JOB MILITANT: WITH MEDITATIONS DIVINE AND MORAL.  Horat. car. lib. 1. ode 17. 
— Dijs, pietas mea,  
Et Musa, cordiest.—  
By FRA. QVARLES.  
SAPIENTIA PACEM PAX OPULENTIAM.  
F K  
LONDON, Printed by Felix Kyngston for George Winder, and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dunston's Churchyard in Fleetstreet. 1624.   

TO THE HIGH AND THRICE ILLUSTRIOUS Prince, CHARLES', Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall and York, Albany and Rothsay, marquis of Ormont, Earl of Rosse, and Baron of Armanoch, High Seneschal of Scotland, Lord of the Isles, and Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter.  

THrice-hopefull Earnest of a Royal Race,  
Whom Art and Nature, to return Complete,  
Have prayed the Aid of a Diviner Grace,  
Whereby thou art a Prince, as Good, as Great;  
Nature and Art have both been proud e'er since,  
In their Composure of so Rare a Prince.   

Rare Prince,  
Oh! let the Influence of thy quickening Ray  
Affect these faint, and indisposed Lines,  
That they may flourish, as the Child of May,  
And clime, like fresh Aurora's Eglentines;  
That, by the smell, the World may know, this Flower  
Hath had th' aspect of such a Sun, as You are.   

Before the Luster of so pure a Light,  
My prostrate heart (swollen big with Loyaltic)  
Presents this Legend of a sad Delight;  
Which if made Glorious with thy pleased Eyc,  
My Works are crowned with like Honour, done  
By Princely Caesar, and his Princely Son.   
Your Highnesses, in Choice Affection, and Chaste Loyalty, Francis Quarles.   

A PREFACE TO THE READER.  
I Present thee with a new work, a work difficult and intricate, wherein (I confess) I had suffered shipwreck on the first shore, had I not been steered by the better Pilots, by whose compass I have securely sailed, and (weatherbeaten,) I salute thee serious Reader.  
I commend to thee here the History of job, in part, Periphrased; in part, Abridged. It is not of the nature of a Parable (whereon Historical Faith depends not,) no feigned thing, or counterfeit Scene (as many rash heads would,) but a true and faithful record of real passages, as appears by the holy Scriptures, where the Spirit of God pleaseth 
Ezech. 14. 15, 20.  to mention the name of this our job. And Saint 
james 5. 11.  Chrysostome in some of his writings, saith; That his Sepulchre in his days was to be seen in Arabia Foelix.  
Who this job was, and from what stock descended, it shall appear by the consent of the most famous and ancient Writers, who absolutely derive him from the Loins of Esau: Of which opinion is Origen in Epist. ad julium Affricanum. Saint Augustine18. de Civit. Dei, 47. Saint Chrysostome, Concione, 2. de Lazaro. Saint Gregory in praefat. and many more, besides the Septuagints, who in these words (Post Balac autem Iobab qui vocatur job) conclude, that job is but the contraction of jobab, which jobab is of the Lineage of Esau, as appears in his 
* Ambrose et sedulius ad Roman 9 Prosper de pradict. part. 1. c. 22. Eusebius lib. 1. the demonst. Euang cap 1. 14 Peronius lib. 1. de vitis Prophetard. Volateranus lib. 13. sua antropologiae. Gen. 36.  Genealogy. But the adversaries to this opinion (who derive him from Abraham by Keturah) object, that Esau and his Seed were accursed by God, therefore job could not (being so upright a man) spring from so tainted a Generation. To which I answer, that, though Esau be said to be expulsus à primogenitura; yet we read not, that he is exclusus à foedere. And when God in justice curses a Generation in general, yet his mercy (nevertheless) which is endless, he may extend to some in that Offspring in particular.  
Touching the time when these things were done, it is thought, that it was before Moses penned the Law, and much about the days, when the Children of Israel were captived by Pharaoh.  
Who the Penman was, is not directly concluded, and to small purpose to be enquired: Gregorius Romanus saith, That it is in vain to inquire the Writer, where it is certain, the holy Spirit is the Author; yet by some it is (nor without some ground) imagined, that it was done by the pen of Moses, (when he fled into Midian, after he slew the Egyptian,) in Hexameter Verses, from the third Chapter, to the fifth verse of the last.  
To conclude, Reader, I commit this my book to thy fairer disposition. As for Censures, I am so overbold, that I fear none, and I should be overwise, if I deserved none.  An si quis atro dente me petiverit, 
Hor. Epod 6.  Inultus, ut flebo, puer? 
Farewell.   

THE PROPOSITION OF THE WORK.  

Wouldst thou discover in a curious Map,  
That Island, which fond worldlings call, Mishap,  
Surrounded with a Sea of briny Tears,  
The rocky dangers, and the boggy Fears,  
The storms of Trouble, the afflicted Nation,  
The heavy soil, the lowly situation?  
On wretched job, then spend thy weeping eye,  
And see the colours painted curiously.   

Wouldst thou behold a Tragic Scene of sorrow,  
Whose woeful Plot, the Author did not borrow  
From sad Invention? The sable Stage,  
The lively Actors, with their Equipage?  
The Music made of Sighs, the Songs of Cries,  
The sad Spectators, with their watery Eyes?  
Behold all this, comprised here in One,  
Expect the Plaudit, when the Play is done.   

Or wouldst thou see a well-built Pinnace tossed  
Upon the swelling Ocean, split (almost)  
Now, on a churlish Rock, now, fiercely striving  
With labouring Winds, now, desperately driving  
Upon the boiling Sands, her storme-rent Flags,  
Her Mainmast broke, her Canvas torn to Rags,  
Her Treasure lost, her Men with Lightning slain,  
And left a Wreck to the relentless Maine?  
This, this and more, unto your moistened Eyes,  
Our patient job shall lively moralise.   

Wouldst thou behold unparallelled Distress,  
Which minds cannot out-thinke, nor tongues express  
Full to the life; The Anvil, whereupon  
Mischief doth work her Masterpiece, for none  
To imitate; The dire Anatomy  
Of (curiously dissected) Misery;  
The face of Sorrow, in her stearnest looks,  
The rueful Arg'ment of all Tragic books?  
In brief, Would tender eyes endure to see  
(Summed up) the greatest sorrows, that can be?  
Behold they then, poor job afflicted here,  
And each Beholder spend (at least) his Tear.    

THE GENERAL ARGUMENT OF THE HISTORY.  
JOB, tried of God, by the loss of his Children, Goods and Health, is tempted by his Friends to despair, and by his Wife to blasphemy; nevertheless, continues patient for a while; but at last yields to Passion, curses his birthday, and wishes death. His Wife and three Friends condemn him of Hypocrisy; job defends his speeches, God's justice, and his own Integrity, blaming his Friends for handling God's cause to an ill end, and for accusing him without a cause. At length Elihu makes a modest agreement between them, reproves them all; him, for not handling a good cause well; and them, for handling a bad cause, though well. He teaches job God's greatness by his works, and that man ought not to plead with his Maker. In fine, God himself out of a Cloud, confirms Elihu's words, by example from his works, puts job to silence, to confession and repentance, rebukes his three Friends, commands reconciliation, restores job his Health, doubles his former Wealth, and gives him a second Issue of his body.   

TO THE GREAT TETRAGRAMATON, LORD PARAMOUNT OF HEAVEN AND EARTH: HIS Humble servant dedicates himself, And Implores the Enfranchising of his Muse.  

1  
GReat God, the indebted praises of thy Glory,  
If Man should smother, or his Muse wax faint  
To number forth; the Stones would make complaint,  
And write a never-ending Story,  
And, not without just reason, say,  
men's hearts are more chdure than they.   

2  
Dismount from Heaven (O thou Diviner Power)  
Handsel my slender Pipe, breathe (thou) upon it,  
That it may run an everlasting Sonnet,  
Which Envious Time may not devower:  
Oh, let it sing to after-days  
(When I am Dust) thy louder Praise.   

3  
Direct the footsteps of my sober Muse  
To tread thy glorious Path: For, be it known,  
She only seeks thy Glory, not her own,  
Nor roused for a second use;  
If otherwise, O! may she never  
Sing more, but be struck dumb for ever.    

JOB MILITANT.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
jobs Lineage and Integrity,  
His Issue, Wealth, Prosperity,  
His children's holy Feast: His wise  
Forecast, and zealous Sacrifice.  
Sect. 1.  

NOt far from Casius, in whose bounteous womb, 
Chap. 1. 1.   
Great Pompey's dust lies crowned with his Tomb,  
Westward, betwixt Arabia and judaea,  
Is situate a Country, called Idumaea,  
There dwelled a Man (brought from His Linniage,  
That for his belly, swopt his Heritage,)  
His name was job, a man of upright Will,  
Justiniano, fearing Heaven, eschewing what was Ill,  
On whom his God had heaped in highest measure,  
The bounteous Riches, of his boundless Treasure,  
As well of Fortune, as of Grace, and Spirit;  
Goods for his children, Children to inherit;  
As did his Name, his Wealth did daily wax,  
His Seed did germinate in either Sex  
A hopeful issue, whose descent might keep  
His righteous Race on foot; seven thousand Sheep  
Did pay their Summer-Tribute, and did add  
Their Winter Blessings to his Fold: He had  
Three thousand Camels, able for their load,  
Five hundred Asses, furnished for the Road,  
As many Yoke of Oxen, to maintain  
His household, for he had a mighty Train;  
Nor was there any in the East, the which  
In Virtue was so rare, in Wealth so rich.   

Upon a time, his Children (to improve  
The sweet affection of their mutual love)  
Made solemn Feasts; each feasted in his turn,  
(For there's a time to mirth, aswell as mourn)  
And who, by course, was Master of the Feast,  
Unto his home invited all the rest.   

Even as a Hen (whose tender brood forsakes  
The downy closet of her Wings, and takes  
Each its affected way) marks how they feed,  
This, on that Crum; and that, on t'other Seed,  
Moves, as they move; and stays, when as they stay,  
And seems delighted in their Infant-play:  
Yet (fearing danger) with a busy eye,  
Looks here and there, if ought she can espy,  
Which (unawares) might snatch a booty from her,  
Eyes all that pass, and watches every comer.  
Even so the affection of this tender Sire  
(Being made more fervent, with the selfsame fire  
Of dearest love, which flamed in their breasts,  
Preserved (as by Fuel) in those Feasts)  
Was ravished in the height of joys, to see  
His happy children's tenfold unity:  
As was his joy, such was his holy Fear,  
Lest he, that plants his Engines everywhere,  
Baited with golden Sins, and re-insnares  
The soul of man, turning his Wheat to Tares,  
Should season Error with the taste of Truth,  
And tempt the frailty of their tender youth.   

No sooner therefore had the dappled sky  
Opened the Twilight of her waking eye,  
And in her breaking Light, had promised day,  
But up he rose, his holy hands did lay  
Upon the sacred Altar (one by one)  
An early Sacrifice for every Son:  
For who can tell, (said he?) my Sons (perchance) 
Job sacrifice●.   
Have slipped some Sin, which neither Ignorance  
Pleaded, nor want of heed, nor youth can cure.  
Sin steals, unseen, when men sleep most secure.   

Meditatio prima.  

WAnt is the Badge of Poverty: Then he  
That wanteth most, is the most poor, say we.  
The Wretch, that Hunger drives from door to door,  
Aiming at present Alms, desires no more.  
The toiling Swain, that hath with pleasing trouble,  
Cocked a small fortune, would that Fortune double,  
Which dear bought with slavery, than (alas)  
He would be deemed a Man, that's well to pass:  
Which got, his mind's now tickled with an Itch,  
But to deserve that glorious style of Rich.  
That done, h'enioyes the Crown of all his labour,  
Could he but once out-nose his right-hand-neighbour.  
lives he at quiet now? Now, he begins  
To wish, that Vs'rie were the least of sins:  
But great or small, he tries, and sweet's the trouble,  
And for its sake, he wishes all things double. 

Hor. Car. lib. 3. Od. 24. — improbae  
Crescunt divitiae, tamen  
Curtae nescio quid semper abest rei.  
Non qui parum habet est pauper,  
Sed qui plus cupit. Sen ad Luc.  
— Multa petentibus  
Desunt multa. Bene est cut Deus obtulit  
Parca, quod satis est, manu.  
Hor car. lib. 3. Ode 16. Simile.    
Thus wishing still, his wishes never cease,  
But as his Wealth, his Wishes still increase.   

Wishes proceed from Want: The Richest then,  
Most wishing, want most, and are poorest men:  
If he be poor, that wanteth much, how poor  
Is he, that hath too much, and yet wants more?  
Thrice happy he, to whom the bounty of Heaven,  
Sufficient, with a sparing hand, hath given:  
'tis Grace, not Gold, makes Great; sever but which,  
The Rich man is but poor; the Poor man, rich.  
The fairest Crop of either Grass, or Grain,  
Is not for use, vndewed with timely Rain.  
The wealth of Croesus, were it to be given,  
Were not thankworthy, if unblessed by Heaven.   

Even as fair Phoebe, in Diameter,  
(Earth interposed betwixt the Sun and Her)  
Suffers Eclipse, and is disrobed quite  
(During the time) of all her borrowed Light;  
So Riches, which fond Mortals so embrace,  
If not enlightened with the Beams of Grace,  
Being interposed with too gross a Care,  
They lie obscured, and no Riches are.   

My stint of Wealth lies not in my expressing,  
With Jacob's Store (Lord) give me Jacob's Blessing;  
Or if, at night, thou grant me Lazars Boon,  
Let Dives Dogs lick all my sores at noon.  
Lord, pair my Wealth, by my Capacity,  
Lest I, with it, or it suit not with me.  
This humbly do I sue for, at thy hand,  
Enough, and not too much, for my command.   

Lord, what thou lendest, shall serve but in the place  
Of reckoning Counters, to sum up thy Grace.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Satan appears, and then professes  
Himself man's Enemy, confesses  
God's love to job, maligns his Faith,  
Gaines power over all he hath.  
Sect. 2.  

Upon a time, when heavens sweet Choir of Saints, 
Chap 16.   
(Whose everlasting Halleluiah chants  
The highest praise of their celestial King)  
Before their Lord, did the presentment bring,  
Of th' execution of his sacred Will,  
Committed to their function to fulfil:  
Satan came too (That Satan, which betrayed  
The soul of man, to Death's eternal shade,  
Satan came too) and in the midst he stands,  
Like to a Vulture 'mongst a Herd of Swans.   

Said, then, th' Eternal; From what quarter now, 
God questions Satan.   
Hath business brought thee? (Satan) Whence comest thou?   

Great Lord of Heaven (said th' Infernal) since 
Satan's answer.   
Thou hast entitled me the World's Great Prince,  
I have been practising mine old profession,  
And come from compassing my large Possession,  
Tempting thy sons, and (like a roaring Lion)  
Seeking my prey, disturb the peace of Zion;  
I come from sowing Tares, among thy Wheat;  
To him, that shall dissemble Peter's Seat,  
I have been plotting, how to prompt the death  
Of Christian Princes, and the bribed breath  
Of cheapened justice, hath my Fire inflamed  
With spirit of boldness, for a while, unshamed.  
●●come from planting strife, and stern debate,  
'twixt private man and man, 'twixt State and State,  
subverting Truth with all the power I can,  
Accusing Man to God, and God to Man:  
I daily sow fresh Schisms among thy Saints;  
I buffet them and laugh, at their complaints;  
The Earth is my Dominion, Hell's my Home,  
I round the World, and so from thence I come.   

Said then th' Eternal: True, thou hast not failed 
God speaks to Satan.   
Of what thou sayest; Thy Spirit hath prevailed  
To vex my little Flock; Thou hast been bold  
To make them stray, a little, from their Fold.  
But say; In all thy hard Adventures, hath  
Thine eye observed job my Servant's Faith?  
Hath open Force, or secret Fraud beset  
His Bulwarks, so impregnable, as yet?  
And hast thou (without envy) yet beheld,  
How that the World, his second cannot yield?  
Hast thou not found, that he's of upright Will,  
Justiniano, fearing God, eschewing what is Ill?   

True Lord, (replied the Fiend) thy Champion hath 
Satan's reply.   
A strong and fervent (yet a crafty) Faith,  
A forced love needs no such great applause,  
He loves but ill, that loves not for a cause.  
Hast thou not heaped his Garners with excess?  
Enriched his Pastures? Doth not he possess  
All that he hath, or can demand, from Thee?  
His Coffers filled, his Land stocked plenteously?  
Hath not thy Love surrounded him about,  
And hedged him in, to fence my practice out?  
But small's the trial of a Faith, in this,  
If thou support him, 'tis thy strength, not his.  
Can then my power, that stands by thy permission,  
Encounter, where Thou mak'st an Opposition?  
Stretch forth thy Hand, and smite but what he hath,  
And prove thou then, the temper of his Faith;  
Cease cock'ring his fond humour, veil thy Grace,  
No doubt, but he'll blaspheme thee to thy Face.   

Lo, (said th' Eternal) to thy cursed hand, 
God licences and limits Satan.   
I here commit his mighty Stock, his Land,  
His hopeful Issue, and Wealth, though ne'er so much;  
Himself, alone, thou shalt forbear to touch.   

Meditatio secunda.  

SAtan begged once, and found his Prayers reward: 
Object.   
We often beg, yet oft return, unheard.   

