ••hat mean you by this roughness?
To satiate my self with love, and quench ••e Feavorish passion of my mind with Tamars Vir∣••n Beauties.
Consider 'tis not lawful: wherefore then should Amnon shame himself and me by such a f••lly.
My fierce un••ounded passion has no room for reason; and therefore urge not any thing in op∣position to my vast desire.
If you love me, as you say, forbear to violate a•• Sisters Honour, and demand me of the King in Mar∣riage, that Jacob's Sons may all applaud your Wisdom.
In vain is all you urge. This hour, this hour is that wherein I chose to perfect my felicity▪ Then tamely yield what I request, or by my Fathers Scepter, thus I will force a passage ••o my Joys.
Why sure you dare not once approach your Sister with a design to force her Honour.
What dares not Love attempt when it grows high; when reason is wracked, and virtue bears no form.
Oh! Look not thus se••erely wild upon me; poor me, a wretch betrayed into your power! Consider, you are David's Son, and I his much loved Daughter: If not for mine, yet for our Fathers sake; if not for love, yet in dread of his fierce Anger, send me hence at this ••ime undefiled, that I may n••t bec••me a ••y-word 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Daughters of the Land. T••us low upon my knees, I beg it of my dear, dear Brother.
To all your plaints I will be as deaf as Seas▪ were they as loud as fighting Winds, I'de not re∣gard them. My desperate resolves are fixed im∣moveable as Mountains, or the Wave-rep••llin•• Rocks, against whom (in vain) the dashing Surge•• roar. No Storms at Sea, nor Ships in them, Ablaz•• with whirling sumes that make the Top-mast crac•• creates more terror than my wild desire. And sinc•• you will not tamely yield, but trifle with a passio•• hot as Ae••na's mounting Fires, with these stron•• Arms I force you to my bed.
O help, help, help for Heavens sake! I wi•••• die, I will die before my honour. O spare me, spa••••
me! Oh, Oh, Oh wretched, wretched me! what shall I do, I am undone, undone for ever.
Now the trifling shadow you so prized is gone; and I have surfeited upon your sullied Beau∣ties. Therefore hence with speed, lest a worse ruine fall upon you; and for the future, know what it is coily to parly with a Princes Love.
O never, never will I hence; but where I lost my honour, there I will lose my Life. See, see my Bo∣som bare to stand your utmost fury; sheath, sheath your wellcome Dagger in a Breast polluted by your Breath.
No, your Life is too mean a sacrifice for my Revenge; but since you dare continue here against my will, I will call my Servants to remove you. What—ho—See, see, they come. Io. Bear this Woman hence; and see that all be made fast after her, 'tis I your Lord commands it, see it be quickly done.
This, this is cruelty beyond degree: O may the just avenger judge my cause, and recompence my wrongs upon your wicked, your incestuous head, that all such Monsters for the future, may take warning by your fall. She is forced out, &c.
O Fatal mischief! What could worse befall me, than thus to struggle betwixt Heaven and Earth, not being capable of reaching either; but here, for ought I know, must be the sport of whistling Winds, and dangle till I dye? Nor is this all; my Glory is no more: the battel is gon•• against me, and my bold Confederates in Rebellio•• fallen by the Sword. My Conscience stings me with remorse, and all the dreadfull shapes that have been ••eigned, methinks glare on me, and deride the po∣sture I am in. — But hark, the rushing Boug••s give way, and trampling of Horses now invade mine Ear. Hah, 'tis the Foe, the bloody-minded Ioab; now death is near to ease my pain, and wellcom is it to afflicted Absalom.
Hah, Rebel, are you taken in a snare? H••w strangely ha•• eternal providence fast hampered him, whose Life with eagerness I sought?
Ioab, consider who I am; think on King David, and the charge he gave you.
I have considered, and am come resolved to put a period to his life that durst rebell against a too in∣dulgent Father, and with impious Arms, not only seek ••is Crown and Life, but trouble peaceful Israel with unexpected War.
My Crimes I grant, and tremble at what ••eadstrong rashness prompted me to undertake▪
yet what injury have you sus••ained. Let him whom I have injured pass my doom; let him drain out the Rebels blood, that Absalom well pleased at his revenge, may bless with dying murmurs the kind hand that gives the wound.
In vain; you ask a favour that will not be granted.— No, the King is too indulgent; and will melt in mercy towards him that urged his ruine, and pe••haps may be inclin'd to hearken to your protestations of future obedience; and in pardo••ing, give you oppor∣tunity to reach his life. Therefore—
Therefore what — Sur••ly you dare not touch a life the King would save: a life that is so dear to David.
Yes Traytor, Joab dare, and came r••solved to make the Rebel bleed; to let out that rank blood that has infected the unstable Tribes.
Does it become a man of War to bait a Lion thus in the toils; Thus to reproach a Prince, at whose bare beck (when high in favour) you wo••ld fly, and humbly cringe to kiss the ground whereon he trod, and fawning on him for self-interest, flatter his Ambition till it swelled him into ruine.
I will hear no more, but Thus — become the messenger of your death. — Thus make a passage for y••ur Rebel-Soul.
O! I am slain; my blood and Abners▪ be ••pon your head, — that —blood. —thou-hast-so— ••••sely sh—sh—shed —
So, I have cropt the bold aspiring Rebel in the ••l••om of all his glory, and given peace to Israel. Here, ••ake him down, and cast him in this deep pit; the•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Carkass with a pile of massie stones, that so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 memory may be forgot.
THrice welcom to a Monarchs Arms, my lovely Queen; whose Eyes inlightened swarthy Egypts face, and whose inchanting Beauties charm the heart of Solomon.
My Lord; you cannot love, nor yet admi•••• me more than (blushing I must own, though with •• feeling joy) my fancy feeds on you.
Then are we happy far above ••he reach o•• Fate; and may look down as from some Towerin•• height, and pity those that toil and labour fo•• ought le••s than Love.
'Tis that indeed my Lord, that can best contri••but•• to mans felicity; for where it is absent, nothi•••• but disorder and confus••••n rule.
It is true, my solace and my dear delight nor has the great establisher of my exalted Thron•• ••een wanting to add this blessing to the rest; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with paternal care plac'd a Spring of Cordial•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Essential Love in either breast.
A Spring indeed that flows with Nectar and Ambrosial Ioys, more than our hearts are capable, with∣out overflowing to receive.
'Tis such a blessing Princes seldom meet with, since their Eyes make not their choice; but they are still forced to take their hopes of happiness on trust.
Although they are; yet the great wise disposer of the worlds affairs so orders it, that at first sight their hearts do mostly move in a sweet har••ony, supplying the defect of tedious Courtship.
Then since Heavens Architect the glorious maker of the Universe, has ordered all things equal to our wish; wha•• more remains, but that with unpolluted Souls ••nd Bodies, day ••y day we send up Tribute-praise••, and with all humility adore his goodness.
You know m•• Lord, what G••ds the sons of Egypt worship; I doubt no•• but you have heard of Isis and Osiris, who are dreaded through the Memphian Coast of seven horn'd Nilus hundred pointed plain.
With detestation I have heard them named, and tremble to think, that the Sons of Adam should still b•• so sensless as to Worship Monsters, or at most, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 stooks i••spir'd b•• Hellish f••e••ds.
A••e they no Gods then? Sure it is, I have heard th••m speak, and tell s••range things.
Ye••▪ as the magick ••owers of darkness have inspired. G••ds they a••e n••t, but base deluding forms to blind the ea••••e ••ulgar; the advice of Egypts Magi.
Who is it then that gu••rds, protects and guides us in our great affairs.
The glorious trem••••dous Majesty of Heaven, whose name is known in Israel; who made the wonders that are every where beheld; at whose brightness Angels vall their Faces, and in whose hand is all the breath of Life: the God who made
the World of nothing, and whose power shall raise us after d••ath, and bring us (if we trust in him) to Mansions of eternal bliss, where with Ages num∣berless we shall rejoyce, and joyn in Chorus with the dazling Cherubims and Seraphims to sing hi•• praise.
You tell me wonders, such as never entred at my Ears; but where does such transcendent excellency dwell? What place is capable to shrowd such Majesty.
His dwelling is above all lights; nor is he circumscribed: for though Heav••n is his Throne and Earth his Footstool, yet the Heaven of Heavens cannot contain him; he fills all places, and com∣municates his bounty with a liberal hand to all his Creatures; riding (when he pleases) on the Winds spread Wings, and often makes the Deep his Cham∣ber. Clouds are his Pavilion; and thick darkness is his secret place: whilst his bright beaming Eyes behold the abstrusest things, and pierce our secret thoughts.
Wonderful and much amazing is what you relate, nor could I er'e beleive that this vast Fabrick could so so many thousand years continue in perpetual Harmony unguided, unsustained, nor sinks it into my weak Breast, ••hat Fate or chance rules all below, but that each stand to the Law of over ruling Providence.
Your thoughts were not in vain, were it pos∣sible that power, that sacred essential Divinity would withdraw his care, and his conduct by crea∣••ion, so on would totter; and the warring Element•• ••onfound the glorious Fabrick; nay Heavens brigh•• Lamps would mix w••th Earths Impurity; natures ••oncord then would break, and all return to a con∣••used Chaos, if not quite vanish into nothing, when ••t was derived, —but let us at this time enquir•• no further into these stupendious secrets, but with ••oy and fear ador•• the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, Even Iacobs mighty God, by whom, through
whom, in whom all things were made, preserv••d, and have continuance.
My Lord shall be obeyed, i'll wade no fur••her, in these devious deeps, but at an awful distance revere that d••zling brigh••ness, that essential good who shines so glorious in his crea••ures.
Observe what you have said, and then expect for ever to be blest; but now time calls away, we must this moment to the House of high magnifi∣cence, built to the honour of his Name, who shakes Earth, and rends the Clouds with Thunder, before whose face, when wrath, goes a consuming fire, to burn up Rebel Atheists that disown his power.
My Lord, I g••e, and from this day shall make it my chief Care to contemplate him and his mighty won∣ders, and next to admire the man I love.
I Plainly see great King of Israel, that babling Fame has not been over lavish, as too oft she's wont, in setting forth theGl••ries of your Court such Magni∣ficence as every where appears, my Eyes in all their tedious search never viewed before: 'Tis true, the P••in∣ces Treasure and his Mind must both be great, that could ere••t such glorious Fabricks.
