to Before all worlds So that our pow'r or will Affecteth not effecteth good or ill And that we are by doome ineviâ—able In ev'ry kind of action made unable Which Tenet seemeth rather to arise From those who write of heathnish Desâ—inies Then from a Christian. For though true it be That God Almighty all things doth foresee And order so and so dispose of things That to perfection his owne worke he brings In spight of Satan and of every deed That may from his malignant brood proceed Yet they have Actions naturally their owne Which God permits He likewise hath bestowne On us that are his children grace and powres Good Actions to performe which we call ours By Gods free gift Moreover he doth please To promise blisse or threaten plagues for these According to their natures that each one May heed the beâ—ter what is to be done Be stirred up to put good workes in use Or else be left at last without excuse For though I am assured we possesse By Nature no inherent Righteousnesse I naithelesse beleeve that ev'ry one Whose being first from Adams loines begun Received since our Universall fall One Talent at the least to worke withall With so much powre of working also that We may and should with God cooperate As Adam all men did of life deprive Ev'n so by Christ were all men made alive Yea ev'n as Moses did not let remaine One hoofe in Aegypt which did appeâ—taine To Isr'ell So beleeve I that not one Was left unransom'd by Gods only Sonne But that all through the sea of bloud dâ—d come As well those other who doe wander from Truths path in this lifes wildernesse as they Who come within the Land of Promise may And though like him who impudently laid Injustice to his Masters charge and said He reaped where he sow'd not though I say There want not some among us at this day Who like to him doe most unthankfully This grace of God in IESVS CHRIST deny Affirming that he some injoynes unto Much more than he did give them power to Our Maker unto ev'ry soule that lives So much by vertue of Christs Passion gives That whosoever falleth falâ—s not by Anothers but his owne iniquitie And by his actuall crimes makes unforgiven That Debt originall which was made even By his Redeemer who that backe will have If we abuse it which at first he gave Who ev'r wants powre to doe what God doth bid Lost in himselfe that powâ—e as Adam did Yet we that have it neither had that powre Noâ— keepe it can by any strength of our But by his holy Spiâ—it who hath taught That path of life wherein to walke we ought And this is such a Mystery that some Which thinke they sâ—e are blinde therein become Our guiltie Soules and Bodies were bereft Of all good Faculties and had not left So much as Will much lesse the powre to doe What soule or Bâ—dâ—es health conduced to Their guilt Christ from them tooke and by his might Depraved Nature so much sets to right That unto ev'ry Soule he gives the will Which Adam had of chusing good or ill And then both Life and Death he doth propose Before them so that either may be chose To them whom in his Church he doth afford To live past Child-hood He doth by his Word And by no other meanes this tender make With Infants and with Heathens he may take Some other course But surely when or how He that effects concernes not us to know When God doth make this tender which is then When he doth please and no man knoweth when If any Soule by Sathans guile doth chuse What Gods good Spirit moves her to refuse She then to put in action doth begin The haynous and impardonable sin Against the Holy Ghost which fâ—arfull crime Is made apparant to the world in time Or more or lesse by outward actions here As God shall please to let the same appeare And after this refusall ev'ry thing Which doth encrease of grace to others bring Doth make her grow more senselesse of her state Or else enrage or make her desperate And her freewill in Adam lost before Is lost againe by her for evermore But if she chuseth as the Spirit moveâ—h The Lord this Soule without repenting loveth In her preserving such affections still And such a portion of her first Freewill That though the frailties of her flesh doe seeme To choake them often in the worlds esteeme And sometime in her owne yet she for ever Doth in her motion towards God persever Till she arive in him Nor doth she cease Of pious workes her number to encrease But labours for assurance in election By reaching ev'ry day at more perfection Anâ— far is it from God to take away The guerdon of our Faith or to denay What he did by his Covenant ordaine To be the wages of our Christian paine Or to command us what should profit nought Or to neglect the workes that we have wrought For since God heeds those things that are so small As birds alightings and as haires that fall Makes use of ev'ry circumstance and chaiâ—es To further those maine ends which he ordaines Ten thousand little trifling things together Not one omitting none displacing neither Which may be pertinent his ends to fuâ—ther Or to effect them in their timely Order How could so fond a crotchet be devised That God our serioust actions hath despised Or that by his Foreknowledge or Decree Our deeds should all annihilated be Or that he should so oft incite us to What he had giv'n to man no pow'r to doe I dare not venture upon their distractions Who search the order of Eternall actions Nor doe I further seeke what God foreknowes Then he within his Word revealed showes Nor will I ever strive to pry into His hidden counsâ—lls as too many doe But their unwarrantable paths eschewing And Gods disclosed purposes pursuing Search onely for the knowledge of those things Which an effecting of his pleasure brings Since if I follow them it cannot be That he would purpose any harme to me Or in his secret counsell ought ordaine To make his publiâ—e will to be in vaine For though when Abram Isa'k thought to kill God's hidden purpose and revealed will Did seeme to crosse each other And when he Did threaten Niniveh destroy'd should be Yet they appeare not opposite to those Whose faith such holy secrets can disclose Or were it so from acts particular None should conclusions generall inferre God neuer said as yet that I could heare Man such a day shall perish howsoe're By faithfull workes for safety he endeauour But all his promises and threatnings euer Were made conditionall and haue fore-spoken Our life or death as they are kept or broken Nor is this any barre or contradiction To Gods free Grace or to his firme Election Or never-ending Loue. Nor helpes it those Who perseverance of the Saints oppose But rather maketh all those Doctrines good Yea being rightly weigh'd