If granting be th' effect of Love, than we 
Resol.   
Conclude ourselves, to be less loved, than he.  
True, Satan begged, and begged his shame, no less;  
'T was granted; Shall we envy his success?  
We beg, and our request's (perchance) not granted;  
God knew, perhaps, it were worse had, then wanted.   

Can God and Belial both join in one Will;  
The One to ask, the Other to fulfil? 
Object.    

Sooner shall Stygian Darkness blend with Light,  
The Frost with Fire, sooner Day with Night. 
Resol.   
True, God and Satan willed the self same Will,  
But God intended Good; and Satan, Ill:  
That Will produced a several conclusion;  
He aimed at Man's, and God, at his confusion.  
He that drew Light, from out the depth of Shade,  
And made of Nothing, whatsoe'er He made,  
Can, out of seeming Evil, bring good Events; 
Volens agit Deus per malum instrumentum. Simile.   
God worketh Good, though by evil Instruments.   

As in a Clock, one motion doth convey,  
And carry diverse wheels a sever all way:  
Yet all together, by the great wheels force,  
Direct the Hand unto his proper course:  
Even so, that sacred Will, although it use  
Means seeming contrary, yet all conduce  
To one effect, and in a free consent,  
They bring to pass heavens high decreed Intent.   

Takes God delight in humane weakness, then?  
What Glory reaps he from Afflicted men? 
Object.   
The Spirit gone, can Flesh and Blood endure? 
Resp.   
God burns his Gold, to make his Gold more pure:   

Even as a Nurse, whose child's imperfect pace 
Simile.   
Can hardly lead his foot from place to place,  
Leaves her fond kissing, sets him down, to go,  
Nor does uphold him, for a step, or two:  
But when she sindes that he begins to fall,  
She holds him up, and kisses him withal:  
So God, from man sometimes withdraws his Hand  
A while, to teach his Infant-faith to stand;  
But when he sees his feeble strength begin  
To fail, He gently takes him up again.   

Lord, I'm a child; so guide my paces, than,  
That I may learn to walk an upright man:  
So shield my Faith, that I may never doubt thee,  
For I shall fall, if ere I walk without thee.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
The frighted Messengers tell job  
His fourfold loss: He rends his Robe,  
Submits him to his Maker's trust,  
Whom he concludeth to be lust.  
Sect. 3.  

Upon that very day, when all the rest  
Were frolic at their elder Brother's feast, 
Chap. 1. v 13.   
A breathless man, pricked on with winged fear,  
With staring eyes, distracted here and there, 
The first Messenger.   
(Like kindled Exhalations in the air  
At midnight glowing) his stiffe-bolting hair,  
Not much unlike the pens of Porcupines)  
Crossing his arms, and making woeful signs,  
Purboyld in sweat, shaking his fearful head,  
That often looked behind him, as he fled,  
He ran to job, still nevertheless afraid,  
His broken blast breathed forth these words, and said,   

Alas (dear Lord the whiles thy servants plied  
Thy painful Plough, and whilst, on every side  
Thy Asses fed about us, as we wrought,  
There sallied forth on us (suspecting nought,  
Nor aught intending, but our cheerful pain)  
A rout of rude Sabaeans, with their Train  
Armed with Death, and deaf to all our Cries,  
Which, with strong Hand, did in an hour surprise  
All that thou hadst, and whilst we strove (in vain  
To guard them, their impartial hands have slain  
Thy faithful servants, with their thirsty Sword;  
I only 'scaped, to bring this woeful word.   

No sooner had he closed his lips, but see!  
Another comes, as much aghast as he: 
The second Messenger   
A flash of Fire (said he) new fall'n from Heaven,  
Hath all thy Servants of their lives bereaven,  
And burned thy Sheep; I, I alone am He,  
That's left unslain, to bring the News to thee.   

This Tale not fully told, a third ensues, 
The third Messenger.   
Whose lips, in labour with more heavy News,  
Broke thus; The forces of a triple Band,  
Brought from the fierce Caldaeans, with strong hand,  
Hath seized thy Camels, murdered with the Sword  
Thy servants all, but Me, that brings thee word.   

Before the air had cooled his hasty Breath, 
The fourth Messenger.   
Rushed in a fourth, with visage pale as death:  
The while (said he) thy children all were sharing  
Mirth, at a Feast of thy first sons preparing,  
Arose a Wind, whose errand had more haste  
Then happy speed, which with a full-mouth Blast,  
Hath smote the house, which hath thy children reft  
Of all their lives, and thou art childless left;  
Thy children all are slain, all slain together,  
I only scap't to bring the Tidings hither.   

So said, Behold the man, whose wealth did flow  
Like to a springtide, one bare hour ago,  
With the vnpatterned height of Fortunes blest,  
Above the greatest Dweller in the East;  
He, that was Sire of many Sons but now,  
Lord of much People, and while-ere could show  
Such Herds of cattle, He, whose fleecy stock  
Of Sheep could boast seven thousand, in a flock,  
See how he lies, of all his Wealth despoiled,  
He now hath neither Servant, Sheep, nor Child;  
Like a poor man, arose the Patient job,  
(Stun'd with the news) and rend his Purple Robe,  
Shaved the hair from off his woeful head,  
And, prostrate on the floor he worshipped:   

Naked, ah! Poor and naked did I come  
Forth from the closet of my mother's Womb;  
And shall return (alas) the very same  
To th' earth as Poor, and naked, as I came:  
God gives, and takes, and why should He not have  
A privilege, to take those things, he gave?  
We men mistake our Tenure oft, for He  
Lends us at Will, what we miscall as Free;  
He reassumes his own, takes but the same  
He lent a while. Thrice blessed be his Name.  
In all this passage, job, in Heart, nor Tongue,  
Thought God unjust, or charged his hand with wrong.   

Meditatio tertia.  

THe proudest pitch of that victorious spirit  
Was but to win the World, whereby t'inherit 
Alexander.   
The airy purchase of a transitory,  
And glozing Title of an age's Glory;  
Wouldst thou, by Conquest, win more Fame than He?  
Subdue thyself; thyself's a World to thee:  
Earth's but a Ball, that Heaven hath quilted o'er  
With Wealth, and Honour, banded on the floor  
Of sickle Fortunes false and slippery Court,  
Sent for a Toy, to make us Children sport,  
Man's satiate spirits, with fresh delights supplying▪  
To still the Foundlings of the world, from crying,  
And he, whose merit mounts to such a joy,  
Gains but the Honour of a mighty Toy.   

But wouldst thou conquer, have thy Conquest crowned  
By hands of Seraphims, triumphed with the sound  
Of Heaven's loud Trumpet, warbled by the shrill  
Celestial Choir, recorded with a Quill,  
Plucked from the Pinion of an Angel's wing,  
Confirmed with joy, by heaven's Eternal King?  
Conquer thyself, thy rebbel thoughts repel,  
And chase those false Affections that rebel.   

Hath Heaven despoiled what his full hand hath given thee?  
Nipped thy succeeding Blossoms? or bereaven thee  
Of thy dear latest hope, thy bosom Friend?  
Doth sad Despair deny these griefs an end?  
Despair's a whispering Rebel, that, within thee,  
Bribes all thy Field, and sets thyself again thee:  
Make keen thy Faith, and with thy force, let flee.  
If thou not conquer him, he'll conquer thee:  
Advance thy Shield of Patience to thy head,  
And when Grief strikes, 'twill strike the striker dead;  
The Patient man, in sorrow, spies relief,  
And by the tail, he couples joy with Grief.   

In adverse fortunes, be thou strong and stout,  
And bravely win thyself, Heaven holds not out  
His Bow, for ever bend. The disposition  
Of noblest spirits, doth, by opposition,  
Exosperate the more: A gloomy night  
Whets on the morning, to return more bright;  
A Blade well tried, deserlies a treble price,  
And virtue's purest, most oppoed by Vice:  
Brave minds, oppressed, should (in despite of Fate)  
Look greatest, (like the Sun) in lowest state.   

But ah! shall God thus strive with flesh and blood? 
Object.   
Receives he Glory from, or reaps he Good  
In mortals Ruin, that he leaves man so,  
To be overwhelmed by his unequal Foe?   

May not a Potter, that, from out the Ground, 
Res.   
Hath framed a vessel, search if it be sound?  
Or if, by furbushing, he take more pain  
To make it fairer, shall the Pot complain?  
Mortal, thou art but Clay: then shall not He,  
That framed thee for his service, season thee?  
Man, close thy lips; Be thou no undertaker  
Of God's designs; Dispute not with thy Maker.   

Lord, 'tis against thy nature to do ill,  
Then give me power to bear, and work thy Will;  
Thou knowst what's best, make thou thine own Conclusion,  
Be glorified, although in my Confusion.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Satan the second time appears,  
Before th' Eternal, boldly dares  
Malign jobs tried Faith afresh,  
And gains th' afflicting of his Flesh.  
Sect. 4.  

ONce more, when heavens harmonious Choristers  
Appeared before his Throne, (whose Ministers  
They are, of his concealed will) to render  
Their strict account of justice, and to tender  
Th' accepted Sacrifice of highest praise,  
(Warbled in Sonnets, and celestial Lays)  
Satan came too, bold, as a hungry Fox,  
Or ravenous Wolf amid the tender Flocks,   

Satan, (said then th' Eternal) from whence now 
God questions Satan.   
Hath thy employments driven thee? whence comest thou?   

Satan replies: Great God of heaven and earth, 
Satan answer.   
I come from tempting, and from making mirth:  
To hear thy dearest children whine, and roar:  
In brief, I come, from whence I came before.   

Said then th' Eternal, Hast thou not beheld 
God replies to Satan.   
My servant's Faith, how, like a sevenfold shield,  
It hath defended his Integrity  
Against thy fiery Darts; Hath not thine Eye,  
(Thine envious eye) perceived how purely just  
He stands, and perfect, worthy of the trust  
I lent into his hand, persisting still  
Just, fearing God, eschewing what is ill?  
'T was not the loss of his so fair a Flock,  
Nor sudden rape of such a mighty Stock;  
'T was neither loss of Servants, nor his Sons  
Untimely slaughter, (acted all at once)  
Could make him quail, or warp so true a Faith,  
Or stain so pure a Love; say (Satan) hath  
Thy hand (so deeply counterfeiting mine)  
Made him mistrust his God, or once repine?  
Can there in all the earth, say, can there be  
A Man so Perfect, and so Just, as He?   

Replies the Tempter, Lord, an outward loss 
Satan's answer.   
Hopes for repair, 'tis but a common cross:  
I know thy servant's wise, a wise forecast,  
Gricues for things present, not for things are past;  
Perchance, the tumour of his sullen heart,  
Brooks loss of all, since he hath lost a part;  
Myself have Servants, who can make true Boast,  
They gave away as much, as he hath lost:  
Others (with learning made so wisely mad)  
Refuse such Fortunes, as he never had;  
A Faith's not tried by this uncertain Tuch,  
Others, that never knew thee, did as much:  
Lend me thy Power then, that I might once  
But sacrifice his Flesh, afflict his Bones,  
And pierce his Hide, but for a moment's space,  
Thy Darling, then, would curse thee to thy Face.   

To which, th' Eternal thus: His body's thine, 
God's reply.   
To plague thy fill, withal, I do confine  
Thy power to her lists, Afflict and tear  
His Flesh at pleasure: But his life forbear.   

Meditatio Quarta.  

BOth Goods, and Body too; Lord, who can stand?  
Expect not jobs uprightness, at my hand,  
Without jobs aid; The temper of my Passion,  
(Untamed by thee) can brook no jobs Temptation,  
For I am Weak, and Frail, and what I can  
Most boast of, proves me but a sinful Man;  
Things that I should avoid, I do; and what  
I am enjoined to do, that do I not.  
My Flesh is weak, too strong in this, alone,  
It rules my Spirit, that should be ruled by none  
But thee; my spirits faint, and hath been never  
Free from the fits of sins Quotidian Fever.  
My powers are all corrupt, corrupt my Will,  
Marble to Good, and Wax to what is Ill;  
Eclipsed is my Reason, and my Wit;  
By interposing Earth 'twixt Heaven, and it:  
My Mem'ry's like a Searce of Lawn (alas)  
It Keeps things gross, and lets the purer pass.   

What have I then to boast, What Title can  
I challenge more than this, A sinful man?  
Yet do I (sometimes) feel a warm Desire,  
Raise my low Thoughts, and dull affections, higher,  
Where, like a soul entransed, my spirit flies,  
Makes leagues with Angels, and brings Deities  
Half way to heaven, shakes hands with Seraphims,  
And boldly mingles wings with Cherubims,  
From whence, I look askance, down the Earth,  
Pity myself, and loath my place of birth:  
But while I thus my lower state deplore,  
I wake, and prove the Wretch I was before.   

Even as the Needle, that directs the Hour, 
Simile.   
(Touched with the Loadstone) by the secret power  
Of hidden Nature, points upon the Pole;  
Even so the wavering powers of my Soul,  
Touched by the virtue of thy Spirit, flee  
From what is Earth, and point alone to Thee.   

When I have saith, to hold thee by the Hand,  
I walk securely, and me thinks I stand  
More sirme than Atlas; but when I forsake  
The safe protection of thine Arm, I quake,  
Like wind-shaki Reeds, and have no strength at all,  
But (as a Vine, the Prop cut down) I fall:   

Yet wretched I (when as thy justice lends  
Thy glorious Presence from me) strait am friends  
With Flesh and Blood, forget thy Grace, fly from it,  
And, like a Dog, return unto my Vomit;  
The sawning world, to Pleasure then invites  
My wand'ring Eyes; The flesh presents Delights  
Unto my yielding heart, which thinks those pleasures,  
Her only business now, and rarest treasures,  
Content can glory in, whilst I, secure,  
Stoop to the painted plumes of Satan's Lure:  
Thus I captived, and drunk with pleasures Wine,  
Like to a mad man, think no state like mine.   

What have I then to boast? What Title can  
I challenge more than this, A sinful man?  
I feel my grief's enough, nor can I be  
Redressed by any, but (Great God) by thee.  
Too great thou art, to come within my Roof,  
Say but the word, Be whole, and 'tis enough;  
Till then, my tongue shall never cease, mine Eyes  
Ne'er close, my lowly bended Knees ne'er rise;  
Till then, my Soul shall ne'er want early sobs,  
My cheeks no Tears, my pensive Breast, no Throbs,  
My Heart shall lack no Zeal, nor tongue expressing.  
I'll strive, like jacob, till I get my Blessing:   

Say then, Be clean, I'll never stop till then,  
Heaven ne'er shall rest, till Heaven shall say, Amen.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
job, smote with Ulcers, grovelling lies,  
Plunged in a Gulf of Miseries,  
His Wife to blasphemy doth tempt him,  
His three Friends visit, and lament him.  
Sect. 5.  

LIke as a Truant-Scholler (whose delay 
Chap. 2. 7.   
Is worse than whipping, having leave to play) 
Simile.   
Makes haste to be enlarged from the jail  
Of his neglected School, turns speedy tail  
Upon his tedious book (so ill befriended)  
Before his Masters Ite be full ended.  
So thankless Satan, full of winged Haste,  
Thinking all time, not spent in Mischief, waste,  
Departs with speed, less patient to forbear  
The patient job, then patient job to bear.   

Forth from the furnace of his Nostril, flies 
job smote with ulcers.   
A sulphurous Vapour, which (by the envious eyes  
Of this foul Fiend inflamed) possessed the fair,  
And sweet complexion of th'abused Air  
With Pestilence, and (having power so far)  
took the advantage of his worse Star,  
Smote him with Ulcers (
* Ezod. 9 10.  such as once befell  
Th' Egyptian Wizzards,) Ulcers 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  hot and fell,  
Which like a searching Tetter uncorrected,  
Left no part of his body unaffected,  
From head to foot, no empty place was found,  
That could b'afflicted with another wound:  
So noy some was the nature of his Grief,  
That (left by Friends, and Wife, that should be chief  
Assister) he (poor he) alone remained,  
Grovelling in Ashes, being (himself) constrained,  
With Potsherds, to scrape off those ripened Cores,  
(Which Dogs disdained to lick) from out his sores.   

Which when his Wife beheld, adust, and keen,  
Her passion waxed, made strong, with scorn & spleen;  
Like as the Winds, imprisoned in the earth, 
Simiie.   
And barred the passage to their natural birth,  
Grow fierce; and nilling to be longer penned,  
Break in an Earth quake, shake the World, and vent;  
So broke she forth, so forth her Fury broke,  
Till now, penned in with shame, and thus she spoke.   

Fond Saint, thine Innocence finds timely speed, 
The speech of Jobs wife.   
A foolish Saint receives a Saintly meed;  
Is this the Just man's Recompense? Or hath  
Heaven no requital for thy painful Faith,  
Other than this? What, have thy zealous Qualms,  
Abstemious Fast, and thy hopeful Alms,  
Thy private Groans, and often bended knees,  
No other End, no other Thanks, but these?  
Fond man, submit thee to a kinder Fate,  
Cease to be righteous, at so dear a rate:  
'Tis Heaven, not Fortune, that thy Weal debars;  
Curse Heaven then, and not thy way ward Stars:  
'Tis God that plagues thee, God not knowing why;  
Curse then that God, revenge thy Wrongs, and Dye.   

job then replied: God loves where he chastised,  
Thou speakest like a Fool, and ill advised;  
Laugh we to lick the sweet, and shall we lower,  
If he be pleased to send a little sour?  
Am I so weak, one Blast or two, should i'll me;  
I'll trust my Maker, though my Maker kill me.   