Illustrious Qu••en, whose awful S••epter stretches its Commands through the wide Sabean Coast, con∣sider this aspiring Mansion was not built for Mortal Man, but for the dread Reception of the Mighty God of Iacob, who is pleas••d to dwell therein, and condesc••nd to an acceptance of his Servants Sacri∣fice, and mean oblations.
It seems no less, and well befits a Deity, ••or dare the Nations round you boast their Gods insh••ined in such a glorious Pallace.
The Gods they worship are unworthy of their lowly Cells—base Idols—But the workman∣ship of foolish Hands, and those that make them, are much like unto them.
'Tis true, they are but senseless Images, take them simply, but inspired by Powers in••isible, they tell strange wonders, and point at the Nations Fates.
Y••t those inspiring Spirits, who still reply in Ambigu••ties, and cause the too credulous Nations
to deceive themselves, by making wrong constructi∣ons of the Hellish Syllogisms; work not the strange effects they tell, but are in all things limitted by hi•• who made them, and whatever else was made, who of himself does all things, and in his Eter∣nal Counsel foresaw what was, is, and is to come.
And is he then the highest, the Supremest Deity.
He is alone from all Eternity, besides him there is none, no God, but Iacobs God; the great Jehovah, the Almighty Fountain, when•••• what ••ver is, has flowed, Heaven, Earth and Sea ackno••ledge his dread power; and all the Creation tremble at his Frown.
How! Is his power so great, that senseless Creatures can be capable of understanding when he is Angry.
Yes, all the Glittering Host that dance round us, hear his Voice; the ruff••ing Winds are still when he commands, nor dare the Ocean rage, if he forbids it's Fury; the ponderous Earth by him is sustained without a prop of ought but thin and fleeting Air; the glorious Lamp of day, when he commands, denies the world its Beams, nor dares it run its Course, but by his order; the fruitful Ground by him forbid, dares not produce her frui••s, Nature runs backward when 'tis his command, and does her work preposterously.
I start at what I hear, and am amazed— But say great King, in whom such Wisdome dwells a•• to inable you to know this mighty God, and be accquainted with his will; are there not second Causes that produce strange visible effects.
'Tis true there are, but all of them have their original from the great Fountain of all power and Wisdom; who out of nothing, made what ever we behold, nay all the orders bright, of Angels, Arch-Angels, Cherubims and Seraphims, are the creation
of his hands, or sp••ung from n••thing at his word.
Leaving those glorious Spirits far above the reach of Mortal Eye; let us contemplate his wonders ••isible; say mighty Monarch by what secret extinct ebb and flow the briny waves? why shakes the Earth? say why the Bellowing Clouds dart flame? How dread∣full Comets, on whose horrid hair hang pestilence and War, kindle; a••d by what matter fed; how is the dayes bright Eye eclipsed; and why does the Silver Moon in the midst of all her lustre lose her light at times? and where••ore keep those Luminaries their un∣erring course through the twelve signs of Heaven? say, say most sapient King, proceed these not from second causes.
Hard things you ask, yet give attention, and I will answer brief to all you have proposed.
With Ioy I would hear these Misteries unre∣vealed.
Then thus the great Work-master in six dayes having created Heaven and Earth, Sea, Beasts, Birds, fish, Plant, Men, and every creeping thing that has the breath of Life; nay, all that we have ever heard of, or beheld; to show himself a God of order, he set bounds to all his Creatures that they move harmonious, and firm concord rest througout Creation•• and in some cases suffers the superiour Bodies, as made of matter more refined, and nearer participating with Celestial substance by their in∣fluence to dispore and move inferiour qualities; as the pale Moon, predominant in wa••ry things, draws after her the Sympathizing Ocean, making it to rise or fall as she ascends or descends in our Horrizon; or in that deprest, or as some take it under us; though the World it self centered, a••∣mits no under part; but every part is uppermost (that is) Men travel with their Heads towards Heaven; on the other side the Suns hot beams and fiery influences of the Stars insusing heat into the
Earth; and there it meeting with cold winds, and watery damps convented in the vacant corners; imbodying and mustering all its force; the con∣trary Elements strive with each other, and after long strugling with impetuous Fury, rend the trem∣bling globe to vent themselves: again the fiery vapours flying upwards, and not being able to Break through the Region, armed with cold, in order to unite with whats above; they headlong plunge in∣to some interposing Cloud, grown big with showers and shivering it into a thousand pieces, fill the hollow Concaves with prodigious Thunders: whilst the sallying fire dispersing, vanishes. As for those Shivering fires that are contracted as it were, to warm the world; to fly the wrath of angry Heaven, they are composed of unctious oyly matter, exhaled from Earth and Sea; and fired by vehe∣ment Agitation, or too near approaching the Aethe∣rial fire, that circles in the Air, lasting no longer than the exhalation contracted; or ascending, feeds them, being mostly in or this side the flaming Region.
Great and mysterious are the words you re∣late; but say are these the effects of second causes, is not Nature most predominate in these contingencies.
The God of Nature, as the great first mover, it is true, permits the course of things, but orders and disposes by his over ruling providence, as he sees fit; allotting them their times and seasons, nor is ought done without his high permission.
Infini tely have you satisfied me hithe••to, yet let me beg you would proceed to what remains, that I may admire still more the donor of such wisdom.
As for the glorious Luminary, to whom, by the Creators own appointment, is assigned the rule of the Day, when its all chearing Beams are screened in part from us, and thrown Ascance; be∣hold the Moons dark Body (which is never filled
with lustre, but borrowed light, all her Silver Beauty is but a bare reflex) interposing betwixt the prime Orb and us in the Ecliptick node; nor can the Sun Beams be fully on us, till that let's removed by the various motions of these Planets; the Moon in like manner wanting light, is often screened from from the Suns bright Rayes by Earths ascending shade; which does at certain times, when the great P••anets cross, reach the concave of the lowest Orb, and rob her of her pale reflection, That the Sun, Moon, and other celestial Bodies continue a mistick dance; 'tis that their influence may preg∣nate Earth for Man-kinds benefits. So that it is plain, the great, the wise Creator of the Universe, has subserviated those glorious Bodies to the Terrean sedentary Globe, which with far lesser labour might make its diurnal revolution, and as it were, on its soft Axels revolve with noiseless Motion.
How strangely am I pleased at what I hear, and could dwell upon this theam for ever; admiring next to him that gave it; him that possesses so great a share of Wisdom. Thrice happy are all they that are un∣der the Guidance of such a Monarch, and more happy they that are attendant on you, and have their delighted Ears still filled with knowledge.
Alas great Queen, these high applauses are not mine; I am but mortal Man, and subject still to humane frailties. If the eternal Fountain, whence not only Wisdom, but all other Graces flows; has indued his Servant with an understanding Heart; let all the Glory be ascribed to him, who has enabled me to satisfie you in all your curiosities.
Than be it so, and henceforth shall the God of Jacob only be adored by her, who has with Fear and Rev••rence heard of his mighty wonders; nor shall ••here blaze an Altar in my Kingdom to any power beside; for he alone is God infinite, and incomprehensible.
Bravely resolved, and like a Queen, whose Wisdom has hitherto appeared above her Sex; and may that God, whom Israel adores, be ever pro∣pitious; granting you Wisdom, Honour, length of dayes, and crown you with a peaceful and happy Reign.
All thanks be returned, and may what you have wished return an hundred fold on your head, the rest my presents soon shall speak.
See, see the glorious Lamp of day sits on his me∣ridian Throne, and views at equal distance, the smiling East and West: 'Tis time great Queen, I wait on you to your repose.
With joy i'le be conducted by the wise, the great, the glorious King of Israel.
There was a certain rich man which was Cloathed in Purple, and fine Linen, and fared sum••tuously every day.
And there was a certain beggar, named Lazarus, which was laid at his Gate full of sores,
And desiring to be fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich Mans Table: moreover, the Dogs came and licked his Sores.
And it came to pass that the beggar dyed, and was carried by the Angels into Abrahams bosom: the rich man also dyed, and was buried.
And in 〈…〉〈…〉 in torments, and seeing Abraham 〈…〉〈…〉 Lazarus in his bos••m, &c.
Hearken therefore now, and I will speak of a great rich man, that flourished here on Earth. (as a learned Divine observes) In all pomp and a∣bundance, that shined in courtly purple Robes, that was cloathed in Bissus and fine silk, and fared deliciously, that was lodged sof••ly, that lived pleasantly. But un∣derstand what became of this rich man; his years being expired, and his dayes numbred, and his time determi∣ned, he was invited to the fatal Banquet of black ugly death, that maketh all men subject to the rigour of his Law, his body was honourably buried, in respect of his much wealth: but what became of his Soul? that was carried from his body to dwell with the devils, from his purple robes to burning flames, from his soft Silk and white Byssus to cruel pains in black Abissus, from his Pallace here on Earth, to the Pallace of Devils in Hell: from Paradice to a dungeon, from pleasures to p••ins▪ from joy to torment, and that by hellish means, dam••ed ••pirits, into the infernal Lake of bottomless Barathrum, where is wo, wo, wo!
Hearken also of a certain poor Beggar cloathed in ••••gs, with miseries pained, pained with griefs, grieved ••ith sores, sorely tormented, unmercifully cond••m••ed ••ing at this rich Mans Gate, desiring to be refreshed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with the crumbs that fell from the rich mans table▪ ••e dogs had more pitty than this rich man, on this d••∣••essed creature, for they came to visit him, they came comfort him, they came and licked his sores, Well, his time being also determined, he went the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of all flesh, and death was the finis••••r of all his
miseries and griefs; Vita assumpsit mortem, ut mors vitam acciperet; he dyed once, to live for ever. And what became of his Soul? it was carried from his body to his Master, from a House of Clay, to a House not made with hands, from a Wilderness to a Paradice, from an earthly prison, to a heavenly pallace, from the rich mans Gate, to the City of the great God, from pains to pleasures, from miseries to joys, from Adams corruption, to Abrahams bosom. It was carried by An∣gels into the quires of Angels, to have his being and moving in the very moving Heavens with God himself. Where is life, food and abundance, and glory, and health, and ••eace, and eternity, and all good things: all abo••e all that either can be wished or desired: And this is the subject that I shall now speak of.