Of endlesse Wandrings that it leads us to That sin sometimes whâ—ch we abhor to doe And otherwhile so strangely giddifies The Reason and the soules best Faculties That as I said before we doe not know What in our selves to bâ—ke or disallow Yea we such turnings and crosse wayes doe finde That ofâ— our Guides as well as we â—e blinde The Spiâ—it and the Flesh have their delight In things so diverse and so opposite And such a Law of sinne doth still abide Withâ—n our Members that we swarve aside Doe what we can and while we helpe the one To what seemes needfull th' otâ—â—â— is undone If by the Spirits motion I procâ—ed To compasse what I thinke my Soule may need My Body wants the while and I am faine To leave my course that her I may sustaine Lâ—ft my engagements or necessities Might my well meant endeavor scandalize If I but feed my Body that it may Assist my Spirit in some lawfull way It straight growes wanton If I fast it makes My spirit faint in what she undertakes And if I keepe a meane meane fruits are they And little worth which then produce I may If in a Christiâ—n love some houres I spend To be a comfort to some female friend Who needs my counfell I doe cause â—he while Another with hot jealousies to boyle Nor know I how my selfe excuse I may Vnlesse anothers weaknesse I display Which if I doe not or some lye invent They censure me unkinde or impudent I can nor doe nor speake nor thinke that thing But still some inconvenience it will â—ring Or some occasion of anevill be To me or others or to them and me And from the body of this Death by whom But by my Saviour can I freed become Oh! therefore sweet Redeemer succour lend me And from these bogs and sâ—ares of sin defend me Deare God assist in these perplexities Which from our fraile condition doe arise Sâ—t straight I pray thee Lord â—he crookednesse Oferring Nature and these faults redresse So out of frame is evâ—ry thing in me That I can hope for cure from none but thee To thee I therâ—fore kneele to thee I pray To thee my soule complaineth ev'ry day Doe thou but say Be whole or be thou cleane And I shall soone be pure and sound agen The Will thou gavâ—st me to affect thy Will Though it continue not so perfect still Aâ— when thou first bestow'dst the same accept it Ev'n such as my polluted Vessell kept it For though it wounded be through many fights Continu'd with my carnall appetites Yet iâ— my hâ—arts desire to me be knowne Thy Pleasure I preferre before minâ— owâ—e If I could chuse I would not guilâ—y be Of any â—ct diâ—plâ—asing unto thee In all my life I would not spâ—â—ke a word But thâ—t which to thy likâ—ng might accord I woulâ— not thinke a thought but wâ—at might fhow That fâ—om thy Spirit all â—y â—usings flow I would nor hate nor love nor hope nor feare But as unto thy praise it usefull were I would not have a joy within my heart Of which thou shouldâ—t not be the greater part Nor would I live or dye or happy be In life or death but Lord to honour thee Oh! let this Will which is the precious seed Of thine oâ—â—e Love be taken for the deed Assist thou mâ— against the potent evill Of my great Foes the World the Flesh the Devill Renew my fainting pow'rs my heart revive Refresh my spirits and my soule relieve Lord draw me by the cords of thy affection And I shall fall in love with thy perfection Vnloose my chaines and I shall then be free Convert me and converted I shall be Yea to my soule oh God! and to my senses Display thy beautie and thy excâ—â—lencies So plaine that I may have them still in sight And thou shalt ever be my sole delight The world though she should into pieces teare me With troubles from thy love should never scare me Nor â—ble be to tempt me from one duty To â—he with all her pleasure and her beauty Behold I came to seeke thee Lord ev'n here Where to attend thy presence most men feare Though here I saw the Pestilence withstand me I stand to know what worke thou wouldst command me From all the pleasures of the world and from Hâ—r hopes of safety I am bâ—â—her come Where thou art angry and to see thy frowne Am at thy feet with terror fallen downe Yet hence I would not flye although I might To gaine the chiefest of this worlds delight Till I perceive thou biddâ—st me goe away And then for twenty woâ—lds I would not stay I came as heartily as flâ—sh and blood Could come that hath in it so little good To doe thee service and if dye I must Loe here I am and I pronounce thee just Although thou slâ—y me yet my soule well knowes Thou lovâ—st me And I le trust in thee repose Though in my selfe I feele I am polluted I finde a better righteousnesse imputed Then I have lost Thy blessed Love doth fill me With joyes that will revâ—ve me though thou kill me My sins are great â—ut thy compassion's greater I haâ—e thy Quittance though I am thy Debtor And though my temp'rall hopes may be destroid Yet I have those that never shall be void Thus to the Lord my soule I powred out When I with dâ—ngers waâ— enclos'd about And though I was a sinner this appeased His wrath in Châ—ist aâ—d my gâ—iev'd soule was eased He graciously accepted in good part This poore oblation of an humbled heart His Mercy seâ—l'd my pardon and I shook The Pestilence which hold upon me tooke From off my shoulder without sense of harme As Paul did shake the Viper from his arme That weeke moreover God begâ—n to slack His Bow and call his bloody Angell backe VVho by degrees retyr'd as he came on For weeke by weeke untill it fâ—ll to none The number which the Pestilence did kill VVas constantly and much abated still VVhen we were fleating on that Inundation At first we sent a carnall Lamentation VVhich like the Raven â—rom Noahs Arke did flye And found nor rest nor hope of remedy Then sent we Dâ—ve-like Mournings but thâ—â—â— feet A while could with no resting places meeâ— Then forth againe we sent them out from â—ence VVing'd with moâ—e Charity and Penitence And then they brought an Olive-bâ—anch of peace VVhich made us hopefull of this Floods decrease The Lord did favour to this Kingdome daigne And brought from thrall his Iacob back againe His peoples crimes he freely did release His irâ— abated his hot rage did cease His praise had in our Land a dwelling place And Mercy there with Iustice did embrace And 't was a grace to be considered That a Disease so generally spred And so contagious in few weeks should from So many thousands to a cypher come That our infectious beds and roomes and stuffe VVhich in all likelyhood had beene enough To keepe the