When these sad tidings filled those itching ears  
Of Earth's black babbling Daughter (she that hears,  
And vents alike, both Truth and Forgeries,  
And utters, often, cheaper than she buys)  
She spread the pinnions of her nimble Wings,  
Advanced her Trumpet, and away she springs,  
And sils the whispering Air, which soon possessed  
The spacious borders of th' enquiring East,  
Upon the summon of such solemn News,  
Whose Truth, malignant Fame could not abuse,  
His woeful 
* Eliphaz, Tsophar, Buildad.  Friends came to him, to the end,  
To comfort, and bewail their wretched Friend.  
But when they came, far off, they did not know,  
Whether it were the selfsame Friend, or no,  
(Brim-filled with briny Woe) they wept, and tore  
(T'express their grief) the garments that they wore,  
Seven days and nights they sat upon the ground,  
But spoke not, for his sorrows did abound.   

Meditatio Quinta.  

SAy, is not Satan justly styled than,  
A Tempter, and an Enemy to Man?  
What could he more? His Wish would not extend  
To Death, lest his assaults, with death, should end:  
Then what he did, what could he further do?  
His Hand hath setzed both Goods, and Body too,  
The hopeful Issue of a holy Strain,  
In such a dearth of holiness, is slain.  
What hath the Lazar left him, but his Grief,  
And (what might best been spared) his foolish Wife?  
Could Mischief been more hard (though more in kind)  
To nip the Flowers, and leave the Weeds behind?   

Woman was made a Helper by Creation,  
A Helper, not alone for Propagation,  
Or fond Delight, but sweet Society,  
Which Man (alone) should want, and to supply  
Comforts to him, for whom her Sex was made,  
That each may joy in either's needful aid:  
But fairest Angels, had the foulest fall;  
And best things (once abused) prove worst of all,  
Else, had not Satan been so foul a Fiend,  
Else, had not Woman proved so false a Friend.   

Even as the treacherous Fowler, to entice 
Simile.   
His silly winged Prey, doth first device  
To make a Bird his stale, at whose false Call,  
Others may chance into the selfsame Thrall:  
Even so, that crafty Snarer of Mankind,  
Finding man's righteous palate not inclined,  
To taste the sweetness of his guilded Baits,  
Makes a collater all Suit, and slily waits  
Upon the weakness of some bosom Friend,  
From whose enticement, he expects his end.   

Ah righteous job, what Cross was left, unknown?  
What Grief may be described, but was thine own?   

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

The worst I'll look for, that I can project,  
If better come, 'tis more than I expect;  
If otherwise, I'm armed with Preparation;  
No sorrow's sudden to an Expectation.   

Lord, to thy Wisdom I submit my Will,  
I will be thankful, send me Good, or Ill;  
If Good, my present State will pass the sweeter;  
If Ill, my Crown of Glory shall be greater.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
O'erwhelmed with grief, job breaketh forth  
Into impatience: Bans his Birth,  
Professes, that his heart did doubt,  
And fear, what, since, hath fallen out.  
Sect. 6.  
WOrne-bare with grief, the patient job betrayed 
Chap 3. job curses his birthday.   
His seven-dayes silence, cursed his day, & said:  
Oh that my Day of birth had never been,  
Nor yet the Night, which I was brought forth in!  
Be it not numbered for a Day, let Light  
Not make a difference 'twixt it, and Night;  
Let gloomy Shades (than Death more sable) pass  
Upon it, to declare how fatal 'twas:  
Let Clouds o'ercast it, and as hateful make it,  
As life's to him, whom Tortures bid, forsake it:  
From her next day, let that black Night be cut,  
Nor in the reckoning of the Months, be put:  
Let Desolation fill it, all night long,  
In it, be never heard a Bridal song:  
Let all sad Mourners, that do curse the Light,  
When light's drawn in, begin to curse this Night.  
Her evening Twylight, let foul Darkness stain,  
And may her Midnight expect Light, in vain;  
Nor let her infant Day (but newly borne)  
Suffered to see the Eyelids of the morn,  
Because my Mother's Womb it would not close,  
Which gave me passage to endure these Woes:  
Why died I not in my Conception, rather?  
Or why was not my Birth, and Death together?  
Why did the Midwife take me on her knees?  
Why did I suck, to feel such Griefs, as these?  
Then had this Body never been oppressed,  
I had enjoyed th' eternal sleep of rest;  
With Kings, and mighty Monarches, that lie crowned  
With stately Monuments, poor I had found  
A place of Rest, had borne as great a sway,  
Had been as Happy, and as Rich as they:  
Why was I not as an abortive Birth,  
That ne'er had known the horrors of the earth?  
The silent Grave is quiet from the fear  
Of Tyrants: Tyrants are appeazed there,  
The grinded Prisoner hears not (there) the noise,  
Nor harder threatenings of th' Oppressor's voice:  
Both Rich and Poor are equalled in the Grave,  
Servants no Lords, and Lords no Servants have:  
What needs there Light to him that's comfortless?  
Or Life to such as languish in distress,  
And long for death, which, if it come by leisure,  
They ransack for it, as a hidden Treasure?  
What needs there Life to him, that cannot have  
A Boon, more gracious, than a quiet Grave?  
Or else to him, whom God hath walled about,  
That would, but cannot find a Passage out?  
When I but taste, my Sighs return my Food,  
The flowing of my Tears have raised a flood;  
When my Estate was prosperous, I did fear,  
Lest, by some heedless, or want of care,  
I might be brought to Misery, and (alas!)  
What I did then so fear, is come to pass:  
But though, secure, my soul did never slumber,  
Yet do my Woes exceed both Weight, and Number.  

Meditatio sexta.  

SO poor a thing is Man. No Flesh and Blood  
Deserves the style of 
* Hor lib. 2. car. ode. 16. Nihilest exom ni parte beatum.  Absolutely Good:  
The righteous man sins oft; whose power's such,  
To sin the least, sins (at the least) too much:  
The 
* Gen. 22. 10.  Man, whose Faith disdained his isack's life,  
Dissembled once, a 
* Ibid. 20. 2.  Sister, for a Wife  
The righteous 
* Gen. 19 33.  Lot, being drunk, did make (at once)  
His Daughters, both, half sisters to their Sons:  
The royal Favourite of heaven, stood  
Not guililesse of 
* 2 Sam. 11. 4, 15  Adultery, and Blood,  
And he, whose hands did build the Temple, doth  
Bow down his lustful knees to 
* 1 King 11 5.  Ashtaroth  
The 
* john 8 9  sinful Woman was accused, but none  
Was found, that could begin to sting a stone.  
From muddled Springs, can Crystal Waters come?  
In some things, all men sin, in all things, some.   

Even at the soil, (which April's gentle showers  
Have filled with sweetness, and enriched with flowers) 
Simile.   
Rears up her suckling plants, still shooting forth  
The tender blossoms of her timely Birth,  
But, if denied the beams of cheerly May,  
They hang their withered heads, and fade away:  
So man, assisted by th' Almighty's Hand,  
His Faith doth flourish, and securely stand,  
But left, awhile, forsook (as in a shade)  
It languishes, and nipped with sin, doth fade:  
No Gold is pure from Dross, though oft refined;  
The strongest Cedar's shaken with the wind;  
The fairest Rose hath no prerogative,  
Against the fretting Cankerworm; The Hive  
No honey yields, unblended with the Wax,  
The finest Linen hath both soil and bracks:  
The best of men have sins; None lives secure,  
In Nature nothing's Perfect, nothing Pure.   

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

To thee (my great Redeemer) do I fly,  
It is thy Death, alone, can change my Dye;  
Tears, mingled with thy Blood, can scour so,  
That Scarlet sins shall turn as white as Snow.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Rash Eliphaz reproves, and rates,  
And falsely censures job; Relates  
His Vision; shows him the event  
Of wicked men: Bids him repent.  
Sect. 7.  

THen Eliphas, his pounded tongue replieued, 
Eliphaz speech Chap. 4.   
And said, Should I contend, thou wouldst be grieved;  
Yet what man can refrain, but he must break  
His angry silence, having heard thee speak?   

O sudden change! Many hast thou directed,  
And strengthened those, whose minds have been dejected,  
Thy sacred Thews, and sweet Instructions, did  
Help those were falling, raised up such as slid:  
But now it is thy case, thy soul is vexed,  
And canst not help thyself, thyself perplexed;  
Thou lov'dst thy God, but basely for thy profit,  
Fearest him, in further expectation of it;  
judge then: Did Record ever round thine ear,  
That God for sooke the heart, that was sincere?  
But often have we seen, that such as plow  
loudness, and Mischief, reap the same they sow?  
So have proud Tyrants from their thrones been cast,  
With all their of spring, by th'Almighties Blast;  
And they, whose hands have been embrued in blood,  
Have with their Issue died, for want of Food:   

A Vision lately ' appeared before my sight, 
The Vision.   
In depth of darkness, and the dead of night,  
Unwonted fear usurped me round about,  
My trembling bones were sore, from head to foot:  
Forthwith, a Spirit glanced before mine eyes,  
My Brows did sweat, my moistened Hair did rise,  
The Face I knew not, but a while it stayed,  
And in the depth of silence, thus it said,   

Is man more Just, more pure than his Creator?  
Amongst his Angels, (more upright by nature  
Then Man) he hath found Weakness, how much more  
Shall he expect in him, that's walled over  
With mortal Flesh, and Blood, founded, and floor'd  
With Dust, and with the Worms to be devoured?  
They rise securely with the Morning Sun,  
And (unregarded) die ere Day be done;  
Their Glory passes with them, as a Breath,  
They die (like Fools) before they think of death.   

Rage then, and see who will approve thy rage, 
Chap. 5.   
What Saint will give thy railing Patronage?  
Anger destroys the Fool, and he that hath  
A wrathful heart, is slain with his own wrath;  
Yet have I seen, that Fools have oft been able  
To boast with Babel, but have fall'n with Babel:  
Their sons despairing, roar without relief  
In open Ruin, on the Rocks of Grief:  
Their harvest (though but small) the hungry eat,  
And robbers seize their wealth, though ne'er so great:  
But wretched man, were thy Condition mine,  
I'd not despair, as thou dost, nor repine,  
But offer up the broken Sacrifice  
Of a sad soul, before his angry eyes,  
Whose Works are Miracles of admiration,  
He mounts the Meek, amidst their Desolation,  
Confounds the worldly wise, that (blindfold) they  
Grope all in Darkness, at the noon of Day:  
But guards the Humble from reproach of wrong,  
And stops the current of the crafty Tongue.  
Thrice happy is the man his Hands correct:  
Beware, lest Fury force thee to reject  
Th' Almighty's Trial; He that made thy Wound  
In justice, can, in Mercy, make it sound:  
Fear not, though multiplied Afflictions shall  
Besiege thee; He, at length, will rid them all;  
In Famine he shall feed, in War defend thee,  
Shield thee from Slander, and in Griefs attend thee,  
The Beasts shall strike with thee eternal Peace,  
The Stones shall not disturb thy fields Increase;  
Thy House shall thrive, replenished with Content,  
Which, thou shalt rule, in prosperous Government,  
The number of thy Offspring shall abound,  
Like Summer's Grass upon a fruitful ground,  
Like timely Corn, well ripened in her Ears,  
Thou shalt depart thy life, struck full of years:  
All this, Experience tells: Then (job) advice,  
Thou hast taught many, now thyself be wise.   

Meditatio septima.  

THe perfect Model of true Friendship's this:  
A rare Affection of the soul, which is 
The description of true friendship.   
Begun with ripened judgement, doth persever  
With simple Wisdom, and concludes with Never.  
'Tis pure in substance, as refined Gold,  
That buyeth all things, but is never sold:  
It is a Coin, and most men walk without it;  
True love's the Stamp, jehovah 's writ about it;  
It rusts, unused, but using makes it brighter,  
Against Heaven high Treason 'tis, to make it lighter.  
'Tis a Gold Chain, links soul and soul together 
Sallies homo amico amicus Ter. Phorm Act. 3. scn 3.   
In perfect Unity, ties God to either.  
Affliction is the Touch, whereby we prove,  
Whether't be Gold, or guilt with feigned Love..  
The wisest Moralist, that ever dived  
Into the depth of Nature's bowels, strived  
With th' Augar of Experience, to bore  
men's hearts so far, till he had found the Ore  
Of Friendship, but, despaying of his end,  
My Friends (said he) there is no perfect Friend. 
Aristotle.   
Friendship's like Music, two Strings tuned alike,  
Will both stir, though but only one you strike.  
It is the Quintessence of all Perfection  
Extracted into one; A sweet connexion  
Of all the Virtues, Moral and Divine,  
Abstracted into One. It is a Mine,  
Whose nature is not rich, unless in making  
The state of others wealthy by partaking:   

It blooms and blossoms, both in Sun and shade,  
Doth (like the Bay in winter) never fade:  
It loveth all, and yet suspecteth none,  
Is provident, yet seeking not her own: 
1. Cor. 13.   
'Tis rare itself, yet maketh all things common,  
And is judicious, yet it judgeth no man.   

The 
* Epaminond as.  noble Theban, being asked, which  
Of 
* Chahrias, or Jphicrates, or himself.  three (propounded) he supposed most rich  
In virtues sacred Treasure, thus replied,  
Till they be dead, that doubt cannot be tried.   

It is no wise man's part, to weigh a Friend,  
Without the gloss, and goodness of his End:  
For Life, without the Death considered, can  
Afford but half a story of the Man.   

'Tis not my friend's Affliction, that shall make  
Me either Wonder, Censure, or Forsake:  
judgement belongs to Fools; enough that I  
Find he's afflicted, not inquire, Why:  
It is the hand of Heaven, That selfsame Sorrow  
Grieves him to Day, may make me groan to Morrow:   

Heaven be my comfort; In my highest grief,  
I will not trust to man's, but Thy relief.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
job counts his sorrows, and from thence  
Excuses his Impatience;  
Describes the shortness of man's Time,  
And makes confession of his Crime.  
Sect. 8.  

But wretched job, sigh't forth these words, & said, 
Chap. 6.   
Ah me! that my Impatience were weighed  
With all my Sorrows, by an equal hand, 
Jobs speech.   
They would be found more ponderous than the sand,  
That lies upon the new-forsaken shore;  
My Griefs want vtt'rance, & have stopped their Door:  
And wonder not; Heaven's shafts have struck me dead,  
And God hath heaped all Mischiefs on my head:  
Will Asses bray, when they have grass to eat?  
Or allows the Ox, when as he wants no meat?  
Can Palates find a relish in distaste?  
Or can the whites of Eggs well please the taste?  
My vexed soul is daily fed with such  
Corruptions, as my hands disdain to touch.  
Alas! that Heaven would hear my hearts Requste,  
And strike me dead, that I may find some Rest:  
What hopes have I, to see my end of grief,  
And to what end, should I prolong my life?  
Why should not I wish Death? My strength, (alas)  
Is it like Marble, or my flesh like Brass?  
What Power have I to mitigate my Pain?  
If e'er I had, that Power now is vain,  
My friends are like the Rivers, that are dry  
In heat of Summer, when necessity  
Requireth water; They amazed stand  
To see my Grief, but lend no helping hand.  
Friends, beg I succour from you? Craved I  
Your Goods, to ransom my Captivity?  
Show me my faults, and wherein I did wrong  
My Patience, and I will hold my tongue;  
The force of reasonable words may move,  
But what can Rage or Lunacy reprove?  
Rebuke you (then) my words, to have it thought  
My speech is frantic, with my grief distraught?  
You take a pleasure in your friend's distress,  
That is more wretched than the Fatherless:  
Behold these Sores: Be judged by your own eyes,  
If these be counterfeited miseries;  
Balance my words, and you shall find me free  
From these foul crimes, wherewith ye branded me,  
And that my speech was not distained with sin,  
Only the language, sorrow treated in.   

Is not man's Day prefixed, which, when expyred, 
Chap 7.   
Sleeps he not quiet, as a servant hired?  
A servant's labour doth, at length, surcease,  
His Day of travel finds a Night of peace,  
But (wretched) I with woes, am still oppressed,  
My midday torments see no even of Rest,  
My nights (ordained for sleep) are filled with grief,  
I look (in vain) for the next day's relief:  
With Dust, and Worms my flesh is hid, my sorrow's  
Have ploughed my skin, and filth lies in her furrows:  
My days of joy are in a moment gone,  
And (hopeless of returning) spent and done:  
Remember (Lord) my life is but a puff,  
ay, but a man, that's Misery enough,  
And when pale Death hath once sealed up my sight,  
I ne'er shall see the pleasures of the light,  
The eye of man shall not discover me,  
No, nor thine (Lord) for I shall cease to be;  
When mortals die, they pass (like clouds before  
The Sun) and back return they never more,  
T'his earthly house he ne'er shall come again,  
And then shall be, as if he ne'er had been:  
Therefore my tongue shall speak, while it hath breath,  
Prompted with grief, and with the pangs of death:  
Am I not weak and saint? What needest thou stretch  
Thy direful hand upon so poor a Wretch?  
When as I think that night shall stop the streams  
Of my distress, thou frightest me then, with dreams,  
So that my soul doth rather choose to dye,  
Then be involved in such misery;  
My life's a burden, and will end: O grieve  
No longer him, that would no longer live.  
Ah! what is Man, that thou shouldst raise him so  
High at first, then, sink him down so low?  
What's Man? Thy glory's great enough, without him:  
Why dost thou (thus) disturb thy mind about him?   