What poor Lazarus! What! lying at a gate▪ and full of Sores too? Would not this rich Man af∣ford thee some out-house to ly in, to shroud thee from storms and tempests? no: would not his servants pitty thee? no: would not his Childre•• speak for thee? no: would not his Wife intre•••• her Husband for thee? no: Hadst thou ever do•••• them any wrong? no: But, Lazarus, it may be thou art stout, and often-times Beggars will 〈◊〉〈◊〉 chusers? thou perhaps wouldest have some gre•••• Alms, or some Copy-hold, some Farm of this ri•••• Man? no: Or thou wouldest have some delic•••• Meat? no: Many Dishes? no: Or thou would•• sit at the Table with his Sons and Servants? no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 What is it then that thou dost desire? Nothi•••• but Crumbs to refresh my Soul, nothing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Crumbs to save my Life: Nothing but Crum•••• Crumbs, Crumbs that fall from the rich Mans 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I know that he fared plentifully, and that he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 well spare them.
What shall I say of the hardness of this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rich Mans Heart? Let me speak for Lazarus 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••his rich Man; yet I shall but Asinam comere, ••
one well observes) get nothing of this hard Fellow: I have a Message unto thee, O thou Rich Man, from the great God of Heaven, and he doth desire thee that thou respect the Beggar that lyeth at thy Gate pained with Sores, pained with grief, and even starved through Hunger: And I beseech thee in Gods stead, that thou have pity on this Beggar, as God shall have Pity, Mercy, and Compassion on thee, and look what thou layest out, it shall be paid thee again. But he answered, I warrant you he is some Runnagate Rogue, and so long as he can be maintained by such easie means, he will never take any other Trade upon him: Nay, but good Sir let it please you only to behold this poor Creature; which suppose it were granted, and he coming to the Gate where this wret••hed object lay, seing him bewrayed with Sores, betattered with Rags, and the Dogs licking him, stopping his Nose with a squeamish Face, and disdainful look, began to say unto him: I see thou art some lude Fellow, that such Miseries happen unto thee, and such Plagues come upon thee; it is not for thy Go••dness or Righteousness, that these afflictions light on thee. But he replyed, O good Master, some comfort, some Relief, some Crumbs to save my Life, I shall dye else, and starve at ••our Gate; Good Master, I beseech you for Gods sake, for Christs sake, take some Pity, some Compassion, some Mercy on me. But he with an angry look disdaining Lazarus, said, Away hence thou Idle Rogue, not a penny, not a Morsel, not a Crumb of Bread; and so stopping his Nose from the scent, and his Ears from the cry of Lazarus, retur∣ned unto his stately Pallace: And this poor mans Throat being dry with crying, his Heart fainting for want of Comfort, his Tongue cleaving to the roof of his Mouth, being worn out with Fastings and Miseries, starved at the Rich mans Gate. Now must I speak for dead Lazarus against the Rich Man. Nam si hic tacuissent, nonne lapides clamabunt; If I
should hold my peace, the very stones would cry. O thou rich Miser, and more than Cruel wretch, Lazarus is dead, he is dead at thy Gate, and his Blood shall be upon thee, thou shewedst no Mercy unto him, no Mercy shall be shewed to thee, thou stoppedst thy Ears unto his cry, thou shalt cry and not be heard. It is inhumane Wickedness to have no Compassion on distressed Lazarus, but most of all, to let him starve at thy Gate for want of Food: What did he desire of thee but only Crums to save his Life? Is it not a small thing, I pray thee, that thou having abundance of Meat, should see him starve for Bread? That thou flourishing in Purple and Silk, would see Lazarus, lye in Rags? That thou seeing eve•• thy Dogs have pity on him, thou wouldst have no pity up∣on him thy self? What Eyes hadst thou that wouldst n••t see his Sores? What Ears hadst thou, that thou wouldst not hear his cry? What Hands hadst thou that would not be stretched ou•• to give? What Heart hadst thou, that would not melt in thy Body? What Soul hadst thou, that would not pity his silly Soul, this wretched Body, poor Lazarus? If the stones could speak, they would cry 〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon thee: If thy Dogs could speak, they would condemn thee of unmercifulness: If dead Lazarus were here, his Sores would bleed afresh before thy face, and cry in thine Ears, that thou art guilty, guilty of his Blood, and that thy sin is more than can be pardoned.
Why should not I tell thee the Portion that i•• prepared for thee? This shall be thy Portion to drink: Let thy days be few, and another take thine Office: Let thy Children be Fatherless, and thy Wife •• Widow: Let thy Children be Vagabonds and beg their bread, let them seek it also out of desolate places, l•••• the Extortioner consume all thou hast, and let the stra••∣ger spoil thy Labour: Let there be no man to pity thee, nor to have Compassion on thy Fatherless Children: Le•• thy memorial be clean forgotten, and in the next Ge••••∣ration let thy Name be clean put out: Let him be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 accursed example to all the World: Let him be curse••
in the City, and cursed in the field; let him be cursed when he goeth out, and when he cometh in; let him be cur∣sed when he lyeth down, and when he riseth up: Let all Creatures and the Creator himself forsake him, Angels reject him, Heavens frown at him, Earth open thy mouth, Hell receive him, Spirits tear him, Devils tor∣ment him, let no mercy be shewed unto him that shewed no mercy; Thus shall the miseries of Lazarus be re∣venged by the just plagues that shall justly fall upon the rich mans head.
And now the rich man being in Hell Flames, me∣thinks I hear him crying out, saying; O Wretch that I am, why did I suffer Lazarus to starve at my Gate? for which I am shut in the Gates of Hell. Why did I not give Lazarus a crumb of bread? for which I cannot have here one drop of water to cool my tongue. Why did I shew Lazarus no mercy on Earth? for which no mercy is shewed to me in Hell. What shall I do? for I am tormented in this flame, I will cry unto Abra∣ham, Abraham have mercy on me, and send Laza∣rus, that he may dip the top of his finger in water to cool my tongue. I am tormented here: Abraham, I am plagued and continually pained here; Abraham, here my purple rayment in flaines of fire, my light is darkness, and my day night, my companions are Devils. O how they hale me! O how they pull me! O how they ••ex and torment me! Here my feet are scorched, my hands are seared, my heart is wounded, my eyes are blinded, my ears are dulled, my sences are confounded, my tongue is hot, it is very hot: send Lazarus therefore Abraham with a drop of water to comfort me; one drop, good Abraham, one drop of water.
But Abraham answered him: Thou damned wretch, once thou didst disdain Lazarus, once thou didst refuse Lazarus, once thou didst scorn Lazarus, now Lazarus shall disdain, refuse, and scorn thee; once thou stoppest thine ears from the cry of Lazarus, now he stops his ears from thy cry: once thou turnest thy face from Lazarus
now he turneth away his face from thee: once thou deny∣edst crumbs to Lazarus, now he denyeth water to thee, not a spoonful, not a drop of water.
Oh Abraham, but now if I had my goods, I would give Lazarus all for a drop of water: Now if I had a million of gold, I would give it all for a drop of water, now if I had a world of wealth, I would give it all to Lazarus: therefore good Abraham, one drop; But he answered, No, not a drop.
Not a drop; then cursed be the day wherein I was born, and cursed be the night wherein I was conceived; cursed be my Father that begot me; and cursed be my Mother that bare me; cursed be the place that kept me; cursed be the delicate Robes that cloathed me, cursed be the delicate meat that fed me: let me be most accursed of all creatures both in Heaven and Ea••th.
HOw kind has Fortune been to me? how am I made her Favourite, whilst with a lavish hand she heaps the worlds chief treasure on me; which makes me be admired, and sought un∣to by all; the golden Goddesses charms them at the
rate, that still they watch my looks, and when •• smile are overjoyed,—But who is this that cries thus at my Gate, —Ha, a miserable wrech, an outcast of Fortune, whose miseries have made him loathsome, and contemptible an object, that offends mine eyes.
O why turn you from me, mighty Sir, consider that I am your fellow creature, made of the same mold, inspired by the same Breath of Life, and retain in me the self same faculties.
Ha, ha, ha, canst thou boast thus, nay make these comparisons, and but the meer shadow of a man, a skeleton, whom famine with her pressing hand has griped, and turned into a thing detestable to behold.
Dispise me not, great Sir, nor slight me for my miseries, 'tis in his power, whom I adore, to raise me to the heights of Honour, and depress your towring greatness.
No, no, that ne're can be, my Chests are ••rammed too full of Gold, the precious Idol of man-kind.
Yet cannot your Riches in the least avail you, if he please to stretch out his hand against you; nay gran∣ting you continue as you are, admired and courted by the crouding vulgar; yet the wretched, the poor despicable thing thou seest is far happpier.
How —happier—why now you make me smile, sure you but jest, sor one more miserable •• never yet could fix my eyes on.
It is not Riches, Pomp, nor high applause that makes men happy, but a mind armed with content 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bear him through all sad misfortunes, and a faith 〈◊〉〈◊〉 firm affiance in the Donor of all things that we can 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or in the world to come possess. O true content is an 〈◊〉〈◊〉 estimable treasure.
Content is an Eternal treasure; why, 〈…〉〈…〉 more create contentment, than to have 〈◊〉〈◊〉
World at will? be waited on by crouds, and feed upon what ever Sea, Earth, or Air af∣fords.
Yet this, without a conscience void of guilt, can yield you no felicity, a good Conscience is a continual feast.
Conscience, why I never knew what Con∣science balls, nor know I whether I have any; for when first she checkt me for laying my foundation upon Widdows and sad Orphans tears, I shook hands with her•• and bid her trouble me no more, nor since that ••••me has shee much molested me, or when she does, Musick and charming Beauties shall divert my cares, and hush her into silence.
Although at present she is still, yet there will come a day when she will cry as l••ud as thunder, and proclaim the wrong you hav•• done her ••efore the Iudge of all the Earth••punc; from who••e dread Presence none can flie.
Meer f••bles are they that you tell, think you to scare me from my Joyes with telling me what I will never believe; why, when I dye, I am no more, nor ••an ought trouble me, why should I not enjoy my se•••• then whilest I live?
Yes, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 deluded, that after de ath you must ap∣pear before 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dread tremendous Majestie of Heaven, and answer for the smallest sin com••itted; know there is an everlasting Lake of burning Sulphur▪ for all those that trust in vaniti••, and joies unspeak••ble for such as tread the paths of ••prightness,
Pish, tell me no more of such vain dreams, the meer imagination of such as pretend Religion for a Trade, things all together unworthy of my great thoughts, nor will I stay to hear, but retire, and glu•• my self with pleasure.