yonder how the Shadowes passe along Behold just now a man before thee dies Behinde thy back another breathlesse lies That Bell now ringing soundeth out the Knell Of him whom thou didst leave last ev'ning well Lo he that for his life lyes gasping there Is one of those who thy companions were This very morning And see see the Man That 's talking to thee looketh pale and wan Is sick to death and if thou doe not run For helpe will die before his tale be done Yet art thou noâ— afraid I prethee tell Why mightst thou not have beene that man as well Though he this minute hath prevented thee Why maist not thou the next that followes be Why shouldst not thou as quickâ—y drop away Since flâ—sh and blood thou art as fraâ—l as they What can thy speedy dissolution hinder Since thy complexion is as apt as tinder To take that Flame And if it seize thee must What art thou better then a heap of dust There is no Constitution Sex Degree Or Age of man from this contagion free Nor canst thou get an Antidote to fit For all Infection though perhaps thy wit Could learne thy temper so as not to wrongâ— Thy health by things too weak or over strong For men oft change thâ— temper they should hold Are sometime hot sometime againe are cold One while are sprightly otherwhile are dull Are now too empty and anon too full That t is a doubtfull and a curious act To adde a just proportion and substract In using outward meanes of presâ—rvation According to the boâ—ies variation And many therein failing lose their lives By wrong or misapply'd Preservatives Thou shalt have therefore but uncertaine hopes From Druggists or Apothecary shops To warrantize thy health if thou on those In staying here thy confidence repose And sure thou neither harbor'st such a thought That thou of any better sâ—uffe art wrought Then other men nor trustest unto Charmes To keepe off this Disease from doing harmes For those unhallowed Med'cines and iâ—pure Breed greater Plagues then those they seeme to cure Nor art thou of that Brotherhood which sees The Booke of Gods particular Decrees And Gypsie like by heathnish Palmistry Or by the lines of Phisiognomy Conjectures dareth not alone to give Who of this Plague shall dye or who shall live But also wickeâ—ly presumes to tâ—ll Which man shall goe to heav'n and which to hell Of these I know thou art not For as yet I hope thou hast not so forgone thy wit To credit their illuding pâ—ophanations Which are but fantosmes of illuminations Begot in these late Ages by mischâ—nce Betwixt much pride and zealous ignorance Thou dost not think thy merits greater are Then other mens that God thy lâ—fâ— should spare Nor canst thou hope thy safety to possâ—sse For that thy follies or thy sinnes are lesse Since if thou hadst but one time beene mis-led Thy life for that one time were soâ—feiâ—ed And this Disease with outward maâ—ks doth strike The Righteous and the Wicked both alike Then since thou art a Sinner and art sure That sinne did first this Pestilence procure Since thou maist also justly say with griefe That thou of all transgressors art the chiefe Since thy offences some of those have bin Which hâ—lpe to bring this great Infection in Nay since it may be if thou search thy heart That thou a principall among them art Who from the Ship must Ionas-like be throwne Before this Tempest will be over blowne Why doth it not thy guilâ—y soule dismay And make thee hasten more to flye away It may be thou dost vainly hope for Fame By doing this Oh! what availes the same When thou art raked up quite void of sense Among the slaughters of the Pestilence What will it profit when thou sleep'st in clay Some few should praise and some lament thy stay Some heed it not Some make a mocke thereat Some deeme thee foolish others dâ—sperate Some judge thy tarying might for trifles be Some for thy best intention slander thee Or with base trash thy breathlesse Muse belyâ— Or mis-report thy dying if thou dye For if thou chance to perish in this Place These wayes and other meanes to thy disgrace Thy Foes will finde and in thy fall contented Accomplish what thy life might have prevented But say to scape alive thy Lott it be A troupe of other perils wait on thee Thou know'st not what extremities may fall Nor how thy heart may struggle therewithall Such Poverty upon this Towne may seize E're God asswage the rage of this Disease That meanes may saile thee and before supply Thy friends can send thee thou maist famisht lye For they who now affect thee and with whom Thou shalâ— perhaps to live resolv'd become Ev'n they may perish in this Pest and leave thee To strangers whose affections will deceive thee In time of health but slenderly befriend thee In sicknesse to a lonely Roome commend thee Make spoile of what is thine and senslesse be Of helping and of all regard of thee And then it will perchance afflict thy mind That thou unto thy selfe wert so unkinde As to neglect thâ—t wholesome Country Ayre Whereto thy friends invited thy repaire Thou maist remember when it is too late Those pleasures and that happy healthy state Thou mightst have had Aâ—d wiâ—h how much respect Thou shouldst have liv'd with those that thee affect A comfort to thy Parents who with feare Dâ—e sorrow for thy needlâ—sse lingring here For them thou leavest anâ— some friends beside To live 'twixt hope and feare unsatisfi'd By this thy doing whom thou dost abuse If that which may dâ—scomfort them thou chuse And when they shall thy wilfulnesse condemne With what good Reasons wilâ— thou answer them