Lord, I have sinned, (Great Helper of mankind)  
I am but Dust and Ashes, I have sinned:  
Against thee (as a mark) why hast thou fixed me?  
How have I trespased, that thou thus afflict'st me?  
Why, rather, didst thou not remove my sin,  
And salve the sorrows that I raved in?  
For thou hast heaped such vengeance on my head,  
That when thou seekest me, thou wilt find me dead.   

Meditatio octava.  

TH' Egyptians, amidst their solemn Feasts,  
Used to welcome, and present their Guests,  
With the sad sight of Man's Anatomy,  
Served in with this loud Motto, All must dye.  
Fool's often go about, when as they may  
Take better vantage of a nearer way;  
Look well into your bosoms; do not slatter  
Your known infirmities: Behold, what matter  
Your flesh was made of: Man, cast back thine eye,  
Upon the weakness of thine Infancy;  
See how thy lips hang on thy mother's Breast,  
Bawling for help, more helpless than a Beast.   

Livest thou to Childhood? Then, behold, what toys  
Do mock the sense, how shallow are thy joys:  
Comest thou to Downy years? see, how deceits  
Gull thee with golden fruit, and with false baits,  
Slily beguile the prime of thine affection:  
Art thou attained at length to full perfection  
Of ripened years? Ambition now hath sent  
Thee on her frothy errand, Discontent  
Pays thee thy Wages: Do thy grizly hairs  
Begin to cast account of many cares  
Upon thy head? The sacred lust of gold  
Now fires thy spirit, for fleshly lust, too cold,  
Makes thee a slave to thine own base desire,  
Which melts and hardens, at the self same Fire:  
Art thou Decrepit? Then thy very breath  
Is grievous to thee, and each grief's a Death:  
Look where thou list, thy life is but a span,  
Thou art but Dust, and, to conclude, A Man.   

Thy life's a Warfare, Thou a Soldier art,  
Satan's thy Foeman, and a faithful Heart,  
Thy two edged Weapon, Patience thy Shield,  
Heaven is thy Chieftain, and the world thy Field.   

To be 
* Mahu est miles qui Imperate rem gemens sequitur. Sen.  afraid to dye, or wish for death,  
Are words and passions of despairing breath:  
Who doth the first, the Day doth faintly yield,  
And who the second, basely flies the Field.   

Man's not a lawful Steares-man of his days,  
His bootless wish, nor hastens, nor delays:  
We are Gods hired Workmen; He discharges  
Some, late at Night, (and when he list) enlarges  
Others at Noon, and in the Morning, some:  
None may relieve himself, till He bid, Come:  
If we receive for one half day, as much  
As they that toil till Evening, shall we grudge?   

Our life's a Road, in death our journey ends,  
We go on God's Embassage, some, he sends  
Called with the trotting of hard Misery, 
Hor. car. lib. 2. odd. 3.   
And others, pacing on Prosperity: 
Omnium versatur urna, serius Ocyius sors exitura.   
Some lag, whilst others gallop on, before;  
All go an end, some faster, and some slower.   


* Epictet. Euchirid. cap. 77.  Led me that pace (great God) that thou think'st best,  
And I will follow with a dauntless breast:  
Which (nevertheless) if I refuse to do,  
I shall be wicked, and yet follow too.  
Assist me in my Combat with the flesh,  
Relieve my fainting powers, and refresh  
My feeble spirit: I will not wish to be  
Cast from the world; Lord, cast the world from me.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Bildad, man's either state expresses,  
God's Mercy ' and justice job confesses;  
He pleads his cause, and begs relief,  
Foiled with the burden of his grief.  
Sect. 9  

SO Bildads' silence (great with tongue) did break, 
Bildads' speech. Chap. 8.   
And, like a heartless Comforter, did speak:  
How long wilt thou persist to breathe thy mind  
In words, that vanish as a storm of wind?  
Will God forsake the Innocent, or will  
His justice smite thee, undeserving ill?  
Though righteous death thy sinful sons hath rend  
From thy sad bosom, yet if thou repent,  
And wash thy ways with undissembled tears,  
Tuning thy Troubles to th' Almighty's ears,  
The mercy of his eyes shall shine upon thee,  
And shower the sweetness of his Blessings on thee:  
And though (a while) thou plunge in misery,  
At length he'll crown thee with prosperity:  
Run back, and learn of sage Antiquity,  
What our late births, to present times, deny,  
See, how, and what (in the world's downy age)  
Befell our fathers in their Pilgrimage;  
If Rushes have no mire, and Grass no rain,  
They cease to flourish, droop their heads, & wain:  
So fades the man, whose heart is not upright,  
So perisheth the double Hypocrite;  
His hopes are like the Spider's web, to day  
That's flourishing, to morrow swept away:  
But he that's just, is like a flowering tree,  
Rooted by Crystal springs, that cannot be  
Scorched by the noon of day, nor stirred from thence,  
Where, firmly fixed, it hath a residence,  
Heaven never fails the soul that is upright,  
Nor offers arm to the base Hypocrite:  
The one, he blesses with eternal joys,  
The other, his avenging hand destroys.   

I yield it for a truth; (sad job replied) 
Chap. 9 Jobs reply.   
Compared with God, can man be justified?  
If man should give account what he hath done,  
Not of a thousand, could he answer one:  
His hand's all-Power, and his heart all pure,  
Against this God, what flesh can stand secure?  
He shakes the Mountains, and the Sun he bars  
From circling his due course, shuts up the Stars,  
He spreads the Heavens, and rideth on the Flood,  
His Works may be admired, not understood:  
No eye can see, no heart can apprehend him,  
Lists he to spoil? What's he can reprehend him?  
His Will's his Law. The smoothest pleader hath  
No power in his lips, to slake his Wrath,  
Much less can I plead fair Immunity,  
Which could my guiltless Tongue attain, yet I  
Would kiss the Footstep of his judgement-seate:  
Should he receive my cry, my grief's so great,  
It would persuade me, that he heard me not,  
For he hath torn me with the fivefold knot  
Of his sharp Scourge, his plagues successive are,  
That I can find no ground, but of Despair.  
If my bold lips should dare to justify  
Myself, my lips would give my lips the lie.  
God owes his mercy, nor to Good, nor Bad;  
The wicked oft he spares, and oft does add,  
Grief, to the Just man's grief, woes after woes;  
We must not judge man, as his Market goes.  
But might my prayers obtain this boon, that God  
Would cease these sorrows, and remove that Rod,  
Which moves my patience, I would take upon me,  
T'impleade before him, your rash judgement on me,  
Because my tender Conscience doth persuade me,  
I'm not so bad, as your bad Words have made me.   

My life is tedious, my distress shall break 
Chap. 10.   
Into her proper Voice, my griefs shall speak;  
(Just judge of Earth) condemn me not, before  
Thou please to make me understand wherefore.  
Agrees it with thy justice, thus to be  
Kind to the Wicked, and so harsh to Me?  
Seest thou with fleshly Eyes? Or do they glance  
By favour? Are they closed with Ignorance?  
Livest thou the life of Man? Dost thou desire  
A space of time to search, or to inquire  
My sin? No, in the twinkling of an eye,  
Thou seest my heart, seest mine Immunity  
Fron those foul crimes, wherewith my friends, at pleasure  
Tax me, yet thou afflict'st me, in this Measure:  
Thy hands have formed, and framed me, what I am,  
When thou hast made, wilt thou destroy the same?  
Remember, I am built of Clay, and must  
Return again (without thy help) to Dust.  
Thou didst create, preserve me, hast endued  
My life with gracious blessings, oft renewed  
Thy precious Favours on me: How wert thou,  
Once, so benign, and so cruel now?  
Thou huntest me like a Prey, my plagues increase,  
Succeed each other, and they never cease.  
Why was I borne? Or why did not my Tomb,  
Receive me (weeping) from my Mother's Womb?  
I have not long to live; Lord, grant that I  
May see some comfort, that am soon to dye.   

Meditatio nona.  

HE that's the truest Master of his own,  
Is never less alone, then when alone,  
His watchful Eyes are placed within his Heart;  
His Skill, is how to know himself; his Art,  
How to command the pride of his Affections,  
With sacred Reason: How to give Directions  
Unto his wand'ring Will; His 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Conscience checks his  
More loser thoughts; His louder sins, she vexes  
With srights, and fears; Within her own precincts,  
She rambles with her 
* Jwenal. Sat. 13. Occultum qua tientean●●o tortore slagcl●um.  Whips of wire, ne'er winks  
At smallest faults. Like as a tender Mother  
(Howe'er she loves her darling) will not smother  
His childish fault, but she (her self) will rather  
Correct, then trust him to his angry Father:  
Even so the tender Conscience of the wise,  
Checks her beloved soul, and doth chastise,  
And judge the Crime herself, lest it should stand,  
As liable to a severer Hand.   

Fond soul, beware, who e'er thou art, that spies  
Another's Fault, that thou thine own, chastise,  
Lest, like a foolish man, thou judge another,  
In those selfe-crimes, which in your breast you smother.   

Who undertakes, to drain his brother's eye  
Of noisome Humours, first, must clarify  
His own, lest when his brother's blemish is  
Removed, he spy a souler Blame in his.   

It is beyond th' extent of Man's Commission,  
To judge of Man: The secret disposition  
Of sacred Providence is 
* Hor. car. lib. 3. Ode 29. Prudens sulturi temporis exitum, caliginosa nocte, prenut Deus. Luk 16. 22.  locked, and sealed  
From man's Conceit, and not to be revealed,  
Until that Lamb break open the Seal, and come  
With Life and Death, to give the World her Doom.   

The Groundwork of our Faith, must not rely  
On bare Events; Peace and Prosperity  
Are goodly Favours, but no proper Mark,  
Wherewith God brands his Sheep: No outward bark  
Secures the body, to be sound within.  
The Rich man lived in Scarlet, died in Sinne.  
Behold th' afflicted man; Affliction moves  
Compassion; but no Confusion proves.  
A gloomy Day brings oft a glorious Even:  
The Poor man died with sores, and lives in Heaven.  
To Good and Bad, both Fortune's Heaven doth share,  
That both, an afterchange, may hope, and fear.   

I'll hope the best (Lord,) leave the rest to thee,  
Lest, while I judge another, thou judge me;  
It's one man's Work, to have a serious sight  
Of his own sins, and judge himself aright.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Zophar blames job; job equal makes  
His wisdom unto theirs: He takes  
In hand to plead with God; and then  
Describes the frail estate of men.  
Sect. 10.  

THen Zophar from deep silence, did awake 
Chap. 11. Zophars' speech.   
His words, with louder language, & be spoke:  
Shall Prattlers be unanswered, or shall such  
Be counted just, that speak, for babbling much?  
Shall thy words stop our mouths? He that hath blamed  
And scoffed at others, shall he dye unshamed?  
Our ears have heard thee, when thou hast excused  
Thyself of Evil, and thy God accused:  
But if thy God should plead with thee at large,  
Thou'dst reap the sorrows of a double Charge.  
Canst thou, by deep enquiry, understand  
The hidden justice of th' Almighty's hand?  
Heaven's large Dimensions cannot comprehend him;  
What e'er he do, what's He, can reprehend him?  
What Refuge hast thou then, but to present  
A heart, enriched with the sad compliment  
Of a true Convert, on thy bended knee,  
Before thy God, t'atone thy God and thee?  
Then doubt not, but he'll rear thee from thy sorrow,  
Disperse thy Clouds, and, like a shining Morrow,  
Make clear thy Sunbeams of Prosperity,  
And rest thy Soul in sweet Security:  
But he, whose heart, obdured in sin, persists,  
His Hopes shall vanish, as the morning Mists.   

But job, even as a Ball, against the ground 
Chap 12.   
Banded with violence, did thus rebound:   

You are the only Wisemen, in your breasts, 
jobs reply.   
The hidden Magazine of true Wisdom rests,  
Yet (though astunned with sorrows) do I know  
A little, and (perchance) as much as you;  
I'm scorned of my Friends, whose prosperous state,  
Surmises me (that have expyred the Date,  
Of Earth's fair Fortunes) to be cast away,  
From Heaven's regard, think none beloved, but they;  
I am despised, like a Torch, that's spent,  
Whilst that the wicked blazes in his Tent:  
What have your wisdoms taught me, more than that,  
Which Birds and Beasts (could they but speak) would chat?  
Digests the Stomach, 'ere the palate tastes?  
O weigh my Words, before you judge my Case.  
But you refer me to our Father's days,  
To be instructed in their wiser Lays.  
True, length of days brings Wisdom; but, I say,  
I have a Wiser teacheth me, than they:  
For I am taught, and tutored by that Hand,  
Whose unresisted power doth command  
The limits of the Earth, whose Wisdom schools  
And trains the Simple, makes the learned, Fools:  
His hand doth raise the poor, deposes Kings;  
On him, both Order, and the Change of things  
Depend, he searches, and brings forth the light,  
From out the shadows, and the depth of night.   

All this, mine own Experience hath found true, 
Chap 13.   
And in all this, I know as much as you.  
But you aver; If I should plead with God,  
That he would double his severer Rod.  
Your tongue belies his justice, you apply  
Amiss, your Medicine, to my Malady;  
In silence, you would seem more Wise, less weak;  
You having spoke, now lend me leave to speak.  
Will you do wrong, to do God's justice right?  
Are you his Counsel? Need you help to fight  
His Quarrels? Or expect you his applause,  
Thus (bribed with self-conceit) to plead his Cause?  
judgement's your Fee, when as you take in hand  
Heaven's cause, to plead it, and not Heaven command.  
If that the foulness of your Censures could  
Not fright you, yet, me thinks, his Greatness should,  
Whose justice, you make Patron of your lies;  
Your slender Maxims, and false Forgeryes,  
Are substanced, like the dust, that flies besides me;  
Peace then, and I will speak, what ere betides me.  
My soul is on the Rack, my tears have drowned me,  
Yet will I trust my God, though God confound me;  
He, He's my Tower of strength; No hypocrite  
Stands, unconfounded, in his glorious sight:  
Balance my words; I know my case would quit  
Me from your censures, should I argue it.  
Who takes the Plaintiffs pleading? Come, for I  
Must plead my Right, or else (perforce) must dye.  
With thee (Great Lord of Heaven) I dare dispute,  
If thou wilt grant me this my double Suit;  
First, that thou slake these sorrows, that surround me,  
Then, that thy burning Face do not confound me;  
Which granted, then take thou thy choice, let me  
Propound the Question, or, else, answer Thee.  
Why dost thou thus pursue me, like thy Foe?  
For what great Sin dost thou afflict me so?  
Breakest thou a withered Leaf? Thy justice doth  
Sum up the Reckon of my sinful Youth;  
Thou keep'st me Prisoner, bound in fetters fast,  
And, like a threadbare Garment, do I wast.   

Man, borne of Woman, hath but a short while 
Chap 14. The shortness of Man's life.   
To live; his Days are fleet, and full of toil;  
He's like a Flower, shooting forth, and dying,  
His Life is as a Shadow, swiftly flying.  
Ah! being so poor a thing, what needest thou mind him?  
The number of his days, thou hast confined him;  
Then add not plagues unto his Grief, O give  
Him peace, that hath so small a time to live;  
Trees, that are felled, may sprout again, Man never;  
His days are numbered, and he dies for ever,  
he's like a Mist, exhaled by the Sun,  
His days once done, they are for ever done.  
O, that thy Hand would hide me close, and cover  
Me in the Grave, till all thy Wrath were over!  
My desperate sorrows hope for no Relief,  
Yet will I wait my Change. My day of grief  
Will be exchanged, for an eternal Day  
Of joy: But now, thou dost not spare to lay  
Full heaps of Vengeance on my broken soul,  
And writest my sins, upon an ample scroll;  
As Mountains (being shaken) fall, and Rocks,  
(Though firm) are worn, & rend with many knocks:  
So strongest men are battered with thy Strength,  
Loose ground, returning to the Ground at length:  
So Mortals die, and (being dead) ne'er mind  
The fairest Fortunes, that they leave behind.  
While man is man (until that death bereave him  
Of his last breath) his Griefs shall never leave him.   

Meditatio decima.  

DOth History then, and sage Chronologie,  
(The Index, pointing to Antiquity,)  
So firmly grounded on deep judgement, guarded,  
And kept by so much Miracle, rewarded  
With so great Glory, serve, but as slight Fables,  
To edge the dulness of men's wanton Tables,  
And claw their itching ears? Or do they, rather,  
Like a concise Abridgement, serve to gather  
Man's high Adventures, and his transitory  
Atchivements, to express his Maker's glory?  
Acts, that have blown the loudest Trump of Fame,  
Are all, but Honours, purchased in His name.   

Is 
* 1. Sam. 10. 1.  he, that (yesterday) went forth, to bring  
His Father's Asses home, (to day) crowned King?   

Did 
* Dan 4 30.  he, that now, on his brave Palace stood,  
Boasting his Babel's beauty, chew the cud  
An hour after? Have not Babes been crowned,  
And mighty Monarches beaten to the ground?  
Man undertakes, Heaven breathes success upon it;  
What Good, what 
* Malum poenae.  Evil is done, but Heaven hath done it?   