Go and be fatted, for you shall laugh now you•• fill, that you may mourn hereafter.
And when he came to himself, he said, how many hired Servants of my Fathers have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger.
I will arise and go to my Father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and be∣fore thee.
And am no more worthy bo be called thy Son, make me as one of thy hired Servants.
And he arose and came to his Father; but when he was yet a great way off, his Father saw him, and had compassion on him, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.
And the Son said unto him, Father, I have sinned a∣gainst Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more wor∣thy to be called thy Son.
Take the Paraphrase upon the whole, as followeth, Viz.
A certain Man had two Sons, one where∣of, and he the Eldest, continued always in his Fa∣mily, content with his provision, subject to his Govern ment, and in diligent Obedience to all his Commands. But the other, viz. the Younger Bro∣ther, full of Juvinal heat and confidence, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉
the Age of Discretion, grows impatient of Restraint and desirous of Liberty, especially fancying that he could live better to his own content, and eve∣ry whit as well provide for himself; if he were at his own disposal: Therefore he desires his Fa∣ther to set him out his share, and to put his Por∣tion into his own hands, and leave him to his own conduct. The Father gratifies him in all his desires, gives him his Portion and his Liberty; which done, the Son, as if his Fathers presence or vicinage would put too great a restraint upon him, and give check to his freedom, he betakes himself to another Countrey; where being in the height of Jollity amongst his Harlots and lewd Companions methinks I hear him speak to his own Heart af∣ter this manner following, viz.O! sweet, what rare felicity is here, Where nought offends, where all things fit appear; Where Natures shop full furnish'd with supply, Stands alwaies open to the Passers by.My thoughts, what think you of these Streams so clear? My Senses, can you not suck Honey here? Affections, can you here not feed desire And with contentment to the Heart retire?Here are the Beds where sweetest Roses grow, Here are the Banks where purest Streams do flow, Here are the only Instruments of Mir••h, Here are the only Iewels upon Earth.My stragling thoughts then here set up your stay▪ My striving Sences seek no richer prey; Affections, here your Fancies may be quieted, My pleased Heart then rest thou here delighted.
But to proceed: This Prodigal being now out of his Fathers Eye; Reach and Controul▪ he indul∣ges himself in the highest surfeit of Licentiousness, by which means in a short time (whilst he enjoys the present, took no care for the future) the the stock his Father allotted him, was utterly exhausted; and with that his pleasures also fail; the Roots that ministred to them being thus dryed up; and where his pleasures end, his cares begin: For now he hath leasure to look about him, and finds himself in a bad case, having no course left, but either to reurn to his Father, and confessing his Folly, and imploring his compassion; or to put himself a Servant to a Stranger; thereby to get a mean lively-hood; the former of these he was yet loath to come to; having not as he thought tryed sufficiently the folly of his own counsel, and to take to himself the shame of his own ill conduct, by so plain a retreat, was thought a sharper calamity than any he yet felt; therefore he resolved upon the latter; as if the severities of a stranger were more tollerable than the re∣pro••••hes of a Father: For he concluded a Man was not perfectly miserable that had no body to upbraid his Folly. And now being in a strange Country, he comforted himself with this; that if he should find none to pity him, he was sure there would be none could torture him with the g rating remembrance of what he was and might have been. Well, he becomes a Servant, and he that could not brook the grave restraint of paternal Authority, now feels the yoke of servile obedience; for he is put to the base drudgery of feeding Swine, and hath the coursest fair for his maintenance: the Swine and he feed alike upon Husks, only with this difference some body cares for the Hogs, but nobody for the Slave; and the former have enough of that which agrees with them, but the latter is pinched with
hunger, having not allowance of that sordid diet answera••le to the importunity of his needs. B••••ng sorely afflicted with this, he that formerly drea∣med of nothing but sweets of liberty, and the sur∣feits of voluptuousness, and never once thought of those hungry Wolves, Want and Necessity, which now stand at his door, after many a sad sigh, dis∣courses thus with himself:
Ah fool that I was, who knew not when I was well, that understood not contentment without satisfaction, nor could take up with the substance, but must grasp at shadows till I lost both; that knew not what it was to be happy, but by the sad experiment of becoming miserable, that could not distinguish between the chastisements of a Father, and the wounds of an Enemy, nor believe but all yoaks were equal, untill I was convinced by tryal, that could not brook the Government and restraints of my Fathers Family, though indeared by the re∣verence of my relation, and sweetned by the benig∣nity of his countenance, and liberal provision for ne∣cessity and delight; nor be satisfied of my Fathers wisdome, but by the effects of my own rashness and folly. Time was when I had the respect and dignity of a Son at home, wha now find the contempt of a Servant abroad. I was then put to no drudgery, nor had other task than to serve the honour and interest of my Father, and in so doing I consulted also my own; for my duty and my happiness were then uni∣ted, but I am now put to the basest office, to the vilest employment, as if my drudgery were not so much imposed in order to my Masters profit, as to my own contumely. But that which comes nearer to me yet, and pinches me very sore, is that wherea•• in my Fathers House I could neieher feel nor fear want, I can now hope for nothing else, there the meanest servant had bread, not only to the full, bu•• to superfluity; much less was any thing wanting to me then a Son; now the case is sadly altered, I that
seldom had so much hunger as might serve for sauce to the plenty of my Fathers Table, feel now the difference between the liberal hand of a Father, and the evil and nigardly eye of a hard master. Oh the sweet fumes of Plenty, and the gnawing pains of Wind and Emptiness!
And here methinks I hear him speaking to Ex∣travigant and head-strong Youth in the following manner, viz.
Ah fellow companions! what would I give now for what I have formerly wasted or despised! the•• I loathed wholsom food, and now feed upon husks; how do I now envy the meanest Servant in my Fa∣thers house: they have enough of all things, and I the want of all things; they surfeit, I starve. But alas, it is to no purpose to complain here, the Swine I
feed cannot pity me, and the Master I serve will not: There is no other choice left me now, but I must re∣turn to my Father or perish; little did I think what would come of it when I forsook him, and per∣haps little does he think what I have suffered since: If my sufferings have brought down my proud heart and taught me submission, it may be, my deplorable condition may move his Bowels; it is true, he cast me not out, but I forsook and abandoned him: My Youthful heat and folly precipitated me upon my own Ruine, but as he hath more Wisdom than I, so perhaps the affections of a Father are more strong than those of a Child; and the more he sees my Foolishness, the more arguments he would find to shew me Mercy; at least, I will make tryal of his Clemency, I will humbly prostrate my self before him, I le embrace those knees that educated me, I'le lick the dust of that Threshold which I contemptu∣ously forsook, I'le own my fault, and take shame to my self, and so both magnifie his Mercy if he receive me, and justifie his proceedings if he reject me.
I know my Father is subject or obnoxious to no body, who shall blame him for pardoning, or set li∣mets to his mercy? nay, who can tell the measure of a Fathers Bowels? it may be too there is irresi∣stable Eloquence in misery; and the spectacle of a Sons adversity may have Rhetorick enough in it to carry a cause where the Father is Judge: Or if he, provoked by my Folly at first, and Extravagances since, will no more own me as a Son, perhaps he may receive me as a Servant; for if my rebellion ••ath extinguished in him the peculiar affections of a Father, yet it hath not destroyed the common Passi∣ons of Humanity, Mercy, and Pity; if he will re∣ceive me in that lower quality, I am now broken to the condition of a Servant, and shall think his Yoke easie hereafter, having been innured to so sharp and heavy an one; I will chearfully submit my Ear
to be boared to his Door-post, and be his Servant for ever.
Or, Lastly, if he will not trust a Runnagate, nor believe he will ever prove a constant Servant that hath once deserted his station, let him be pleased to take me as a hired Servant, whom he may turn off at pleasure; make tryal of me, and admit me only upon good behaviour. But if all fail, and he should utterly cast me off (which yet I hope he will not) I can but perish, and that I do however.
Well, this being resolved, he casts a longing look towards his Fathers House, and puts himself on his way thither: but no sooner was he on his way, (though yet a great way off) but his Father spies him. Those lean and wan Cheeks, and the hallow funken Eyes his extremity had reduced him to, had not so disfigured him, nor those rags unable to co∣ver his Nakedness, so disguised him, but his Father knew him; and the memory of his former disobedi∣ence had not so cancelled the interest of a Son, or shut up the Bowels of a Father, but that the sight of his present misery kindled his Compassion. And whilst the Son, partly through that weakness which his Vices and his Sufferings had conspired to bring upon him, and partly through a Combination of shame and just fear of his Fathers indignation, with difficulty makes towards him; the Father, prompted by Paternal affection, and transported between joy and Pity, runs to meet him, falls on his Neck, and kisses him.
And now see what entertainment his Father gives him being come into his presence. He calls for a Robe; yea, the best Robe, and so cloaths him; for a Ring to adorn and beautifie him; for Shoes for his Feet, that stones might not annoy or hurt them; for the fat Calf to feed and refresh him; and whatsoe∣ver is wanting he bestows upo•• him. Now, had the Father fit time, and his Sons sins deserved it,
that he should rip up unto him his former Faults, and call to remembrance the offences of his Youth, and welcom him home after this manner: Ah, Sirrah, are you now come, is all spent amongst your Whores and Harlots? Return unto them, let them provide for you, come you no more within my doors. But behold the love of this his Father, he useth no such thundring speeches, he threatneth not to cast him off, nor yet doth he cast him in the teeth with the former Cour∣ses; he Remembreth not old reckonings, the Offen∣ces of his Youth are not spoken of: But he (seeing this his Riotous and unthrifty Son return home with an humble Heart) presently offers himself to his Child, and before he had made an end of his Confession, or could beg a supply of things need∣ful, his Father intercepts him by his hasty calling to his Servants, Bring hither the best Robe, the Shoes, the Ring, let the fat Calf be killed, make a Feast, send for Musick, let all be forgotten that is past; let my Son•• old Courses no more be remembred.
And here further we may Fancy the joyful father thus bespeaking his returning Child, viz.