Thy Dwelling is not here nor is thy stay Compelled by Affaires that urge it may Thou hast nor publike neither private charge But maist in any place goe walke at large The woâ—ld conceiveth not the least suspition That thou art either Surgeon or Physitian Whose Art may stand this place in any sâ—eed Or that thy friends will thy attendance need For thou canst neither Broths nor Caudles make Nor drenches good enough for horse to take Thou hast no Calling that may warrantize This boldnesse neither can thy wit devise How thou will answer God fâ—r daring thuâ— An act so needlesse and so perillous Consider well that there are paines in death Consider that when thou haâ—t lost thy breath Thy Flesh the deare companion of thy Soule Shall be rejected as uncleane and foule And lodge within a Grave contemn'd and vile Which might have liv'd esteemed yet a while Consider that thou hast not an estate Of being which is base or desperate But such as few on earth possesse a better Though each one that hath ought enjoyes a greater Consider that thou dost endanger now The blessing of long life Consider how Thou mightst have lived to a larger measure Of riches of preferment or of pleasure And profited thy Country
could wish it doubled were Wâ—â—h somâ— such observâ—tionâ— as would make Their practices the morâ— successe to tâ—ke And that their naturall meanes had hallowed bin With so much Faitâ— and penitence for sin As might havâ— brought more workes of Piety To sanâ—tifie their outward Poluy Foâ— those dull Nâ—turalists who think this Foe Doth by meere nat'â—all causes come oâ— goe Are much deceiv'd Yea in their heâ—rts they say There is no God how â—ver glâ—ze they may And as their cogitationâ— are unholy So is their seeming wisedome sottish folly They are the base Conjunctions and Aspects Of Sin that this our Climate so infects And neither Constellations nor the Weather For then we had beene poâ—s'ned all together By this Contagion and had breath'd the longer Or shorter while as nature had beene stronger Or weaker in us Nothing had beene free But birds and beasts had dy'd as well aâ— we And this Disease had seiz'd on ev'ry Creature Or more or lesse as it partakes our nature It was no nâ—ysome Ayre no â—ewre or Stinke Which brought this Death as most among us thinke For then those places where ill smells abound Had more infectious at that time beene found Then we perceive they were yea this Disease On ev'ry person delicate would seize Without exception And where Savours ill Still bide the Plague should there continue still Then if they brought the same they sure feed it And keepe it alwayes there as well as breed it Which God â—orbid and â—each us to discerne His providence and what thereby to learne Vaine thoughts have also they who credit can That this Infirmity at first began By meanes of populousnesse For were it so Some Courts and Allies many yeares agoe Had beene infected And thâ—se places where Throng'd up together greatest numbers are From Visitation had not free remained When open Streets and Borroughs have complained And let them not beleeve their fallacy Because great Cities have most frequently This fearfull Sicknesse or afflicted be When little Townes and Villages are free For as there is in great and popular places More sin and more abundance of Gods graces So it is just that thither should be sent The greater measure of his Chastisement That so their eminenâ—e might shew abroad As well the Iustice as the Love of God Whose Iudgements being laid on Townes obscure Might small respect and lesse effect procure As ignorant as these I reckon those Who this Disease infectious doe suppose To ev'ry one and them who credit not That Sicknesse by infection may be got For these opinions can have no defence Since both will false be found in common sense For if we say this Plague infects not any How commeth it we daily see so many Consum'd beneath one roofe in little space How comes it that it creeps from place to place So orderly as oftentimes we see In some close Lane oâ— Street How may it be That twenty Villages far distant from Infected Places tainted should become Within some few dayes after their arriving Who in contageous places had their living None being there before they came infected Nor any such disease neare-hand suspected How comes all this unlesse the Maladâ—e Hath in it selfe as had the Lâ—prosie A spreading Nature and envenom'd that Which of her poison can participate Beleeve it as the Violet or Rose With pure and pleasing sweetnesse where it growâ—s Perfumes the Aire and sendeth Odours out Which keepe a certaine distance there-about And more or lesse affect the Passers-by As they have more or lesse capacity In smelling them Or as the calmed aire Is either more or lesse corrupt or faire Right so this Plague ev'n naturally affects A space of Aire about it and infects At such or such a distance ev'ry one As he hath weaknesses to worke upon Unlesse that her malignitie be staid By naturall meanes or powre Divine alaid And yet a false Position make they shall Who thence infer the Plague infecteth all Who breathe her tainted Aire For how did they Escape it â—hen who long time night and day In places of infection were detain'd And in the bosome of this Pestâ—emain'd â—emain'd Ev'n wheâ—e they often had their eares and eyes Affronted by the sad aspect and cries Of Death and Dying men How scaped he That in the Church obliged was to be Among infectious people and to speake Till tired were his lungs and spirits weake Ev'n when the peoples thronging and their heat Did vapour up their breathings and their sweat For him to swallow What preserv'd the Clarkes The Sextens Searchers Keepers and those Sharks The shamelesse Bearers who were nigh become A rout too bad to picke out hangmen from How scap't the Surgeon that oft puts his head Within the steame of an Infectious bed And ev'ry day doth handle search and dresse Those Biles that over-flow with rottennesse Or which is more how scapt those Babes the Pest That were not only weake but suckt the brest Of Mothers deadly sicke when they did weare Those noisome Blaines that most infectious are This often chanceth Yea this hath beene seene When on the veâ—y brest