The 
* Alexander.  Man, to whom the World was not ashamed,  
To yield her Colours, he, that was proclaimed  
A God, in humane shape, whose dreadful Voice  
Did strike men dead, like Thunder, at the noise;  
Was rend away, from his Imperial Throne,  
Before his flower of Youth was fully blown,  
His Race was rooted out, his Issue slain,  
And left his Empire to another Strain.   

Who, that did ere behold the ancient Rome,  
Would rashly, given her Glory such a doom,  
Or thought her subject to such Alterations,  
That was the 
* Terrarum Domina Gentium que Roma. Martial.  Mistress, and the Queen of Nations?   

Egypt, that in her walls, had once engrossed  
More Wisdom, than the World beside, hath lost  
Her Senses now; Her wisest men of State,  
Are turned, like Puppets, to be pointed at:  
If Rome's great power, and Egypt's wisdom can  
Not aid themselves, how poor a thing is Man?   

God Plays with Kingdoms, as with Tennis-balls,  
Fells some that rise, and raises some that falls:  
Nor Policy can prevent, nor secret Fate,  
Where Heaven hath pleased, to blow upon a State.  
If States be not secure, nor Kingdoms, than  
How helpless (Ah!) how poor a thing is Man!  
Man's like a Flower, the while he hath to last,  
he's nipped with frost, and shook with every blast,  
he's borne in sorrow, and brought up in tears,  
He lives, a while in sin, and dies in fears.   

Lord, I'll not boast, what ere thou give unto me,  
Lest e'er my brag be done, thou take it from me.  
No man may boast, but of his own, I can 
Nemo gloriari debet, nisi de suo, Sen. ad Lucil.   
Then boast of nothing, for I am a Man.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Rash Eliphaz doth aggravate  
The sins of job, maligns his state,  
Whom job reproving, justifies  
Himself, bewails his miseries.  
Sect. 11.  

DOth vain repining (Eliphaz replies) 
Chap. 15. Eliphaz his speech.   
Or words, like wind, beseem the man that's (wise?  
Ah sure, thy faithless heart rejects the fear  
Of heaven, dost not acquaint thy lips with prayer:  
Thy words accuse thy heart of Impudence,  
Thy tongue (not I) brings in the Evidence:  
Art thou the first of men? Do Mysteries  
Unfold to thee? Art thou the only wise?  
Wherein hath Wisdom been more good to you  
Then us? What know you, that we never knew?  
Reverence, not Censure, fits a young man's eyes,  
We are your Ancients, and should be as wise;  
Is't not enough, your Arrogance derides  
Our counsels, but must scorn thy God beside?  
Angels (if God inquire strictly) must  
Not plead Perfection: then, can man be just?   

It is a truth received, these aged eyes  
Have seen't, and is confirmed by the wise,  
That still the wicked man is void of rest,  
Is always fearful, falls, when he fears least,  
In troubles he despairs, and is dejected,  
He begs his bread, his death comes unexpected,  
In his adversity, his griefs shall gaul him,  
And, like a raging Tyrant, shall enthral him,  
He shall advance against his God, in vain,  
For Heaven shall crush and beat him down again;  
What if his Garners thrive, and goods increase?  
They shall not prosper, nor he live in peace,  
Eternal horror shall begird him round,  
And vengeance shall both him and his confound,  
Amidst his joys, despair shall stop his breath,  
His sons shall perish, with untimely death;  
The double soul shall dye, and in the hollow  
Of all false hearts, false hearts themselves shall swallow.   

Then answered job, All this, before I knew, 
Chap. 16. Jobs answer.   
They want no grief, that find such friends as you?  
Ah, cease your words, the fruits of ill-spent hours!  
If heaven should please to make my fortunes yours,  
I would not scoff you, nor with taunts torment ye,  
My lips should comfort, and these eyes lament ye:  
What shall I do? Speak not, my griefs oppress  
My soul, or speak (alas) they're ne'er the less;  
Lord, I am wasted, and my pangs have spent me,  
My skin is wrinkled, for thy Hand hath rend me,  
Mine enemies have smit me in disdain,  
Laughed at my torments, jested at my pain:  
I swelled in wealth, but (now) alas, am poor,  
And field with woe) lie grovelling on the floor,  
In dust and sackcloth, I lament my sorrows,  
Thy Hand hath trenched my cheeks with water-furrowes,  
Nor can I comprehend the cause, that this  
My smart should be so grievous as it is:  
Oh Earth! If then an Hypocrite I be,  
Cover my cries, as I do cover thee,  
And witness Heaven, that these my Vows be true,  
(Ah friends!) I spend my tears to Heaven, not you.  
My time's but short, (alas!) would then, that I  
Might try my cause with God, before I die.   

Since than I languish, and not far from dead, 
Chap. 17.   
Let me, a while, with my Accusers plead  
(Before the judge of heaven, and earth) my right,  
Have they not wronged, and vexed me, day and night?  
Who, first, lays down his Gage, to meet me? Say,  
I doubt not (Heaven being judge) to win the day:  
You'll say, perchance, we'll recompell our word,  
ere simple Truth should, unawares, afford  
Your discontent; No, no, forbear, for I  
Hate less your Censures, than your Flattery;  
I am become a Byword, and a Taber,  
To set the tongues, and ears of men, in labour,  
Mine eyes are dim, my body's but a shade,  
Good men that see my case, will be afraid,  
But not confounded; They will hold their way,  
And in a bad, they'll hope a better day;  
Recant your errors, for I cannot see  
One man, that's truly wise, among you Three;  
My days are gone, my thoughts are mis-possest,  
The silent night, that heaven ordained for rest,  
My day of travel is, but I shall have  
Ere long, long peace, within my welcome grave;  
My nearest kindred, are the worms, the earth  
My mother, for she gave me, first, my birth;  
Where are my hopes then? where that future joy,  
Which you false-prophecyed I should enjoy?  
Both hopes, and I, alike, shall travel thither,  
Where, closed in dust, we shall remain together.   

Meditatio undecima.  

THe Moral Poets, (nor unaptly) fain,  
That by lame Vulcan's help, the pregnant brain  
Of sovereign 
* The Father of the gods.  jove, brought forth, & at that birth;  
Was borne 
* The Goddess of wisdom.  Minerva, Lady of the earth.   

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

The Moral says, All Wisdom that is given  
To hoodwinked mortals, first, proceeds from heaven:  
Truth's error, Wisdom's, but wise insolence,  
And light's but darkness, not derived from thence;  
Wisdom's a strain transcends Morality,  
No virtue's absent, Wisdom being by.  
Virtue, by constant practice, is acquired,  
This (this by sweat vnpurchased) is inspired:  
The masterpiece of knowledge, is to know  
But what is Good, from what is good in show, 
Tla●o in Me none.   
And there it rests: 
* Prudentia sola pralt & ducit ad recte saciendum.  Wisdom proceeds, and chooses  
The 
* Lipsius' civil. doct. lib. 1. cap. 7  seeming Evil, th' apparent Good refuses;  
Knowledge deserves, alone; Wisdom applies,  
That, makes some fools, this, maketh none but wise;  
The curious hand of knowledge doth but pick  
Bare simples, Wisdom pounds them, for the sick;  
In my affliction, knowledge apprehends,  
Who is the Author, what the Cause, and Ends,  
It finds that Patience is my sad relief,  
And that the Hand that caused, can cure my grief:  
To rest contented here, is but to bring  
Clouds without rain, and heat without a Spring:  
What hope arises hence? The Devils do  
The very same: They know, and tremble too;  
But sacred Wisdom doth 
* Non ut sciamus, quid sit virtus, perscrutamur, sed ut boni essiciamur. Arist. Eth. 2. cap. 2.  apply that Good,  
Which simple Knowledge barely understood:  
Wisdom concludes, and in conclusion, proves,  
That wheresoever God corrects, he loves:  
Wisdom digests, what knowledge did but taste,  
That deals in future's, this, in things are past:  
Wisdom's the Card of Knowledge, which, without  
That Guide, at random's wrecked on every doubt:  
Knowledge, when Wisdom is too weak to guide her,  
Is like a headstrong Horse, that throws the Rider:  
Which made that great 
* Socrates. Hoc unum scit, me nihil scire.  Philosopher avow,  
He knew so much, that he did nothing know.   

Lord, give me Wisdom to direct my ways,  
I beg nor riches, nor yet length of days,  
O grant thy servant Wisdom, and with it,  
I shall receive such knowledge as will fit  
To serve my turn: I wish not Phoebus' wain,  
Without his skill to drive it, lest I gain  
Too dear an Honour, Lord, I will not stay,  
To pick more Manna, then will serve to day.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Bildad, the whilst he makes a show  
To strike the wicked, gives the blow  
To job: jobs Misery, and Faith;  
Zophar makes good what Bildad saith.  
Sect. 12.  

SAid Bildad then, When will ye bring to end, 
Chap. 18. Bildads' speech.   
The speeches, whereabout ye so contend?  
Weigh either's words, lest ignorant confusion  
Debar them of their purposed conclusion▪  
We came to comfort, fits it then that we  
Be thought as beasts, or fools accounted be?  
But thou, job, (like a mad man) wouldst thou force  
God, to desist his order, and set course  
Of justice? Shall the wicked, for thy sake  
(That wouldst not taste of Evil) in Good partake?  
No, no, his Lamp shall blaze, and dye, his strength  
Shall fail, or shall confound itself, at length,  
He shall be hampered with close hidden snares,  
And dogged, where e'er he starts, with troops of fears:  
Hunger shall bite, destruction shall attend him,  
His skin shall rot, the worst of deaths shall end him,  
His fear, shall be a thousand linked together,  
His branch, above, his root, beneath, shall wither,  
His Name shall sleep in dust, with dust, decay,  
Odious to all, by all men chased away,  
No Son shall keep alive his House, his Name,  
And none shall thrive, that can alliance claim,  
The after-age shall stand amazed, to hear  
His Fall, and they that see't, shall shake for fear:  
Thus stands the state of him that doth amiss,  
And (job) what other is thy case, than this?   

But job replied, How long (as with sharp swords) 
Chap. 19 Jobs reply.   
Will ye torment me, with your pointed words?  
How often have your biting tongues defamed  
My simple Innocence, and yet, unshamed?  
Had I deserved these plagues, yet let my grief  
Express itself, though it find no relief,  
But if you needs must wear your tongues upon me,  
Know, 'Tis the hand of God hath overthrown me;  
I roar, unheard; His Hand will not release me;  
The more I grieve, the more my griefs oppress me:  
He hath despoiled my joys, and goes about  
(My Branches being lopped) to stroy the Root,  
His Plagues, like soldiers, trench within my bones,  
My friends, my kindred fly me all at once,  
My neighbours, my familiars have foregone me,  
My household stairs, with stranger's eyes, upon me:  
I call my servant, but his lips are dumb,  
I humbly beg his help, but he'll not come,  
My own wife loathes my breath, though I did make  
My solemn suit, for our dead children's sake:  
The poor, whose wants I have supplied, despise me,  
And he that lived within my breast, denies me,  
My bones are hidebound, there cannot be found  
One piece of skin, (unless my gums) that's sound,  
Alas! complaints are barren shadows, to  
Express, or cure the substance of my woe.  
Have pity, (oh my friends) have pity on me,  
'Tis your God's hand and mine, that lies upon me,  
Vex me no more. O let your anger be  
(If I have wronged you) calmed with what ye see;  
O! that my speeches were engraven, then,  
In Marble Tablets, with an iron Pen:  
For sure I am, that my Redeemer lives,  
And though pale death consume my flesh, and gives  
My Carcase to the worms, yet am I sure,  
Clad with this selfsame flesh (but made more pure)  
I shall behold His glory; These sad eyes  
Shall see his Face, however my body lies,  
Mouldered in dust; These fleshly eyes, that do  
Behold these Sores, shall see my Maker too.   

Unequal hearers, of unequal grief,  
Y'are all engaged to the selfsame belief,  
Know there's a judge, whose Voice will be as free,  
To judge your words, as you have judged me.   

Said Zophar then, I purposed to refrain 
Chap. 20. Zophar's speech.   
From speaking, but thou movest me back again:  
For having heard thy haughty Spirit break  
Such hasty terms, my Spirit bids me speak:   

Hath not the change of Ages, and of Climes,  
Taught us, as we shall our succeeding times,  
How vain's the triumph, and how short the blaze,  
Wherein the wicked sweeten out their days?  
Though for a while his Palms of glory flourish,  
Yet, in conclusion, they grow seire, and perish:  
His life is like a Dream, that passes o'er,  
The eye that saw him, ne'er shall see him more:  
The Son shall slatter, whom the Sire oppressed,  
And (poor) he shall return, what he did wrest;  
He shall be baited with the Sins, that have  
So smiled upon his childhood, to his Grave,  
His Plenty (purchased by oppression) shall  
Be Honey, tasted, but digested, Gall;  
It shall not bless him with prolonged stay,  
But evilly come, it soon shall pass away;  
The man, whose griping hath the poor oppressed,  
Shall neither thrive in state, nor yet find rest  
In soul; nought of his fullness shall remain,  
His greedy Heir shall long expect, in vain;  
Soaked with extorted Plenty, others shall  
Squeeze him, and leave him dispossessed of all;  
And when his joys do in their height abound,  
Vengeance shall strike him groaning, to the ground,  
If Sword forbear to wound him, Arrows shall  
Returning forth, anointed with his Gall,  
No shade shall hide him, and an unblown Fire  
Shall burn both him, and his. Heaven, like a Crier,  
Shall blaze his shame, and Earth shall stand his Foe,  
His wand'ring Children shall no dwelling know;  
Behold the man's Estate, whom God denies,  
Behold thine own, pourtracted to thine Eyes.   

Meditatio duodecima.  

CAn mercy come from bloody Cain? Or hath  
His angry Brow a smile? Or can his Wrath  
Be quenched with aught, but righteous Abel's Blood?  
Can guilty Prisoners hope for any Good  
From the severer judge, whose dismal Breath  
Dooms them to die, breathes nothing else but Death?  
Ah righteous judge, wherein hath Man to trust?  
Man hath offended, and thy Laws are Just;  
Thou frownest like a judge, but I had rather,  
That thou wouldst smile upon me like a Father▪  
What if thy Esau be austere and rough?  
Thou hast a jacob that is smooth enough:  
Thy jacobs tender Kid brings forth a blessing,  
While Esau's tedious Ven'zon is a dressing.  
Thy face hath smiles, as well as frowns, by turns;  
Thy fire giveth light, as well as burns.  
What if the Serpent stung old Adam dead,  
Young Adam lives, to break that Serpent's Head?  
justice hath struck me with a bleeding wound,  
But Mercy Powers in Oil, to make it sound.  
The milk-white Lamb confounds the roaring Lion,  
Blasted by Sinah, I am healed by Zion:  
The Law finds guilty, and Death judgement gives,  
But sure I am, that my Redeemer lives.   

How wretched was man's case, in those dark days, 
Object.   
When Law was only read? which Law dismays,  
And, taking vantage, through the breach of it,  
The Letter kills, and can no way admit  
Release by Pardon; for by Law we die.  
Why then hoped man, without a reason Why?  
Although there was no Sun, their Morning eyes,  
Saw, by the Twilight, that the Sun would rise.  
The Law was like a misty Lookingglass,  
Wherein the shadow of a Saviour was,  
Treats in a darker strain, by Types and Signs,  
And what should pass in after-days, divines.  
The Gospel says, That He is come, and dead,  
And thus the Riddle of the Law is read.  

* Lex est Euangelium velatum, & Euangelium est lex revelata. Simile.  Gospel is Law, the Mystery being sealed;  
And Law is Gospel, being once revealed.   

Experience tells us, when as Birth denies  
To man (through Nature's oversight) his eyes,  
Nature (whose curious works are never vain)  
Supplies them, in the power of his Brain:  
So they, whose eyes were barred that glorious sight  
Of the Messiah's day, received more Light,  
(Inspired by the Breath of Heaven) than they,  
That heard the tidings of that happy Day.   

The man, that with a sharp contracted eye, 
Simile.   
Looks in a clear Perspective-glasse, doth spy  
Objects remote, which, to the sense, appear  
(Through help of the Perspective) seeming near.  
So they that lived within the Law's Dominion,  
Did hear far off, a Bruit and buzzed Opinion,  
A Saviour (one day) should be borne; but he  
That had a Perspective of Faith, might see  
That long-expected Day of joy as clear,  
As if the Triumph had been then kept there.   

Lord, so direct me in thy perfect Way,  
That I may look, and smile upon that Day:  
O! bathe me in his Blood, sponge every Stain,  
That I may boldly sue my Counterpane:  
O! make me Glorious in the Doom he gives,  
For sure I am, that my Redeemer lives.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Earth's happiness is not Heaven's brand:  
Arash recounting of Iob's crimes:  
job trusts him to th' Almighty's hand:  
God ties his judgements, not to Times.  
Sect. 13.  

THen job replied: O, let your patience prove, 
Chap 21. jobs answer.   
You came (not to afflict me but) in Love..  
O! bear with me, & hear me speak at leisure,  
My speech once ended, mock, & scoff your pleasure;  
mysteries I treat, not Toys; If then I range  
A thought beyond myself, it is not strange;  
Behold my case, and stand amazed, forbear me;  
Be still, and in your deeper silence hear me.   

Search you the hearts of man (my Friends) or can  
You judge the Inward, by the Outward man?  
How haps the Wicked then, so sound in Health,  
So ripe in Years, so prosperous in Wealth?  
They multiply, their House is filled with Peace,  
They pass unplagued, their fruitful Flocks increase;  
Their Children thrive in joyful Melody,  
Prosperous they live, and peacefully they die;  
Renounce us (God) say they (if God there be▪  
What need we knowledge of thy Word, or Thee?  
What is th' Almighty, that we should adore him?  
What boots our prayer, or us, to fall before him?   