The Son, though astonished at this condescention, and surprised with the unexpected benignity of such a Reception, yet could not but remembe•• what his Fathers Joy made him forget; namely, his for∣mer Dis-ingenuity and Rebellion: and therefore humbly falls on his knees again, and with shame and remorse makes his contrite acknowledge∣ment after this manner. Father, (for so this admirable goodness of yours gives me encourage∣ment to call you, more than the Blood and Life which I derived from you) I have, I confess, for∣feited all the interest the priviledges of my Birth might have afforded me in your Affection, having become Rebel both towards God and you, had I not first neglected him, I am sure I had never greived you; and having forsaken you, I have not only vio∣lated the greatest Obligation I had upon me (save that to his divine Majesty) but also despised and affronted a goodness like to his; whatsoever there∣fore I have suffered was but the just demerit of my folly and contumacy, and whatsoever Sentence you shall pass upon me further, I will willingly submit to and here expect my doom from you: I condemn my self, as no more worthy to be called your Son, be pleased to admit me but into the condition of your meanest Servant, and I have more than my miscar∣riages give me reason to hope for.
Whilst the Son was going on at this rate, the Fa∣thers Bowels yearned too earnestly to admit of long Apologies, and therefore chuses rather to inter∣rupt him in his Discourse, than to adjourn his own Joys or the others comfort: and because he thought
not sufficient in this case, he makes his deeds the Interpreters of his mind, commanding his Servants forthwithto bring out the best Robe, and put it upon his Son, together with a Ring on his hand, and Shoes on his feet, i. e. in all points to habit him as his Son, and as a Son of such a Father; by all which he maketh the full demonstration of a perfect Reconciliation; and not content herewith, to give vent to his Joy, that it might not overpower him whilst he confined it to his own bosom, and perhaps those also who had sha∣red with him in his sorrows for the loss of a beloved Son, might participate also in the joy of his Reco∣very; he goes on, bring out also the fatted Calf, and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my Son was dead, and is alive again, was lost and is found; and they began to be merry.
In the midst of this extraordinary Jollity, it happens the elder Son, who had always continued in his Duty towards his Father, comes out of the Fields, where he had been Negotiating his Fathers Affairs, and wonders at this the unusual Iubilee: And when (demanding the occasion) they of the Family made him acquainted with the whole matter, he takes it ill, and interpreting this marvellous transport of joy at his Brothers return, to be in derogation from himself; as if his Father was too easie and inclinable towards him, but se∣vere to himself, and unmindful of the long and faith∣ful service he had done him, begins to expostulate the matter somewhat warmly with his Father; but the good Old Man mildly replyes: Son, I am very sensible of, and set a just value upon the long course of your Obedience, and I have it both in my Power and in my will to reward you. 'Tis true, I have not hitherto made such solemn expressions of my Love to you, as I have now done upon this Occasi∣on, for the case did not require it; you, as you have been alwayes dutiful to me, so you had my
House and all I have constantly to accomodate you; as you have never rebelled against me, so you have never felt the hardships your poorBrother has under∣gone by his foolishness; and as you that have never offended me, never could distrust my Favour, nor need not such demonstrations of my Reconciliation, which this former Guilt and Extravagancies of your now penitent Brother renders necessary in his case, so also was I never overwhelmed withGrief for you who were never lost; but for as much as we have beyond ••ll ••xpe••ta••••on received your brother again, whom we long ••inc•• d••••paired of, and had given up for lost; you canno•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and you must allow me this unusual transport; ••or •• say again, This your Brother was lost, and is found, was dea••, and is alive again.
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.
Come to my Arms, my dear dear Child, I cannot see you stand thus cringing, nor can I permit you this range distance.
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.
O! Name not what is past, but let your future care prevent the like revolt, the like extravigance.
I dare not think I am forgiven; I am sure I could not well expect forgiveness from the man I had so much offended.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the Foundation of the world.
Then shall he say also unto them on the left Hand, De∣part from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, pre∣pared for the Devil and his Angels.
I Will begin here and speak something of this sen∣tence to the ungodly, wherein every word speaks woe and wrath, fire and fury, death and damnation; and every syllable speaks the deepest Sorrow and dreadfulest Sufferings to wicked Pilgrims. The Lord
Chief Iustice of the whole World, the Judge of the Quick and Dead is now (as it were) in all his Robes and Royalty, with millions of glorious Atten∣dants, in the G lory of his Father, with all his holy Angels, set on the Bench. The poor prisoner, whose trembling Soul is newly reunited to the loathsome Carcass of his Body, is drag'd to the Bar awaiting and expecting some doleful Doom. He is lately come from hell, to give an account of his Life on earth, and to receive his Sentence; and loath he is to go back to that place of torments, as know∣ing that the pain of his Body will be a new and grie∣vous addition to his misery, when that shall burn in flames as his soul doth already in fury. Therefore he pleads.
Lord let me stay her•• (though poor wretch he hath his Hell about him in his accusing, af∣frighting Conscience) rather then go to that Dungeon of darkness. A sight of thy beautiful Face may possibly abate my Sorrows, and thy Presence may mitigate my Sufferings.
No, saith Christ, here is no abiding for thee, be gone hence. Thou mayst remember when my Presence was thy Torment, when thou didst bid me depart from thee, choosing my room before my company. Now my Absence shall be thy Terror, I like thee not so well to have thee 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me. Depart, I say, from me.
Lord, If I must undergo so dreadful a doom, as to depart from thee, the Father of Lights, and Foun∣tain of Life, yet bless me before I go; One good wish of thy Heart, one good word of thy Mouth will make me blessed where ever I go. Those whom thou blessest, are blessed indeed; Bless me, even me, O my Fa∣ther: At this parting grant me thy blessing.
Sinner, be gone, and my Curse go along with thee. Thou hast many a time despised my Bl••ssing when it hath been offered to thee, though I was
made a Curse to purchase it for thee; therefore, I say, depart from me, and the Curse of an angry Lord, and of a righteous Law accompany th••e for ever. Depart, I say, Thou cursed.
Lord, if I must go, and thy Curse with me, send me to some good place, where I may find some∣what to refresh me under thy loss and curse. It's mi∣sery enough to lose thy presence, Good Lord command me to some good place.
No, Sinner, be gone with my Curse to that place which will torture and rack thee with ex∣tr••mity and universality of pains. The time hath been that thou hast wallowed in sensual pleasures, now thou must fry in intollerable flames. Depart thou cursed into fire.
Ah Lord, if I must go with thy Curse, and to so woful a place as fire, I beseech thee let me not stay there long. Alas, who can abide devouring flames one moment? material fires of man's kindling are terrible, but how intollerable are those flames which thy breath, like a stream of brimstone, hath kindled! I beseech thee, if I must go to it, let me pass swiftly through it, and not stay in it.
No, Sinner, depart, and my Curse with thee, to those extream Torments that admit of no ease and no end, where the worm never dieth, and the fire never goeth out? to the Lake that burneth with fire and brimstone for ever. Depart thou cursed into everlasting fire.
Lord, this is dismal and dreadful indeed to go from thee, who art all good, and to go to fire which hath in it extremity of all evil, and to lose thee, and fry in flames for ever, ever, ever; yet, Lord, if it is thy Will it should be so, hear me yet in one desire let me have such society as may mitiga••e, at le•••••• such as may not aggravate my misery.
No, Sinner, thy Company must be such 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ev••r as thou didst choose in thy life time. 〈◊〉〈◊〉
who was thy Tempter shall be thy Tormentor. And they who led thee captive at their will, shall be bound with thee in chains of everlasting dark∣ness, and faggoted up with thee together for un∣quenchable fire. Such fiery Serpents, gnawing Worms, stinging Adders, poisonous Toads, roa∣ring and devouring Lions, hideous Monsters, frightful Fiends must be thy eternal Companions. Depart from me thou cursed, into everlasting fire pre∣pared for the Devil and his Angels.
But now, kind Readers, because particulars do ••sually most affect us, we may here again at this Gene∣••al Iudgment, suppose we here the Iudge crying out with a loud and angry voice, saying, Bring now ••ll the wicked Prisoners severally to my Bar, that so ••hey may all distinctly receive their Sentence, ••or those particular sins by which they have most ••ffended my Justice;
And first, Come forth all ye ignorant persons: who ••ave not known the Father, nor me, nor the my∣••eries of salvation. Take them Devils, bind ••hem hand and foot.
2. Come forth all ye slothful and unprofitable persons. ••ad not ye talents committed to you for my use and ••••rvice, and what have you done with them? did ••ou bury them in the earth? or lay them up in a ••apkin? what, could you lye down and slumber, ••hen you had so much work to do? could you tri••••e ••ray so many hours, when time was so precious ••••d sweet? Take them Devils, bind them ••and and foot.
3. Come forth all ye that have neglected Family 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and never sought after God in your Closets; Were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you creatures, and did the law of Creation re∣••ire no worship; were not you subjects, and sho••ld 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you have shewen homage to your Sovereign▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not you live upon God's finding and bounty e∣very
day, and should not you have ackowledged your dependance; did not God bring you into your Family Relations, and did he require no duty? Did not he threaten to pour out his wrath upon irreli∣gious Families? and yet would not you set up Reli∣gion in yours? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
4. Come forth all ye Sabbath-breakers, you that have spent the day in sleeping, in eating and drink∣ing to excess; who instead of holy meditations, have been thinking and contriving your worldly business; who instead of religious conferences, have discour∣sed only of earthly matters: instead of going to Church to worship God, have walked into the Fields, and spent the time in Recreations. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
5. Come forth all ye Swearers, and Profaner of the Name of God; did you never read or hear of the third Commandment, which forbad this sin? Did you never hear of my strict Injunction, that you should not swear at all in your discourses, but that your Communication should be yea and nay? were you never told that swearers would fall into Condemna∣tion? was the great and dreadful name of God of so little regard, that you could not only use it irre∣verently, so frequently; but also even tear it in piec•••• by your Oaths? You call'd upon God some∣times to damn and sink you; can you speak in that language now, now damnation is so near you? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
6. Come forth all ye scoffers at Religion, and the zea∣lous profess••rs thereof; who taught and spake of Re∣••igion, as if it had been a fancy, and cunningly de∣lised Fables; and of the most holy, humble, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉-denying Christians, as if they were the mos••
mean spirited, foolish, and contemptible People up∣on Earth: and have used the name of a Saint in de∣rision, and proverb of reproach. Have you the same mind now, that Religion was but a fancy? Is your Resurrection and my appearance, but a fancy? Is your punishment eternal in hell, like to be but a fancy? Have you not a sure ground and bottom for your faith in the Scriptures? Could you have de∣sired more reasonable evidence of things done be∣fore your age? Could you laugh at Scripture threat∣nings: And can you laugh now you are come to▪ Execution? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
7. Come forth all ye Persecut••rs of my Disciples; was it not enough for you to mock them; but you must persecute them too? Was it not enough for you to persecute them with the tongue, but you must persecute them with the hand? What, could you betray them like Iudas for a piece of money, or out of malice, which was worse? Could you disturb them in their service and worship of me, when they were praying for your very Conversion and Salvation? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
8. Come forth all ye intemperate and licentious per∣sons; who have indulged your flesh, and laid no re∣straint upon your sensual appetite; who have made provision for your fl••sh, to fullfill the lusts thereof; but made no prov••••ion for my glory, and took no care to fulfil•• my commands; did you never hear of s••ch a duty as self-denial, which I required of all my Dis••ipl••s and Followers? Take them De∣vils, bind them hand and foot.