the sore hath beene Nay I have heard by credible relation That neare to Straâ—ford-bow this Visitation A little Infant was preserv'd alive Who sucked on the dying brests of five How this may be I know not If I shall Conclude with some this Plague hath powre on alâ— Nor can I finde a reason how it stinted Or how our totall ruine was prevented For when it was at height and when appear'd Most causes that Infection should be fear'd Then no man was confined as before No Bill or Crosse was fixt on any doore We visited the Sicke we shunned neither The place nor person but met all together Yet then and let us marke it not till then This Plague her fury did abate agen And constantly abate though most refused To keepe such Orders as at first were used Which manifestâ—th well that howsoe're Malignant in it selfe the â—est appeare Gods hand restraines it many a man protecting Immediately some mediately directing To such or such a meanes of preservation That they might honour him in their salvation And as he striketh some that men might feare His Iustice So he other some doth spare That they might love his Mercies and perceive That he can at his pleasure take and leave For if God saved none some Athe'st would not Make doubt perhaps to publish that he could not And scarce one man would be so neighbourly To helpe his brother in this malady Which Charity to further and to shew How safely men their Callings may pursue In ev'ry danger we have had this yeare Of Gods great Providence faire token here For 't is observ'd that he hath few destroy'd Who were in this mortality employ'd About those Offices which have to us In common sense appear'd most dangerous Few Sextons and few Surgeons have miscari'd Who in their callings at this want have tary'd And of those Market-folks who at our
need Brought in provisions this weake place to feed I cannot heare of one who did become Infected or who brought infection home Ev'n in that Parish where I did abiâ—e And where nigh halfe a thousand weekly dy'd Not one of all that number perished That were the common Bearers of the Dead But though from midnight till the break of day They did infectious Caâ—kasses convay From sickly Dwellings to those Pits of Death Which breathed out a most contagious breath With life and health their service God rewarded Ev'n though the most of them nought else regarded But that base gaine which might their want supply Or feed them in some wicked vanity How then can we that of this favour heare From any lawfull action flye through feare Or doubt of Gods protection when we make A dangerous attempt for conscience sake And know beside that what we â—â—rive to do We are both called and oblig'd unto Moreover since the latter sort here named Are for the greater part in life defamed Such who their needfull Offices abused Such who nor outward meanes nor inward used To keep their healths but grew the bolder in The practices of ev'ry kind of sin Such whom Gods Iudgements stupified more And made far harder hearted then before Since those I say of such condition were And yet preserved in their Callings here For what good use I pray can we suppose Those men were so preserved but that those Who truly seeke Gods glory in their stay Might have the more assurance in their way And know that if to such God please to give This mortall life they shall much rather live Or else which is far better if they dye Obtaine a life with immortality Some Wiseman-woud-be now perhaps will prate That this is Claphamnisme And that the State In her good policies to stop the breach Of this gâ—eat Plague is wrong'd by what I teach But rather they injurious are to me Who so affirme and vaine their cavils be For though to shew the powre Divine the more Our Muse declares by what is gone before That Gods owne hand our Citie did preserve When we scarce Meaâ—es or Order did observe Let no man gather thence that we maintaine All Meanâ—s or Civill Orders to be vaine For of selfe-murther that man guiltie dies Who meanes of health doth wilfully despise Yea doubtlâ—sse there belongs a curse to them That orderly proceedings doe contemne And whereas we our Orders did transgresse It was necessitie not wilfulnesse That uâ—ged it because our common woe Did farâ—â— beyond the powre oâ— Oâ—dâ—r goe At rising of the â—loud we made a Bay But at the height it carri'd all away In humane Policie we sâ—w no hope But as the stones and Timbers whiâ—h doe stop A Breach at first when all is drowned o're Doe nothing else but make the waters rore So when our Sicknesse and our Poverty Had greater wants than we could well supply Strict Orders did but more enrage our griefe And hinder in accomplishing releefe Had ev'ry house beene lockt which we suppos'd To stand infected few had beene unclos'd Yea our fiâ—st Orders had we still observ'd The healthie Housholds would not halfe have serv'd To keepe the Sicke And who should then have heeded Our private cares Or got us that we needed As long as from each other we refâ—ain'd We greater sorrowes ev'ry day sustain'd Yea whilst for none but for ouâ— selves we car'd Our brethren perisht and the worse we far'd This made us from our Policies appeale And meete in Love each others wounds to heâ—le This made vs from our civill Orders flie To make more practise of our Charitie And hereunto peâ—haps compell'd were we By meere necessitie to lâ—t us see Experiments of that unmatched good Which floweâ—h from a Christian Neighbourhâ—od And learne what publike and what prâ—vate case It bringeth in a gâ—nerall Diseâ—se And how it may a Common-wealth sustaine When carnall Wisdome and Selfe-love are vaine Oâ— we perchance from vulgar helpes were driven Lest Overmuch assurance might be given To outward meanes Or lest we us'd them so As if Gods powre were chained thereunto Oâ— else it was permitted to dâ—clare That fruitlesse all our best endevours are Without his blessing That no creatures have A Vertue to preserve till he will save That his immediate powre must countermand When any Plague hath got an upper hand And that such Mercy showne in sâ—ch distresse Might binde us to the greater thankfulnesse But lest what here precedeth hath not showne My purpose fully be it also knowne That to restraine