'Tis not by chance, their vain Prosperity  
Crowns then with store, or Heaven, not knowing, why:  
But you affirm, That in conclusion they  
Shall fall. But not so sudden, as you say:  
But can ye limit forth the space, confine,  
How long, or when their Lamps shall cease to shine?  
Will any of you undertake to teach  
Your Maker, things so far above your reach?  
The Bad man lives in plenty, dies in peace:  
The Good, as do his hours, his griefs increase;  
Yet both the Good and Bad alike shall have,  
Though lives much differing, yet one common grave.  
I know your mining thoughts; You will demand,  
Where is the wickeds Power? And where stand  
Their lofty Buildings, are they to be seen?  
Inquire of wand'ring Pilgrims, that have been  
Experienced in the Road, and they'll relate  
The Princely greatness of their towers, and State:  
Live any more secure, than they? Or who  
Dare once reprove them, for the Deeds they do?  
He lives in Power, and in Peace he dies,  
Attended in his pompous Obsequies.  
How vain are then the comforts of your breath,  
That censure goodness, or by Life, or Death?   

Said Eliphaz: What then remains? Thy tongue 
Chap. 22. Eliphaz his reply   
Hath quit thyself, accused thy God of Wrong.  
Gains he by man's uprightness? Can man add  
To his Perfection, what He never had?  
Fears He the strength of man? Doth He torment him,  
Lest that his untamed power should prevent Him?  
What need I waste this breath? Recall thy senses,  
And take the Inventory of thy Offences:  
Thou tookst the poor man's Pawn, nor hast thou fed  
Thy needy Brother, with thy prosperous Bread;  
Thy hands perverted justice, and have spoiled  
The hopeless Widow, with her helpless Child.  
Hence spring thy sorrows (job;) 'Tis justice, then,  
Thou shouldst be plagued, that thus plagued other men.  
Is Heaven Just? Can Heavens Just Creator  
Let pass (unpunished) Sins of so high nature?  
Hath not Experience taught, that for a while,  
The Wicked may exalt their Crests, and smile,  
Blown up with Insolence: but in conclusion  
They fall, and good men laugh at their confusion?  
job, add not sin to sin, cease to beguile  
Thyself, thinking to quench thy fire with Oil;  
Return thee to thy God, confess thy crimes;  
Return, and he will crown thy aftertimes  
With former Blessings, and thy Riches shall  
Be as the Sand: for God is all in all;  
His face shall welcome thee, and smile upon thee,  
And cease that mischief, his just Hand hath done thee;  
He shall be pleased with thy holy Fires,  
And grant the issue of thy best Desires.   

job answered then: Although my soul be faint, 
Chap. 23. jobs speech.   
And Griefs weigh down the Scale of my complant,  
Yet would I plead my Cause (which you defamed)  
Before my Maker, and would plead, unshamed;  
Could I but find him, I would take upon me,  
To quit the Censures you have passed on me.  
His justice hath no limits, is extended  
Beyond conceit, by man unapprehended;  
Let Heaven be Umpire, and make Arbitration,  
Betwixt my guiltless heart, and your taxation.  
My Embryo thoughts and words are all enrolled,  
Pure will he find them, as refined Gold;  
His steps I followed, and uprightly stood,  
His Laws have been my Guide, his Words my food;  
Hath he but once decreed? (alas!) there's none  
Can bar: for what he wills, must needs be done;  
His Will's a Law: If he hath doomed, that I  
Shall still be plagued, 'tis bootless to reply.  
Hence comes it, that my sore afflicted spirit  
Trembles, and stands confounded at his sight;  
His hand hath struck my spirits in amaze,  
For I can neither end my Griefs nor Days.   

Why should not Times in all things be forbid, 
Chap. 24.   
When to the Just, their time of sorrow's hid?  
Some move their Landmarks, rob their neighbour  
Others, in gage, receive the Widow's Ox,  
Some grind the Poor, while others seek the Prey; flocks;  
They reap their Harvest, bear their Grain away;  
Men press their Oil, and they distrain their Store,  
And rend the Glean, from the hungry poor.  
The City roars, the Blood, which they have spent,  
Cries (unrevenged) for equal punishment;  
Early they murder, and rob late at night,  
They trade in Darkness, for they hate the Light;  
The sin (unpunished) thriving, uncontrolled,  
And what by Force they got, by Force they hold.   

O Friends! Repeal your words, your speeches bring  
No lawful Issue, prove not any thing:  
Your deeper Wisdoms argue (in effect)  
That God doth, or not know, or else neglect:  
Conclude with me, or prove my words untrue,  
I must be found a Liar, or else you.   

Meditatio tertiadecima.  

THe Wisest men, that Nature e'er could boast,  
For secret knowledge of her power, were lost,  
Confounded, and in deep amazement stood,  
In the discovery of the Chiefest Good:  
Keenly they hunted, beat in every Bracke,  
Forwards they went, on either hand, and back  
Returned they Counter; but their deepe-mouthed Art,  
(Though often challenged Sent, yet) ne'er could start,  
In all th' Enclosures of Philosophy,  
That Game, from squat, they term, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, id est, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Felicity:  
They jangle, and their Maxims dis-agree,  
As many men, so many minds there be.   

One digs to Pluto's Throne, thinks there to find  
Her Grace, rak't up in Gold: Another's mind  
Mounts to the Courts of Kings, with Plumes of Honour,  
And feathered Hopes, hopes, there, to seize upon her;  
A third, unlocks the painted Gates of Pleasure,  
And ransacks there, to find this peerless Treasure.  
A fourth, more sage, more wisely melancholy,  
Persuades himself, her Deity's too holy,  
For common hands to touch, he rather chooses,  
To make a long day's journey to the Muses:  
To Athens (gowned) he goes, and from that School  
Returns unsped, a more instructed fool.   

Where lies she then? Or lies she any where?  
Honour's are bought and sold, she rests not there,  
Much less in Pleasures hath she her abiding,  
For they are shared to Beasts, and ever sliding;  
Nor yet in Virtue, virtue's often poor,  
And (crushed with Fortune) begs from door to door,  
Nor is she sainted in the Shrine of wealth,  
That makes men slaves, is vnsecured from stealth;  
Conclude we then, Felicity consists  
Not in exterior Fortunes, but her lists  
Are boundless, and her large extension  
Outruns the pace of humane apprehension;  
Fortunes are seldom measured by desert,  
The fairer face, hath oft the fouler heart;  
Sacred felicity doth ne'er extend  
Beyond itself: 
* Arist. Eth. Felicit as propter se oppetitur.  In it all wishes end:  
The swelling of an outward Fortune can  
Create a prosperous, not a 
* Non possidentem multa, vocaris Recte beatum Rectius occupat nomen beati, qui, etc. Hor. car. lib. 4. odd. 9  happy man;  
A peaceful Conscience is the true Content,  
And wealth is but her golden Ornament.   

I care not, so my Kernel relish well,  
How slender be the substance of my shell;  
My heart being virtuous, let my face be wan,  
I am to God, I only seem to man.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Bildad shows man's impurity;  
job setteth forth th' Almighty's power,  
Pleads still his own Integrity:  
God's Wisdom no man can discover.  
Sect. 14.  

SAid Bildad then, With whom dost thou contest, 
Chap. 25. Bildads' speech.   
But with thy Maker, that lives ever blest?  
His Powers infinite, man's light is dim,  
And knowledge darkness, not derived from Him:  
Say then, Who can be just before Him? No man  
Can challenge Purity, that's borne of Woman.  
The greater Torch of heaven in his sight,  
Shall be ashamed, and lose his purer light;  
Much less can man, that is but living Dust,  
And but a fairer Worm, be pure and just.   

Whereat job thus: Doth heaven's high judgement stand, 
Chap. 25. Jobs reply.   
To be supported by the weaker hand?  
Wants He thy help? To whom dost thou extend  
These, these thy lavish lips, and to what end?  
No, he's Almighty, and his Power doth give  
Each thing his Being, and by Him they live:  
To him, is nothing dark, his sovereign Hands  
Whirl round the restless Orbs, his Power commands  
Th' even poised Earth; The Water-pots of heaven  
He empties at his pleasure, and hath given  
Appointed lists, to keep the Waters under,  
The trembling Skies he strikes amazed, with thunder:  
These, these the Trophies of his Power be,  
Where is there ere a such a God as He?   

My friends, These ears have heard your censures on me, 
Chap. 27.   
And Heavens sharp hand doth weigh so hard upon me  
So languishing in grief, that no defence  
Seems to remain, to shield my Innocence:  
Yet while my soul a gasp of breath affords,  
I'll not distrust my Maker, nor your words  
Deserve, which Heaven forfend, that ever I  
Prove true, but I'll plead guiltless till I die,  
While I have breath, my pangs shall ne'er persuade me  
To wander, and revolt from Him, that made me.  
Ere such thoughts spring from this confused breast,  
Let death and tortures do their worst, their best.  
What gains the Hypocrite, although the whole  
World's wealth he purchase, with the price on's soul?  
Will Heaven hear the voice of his disease?  
Can he repent, and turn, where'er he please?  
True, God doth sometime plague with open shame  
The wicked, often blurs he forth his Name  
From out the earth, his children shall be slain,  
And who survive, shall beg their bread in vain;  
What if his Gold be heaped, the Good man shall  
Possess it, as true Master of it All,  
Like Moths, their houses shall they build, in doubt  
And danger, every hour to be cast out,  
Besieged with Want, their lips make fruitless moan,  
Yet (wanting succour) be relieved by none.  
The worm of Conscience shall torment his breast,  
And he shall roar, when others be at rest,  
God's hand shall scourge him, that he cannot fly,  
And men shall laugh, and hiss, to hear him cry.   

The purest metal's hid within the Mould, 
Chap. 28.   
Without, is gravel, but within, is Gold;  
Man digs, and in his toil he takes a pleasure,  
He seeks, and finds within the turf, the Treasure,  
He never rests, unsped, but (underneath)  
He mine's, and progs, though in the fangs of death:  
No secret, (how obscure soever) can  
Earth's bosom smother, that's unfound by man;  
But the Divine, and high Decrees of heaven,  
What mind can search into? No power's given  
To mortal man, whereby he may attain  
The rare discovery of so high a strain,  
Dive to the depth of darkness, and the deeps,  
Renounce this Wisdom: The wide Ocean keeps  
Her not enclosed; 'Tis not the purest Gold  
Can purchase it, or heaps of silver, told,  
The Pearls, and peerless Treasures of the East,  
Resined Gold, and Gems, are all, the least  
Of nothings, if compared with It, as which,  
Earth's mass of treasure, (summed) is not so Rich;  
Where rests this Wisdom then? If men inquire  
Below, they find her not; or, if they (higher)  
Soar with the Prince of Fowls, they still despair,  
The more they seek, the further off they are.   

Ah friends! how more than men? how Eagle-eyde  
Are you, to see, what to the world beside  
Was dark? To you, alone, (in trust) was given  
To search into the high Decrees of Heaven:  
You read his Oracles, you understand  
To riddle forth man's Fortunes by his Hand,  
Your wisdoms have a privilege to know  
His secret Smiling, from his angry Brow:  
Let shame prevent your lips, recant, and give  
To the Almighty his Prerogative,  
To him, the searching of men's hearts belong,  
Man's judgement sinks no deeper than the tongue;  
He overlookes the World, and in one space  
Of time, his Eye is fixed on every place:  
He weighed the Waters, balanced out the Air,  
Whate'er hath Being, did his Hands prepare;  
He wills that Mortals be not overwise,  
Nor judge his Secrets with censorious eyes.   

Meditatio quartadecima.  

'tIs Virtue to fly Vice: there's none more stout,  
Then he that ventures to pick Virtue out,  
Betwixt a brace of vices: Dangers stand,  
Threatening his ruin, upon either hand;  
His Card must guide him, lest his Pinnace run  
Upon Charybdis, while it Scylla shun:  
In moderation all Virtue lies;  
'Tis greater folly to be overwise,  
Then rudely ignorant: The golden means,  
Is but to know enough; safer to lean  
To Ignorance, than 
* Cypr. in Symp.  Curiosity,  
For 
* Etiam de Deo vera dicere periculosum est. Ferumtque summos Fulmina mentes, Hor. car. lib. 2. odd. 10.  lightning blasts the Mountains that are high:  
The first of men, from hence, deserved his fall,  
He sought for secrets, and sought death, withal:  

* Boetius 3. de Cons. Philos. Non est fas homini cunctas divini oper is machinas, vel ingenio com prehendere, vel sermone explicare.  Secrets are unfit objects for our eyes,  
They blind us in beholding: he that tries  
To handle water, the more hard he strains  
And gripes his hand, the less his hand retains:  
The mind that's troubled with that pleasing itch,  
Of knowing Secrets, having flown a pitch  
Beyond itself, the higher it ascends,  
And strives to 
* Melius sciuntur, nesciendo, S Aug. lib. 2. de ord. Simile.  know, the less it apprehends:  
That secret Wiseman, is an open Fool,  
Which takes a Councel-chamber, for a School.   

The eye of man desires no farther light,  
Then to descry the object of his sight,  
And rests contented with the Sun's reflection,  
But (labouring to behold his bright complexion)  
If it presume t'outface his glorious Light,  
The beams bereave him, justly, of his sight: 
Raymond Sebond, Theol. natural cap. 24.   
Even so the mind should rest in what's revealed,  
But overcurious, if in things concealed,  
She wade too far, beyond her depth, unbounded,  
Her knowledge will be lost, and she confounded.  

* Melius est dubitare de incertis, quam litigare de occultis, S. Aug. lib. 8. de Gen. ad litter. cap. 5.  far safer 'tis, of things unsure, to doubt,  
Then undertake to riddle secrets out.   

It was demanded once, What God did do  
Before the World he framed? Whereunto  
Answer was made, He built a Hell for such,  
As are too curious, & would 
* Nec scire, sa● est, omnia— Hor. car. lib 4. od. 4.  know too much.   

Who flies with Icarus his father, shall  
Have Icarus his fortunes and his fall.  
A noble Prince, (whose bounteous hand was bend,  
To recompense his servant's faith, and vent  
The earnest of his favours,) did not proffer,  
But wiled him, boldly, to prevent his offer:  
Thankful, he thus replied, Then grant unto me  
This boon, Withhold thy princely secrets from me.   

That holy 
* Exod. 24. 2.  Man, in whose familiar ear  
Heaven oft had thundered, might not come too near:  
The Temple must have 
* Exod. 26. 2.  Curtains; mortal hearts  
Must rest content to see his 
* Ibid 33. 23.  Hinder parts.   

I care not (Lord) how far thy Face be off,  
If I but kiss thy Hand, I have enough.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
job wisheth his past happiness,  
Shows his state present, Doth confess  
That God's the Author of his grief,  
Relates the pureness of his life.  
Sect. 15.  

OH! that I were as happy as I was, 
Chap. 29.   
When heavens bright favours shone upon my face,  
And prospered my affairs, enriched my joys,  
When all my sons could answer to my voice;  
Then did my store, and thriving flocks increase,  
Offended justice sought my hands, for peace;  
Old men did honour, and the young did fear me,  
Princes kept silence (when I spoke,) to hear me,  
I heard the poor, relieved the widow's cry,  
Orphans I succoured, was the blind man's eye,  
The Cripples foot, my helpless brother's drudge,  
The poor man's Father, and th'oppressors judge;  
I then supposed, that my days long Lease  
Would pass in Plenty, and expire in Peace,  
My Roots were fixed, and my Branches sprung,  
My Glory blazed, my Power grew daily strong;  
I speaking, men stood mute, my speeches moved  
All hearts to joy, by all men were approved,  
My kindly words were welcome, as a latter  
Rain, and were Oracles in a doubtful matter.   

O sudden change! I'm turned a laughingstock 
Chap. 30.   
To boys, & those, that sued to tend my Flock,  
And such, whose hungry wants have taught their hands  
To scrape the earth, and dig the barren lands,  
For hidden roots, wherewith they might appease  
Their Tyran'-stomakes, these, (even very these)  
Flout at my sorrows, and disdaining me,  
Point with their fingers, and cry, This is He:  
My honour's foiled, my troubled spirit lies  
Wide open to the worst of injuries,  
Where'er I turn, my sorrow, new, appears,  
I'm vexed abroad, with slouts, at home, with fears,  
My soul is faint, and nights that should give ease  
To tired spirits, make my griefs increase,  
I loathe my Carcase, for my ripened sores  
Have changed my garments colour with their cores:  
But what is worst of worsts, (Lord) often I  
Have cried to Thee, a stranger to my cry,  
Though perfect Clemency, thy nature be,  
Though kind to all, thou art unkind to me.  
I ne'er waxed pale, to see another thrive,  
Nor e'er did let my ' afflicted brother strive  
With tears, alone, but I (poor I) tormented,  
Expect for succour, and am unlamented;  
I mourn in silence, languish all alone,  
As in a Desert, am relieved by none;  
My sores have died my skin with filth, still turning  
My joys to Grief, and all my Mirth to Mourning.   