9. Come forth all ye Gluttons, who have prepared you flesh with delicious food, but never had the least rega••d to feed your souls. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
10. Come forth all ye Drunkards, who if ye have not ••vercharged your bellies with excessive eating, ••et have often intoxicated your brains with the fume; of excessive drinking; what excuse can you find for this sin? were you inticed to it, and overtaken be∣fore you were aware? but who could entice you to drink a potion which would kill your bodies? and was not the death and damnation of your souls more to be avoided? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
11. Come forth all ye Adulterers, you that have neighed like full-fed Horses after your neighbours Wives, and assembled by troops into Harlots houses; or if not so, have committed this sin in secret corners; was there no shame in you to keep you from this nasty filthy sin? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
12. Come forth all ye Covetous persons, whose treasure▪ and heart, hope, and confidence hath been in earth¦ly things. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
13. Come forth all ye unmerciful persons; whose bowels have been shut up against the poor and ••eedy; who have spoken churlishly to the poor, and looked upon them afar off. Take them De∣vils, bind them hand and foot.
14. Come forth all ye unrighteous persons; who have wronged Widows and Orphans; who have over∣reached your neighbours in your dealings; who have heaped an estate together by unrighteous pra∣ctices; who have squeezed and oppressed the poor▪ which have had no helper. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
15. Come forth all ye liars; you who have taught and accustomed your selves to this sin; who have
not only reported lies, but also made them. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
16▪ Come forth all ye Slanderers and Back-biters▪ who have walked about with slanders; and carried about tales unto the reproach and injury of your neighbours good name: Did you not know it was your duty to endeavour the preservation of your Neighbours Reputation as carefully as your own? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
17. Come forth all ye proud and ambitious persons; you that have builded your nests on high; that have taken many dirty steps to get into the seat of honour, whose hearts have been lifted up with high towering imaginations and conceits of your own ex∣cellencies unto the scorning and contempt of others; who have had proud hearts, and proud looks, and proud speeches, and proud carriage towards others Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
18. Come forth all-ye envious and malicious persons; ye that have grieved at the good of others, which they have had, or done; that have grieved at the good Estates of others, or because they have thriv∣ed faster then you in the world. Take them De∣vils, bind them hand and foot.
19. Come forth all ye wrathful and contentious persons▪ ye that have had fiery spirits, and fiery tongues; whose tongue, have been like swords, wherewith▪ ye ha••e lashed and wounded others in your reproach∣ful r••viling speeches. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
20. Come forth all ye civil and moral persons, who have had moral righteousness, and been upright in your dealings, but wholly strangers unto the power of godliness, who have observed some precepts of
the second Table of the Law in reference to your selves and others externally; but have grosly neg∣lected the duties of the first Table. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
21. Come all ye Hypocrites, who have made a shew of Holiness; and have born the name of Zea∣lous professours of Religion, but have been acted by carnal designs and principles, who have used Religion as a Cloak for your Covetousness, who fol∣lowed me only for the Loaves; who have been hol∣low at the heart, rotten at the Core, painted-Sepul∣chers, blazing· Comets, wandring and falling Stars, for whom the mist of darkness is reserved for ever. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
22. Come forth all ye Back-sliders and Apostates, from me and my wayes; You that turned back to ways of prophaness, and open wickedness, after some time of profession, and joyning your selves with my People, was my service so burdensome that you could endure it no longer? was the way to hea∣ven so unpleasant, that you would walk no longer therein, after some trial in shew of me, did you prefer and make choice of the Devil before me? Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
23. Come forth all ye impenitent Persons and Vnbe∣lievers, all ye that▪ have not yielded obedience to the Gospel; were you not called to repentance by Ministers, and the Spirit in Ordinances? and when a stiller voice was not heard, were you not called lou∣der by God in his judgments? did you not know, that except you repented you would certainly perish. Take them Devils, bind them hand and foot.
WHat Wonders has God wrought? how gracious has he been, in opening thy barren Womb, and giving us a Son in our old Age; nay, more, a Son that is a Prophet to pre∣pare the way of him on whom the happiness of mankind does depend.
My Heart is o'reflowed with joy, nor can my tongue relate what I conceive; nor am I capable of rendring sufficient praises to the Lord, who has been peased to ••isit his low hand-Maid, and took from her, •• her loa∣thed reproach.
Had you but seen the glorious Vision, the bright Messenger of Heaven, that brought the happy news, that blest assurance of what is come to pass you would have been the more transported.
I dare beleive no less, yet you durst doubt the truth of what his high Behest imorted.
I did indeed, and had my punishment for so much incredulity, the Organs ••f my voice denyed their office, rendring me a Mute, till my aged Eyes beheld the dear, the welcom, the thrice welcom Babe sprung from the Womb of my Elizabeth.
'Tis just with Heavens eternal King, who had done such great things for you, that you were so punished, and stand as an example to the diffident.
But since I am restored, i'le use my diligence to make Attonement for my vile stupidity, apply the voice return'd in hyming him, and telling of his won∣ders;
nay more, that we may both be happier in our Son, let us observe to train him up as Heaven has given directions.
That, next to praising our great Benefactor, who with Mercies and choice Favours every way incompasses us, shall be my cheif care, but see the Sacrifices wait, you must now to the Temple.
With joy I go to glorifie the God who does ••ouchsafe to dwell with his Inheritance.
Hast then whilst I retire, and offer up the Sacri∣fices of a contrite Heart, which God has promised never to reject.
WIth what earnestness the bloody minded King of Iuda made inquiry for the Heavenly Infant; I then perceived his drift was ••ut to get him once into his power; for why, the prophecy concerning the all-glorious Babe, and our enquiry started him, and made him doubt his ••mpire.
It could no less to one who (blinded with the Guilt of such great crimes as he by his Tyranny has pulled upon himself) had no further sight of Sacred things: The Babe is born a Heavenly not an Earthly Prince, his Kingdom is above all heights transcendent, glorious, beautiful beyond expression.
'Tis true, and we have seen a God on Earth, this, this is he of whom the Cybils did so darkly sing: The Child let down from Heaven in a bright burnish'd Chain of Gold, that should shut Ianus's Temple, and invest the World with Peace.
Undoubtedly the same, and happy is the Jewish Nation, if they understood aright this bles∣sing, this is the Star that should arise out of Iacob, this is the great Deliverer, the great Preserver of his People, this is he of whom the Prophets have so loudly told.
Nor are we less obliged to wise Omnipo∣tence, that did vouchsafe to make us privy to so great a mystery, revealing to us what had happened, and disposing us to follow the bright Star hung low in the thin Region of the Air, that it might be our kind Conducter to the happy place.
Nor was the glittering Angel less careful of his Lord, when in our slumbers he forwarned us to return another way, and not as we determined, see the wicked King.
I can but think how Herods rage will rise, to find himself so much deluded.
Doubtless it will, but all his fury will be spent in vain, the end, for which the Glorious God came down, and was incarnate, must be accomplished e're he does ascend to seat himself upon his Saphire Throne.
It must, so all the Prophets say, yet in the end, when as his g••••rious course is 〈…〉〈…〉 when he has finished his great 〈…〉〈…〉 ••or lost 〈…〉〈…〉
That indeed must be the result, but then triumphing over the Grave, he will in rayes of brightest Majesty ascend, and draw all those that love him, and adore his goodness after him
No less do I conclude, but see we are arri∣ved at a fair City, here let us repose this night, and contemplate on this wonder.
Agreed great King, we will be content to do as you have said.
AM I then deluded by the Eastern Kings, say you, are they departed to their own Abodes, and he that Fame has rumour'd must deprive me of my Scepter, is hid, past, finding out.
'Tis so most Potent Monarch, the Kings are journyed through the Wilderness, and by this time have reached their Native Lands; the Infant, though all diligent in∣quire has been made, is no where to be found.
So to be served makes me all Fury, O! that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was not such a March over the vast Desarts to the
••ands of those deluding Monarchs; Fire and Sword should speak myanger; what is in my power I'le do, to make my Title sure; Captain make hast, and draw up all my men of War, I have a great design in hand, which Labours in my Breast.
What means my Lord the King, what are his thoughts? thus low I beg to be made privy to the intentions of a Monarch.
You are my faithful Counsellor, and to your Care and Conduct, what your King intends shall be committed; all the male infants in suspicious Beth∣lehem, and throughout every Border appertaining to that City, are doom'd dead from two years old and under; that amongst them, him that I suspect, may fall, so that the madding People, who are ever fond of innovation, may be retained in their obe∣dience.
'Tis brave, though bloody, yet the King shall be o∣beyed before to morrow this time; not a Brat shall live beneath the Age you mention, no ••ity or rem••rse shall be of force to stay our Hands, to the cries of tender Mo∣thers we will be deaf as Seas, and whilst the Younglings sprawl upon our Spears, our Hearts sha••l be as hard ••s Adamant, no lurking holes shall save them from our fu••y; death, death shall be their portion, from the tender breasts we will snatch them to untimely Graves.
Your resolution fits my purpose, and when put in execution, will quickly hush my fears; therefore about it strait, make•• no delay, whilst I retire, and with impatience expect a full account of your proceedings.