or spurre the PESTILENCE There is both supernat'rall Providence And Causes naturall The first of these Can worke without the later if it please The later cannot any thing effect But as the former shall the same direct And though in ev'ry sicknesse thus it is Yet such hid properties are found in this Such oppositions in the Naturall Causes Such knots and riddles that it much amazes The naturall man because he seldome findes As he perceives in griefes of other kindes The Causes and Effects agree together For there is much uncertainty in either On some this Plague doth steale insensibâ—y Their muddy nature stirring secretly To their destruction Some it striketh so As if a mortall hand had with a blow Arrested them and on their flesh hath seene A palmes impression to appearance beene One mâ—n is faint weake sickly full of feare And drawes his breath where stâ—ongst infections are Yet scapes with life Another man is young Light-hearted healthy stout well-temper'd strong And lives in wholesome ayre yet gets a fit Of this Land Caleâ—ture and dies of it Some are tormented by it till we sâ—e Their veines and sinewes almost broken be The very soule distracted sense bereft And scarce the smallest hope of scaping leâ—t Yet soone recover Othersome againe Fall suddenly or feele so little paine When they are seized that they breathlesse lye E're any dying Symptomes we â—spy On some an endlesse drowsinesse doth creepâ— Some others cannot get one winke of sleepe This useth ev'ry day preservatives Yet dies another taketh none yet lives Ev'n thus vncertainly this Sicknesse playes Spares wounds and killeth many sev'rall wayes From this experience let us not conclude As many doe among the multitude Who misconceiving to no small offence The doctrine of Eternall Providence Who from the truth of sober knowledge wandring And Gods Decrees and Iustice also slandring Doe so necessitate the Fate of man That whatsoever he endevour can His paines is lost and that foredoom'd he must At this or that set moment turne to dust And that no industry no innocence No wilfull carelesnesse or foule offence Nâ—r any humane actions helpfull be To life or death but meerly Gods Deâ—ree Ev'n such there be And howsoever they Preach Faith or Workes in show yet thâ—y denay The pow'r of both and secretly maintaine By consequence at least that meanes are vaine For they affirme that ev'ry thing men doe They are by God predestinated
As if at severall times they had beene done Beâ—ause our shallownesse no meanes can find To entertaine them in their proper kinde And though respecting us who temp'ral be Wee say that God Almighty doth foresâ—e Foreknow us and prâ—destinate yet sure His Essence no such termes can well endure In proper sense Because with him no doome Word Thought or Act is passed or to come But all things present Yea all Times and all Those things which wee by severall names doe call Our Birthâ— our Lives our Deaths and our Saluations Our free-elâ—ctions and prâ—dâ—stinations Are all at once with God without foreseeing Eu'n all in one-eternall-present-being Which few observing many men have thought That Gods etâ—rnall actions should be wrought Like ours in Time which is as if they should Endeavour how the world they might enfold Within a Nut-shell And while thus men strive According to their fancies to contrive An order in Gods Workings they mistake them Blasphemously and orderlesse doe make them Yea to define his actions they neglect That part which is their duty to effect Themselves and others losing in a path Which neither profit end nor safety hath And by disputing what from us is hidden Disturb the doing that which God hath bidden I have digrest enough and some there are Who think perhaps that I have gone too farre Yet let it not be judg'd impertinent That I have so pursu'd this Argument For want of minding what is here rehearsed Hath often times the Pestilence dispersed Yea some who fondly said that ev'ry man Shall live his time decreed do what he can And that each one at his fixt houre shall dye 'Gainst which he seeks in vaine a remedy Ev'n these made much good means of health neglected Much wise and wholsome counsell be rejected And caused oft in this our common wo That Death was brought and caried to and fro But lest in chasing them I run astray I le prosecute againe my purpos'd way The Pestilence doth show her selfe inclin'd So variously she cannot be defin'd She neither certaine forme nor habit wears But partly metaphysicall appears And partly naturall She oft may cary Her Progresse on by meanes that 's ordinary But rarely doth begin or end her Arrant Save by an extraordinary Warrant It doth infect and it infecteth not It is an arrow which is often shot By Gods owne hand from his far-striking bow Without the help of any meanes below It is Gods Angel which to death can smite Miraculously an army in a night It is a rationall Disease which can Pick with discretion here and there a man And passe o're those who either marked are For Mercy or a greater Plague to beare We see it suting hath to Natures lawes A nat'rall motion and a nat'rall cause For as a Fire among great Buildings throwne Burnes â—imber melteth Metall cracketh Stone Defaceth Statues makes moist places dry The Vaults below to sweat the tyles to flye And manifests his force in sev'rall kindes According to the objects which he findes So hath the Pestilence a nat'rall pow'r To haâ—den fright endâ—nger or devouâ—e And divers other changes to procuâ—e As she doth find a sev'rall temp'rature In mind or body fitting the rejection Or for the entertainment of Infection These things consider'd They who shall desire To scape from this Contagion must acquire A double Ward For doubtlesse there is none That can resist it with one guard alone In times of Danger vainly we presume Vpon our Iv'â—y boxes of Perfume To little purpose we defend our noses With Wormwood Rue or with our Radeliffe Posies Of tarred Ropes Small warrant for our lives Are all such bodily Preservatives As Cordiall waters Gums Herbes Plants and Rootes Our simple or compounded Antidotes Our Boezar-stone our med'cines Chymicall Or that high-pâ—ized Iewell wherewithall For horne of Vâ—icorne men cheated are Or those