My Heart hath past Indentures with mine Eye, 
Chap. 31.   
Not to behold a Maid: for what should I  
Expect from Heaven, but a deserved reward,  
Earned by so foul a sin? for death's prepared,  
And flames of wrath, are blown for such: Doth He  
Not know my Actions, that so well knows me?  
If I have lent my hand to sly deceit, 
jobs innocency.   
Or if my steps have not been purely straight,  
What I have sown, then let a Stranger eat,  
And root my Plants untimely from their seat.  
If I with Lust have e'er distained my life,  
Or been defiled with another's Wife,  
In equal justice, let my Wife be known  
Of all, and let me reap as I have sown:  
For Lust, that burneth in a sinful breast,  
Till it hath burnt him too, shall never rest.  
If e'er my haste did treat my Servant ill,  
Without desert, making my Power, my Will,  
Then how should I before God's judgement stand,  
Since we were both created by one Hand?  
If e'er my power wronged the Poor man's Cause,  
Or to the Widow, lengthened out the Laws:  
If e'er (alone) my lips did taste my bread,  
Or shut my churlish doors, the poor unfed,  
Or bent my hand to do the Orphan wrong,  
Or saw him naked, apparel long;  
In heaps of Gold, if e'er I took delight,  
Or gave Heaven's worship, to the heavenly 
* It was the Custom of that ignorant Nation, to worship the Sun and Moon.  Light,  
Or e'er was flattered by my secret Will,  
Or joyed in my Adversary's Ill;  
Let God accurse me from his glorious Seat,  
And make my Plagues (if possible) more great.   

Oh! That some equal hearer, now were by,  
To judge my righteous Cause; Full sure am I,  
I shall be quitted, by th' Almighty's hand.  
What, therefore, if censorious tongues withstand  
The judgement of my sober Conscience?  
Compose they Ballads on me, yet from thence,  
My simple Innocence shall gain renown,  
And on my head, I'll wear them, as my Crown:  
To the Almighty's Ear will I reveal  
My secret Ways, to Him, alone, appeal:  
If (to conclude) the Earth could find a tongue,  
T'impeach my guiltless hands of doing wrong:  
If hidden Wages (earned with sweat) do lie,  
Raked in her furrows, let her Womb deny  
To bless my Harvest, let her better Seeds  
Be turned to Thistles, and the rest, to Weeds   

Meditatio quintadecima.  

THe man, whose soul is vndistained with Ill,  
Pure from the check of a distempered Will,  
Stands only free from the distracts of Care,  
And flies a pitch above the reach of Fear:  
His bosom dares the threatening Bowman's arm,  
His Wisdom sees, his Courage fears no harm,  
His breast lies open to the reeking Sword;  
The Darts of swarthy Maurus can afford  
Less dread, than danger, to his well prepared  
And settled mind, which (standing on her Guard)  
Bids Mischief do the worst she can, or will,  
For he that doth no Ill, deserves no Ill   

Would any strive with 
* judg. 16. 30.  Samson for renown,  
Whose brawny Arm can strike most pillars down?  
Or try a fall with 
* Gen. 32. 24.  Angels, and prevail?  
Or with a Hymn, unhinge the strongest 
* Acts 16. 26.  jail?  
Would any from a Prisoner, prove a 
* Gen 41. 40.  Prince?  
Or with 
* Exod. 4. 10.  slow speech, best Orators convince?  
Preserve he then, unstained in his breast,  
A milk-white Conscience; let his soul be blest  
With simple Innocence: This sevenfold shield  
No dart shall pierce, no sword shall make it yield;  
The sinewy Bow, and deadly-headed lance,  
Shall break in shivers, and the splinters glance  
Aside, returning back from whence they came,  
And wound their hearts with an eternal shame.  
The Just and Constant mind, that perseveres  
Unblemished with false pleasures, never fears  
The bended threatenings of a Tyrant's brow,  
Death neither can disturb, nor change his Vow;  
Well guarded with Himself, he walks along,  
When, most alone, his stands a 
* Conscientia mille testes.  thousand strong   

Lives he in Weal, and full Prosperity?  
His wisdom tells him, that he lives, to die.   

Is he 
* Hor. car. lib. 4. Ode 9 — Secund's Temporibus du●b●que reclus.  afflicted? Sharp Afflictions give  
Him hopes of Change, and that that he dies, to live.   

Is he 
* Mat. 5. 11.  reviled and scorned? He sits, and smiles,  
Knowing him 
V●● nunquam tristis esse? Bene vive Isod. Soliloq. lib. 11.  Happy, whom the World reviles.  
If Rich, he gives the poor; and if he live  
In poor estate, he finds rich friends to give;  
He lives an Angel in a mortal form;  
And, having past the brunt of many a Storm,  
At last, arriveth at the Haven of Rest,  
Where that Just judge, that rambles in his breast,  
joining with Angels, with an Angel's voice,  
Chants forth sweet Requiems of Eternal joys.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Elihu job reproves, reproves  
His Friends alike, he pleads the case  
With job in God's behalf, and moves  
Him to recant, and call for Grace.  
Sect. 16.  

THus job his ill-defended 'Cause adjourns, 
Chap. 32.   
And silence lends free liberty of turns,  
To his unjust Accusers, whose bad cause  
Hath left them grounded in too large a pause:  
Whereat Elihu (a young Stander-by,  
Whose modest ears, upon their long reply  
Did wait) his angry silence did awake,  
And (craving pardon for his Youth) bespoke.   

Young Standers-by do oftentimes see more, 
Elihus speech.   
Then elder Gamesters: Y'are too blame all four;  
T'one'sones cause is Bad, but with good proofs befriended,  
The others Just and Good, but ill defended.  
Though reason makes the man, Heaven makes him wise,  
Wisdom in greatest Clerks not always lies:  
Then let your silence give me leave to spend  
My judgement, whilst your heedful Ears attend.  
I have not heard, alone, but still expected  
To hear, what more your spleens might have objected,  
Against your woeful Friend; but I have found  
Your reasons, built upon a sandy ground.  
Flourish no Flags of Conquest: Understand,  
That he's afflicted by th' Almighty's hand:  
He hath not failed to cross your accusations;  
Yet I (though not with your foul exprobrations)  
Will cross him too. I'm full, and I must speak,  
Or, like unuented vessels, I must break,  
And with my tongue, my heart will be relieved,  
That swells, with what my patience hath conceived:  
Be none offended, for my lips shall tread  
That ground (without respect) as Truth shall lead;  
God hates a flattering language: then how can I  
Vnliable to danger, flatter any?   

Now, job, to thee I speak, O, let my Errand 
Chap. 33. Elihu speaks to job.   
Be welcome to thine ears, fortruth's mies warrant;  
They are no slender Trifles that I treat,  
But things digested with the sacred heat  
Of an inspired knowledge; 'Tis no rash  
Discharge of wrath, nor wits conceited flash;  
I'll speak, and hear thee speak as free, for I  
Will take no vantage of thy Misery.   

Thy tongue did challenge to maintain thy case  
With God, if he would veil his glorious Face:  
Be I the man (though clad with clay and dust,  
And mortal like thyself) that takes the trust  
To represent his Person; Thou dost term  
Thyself most Just, and boldly dost affirm,  
That Heaven afflicts thy soul without a reason.  
Ah job! these very words (alone) are Treason  
Against th'almighty's will. Thou oughtest rather  
Submit thy passion to him, as thy Father,  
Then plead with him, as with thy Peer. Is he  
Bound to reveal his secret Will to thee?  
God speaketh oft to man, not understood,  
Sometimes in 
* Lucret. lib. 5. 1168. — Persomnia sapeloquentes Aut morbo delirantes, etc. Et celata diu in medium peccata dedisse.  Dreams, at other times thinks good,  
To thunder judgement in his drowsy ear;  
Sometimes, with hard afflictions scourge, doth tear  
His wounded soul, which may at length give ease  
(Like sharper Physic) to his foul Disease:  
But if (like pleasing Iulips) he afford  
The meek Expounders of his sacred Word,  
With sweet persuasions to recure his grief,  
How can his sorrows wish more fair Relief?  
Ah, than his body shall wax young and bright;  
Heavens-face that scorched before, shall now delight,  
His tongue with Triumph, shall confess to men,  
I was a Leper, but am clear again.  
Thus, thus that Spring of Mercy oftentimes  
Doth speak to man, that man may speak his crimes.  
Consider, job; My words with judgement weigh;  
Which done (if thou hast aught) then boldly say;  
If otherwise, shame not to hold thy peace,  
And let thy Wisdom with my words increase.   

And you, you Wisemen, that are silent here, 
Chap 34.   
Vouchsafe to lend my lips your ripened care,  
Let's call a parley, and the cause decide;  
For job pleads guiltless, and would fain be tried;  
Yet hath his boldness termed himself Upright,  
And taxed th'almighty for not doing right;  
His Innocence with Heaven doth he plead,  
And that unjustly he was punished:  
O Purity by Impudence suborned!  
He scorned his Maker, and is justly scorned:  
far be it from the heart of man, that He,  
Who is all justice, yet unjust should be.  
Each one shall reap the Harvest he hath sown,  
His meed shall measure, what his hands have done.  
Who is't, can claim the World's great Sovereignty?  
Who raised the Rafters of the Heavens, but He?  
If God should breathe on man, or take away  
The breath he gave him, what were man, but Clay?  
O, let thy heart, th'unbridled tongue, convince!  
Say; Dare thy lips defame an earthly Prince?  
How dar'st thou then malign the King of Kings,  
To whom, great Princes are but poorest things?  
He kicks down kingdoms, spurns th' Imperial crown,  
And with his blast, puffs mighty Monarches down.  
'Tis vain to strive with Him; and if He strike,  
Our part's to bear, not (fond) to mislike,  
(Misconstruing the nature of his drift)  
But husband his Corrections to our thrift.  
If he afflict, our best is to implore  
His Blessing with his Rod, and sin no more.  
What if our torments pass the bounds of measure?  
It unbesits our wills, to stint his pleasure;  
judge then, and let th' impartial world advice,  
How far (poor job) thy judgement is from wise:  
Nor are these speeches kindled with the fire  
Of a distempered spleen, but with desire,  
T' enrich thy wisdom, lest thy fury tie  
Presumption to thy rash infirmity.   

Meditatio sextadecima.  

FOr mortals, to be borne, wax old, and die,  
Lies not in Will, but bare Necessity,  
Common to beasts, which, in the selfe-degree,  
Hold by the selfsame Patent, even as we:  
But to be Wise, is a diviner action  
Of the discursive Soul, a pure abstraction  
Of all her powers, united in the will,  
Aiming at Good, rejecting what is Ill;  
It is an Influence of inspired Breath,  
Vnpurchased by birth, unlost by death,  
Entailed to no man, no, nor free to all,  
Yet gently answers to the eager call  
Of those, that, with inflamed affections, seek,  
Respecting tender Youth and Age alike;  
In depth of days, her spirit not always lies,  
Years make man Old, but Heaven returns him Wise;  
Youths Innocence, nor riper Ages strength  
Can challenge her, as due; (Desired) length  
Of days, produced to decrepit years,  
Filled with experience, and grizly hairs,  
Can claim no right; Th' Almighty ne'er engages  
His gifts to times, nor is He bound to Ages,  
His quickening Spirit, to sucklings oft reveals,  
What to their doting Grandsires he conceals,  
The virtue of his breath; can unbenumme  
The frozen lips, and strike the speaker dumb:  
Who put that moving power into his tongue,  
Whose lips did right the chaste Susanna's wrong,  
Upon her wanton false Accusers death?  
What secret fire inflamed that 
* Exod. 4. 11.  fainting breath  
That blasted Pharo? Or those ruder tongues,  
That schooled the faithless 
* jonah 1. 10.  Prophet, for the wrongs  
He did to sacred justice? Matters not  
How slight the means be in itself, or what  
In our esteems, so wisdom be the message;  
Ambassadors are worthyed in th' Embassage:  
God sows his Harvest to his best increase,  
And glorifies himself, however he please.   

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

THE ARGUMENT.  
God reaps no gain by man's best deeds;  
Man's misery from himself proceeds:  
God's Mercy and justice are unbounded;  
In works of Nature man is grounded.  
Sect. 17.  

ELihu, thus his pausing lips, again  
Disclosed, & said, (Rash job) dost thou maintain 
Chap. 35.   
A rightful Cause, which in conclusion, must  
Avow thee blameless, and thy God unjust?  
Thy lawless words implying, that it can  
Advantage none, to live an upright man?  
My tongue shall school thee, and thy friends that would  
(Perchance) refelled thy reasons, if they could:  
Behold thy glorious Maker's greatness, see  
The power of his hand, say then, Can He  
Be damaged by thy sin, or can He raise  
Advantage, by th'uprightness of thy ways?   

True, th'afflicted languish oft in grief,  
And roar to Heaven (unanswered) for relief,  
Yet is not Heaven unjust, for their fond cry,  
Their sin bewails not, but their misery.  
Cease then, to make him guilty of thy crimes,  
And wait his pleasure, that's not bound to times,  
Nor hears vain words. The sorrows thou art in,  
Are slight, or nothing, balanced with thy sin:  
Thy lips accuse thee, and thy foolish tongue,  
To right thyself, hath done th'Almighty wrong.   

Hold back thine answer; Let my flowing stream  
Find passage, to surround my fruitful Theme, 
Chap. 36.   
I'll raise my thoughts, to plead my Maker's case,  
And speak, as shall befit so high a place:  
Behold th'Almighty's Meek, as well as Strong,  
Destroys the Wicked, rights the Just man's wrong,  
Mounts him to honour; If by chance he stray,  
Instructs, and shows him where he lost his way:  
If he return, his blessings shall increase,  
Crowning his joys with plenty and sweet peace;  
If not, th'entailed sword shall ne'er depart  
His stained house, but pierce his hardened heart;  
Ah sinful job! these plagues had never been,  
Hadst thou been guiltless (as thou boasts) from sin:  
But thy proud lips against their Maker plead,  
And draw down heaps of vengeance on thy head;  
Look to thyself, seek not to understand  
The secret causes of th' Eternals hand,  
Let wisdom make the best of misery,  
Know who inflicts it, ask no reason why:  
His will's beyond thy reach, and his Divine  
And sacred knowledge far surpasseth thine.  
Ah! rather, praise him in his works, that lie  
(Wide open to the world) before thine eye;  
His meaner Acts, our highest thought o'retops,  
He pricks the Clouds, stills down the rain by drops;  
Who comprehends the Lightning, or the Thunder?  
Who sees, who hears them, unamazed with wonder?   

My troubled heart chills in my quivering breast,  
To relish these things, and is dispossessed  
Of all her powers: Who ever heard the voice  
Of th'angry heavens, unfrighted at the noise?  
The beast by nature dazed with sudden dread,  
Seeks out for covert to secure his head:  
If God command, the dusky clouds march forth  
Into a Tempest; From the freezing North  
He beckons Frost, and Snow; and from the South,  
He bloweth Whirlwinds with his angry Mouth.  
Presumptuous job! if thou canst not aspire  
So high, to comprehend these things, admire.  
knowst thou the progress of the rambling Clouds?  
From mortal eyes, when gloomy darkness shrouds  
The Lamps of heaven, knowst thou the reason why?  
Canst thou unriddle heaven's Philosophy?  
knowst thou th'vnconstant nature of the Weather?  
Or whence so many Winds proceed, and whither?  
Were't thou made privy, or a stander-by,  
When God stretched forth his spangled Canopy?  
Submit thyself, and let these secrets teach,  
How far his mysteries do surmount thy reach:  
For he's Almighty, and his sacred will  
Is just, nor renders an unearned ill;  
His works are objects for no soaring eyes,  
But wheresoever he looks, he finds none wise.   

Meditatio septimadecima.  

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

Cast down thine eyes, behold the pregnant Earth,  
(Her self but one) produceth at one birth,  
A world of diverse natures: From a seed  
Entirely one, things hot and cold proceed,  
She suckles with one milk, things moist, and dry,  
Yet in her womb is no repugnancy.   

Or shall thy Reason ramble up so high,  
To view the Court of wild Astronomy?  
Behold the Planets, round about thine ears,  
Whirling like fire-balles in their restless Spheres.  
At one selfe-instant moving several ways,  
Still measuring out our short, and shorter days.   

Behold the parts, whereon the World consists, 
Boetius Cons. Philos.   
Are limited in their appointed lists,  
Without rebellion, unapt to vary,  

* Raymond Sebond. Theob. Natural. cap. 4.  Though being many, diverse, and contrary:  
Look where we lift, above, beneath, or under,  
Our eyes shall see to learn, and learn to wonder;  
Their depth shall drown our judgements, and their height,  
Besides his wits, shall drive the prime conceit:  
Shall then our daring minds presume t' aspire  
To heavens hid mysteries? shall our thoughts inquire  
Into the depth of secrets, unconfounded,  
When in the shower of Nature they are drowned?   

Fond man, be wise, strive not above thy strength,  
Tempt not thy Bark beyond her Cables length;  
And, like Prometheus, filch no sacred fire,  
Lest Eagles gripe thee: Let thy proud desire  
Suit with thy fortunes; Curious minds, that shall  
Mount up with Phaeton, shall have Phaeton's fall.  
Unbend thy bow betimes, lest thou repent  
Too late, for it will break, or else stand bend.   

I'll work at home, ne'er cross the scorching Line,  
In unknown lands, to seek a hidden Mine:  
Plain Bullion pleaseth me, I not desire  
Dear Ingots from th' Elixirs piercing fire;  
I'll spend my pains, (where best I may be bold)  
To know myself, wherein I shall behold  
The world abridged, and in that world, 
* Raymond Sebond, Theol. natural cap. 1.  my Maker,  
Beyond which task, I wish no Undertaker.   