My Speed shall show my willingness in what I un∣dertake, Death and Fury now inspire me for the blackest Murthers the bright Lamp of Day ever yet beheld.
THe cruel Tyrant that late raged in slaughter, and dyed deep his hands in blood of Inno∣cents, is tumbled in the dust, his bold Ambition is sunk beneath the Grave.
In vain he strove to rob us of our only Ioy, in vain he plotted to surprise the Life of our dear Son and Lord.
All that Man does against the great decrees of Heaven, is unprosperous, no force nor policy can ever prevail against Omnipotence.
'Tis true, but yet his murder•••••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 have made some thousands childless.
Although his cruelty, by Gods high sufferance, extended to the shedding of their blood; yet they are happy, falling for the sake of him who came to save them from eternal Death; and God that can make fruitful barren Wombs, can when he pleases give their Parents a supply.
With him 'tis true, there is nothing impossible, therefore how ought men to adore his sacred Name, and at an awful distance struck with admiration, contemplate his wonders.
They ought indeed with lowest reverence ad∣mire, and love such boundless goodness; nor shall my Tongue ever want praises for the Mercies he has shewed, nor will I spare to tell of all his loving kindness.
We will praise him in the Beauty of his Holiness' and never cease to bow before the Foot-stool of his Throne of Grace, and with humility revere his tremendous Majesty.
'Tis fit we should, but now Night hasts apace▪ and we must rest our selves awhile, and in this hospi∣table place refresh the blessed Infant, the sole car•• of Heaven.
'Tis indeed convenient, that when the Sun, risin•• ••lorious in the East sends forth his Beams to chear th•• Bosom of the Earth, we may reach the much desire•• Coast of Galilee, it not being yet safe for us to go t•• Bethlehem, because the Tyrants Son reigns in Judea.
ALass my Father, why is it you suffered me to slumber thus unmeasurably.
Slumber my dear Child, had not Heavens Fa∣vourite been propitious, it had been everlasting sleep.
Indeed I could have been contented to have slept on, if I thought you'd not have chid me for my drowsiness, for I was much delighted with the pleasant Visions I beheld, or Fancy represented.
Vision says my Child —Alass they were Visions, but must needs be strange ones.
O me! I must confess they were something strange, for I remember whilst you and my Mother sat weeping by the Bed, that a blew mist came o're my Eyes, and doz'd my Senses; when methoughts a lovely Youth ••l••d in a glorious Garb, stood by me, and with beaming Eyes so dazled me with rayes of Light, that I was much amazed; But long he pawz'd not, e're he snatched me from my bed, and with expanded Wings slew swift, as I thought, through many Regions paved with Stars, a shining with glittering Fires; where I beheld strange shapes, and heard amazing voices, when mounting still, at last he brought me within sight of a most Glorious Mansion, whose out-side shone with such exceeding brightness, that I was obliged sometimes to shut mine eyes, as not capable of steady gazing: At the Gate stood throngs of Glorious Forms, in Robes of purest White, with Crowns of Gold upon their Heads, Palms in their Hands, and Golden Harps, whereon they play melodious, and ravish'd all my Sences with their charming voices, seeming in their Songs to express much joy at our approach;
but being about to enter, methought I heard a voice as loud as thund er cry, return, when on a sud∣dain down I sunk like Lightning, and starting at the supposed fall, I waked.
And do you fancy then you only slept.
What more, since what I saw, I wakening, find to be a dream, the meer representation of a roving Fancy.
Mistake not my dear Daughter, for to your Fathers grief, your Soul was separated by the hand of Deat•• from its loved Mansion; this beauteous Form in which now streams warm blood, was some hours since a cold, pale, lifeless course.
How?—was I dead—How? dead, O speak.
Yes, Death had snatched thee from me, leaving me to mourn for so great a loss, and thou hadst been no more, had not the mighty Prophet by his word called back thy fleeting Soul.
How can it be that I should be dead? but if it be no more pain to dye than what I felt, I shall hereafter dread Death less; yet say, was that the Pro∣phet that stood by me when I waked, methought he look'd most lovely.
It was the wonder-working Prophet, whose great Miracles astonish all man-kind; but since my joy again is full, in having my sole comfort by his power re∣stored, and rescued from the Grave; let us hence, and publish the amazing news to our Relations, that they all may joyn with us in praising him, who has given back my Daughters Life.
My Father shall be in what he thinks fit, obey∣ed, and I for my part will addict my self to Virtues wayes, that when I dy, if dy I must again; I may enter at the glorious Gate I was, or fancied that I was so near.
HAs the beauteous Maid, whose nimble feet in mystick order moving, so well pleased a King, considered what to ask, that as I promised, I may grow lavish to compleat her wish.
My Lord I have considered, and it is neither Gold nor Silver I demand, no nor Gems, nor places of high Honour, but—
But —What, speak out thou pretty charming Creature, and be soon possest of whatsoever your thoughts can form.
It is but a trifle, My Lord, that I demand.
A trifle, why were it half my Kingdom, 'tis at your command; my Oath is past, and shall not be recall'd; therefore let me soon know what it is you long for.
Then great King 'tis— 'tis— the— Head—
The Head, what Head? speak boldly, come.
Why, to be plain, the Head of John the Baptist.
A trifle say you, O! that I had never past so rash a Vow; this it is to trust a Woman with a power unlimited— But why is it you demand the
Head of that good Man? you are young, and should not thus delight in cruelty.
Great Sir, he has displeased the Queen my Mother.
O are you thereabout — Cruel—Cruel Wo∣man, could no revenge, but such as bears a horrid guilt even in its name, appease her fury.
She charged me on her blessing I should ••••k no other recompence, therefore the Guilt be upon your Queen, your Brother's once beloved Wife, and not on me; for so much crudelity is contrary to the soft Nature of a ten∣der Virgin.
Although I much repent I trusted a W••man∣kind with Vows unnamed, yet shall it never be said a Monarch broke his Oath—Go Executioner, and fetch the Head of him I dearly love, and give it her, to satiate the cruel eyes of her Blood-thirsty Mother, from this moment my much hated Queen.
Well great King, I'le wait its coming, though you are very angry, for I will assure you, I dare not re∣turn without it.
What would you more, have not I given command; though I must needs confess it was more for honours sake, than any kindness to my Queen, or you, whose Bold Petition has disturbed my rest; and may the blood return upon your Heads, whilst I retire, and mourn my unadvised concession.
How angry is my Father in Law—yet let him know I fear not all his Frowns, for well I am as∣••ured my Mother soon can smooth his wrinkled Front, and calm the tempest of his mind.—So, it is brought, and in a Charger; O! how wan it looks? how throb the Lips with dying murmurs; but however, I••le go bare it to my Mother as it is, that it may save her longing.
O! What has our Folly done? in what sad darkness are we left? how wretched! O how miserable!
Indeed we are, though we fear'd no such matter; alass, alass what shall we do? you see com∣panions that we are shut out, not for a time, for then there was some hopes, but out for ever.
How! For ever! O Heart-breaking news, must we never see the Bridegrrom then? no not see his Face.
No, he has withdrawn himself, the Gates are ever closed against us, and our knocking will be vain.
O! I am almost mad to think how foolishly we lost the happy opportunity, that would for ever have enabled us to stand in his bright presence.
Name, name no more our fatal oversight, least it add yet to our weighty Sorrow
Yet methinks I cannot forget the h appiness we lost, methinks the bright and dazling Idea of the lov'd Bridegroom still represents it self to my well pleased Eyes.
And yet we never must behold him more, his Face is turned away, he knows us not, his Coun∣tenance so Amiable, so ravishing, and so transpor∣ting, will no more shine on us with Soul-inlightning Rayes, his Smiles most af••able, we never more shall be delighted with.
Since it is so, let us retire and mourn the loss our Follies have occasioned, weep till our heads are water, and our eyes a Fountain of continual Tears.
COme, come, why boggle you? at what, when once recorded, will make you known in story, till the world shall be no more? why, who would not act a thing of such small mo∣ment, to have his name registred in the Rolls of Fame.
What will that profit me? when it is but to my Infamy, my shame and everlasting blot; I shall b•• so ex∣posed to after Ages.
Have you not the protection of the great High Priest, Aarons successor, and expounder of the Law, to guard your Fame by countenancing wh••t you undertake.
But yet my Conscience — Methinks something within informs me it is a horrid Crime, the basest of Ingratitude, to prove perfidious to so good a Master.
Pish—Let not such vain imaginations star∣tle you; come, come, resolve to do it, nay I find what it is that you expect; here, here is the thing that must prevail above all arguments.
How! thirty Roman Pence — A Summ it is true would tempt a man to do a daring deed. But,—
But what—nay trifle not, see night comes on, the night that must be followed by the day, that must behold him that does stile himself the King of the Iews, in bonds.
Well waving further Ceremony, I'le stifle my up∣braiding Conscience; sere it with all dark resolves, and desperately comply with your demands.
Bravely spoke, our Guard•• shall instantly attend you; but what is the sign by which you will distinguish him.
With a Face as bold as Death, frought with mis∣chief, I will bare up to him, and with a treacherous kiss salute him, and then let those that have the charge, be sure to catch him.
No fairer token can you give, but it is no time now to delaythe thing; come, come, let us ••bout it, and secure him e're the Sun salutes the East; least the mad People, fond of innovation, should murmur, nay should mutiny upon such a sei∣zure, which they will term an outrage; for we are not ignorant what fame his Miracles have won, and ••ow he is beloved; see, see the Guards are ready, ••hen along with them▪ whilst I retire to the consul∣••ing Sanadrim, and there contrive what shall be ••urther done.
I go, though to perf••••m the blackest deed that Hell ever put into the Heart of Man, yet I have promised, and I will perform, though Fa•••• and Destiny does push me ••••••dlong into monstrous ruine.
UNhappy are you to be over-rul'd by the ma•• rout; why would you yield to their roug•• clamours, to destroy the innocent?
I laboured to deliver that just man, but found it w•• in vain, for still no other cry than crucifie him, sound•• through the Iudgment-Hall.
Yet you might have used your high Authori•••• ••o still the rout; who being set on by their malicio•• Rulers, knew not against whom they cry'd, nor wh•• it was they did.
I dare beleive as much, but the sad deed is p•• ••ecal, and all you argue now is vain.