unhallowed Charmes which many weare For these are far unable to withstand The vigour of his incorporeall hand Who strikes for sinne unlesse to these wee adde A Plaister which of better things is made Yea Nature failes unlesse adjoyne wee doe A med'cine metaphisicall thereto Moreover fruitlesly devout are they And that they seeke to God they falsely say Who wilfully neglect or else contemne That outward meanes which Nature offers them And God provides to cure or to prevent The mischiefe of Diseases pestilent For since wee fram'd of soules and bodies are God pleased is that wee should have a care To both of them and labour how to finde What appertaines to either in his kinde He therefore who desireth a defence Against this Arrow of the Pestilence A compleat Armour must from God procure And still be arm'd his person to secure He must put on the Helmet of Salvation And shoe his feet with holy Preparation A Belâ— of Truth must for his loines be sought His Brest-plate must of Righteousnesse be wrought The Shield of Faith his Target must become The darts of Sathan to secure him from Gods Word must be the Sword upon his thigh His Praiers like continuall shot must flie And he should keepe for ever his abode Within the shadow of Almighty God Or else the Workeman looseth all his paine And he that watcheth wakeâ—h but in vaine He also must expell out of the soule That filthinesse of sinne which makes it foule He must avoid the crimes he lived in His Physiâ—ke must be Rue ev'n Rue for sinne Of Herb of Grace a Cordiall he must make The bitter Cup of true Repentance take The Diet of Sobriety assume His House with workes of Charitie perfume And watch that from his heart in secrecie Arise no savours of Hypocrisie He must beleeve God so doth love him that His everlasting good is aimed at In all he suffers and that God doth know And marke his nature and his temper so As that he will impose nor more nor lesse Than shall be needfull for his happinesse For such a Faith will keepe hâ—m still content Still lowly under ev'ry chaâ—tisement Still thankfull whatsoever doth befall And Blessings make of what we Plagues doe call He must moreover with a holy Feare In all his Christian duties peâ—severe Still watchfull and at no time daring ought Which may from God divert him in a thought So neere as possibly the powre of man So great a diligence endeavour can For round about him are a thousand Feares A thousand Dangers and ten thousand Snares And as a Traveller who for his Bridges To passe deepe waters having nought but ridges Of narrow Timbers dares not cast his eye From off the Plancke nor set his foot a wrie â—ecause beneath him he beholds a Streame That runnes and roares and gapes to swallow him So he that must an hourely passage make Through such like Plagues as this whereof I speake And many dangers waiting on him hath To catch him if he slip his narrow Path Had need be carefull that he never stray Nor swarve in any thing beside the way Let therefore ev'ry
and how to live As worthy their free-calling such as they Who ev'ry houre doe labour watch and pray Their duties to performe and dare not peepe Abroad at morning or at ev'ning sleepe Till they the sacrifice of thankes have paid For favours past and begg'd for future aid Such as on Gods owne pleasure can rely And in his Faith resolved are to dye Such as have Charity and working are Their safeties with continuall joy and fearâ— Ev'n such as these securely may repose When twenty thousand dangers them enclose On these Gods Angells wait and these they shall From stumbling keepe when many Millions fall From ev'ry kinde of harme they shall be free And sleepe where feares and mischiefes thickest be Yea though that seize them which the Plague we cal It shall to them become no Plague at all But rather be their furth'rance to acquire That perfect happinesse which they desire Let no man therefore in this Visitation Tye God unto the temp'rall preservation Or be discouraged if he shall please To exercise him under this Disease Supposing he inflicteth it on none As some fooles thinke but Reprobates alone For he did Hezekiah thereby strike He by thâ—s Malady or some such like Afflicted holy David his Elected Whose Reprobation is of none suspected And though just men from temporall infection Shall finde more certainty of Gods protection Then others doe yet sure that Pestilence From which God promis'd absolute defence Is not that sicknesse which the body slayes But that which death unto the soule conveyes Our â—â—rthly griefes to heav'nly joyes doe rearâ— And why should any Man or grudge or feare A mortall wound so he might gaine thereby A body cloth'd with immortalitie Or why should we repine in missing that Which to our dammage we had aymed at When God doth give us more then we desired â—nd lifts us higher then our hopes aspired To him due praises rather let us give Whose love to us is better then to live But I have said enough to this effect And if what I have spoken have reâ—pecâ— We shall I hope hereafter well disâ—erne What by this Iudgement we are bound to learne How much to trust how much to hope or feare What outward meanes or inward helpes there are VVhereby this heavy Plague may be prevented Or entertained with a brest contented So few as yet have thus prepared bin That now of late it quickly rushed in In spite of all our Halberds and our Watches And as a Flame which in a Tempest catches On some full Barne is blowne about the Village And fiâ—eth here the hopefull fruits of Tillage A Cottage there on th' other side the way A well-â—ill'd Stable or a Rickâ— of Hay Another yoâ— close by doth menace harme Ev'n to the Church forthwith consume â— Farme Some dwellings now and then doth overgoe Anon laâ—es waste a dozen in a row And still increase goe forward and returne Vntill the Towne in ev'ry quarter burne So rag'd the Pestilence And as we see Those woâ—kmen who repaiâ—ing breaches bâ— In Thame or Trent at first the Banks doe raise Shut closâ— the Sluceâ— strengthen up the Bay's And lâ—bour seriously with much good hope VVhile they perceive but some few gaps to stop But when they see the Flood prevailing more Ten breaches made for â—v'ry one before And all endeavors faile