Great God, by whom it is, whatever is mine,  
Make me thy Viceroy in this 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  World of thine;  
So clear mine eyes, that I may comprehend  
My slight Beginning, and my sudden End.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
Godquestions job, and proves that man  
Cannot attain to things so high,  
As divine secrets, since he can  
Not reach to Natures; jobs reply.  
Sect. 18.  

FOrth from the bosom of a murmuring Cloud, 
Chap 38. God speaks to Job out of a Cloud.   
Heaven's great jehovah did, at length, unshrowd  
His Earths-amazing language  
Made terrible with Fear and Majesty) equally  
(Challenged the Düell) he did undertake  
His grumbling servant, and him thus bespoke,   

Who, who art thou, that thus dost pry in vain,  
Into my secrets, hoping to attain,  
With murmuring, to things, concealed from man?  
Say (blear-eyed mortal) who art thou, that can  
Thus clear thy crimes, and dar'st (with vain applause)  
Make me defendant in thy sinful cause?  
Lo, here I am; Engross into thy hands  
The soundest weapons; Answer my demands:   

Say, Where were't thou, when these my hands did lay  
The World's foundation? canst thou tell me? Say,  
Was Earth not measured by this Arm of mine?  
Whose hand did aid me? Was I helped by thine?  
Where wert thou, when the Planets first did blaze,  
And in their Spheres sang forth their Maker's praise?  
Who is't that tames the raging of the Seas,  
And swaths them up in mists, when-e're he please?  
Didst thou divide the Darkness from the Light?  
Or knowst thou whence Aurora takes her flight?  
Didst ere inquire into the Seas Abyss,  
Or marked the Earth, of what a bulk she is?  
knowst thou the place whence Light or Darkness springs?  
Can thy deep age unfold these secret things?  
knowst thou the cause of Snow, or Hail, which are  
My fierce Artill'ry, in my time of war?  
Who is't that rends the gloomy Clouds in sunder,  
Whose sudden rapture strikes forth Fire, & Thunder?  
Or who bedews the Earth with gentle showers,  
Filling her pregnant soil with fruits and flowers?  
What Father got the Rain? from what i'll womb  
Did Frosts, and hard-congealed Waters come?  
Canst thou restrain fair Maia's course, or stint her,  
Or sad Orion ushering in the Winter?  
Will scorching Cancer at thy summons come,  
Or Sunburnt Autumn with her fruitful womb?  
Know'st thou Heaven's course above, or dost thou know  
Those gentle Influences here below?  
Who was't inspired thy Soul with Understanding?  
And gave thy Spirit, the spirit of Apprehending?  
Dost thou command the Cisterns of the Sky,  
To quench the thirsty soil; or is it I?   

Nay, let thy practice to the Earth descend, 
Chap. 39   
Prove there, how far thy power doth extend;  
From thy full hand will hungry Lions eat?  
Feedest thou the empty Ravens that cry for meat?  
Sett'st thou the Season, when the fearful Hind  
Brings forth her painful birth? Hast thou assigned  
The Mountain Goat her Time? Or is it I?  
Canst thou subject unto thy sovereignty,  
The untamed Unicorn? Can thy hard hand  
Force him to labour on thy fruitful land?  
Didst thou enrich the Peacock with his Plume?  
Or did that Steele-digesting Bird assume  
His downy flags from thee? Didst thou endow  
The noble Stallion with his Strength? Canst thou  
Quail his proud courage? See, his angry breath  
Puffs nothing forth, but fears, summed up in death?  
Mark with what pride his horny hooves do tabor  
The hard resounding Earth; with how great labour,  
How little ground he spends: But at the noise  
And fierce Alarm of the hoarse Trumpets voice  
He breaks the ranks, amidst a thousand Spears  
Pointed with death, undaunted at the fears  
Of doubtful war; he rushes like a Ranger,  
Through every Troop, & scorns so brave a danger.  
Do lofty Haggards cleave the flitting Air,  
With Plumes of thy devising? Then how dare  
Thy ravenous lips thus, thus, at random run,  
And countermand what I the Lord have done?  
Think'st thou to learn (fond Mortal) thus, by diving  
Into my secrets, or to gain by striving?  
Plead then: No doubt, but thine will be the Day;  
Speak (peevish Plaintiff) if thoust aught to say.   

job then replied: (Great God) I am but Dust, 
jobs confession.   
My heart is sinful, and thy hands are Just;  
I am a Sinner (Lord,) my words are wind,  
My thoughts are vain, (Ah Father) I have sinned:  
Shall Dust reply? I spoke too much before,  
I'll close these lips, and never answer more.   

Meditatio octavadecima  

O Glorious Light! A light, unapprehended  
By mortal Eyes! O Glory, never ended,  
Nor e'er created, whence all Glory springs  
In heavenly bodies, and in earthly things!  
O power Immense, derived from a Will  
Most Just, and able to do all, but ill!  
O Essence pure, and full of Majesty!  
Greatness (it self) and yet no Quantity;  
Goodness, and without Quality; producing  
All things from out of Nothing, and reducing  
All things to nothing; past all comprehending,  
Both First and Last, and yet without an Ending,  
Or yet beginning; filling every Creature,  
And not (it self) included; above Nature,  
Yet not excluded, of itself subsisting,  
And with itself, all other things, assisting;  
Divided, yet without division;  
A perfect Three, yet Three, entirely One;  
Both One in Three, and Three in One, together;  
Begetting, and begotten, and yet neither;  
The Fountain of all Arts, Confounding Art;  
Both All in All, and All in every part;  
Still seeking Glory, and still wanting none;  
Though Just, yet reaping, where Thou ne'er hast sown!   

Great Majesty, since Thou art every where,  
O, Why should I misdoubt thy Presence here?  
I long have sought Thee, but my ranging heart  
Ne'er quests, and cannot see thee where thou art:  
There's no Defect in thee, thy light hath shined,  
Nor can be hid (Great God,) but I am blind.  
O, clear mine eyes, and with thy holy Fire  
Inflame my breast, and edge my dull desire:  
Wash me with Hyssop, cleanse my stained thoughts,  
Renew my spirit, blur forth my secret faults;  
Thou tak'st no pleasure in a Sinners death,  
For thou art Life, thy Mercy's not beneath  
Thy sacred justice: Give thy servant power  
To seek aright, and (having sought) discover  
Thy glorious Presence; Let my blemished Eye  
See my salvation yet before I die.  
O, than my Dust, that's bowelled in the ground,  
Shall rise with Triumph at the welcome sound  
Of my Redeemers earth-awaking Trump,  
Vnfrighted at the noise; no sullen Dump  
Of selfe-confounding Conscience shall affright me,  
For he's my judge, whose dying Blood shall quite me.     

THE ARGUMENT.  
God speaks to job the second time:  
job yields his sin, reputes his crime.  
God checks his Friends, restores his health,  
Gives him new issue, double wealth.  
Sect. 19  

ONcemore the Mouth of heaven rapt forth a voice, 
Chap. 40. God speaks to job out of a Cloud the second time.   
The troubled Firmament was filled with noise,  
The Rafters of the darkened Sky did shake,  
For the Eternal thundered thus, and spoke:   

Collect thy scattered senses, and advise,  
Rouse up (fond man) and answer my replies.   

Wilt thou make Comments on my Text, and must  
I be unrighteous, to conclude thee, Just?  
Shall my Decrees be licenced by thee?  
What, canst thou thunder with a Voice like Me?  
Put on thy Robes of Majesty; Be clad  
With as bright glory (job) as can be had;  
Make fierce thy frowns, and with an angry face  
Confound the Proud, and his high thoughts abase,  
Pound him to Dust: Do this, and I will yield,  
Thou art a God, and needest no other shield.   

Behold, the Castle-bearing Elephant, 
The Elephant.   
That wants no bulk, nor doth his greatness want  
An equal strength. Behold his massy bones,  
Like bars of Iron; like congealed stones,  
His knotty sinews are; Him have I made,  
And given him natural weapons for his aid;  
High Mountains bear his food, the shady boughs  
His Coverts are; Great Rivers are his Troughs,  
Whose deep Carouses would, to standers-by,  
Seem at a watering, to draw jordan dry:  
What skilful huntsman can, with strength, outdare him?  
Or with what Engines can a man ensnare him?   

Hast thou beheld the huge Leviathan, 
Chap 41. The Whale.   
That swarthy Tyrant of the Ocean? Can  
Thy bearded hook empierce his Gils, or make him  
Thy landed Prisoner? Can thy Angles take him?  
Will he make suit for favour from thy hands,  
Or be enthralled to thy fierce Commands?  
Will he be handled as a Bird? Or may  
Thy fingers bind him for thy children's play?  
Let men be wise, for in his looks, he hath  
Displayed Banners of untimely death.  
If Creatures be so dreadful, how is he  
More bold than wise, that dares encounter Me?  
What hand of man can hinder my design?  
Are not the Heavens, and all beneath them, mine?  
Dissect the Greatness of so vast a Creature,  
By view of several parts: Sum up his feature,  
Like Shields, his Scales are placed, which neither Art  
Knows how to sunder, nor yet Force can part,  
His Belching rucks forth flames, his moving Eye  
Shines like the glory of the morning Sky;  
His craggy Sinews are like wreathes of brass,  
And from his mouth, quick flames of fire pass,  
As from an Oven, the temper of his Heart  
Is like a Nether-milstone, which no Dart  
Can pierce, secured from the threatening Spear;  
Afraid of none, he strikes the World with fear:  
The Bowman's brawny arm sends Shafts in vain,  
They fall like Stubble, or bound back again:  
Stones are his Pillow, and the Mud his Down;  
In earth none greater is, nor equal, none,  
Compared with him, all things he doth deride,  
And well may challenge to be King of Pride.   

So said, th'amazed job bend down his eyes 
Chap. 42. jobs Contrition.   
Upon the ground, and (sadly) thus replies.   

I know (Great God) there's nothing hard to Thee,  
Thy thoughts are pure, and too too deep for me:  
I am a Fool, and my distempered Wits,  
Longer out-strayed my Tongue, than well befits;  
My knowledge slumbered, while my Lips did chat,  
And, like a Fool, I spoke I knew not what.  
Lord, teach me Wisdom, lest my proud Desire,  
Cinge her bold Feathers in thy sacred Fire;  
Mine Ear hath oft been rounded with thy story,  
But now these very Eyes have seen thy Glory.  
My sinful Words I not (alone) lament,  
But, in the horror of my Soul, repent 
jobs repentance.   
Repent with Tears in Sackcloth, mourn in Dust;  
I am a sinful man, and Thou art Just.   

Thou Eliphaz, that mak'st my sacred Word, 
God reproves jobs three friends.   
An Engine of Despair (said then the Lord)  
Behold, full vyals of my Wrath, attends  
On thee, and on thy two too-partiall Friends;  
For you have judged amiss, and have abused  
My Word to work your Ends; falsely accused  
My righteous Servant: Of you all, there's none  
Hath spoke uprightly, as my job hath done.  
Haste then (before my kindling Fire begin  
To flame) and each man offer for his Sin,  
A Sacrifice, by job my servant's hand,  
And for his sake, your Offerings shall withstand  
The Wages of your sins; for what can I,  
If job, my Servant, make request, deny?   

So straight they went, and (after speedy pardon  
Desired, and had,) the righteous job (for guerdon  
Of his so tedious Grief) obtained the health  
Of a sound Body, and increase of Wealth;  
So that the second Harvest of his store,  
Was double that, which he enjoyed before.   

Ere this was blazed in the World's wide Ears,  
(The frozen breasts of his Familiars,  
And cold Allies, being now dissolved in Grief,)  
His backward Friends came to him with Relief,  
To feed his Wants, and with sad showering eyes,  
To moan his (yet supposed) Miseries:  
Some brought him Sheep, to bless his empty Fold,  
Some precious Earrings, others, Rings of Gold.  
God blest his loins, from whence there sprang again, 
The number of jobs children supplied.   
The number of his children that were slain,  
Nor was there any in the Land so rare  
In virtue, as his Daughters, or so fair.  
Long after this, he lived in peace, to see 
His long life.   
His children's children, to the fourth Degree,  
Till at the length, cut short by Him, that stays  
For none, he died in Peace, and full of Days. 
His peaceable death.    

Meditatio ultima.  

EVill's the defect of Good, and as a shade,  
That's but the Ruins of the Light decayed:  
It hath no 
* Non ens & malum consunduntur.  Being, nor is understood,  
But by the 
* Non ens non intelligitur nisi per oppositionem Entis.  Opposition of Good.  
What then is man? whose purest thoughts are pressed  
For Satan's war, which from the tender breast,  
With Infant silence, have consented to  
Such sinful Deeds, as (babes) they could not do?  
What then is man, but Nothing, being Evil,  
His Lunatic affections do unlevell,  
What Heaven created by just Waight and Measure;  
In Pleasure's sink, he takes a swinelike Pleasure;  
His span of life, and beauties like a Flower,  
Fair flourishing, and fading in an hour.  
He breaks into the World with Tears, and then  
Departs with Grief, nor knowing How, nor When.  
His life's a Bubble, full of seeming Bliss,  
The more it lengthens, the more short it is;  
Begot in darkness, he's brought forth, and cries  
For succour, passes over the Stage, and dies;  
Yet, like a Mole, the earth he undermines,  
Making the World, the Forge of his designs:  
He plots, complots, foresees, prevents, directs;  
He hopes, he fears, he doubts, pursues, effects;  
Each hath his Plot, each one his course doth bend,  
Each hath his Project, and each one his end.  
Thus restless man doth still his soul molest,  
To find out (that which hath no Being) Rest;  
Thus travels sinful man in endless toil;  
Taking a pleasure in his own turmoil.  
Fond man, first seek to purchase that divine  
And sacred Prize, and all the World is thine:  
Great Solomon made suit for Wisdom, and he found  
Not (barely) Wisdom, but that Wisdom, crowned  
With Diadems of wealth, and fair increase  
Of princely Honours, with long days of peace.   

(With safe respect, and awful reverence  
To Mystryes) Meditation doth commence 
Object.   
An earnest doubt: Was jobs despoiled Flock  
Restored double? Was his former Stock  
Renewed with double vantage? Did heaven add  
To all his fortunes, double what he had?  
Yet those sweet Emblems of his dearest love,  
(His sons) whom Death untimely did remove  
From off the face of the unthankful earth,  
Why likewise sprang not they in double birth?   

Bruit beasts, that perish once, are lost for ever,  
Their substance, and their All consume, together. 
Res.   
Once having given a farewell to the light,  
They die, and with them is perpetual night:  
But man, (vnorganed by the hand of Death)  
Dies not, is but transplanted from beneath,  
Into a fairer soil, or as a stranger,  
Brought home, secure from the world's pleasing Danger  
jobs Flocks were lost, and therefore double given,  
His Issu's equal shared 'twixt Earth and Heaven,  
One half in heaven, are glorious in their doom,  
Engaged as 
* Non amiss●…●ed praen●●….  Pledges, till the other come.   

Great God my Time's but short, and long my Way,  
My Heart hath lost her Path, and gone astray,  
My spirit's faint, and frail, my soul's embossed,  
If thou help not, I am for ever lost;  
Though Dust and Ashes, yet am I thy Creature,  
How e'er my sins are great, thy Mercy's greater:  
Of Nothing didst thou make me, and my sin  
Hath turned me back to Nothing, once again:  
Create me a new heart, (great God) inspire  
My cold Affections with thy sacred Fire:   

Instruct my Will, and rectify my Ways,  
O teach me (Lord) to number out my Days.      

The Digestion of the whole HISTORY.  

1 In Prosperity.  
THou, whose lank fortunes heaven hath swelled with  
Make not thyself, by over-wishing, poor, (store,  
Husband that Good, which else, Abuse makes Bad,  
Abstracting, where thy base Desire would add:  
Lines flowing from a Sophoclean Quill,  
Deserve no Plaudit ', being Acted ill.   

2 In Adversity.  
Hath heaven withdrawn the Talon he hath given thee?  
Hath envious Death of all thy Son's bereau'n thee?  
Have foul Diseases foiled thee on the floor?  
He earns no sweet, that never tasted sour:  
Thou art a Scholar; if thy Tutor do  
Pose thee too hard, He will instruct thee too.   

3 In Tentation.  
Art thou opposed to thine unequal Foe?  
March bravely on; Thy General bids thee Go,  
Thou art Heaven's Champion, to maintain his right;  
Who calls thee forth, will give thee strength to fight.  
God seeks, by Conquest, thy Renown, for He  
Will win enough: Fight thou, or Faint, or Flee.   

4 In Slander.  
If Winter fortunes nip thy Summer Friends,  
And tip their Tongues with Censure, that offends  
Thy tender Name, despair not, but be wise,  
Know Heaven selecteth, whom the World denies:  
Thou hast a milk-white Thisbe, that's within thee,  
Will take thy part, when all the world's again thee.   

5 In Readvancement.  
Art thou advanced to thy supreme Desire?  
Be still the same; Fear Lower, aim no Higher:  
Man's Play hath many Scenes, but in the last,  
Heaven knits up all, to sweeten All that's past:  
Affliction is a Rod, to scourge us Home,  
A painful Earnest of a Heaven to come.   
FINIS.