As to retrieve the fact it is; but yet the glo∣rious Prophet, whom the foolish People think now dead, if my Dreams inform me right, lives, lives Immortal, never more to dye.
How, lives! Then fear strikes me, horror chills me, and I tremble at what you relate.
It was no common man, that in that barba∣rous manner they have used; but one who in his Hands has power of Life and Death: A Power in∣vincible, not to be subdued by Armies, had he not consented to lay down his Life.
Indeed his meekness melted me into Compassion, and made me labour to deliver him.
This, this was he of whom the Cibils sung in mistick numbers, this, this was that dear Prince of ••eace▪ that should give Peace to the long warring World.
Then I am guilty of a horrid Crime, but now it is ••ast, in vain it is to argue it; what I have done, I in a ••anner was compelled to do; therefore the Blood s•• ••••ed, be on the guilty Nation, as the clamorous Rout ••equired.
••hilst I go mourn to wash away the Guilt ••f Blood so precious, yet so vilely spilt.
And I likewise retire with fear and dread ••o worship him the foolish Iews think dead.
STrange it is you should neglect my moti•••• at this rate, and pin•• away with Imagin••••tions of you know not what.
Be s••ill l••ud 〈◊〉〈◊〉 F••lly, s••mething wit•• command•• me to obey i••s di••tates, and fly wit•• speed the Physitian.
To the phy••itian, why? are you dis••ase then if so, it is su••e I have a thousand Cordials give you ease, made up of rich ingredient••, such seldom fail man-kind.
Al••ss, t•••• oft they do, and a••e at b••st but luscious P••is••n, w••ich ma•• be antidoted f••r a time, but in the e••d de••tr••••s the Patient.
How—why sure the Man on whom I have ••••stowed so many Favours, c••nnot be so much in∣••r••••••ful to reject my kind advice.
Forbea•• t•• trouble m••, s••••••e it is no•• in your ••ow∣••r t•• ••ive me ease, a wounded So••l you cannot c••re, but 〈◊〉〈◊〉 make it w••rse.
〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••hat the thing that thu•• distur••s my darling, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i•• that be al••, it is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••ing ••o••al f••r a day ••r ••••o, but f••asting ••our dull Sen••••s wi••h d••light, and all your cares ••ill vanish.
In v••in you ••rge i••, therefore u••ge no m••re, fr••m ••his da•• I ren••unce you and yo•••• guil••••d v••niti••s; my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Tre••sures, or wh••te•••••• you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a soli•• 〈…〉〈…〉 hencefo••th be no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 t••e s••ll••ce of m•• mind, b••t Vi••tue, that essential ha••••••n••ss, shall b•• my de••r com∣••ani••n.
And will you then cast off ••our Grandure, Gai∣••y, lay by your awful Robes, an•• leave your sump∣••uous Fare, to pine and languish, to be fed with ••ears and sighs, as those that do forsake me are; will you, I say, fall under sad reproach, contempt, ••nd scorn.
This and much more I`le do for everlasting Life. ••••r will I argue longer, least the happy motion tha•• dis∣••••ses me to happiness, should fail; but with s••ift feet, ••hilst ••ark••ess ••antles in the World, fly ••o the Fo••ntain ••f all ••o••s.
But thither I will ••ollw th••e, and pull th••e ••ick, if possi••le.
SEe how the crowding Pe ople flow to hear the new sprung Doctrine, and bring dayly Gifts to those that teach it.
It is true, nor must we be behind hand, since we have embrac••t it.
It is true, but if we sell our poor inheritance, and part with all the price, how shall we afterwards subsist; Indeed I'de willingly partake of the joys the Teachers promise; yet methinks I would not be poor, for that will r••nder us contemptible.
Take no care for that, we`ll give, and yet we will save enough to keep us from contempt.
But how if the fraud should be discovered.
O fear it not, what M••rtal can discover it? he that bought it, knows not ou•• intention, or if he does, will never inquire how we bestow the coin.
I dare beleive as much, therefore go you, and lay a part of it at the great Teachers Feet, whilst •• secure the rest, and then I will follow for my Be∣nediction.
I'le do as you advise, and hope to be as well ac∣cepted as those who part with all they have,
But if you should be asked, if what you bring, is the total Summ, where are you then.
Why thinkest thou, he that has devised, canno•• without a blush, affirm it is the whole? nor let you•• assuration be less, least we should differ, and by tha•• means be detected.
I'le warrant you I'le have my lesson, therefore be concerned no further, but about it.
HOw now my Vice-roy, wherefore is it you give ground? have not I furnished you with Miracles, and sealed you with my mighty wonders.
Great Prince of ••••••kness, whom I still admire, I•• cannot be that you are ignorant of all the wond••••s; that of late have overspr••ad the Coast, Miracles so far ex∣ceeding what is in my power, that now w••atever I doe, but dimly shines, my Fame is quite eclipsed, and all my Reputation is lost.
Ha —Can such a thing ever be, when I use such transcendent dilig••nce to make you dreaded throughout every Coast; what Miracles unheard of hast thou wrought? when once assis••ed by my fla∣ming Legions; what storms have risen at thy bid∣ding? What loud thundrings roar'd, and lightnings seem'd to burn the World? how has the trem∣bling
Earth been tost? and how the ocean still'd and s••irr'd; what Mac••ins hast thou reared by Magick power to please the eyes of Princes? how at thy voice have swiftest Rivers stayed? and when you pleas'd, the standing pools raved like the Ocean; how have you turned clear Waters into Blood? and formed dire serpen••s, from whose threatning stings amazed man kind fled, and is it possible that you should be out do••e.
It i••, and all my Magick Power i•• vanished, n••r can you b•• igno••ant of wh••se command I am utterly dis∣abled.
It is true, I am not, yet I will do what is in my Power, to overthrow the Power set up against my Kingdom, nor must you be wanting, as an in∣s••rument in my Fierce hand; all my dread L••gions shall be set on work to raise up Ene••ies against them and inspire my Servants with revenge to shed the blood of those I hate; and such a storm I will raise, that they shall soon be sensible against what power they strive; be diligent then, and expect to ••e protected, if my force and stratagems do not de∣ceive me, whilst I descend and muster up my Le∣gions.
CRuel man, how durst you raise an accusa∣tion against those who have commission from the highest God, even him that rules all things and fills all places.
Was there n••t a cause, since th••y have disposessed me of my profit, that was daily wont to accrae t•• me by y••••r strange divination, when to purchase you of your aged Pa••ents, I was obliged to sell my dear Inheritance.
That was not cause sufficient, but if it was, you see your purpose is quite frustrated; I knew them who they were, and therefore cryed on pur∣pose to be thus released, to be delivered from the s••rugling Fiend that laboured in my Breast, and see ••is come to pass as I could wish.
It is so, and by it I am undone for ever; O! how rich should I have been, had not these Men unhappily ar∣rived; but yet they went not hence unpunished.
Yet wo to them, whose wicked hands have done so cursed a deed; better it was they never had ••iewed the light: It plain appears how much their God was angry, when he shuck the Earths foun∣dation, that the tottering World seemed to un∣hinge; his presence too was seen in the amazing brightness that filled all the place, 'twas he that loosed them from their bands, and stayed the Goa∣lers rash design, he bowed the hearts of those proud Magistrates, and made them tremble at what they had done.
'Tis all mysterious, and methinks I am smitten with remorse, but tell me are you pleased now as here∣tofore, when your admired breast was held the Cabinet of Fate, to tell things admirable, and unriddle darkest Misteries, proclaim what future Ages should produce, and well presage the sure events of Peace and War.
Pleased infinitely more, for now instead of a damned fury that inebriated all my Senses, whilst he yell'd his horrid stories, divine rayes of saving Grace enlighten my dark Soul, O blessed change.
You tell me stories strange, but yet I must beleive ••hem true, and henceforth make it my endeavours to be∣w••il my crime.
That I may scape the Fury of that God, That shook the Earth, unfixing its vast load.SEe you not Fellow Labourer, how great Di∣ana's Name is almost sunk, since this new Doctrine has or'espread our Coast, none now regard her Shrines as heretofore.
'Tis true, we see it but too plain, how her negle∣cted Altar stands, no crouds of Grecians now rest her Faun, but listening to new Doctrine, are become re∣gardless.
Our trade you see is lost thereby, and we re∣duced to poverty, therefore give counsel what course we must take to uneclipse the Goddess fame, and settle the giddy Multitit••de to their old de∣••otion.
No better way, than by insinuating the dangerous consequence of this new doctrine, to set the rout a mad∣ding, raise a tumult, and whilst each gabbles out he knows not what, put all into confusion.
But what would be the effect of such disorder, should we raise it?
O! slow of apprehension, why in the uproar, these Teachers, ten to one, will fall a Sacrifice to the unruly Fury of the vulgar, who in their heat triumph in mis∣cheif, that w••en cool they sadly lament.
Let us loose no time then, but disperse our selves amongst them, and proclaim the wonders great Diana has already done, and tell what more she is like to do, and clamour loud, great is Diana of the Ephesians.
We will instantly put this in practice, that your trade may be restored; come, come about it.
O What a Tempest have we scaped! how the rough winds assailed from all their quarters our distressed Bark, and yet strong she laboured with the waves.
'Tis true, the ••laming Skies sent fire upon us in such dreadful sort, that every moment I ex∣pected we should be a blaze.
'Tis wonderful that none of us should perish in sogreat a danger.
We might have prevented this sad ruine, had we taken the good Prisoners word, who told us what would come to pass.
Sure he is some Angel, that was sent to save, for I never thought we could have weathered such a Tempest, to have brought our Ship into the Harbour.
He is a Heavenly Man past doubt, some man protected by a power divine, or else the Viper would have killed him.
Nay ••he wicked Soldiers were about to do it, and we should have perished for his blood.
I wonder what he is sent to Caesar for.
They say about his Doctrine, If so, I doubt not but he will come off, for all he speaks is Hea∣venly, and I hear him ever.
Nay of us admire; but now night calls us, and we must to our apartments, and for the future, if we get another Vessel, I kope our Master will re∣gard him more, and give good heed to all he says.
He ought to do it, and no doubt when Cae∣sar hears of what has passed, he will not frown up∣on a Man, for whose sake, Heaven has spared our lives; but come for this time let us hence.
Spirit.
Flesh.
Spirit pre∣vails.
The 〈…〉〈…〉.
He passes to the Den.