they worke forsake Leaving the waters their owne coursâ— to take So when this Floud began we had â— thought To keepe it backe and to that purpose wâ—ought But when we saw it rise beyond our pow'r VVe gave it way at pleasure to devoure At first the publique Officers did show Their skill in curbing this encroaching Foe Not sparing to be prodigall of paine The spreadings of Infection to restraine And ev'ry private family beside Against this danger did for armes provide Their Yards and Halls were smoked with perfume To stop the stinkes which thither might presume Their Chambers furnisht were with Antidotes With Viols Boxes Glasses Gallipots All filled with munition of defence As they suppos'd against the Pestilence Some did in Meats their meanes of safety thinke Some Epicures did arme themselves with Drinke Some foolishly did build up monstrous hopeâ— Vpon the smoking of Tobacco shops But this disease without a Conscience making Of their presuming on Tobacco taking Came thither too and frequently did cary Good-fellowes from their smoaking Sanctuary Some one and some another course devised Yet ev'ry day more places were surprised Which when we saw and how it overcast All temp'rall force we thought upon at last The helpe of God and then we did repaire To crave his ayd in Fasting and in Prayer Then some through servile terror some for fashioâ— And some out of a true humiliation Emplored ayd from heav'n and show'd in teareâ— Their Hope their true Repentance and their Feares But whether God did for a while contemnâ— Ouâ— suit because we gave not eare to him When first he call'd or whether he thought fit That we the longer might remember it To fright us somewhat more or whether we Brought not such hearty penitence as he Expected from us or appointed were Some further tryalls of our Faith to beare Sure some such cause there was and for that cause God did not onely seeme to make a pause In answ'ring our Petition but to chide More sharply and to throw it quite aside For with a doubled and redoubled stroke The Plague went on and in among us broke With such unequall'd fury and such rage As Brittan never felt in any age With some at ev'ry turning she did meet Of ev'ry Alley ev'ry Lane and Street She got possession and we had no way Or passage but she there in Ambush lay Through Nookes Corners she pursu'd the Chase There was no barring her from any place For in the publique Fields in wait she laid And into private Gardens was convaid Sometime she did among our Garments hide And so disperse among us unespy'd Her stâ—ong Infections Otherwhile unseene A Servant Friend or Child betraid hath beene To bring it home and men were fearfull growne To tarie or converse among their owne Friends fled each other Kinsmen stood aloofe The Sonne to come withiâ— his Fâ—thers roofe Presumed not the Mother was constrain'd To let her child depart unentertain'd The love betwixt the husband and the wife Was oft neglected for the love of life And many a â—ne their promise falsifi'd Who vow'd that nought but death should theÌ„ divide Some to frequent the Markets were afraid And some to feed on what was thence purvay'd For on young pigs such purple spots were sâ—ene As markes of Deâ—th on Plague-sicke men have been And it appeared that our suburbe-Hogs Were little better then our Cats and Dogs Men knew not whither they might safely come Nor where to make appointments nor with whom Nay many shunn'd Gâ—ds-house and much did feare So farre to trust him as to meet him there In briefe the Plague did such distruction threat And
In any merriment this world can make No not in all her pleasures if among Her sweets there should be sharpnesse wanting long For being fearfull that his bodies rest The soules true peace might secretly molest His mirth would make him dull his being jolly As worldlings are would make him melancholy And if no other cause be thought upon Would gâ—ieve because the sense of griefe were gone Whilst I have gallopt on in that Career Which youth in freedome so affecteth here And had the most delightfull blandishment My youth could yeed me for my hearts content When I in handsome robes have beene araid My Tailor and my Mercer being paid When daily I on change of dainties fed Lodg'd night by night upon an easie bed In lordly Chambers and had therewithall Attendants forwarder then I to call Who brought me all â—hings needâ—ull when at hand Hounds Hawkes and Horses were at my command When chuse I did my walks â—n hills in vallies In Groveâ— neere Springs or in sweet garden allies Repoâ—ing either in a naturall shade Or in neat Aâ—bors which by Art were made When I mâ—ght have â—equir'd without deniall The Lutâ— the Organ or deepe-sounding Violâ— To cheere my spirits with what else beside Was pleasant when my friends did this provide Without my cost or labour Nay when all Those pleasures I have shared which beâ—all In praises or kinde welcommings among My dearest friends my soule retain'd nor long Nor perfect rest in those imperfect things But often droupt amid their promisings Grew dull and siâ—kly and contrariwise Hath pleased beene in want â—and miseries Foâ— when long time ev'n all alone they laid me Where ev'ry outward comfort was denayd me To many cares and wants unknowne obtruded From fellowship of all mankinde excluded Expos'd to slandrous censures and disgrace Subjected to contempts and usage base With Tortures threatned and what those attends By Greatmen frown'd on blamed of my Friends Inâ—ulted on by Foes and almost brought To that for which their malice chiâ—fly sought Ev'n then my spirits mounted to their height And my Contentment slew her highest flight In those diâ—easings I more joy received Then can from all things mortall be conceived In that contemn'd estate so much was cleared My Reasons eye and God so bright appeared To my dim-sighed Faith that lo he turned My Griefes to Triumphs Yea me thought I scorned To labour for assistance from abroad Or beg for any favour but from God I fear'd not that which others thought I feared Nor felt I paine in that which sharpe appeared But had such inward quiet in my brest Till outward ease made way to my unrest That all my Troubles seemed but a Toy Yea my Affliction so encreast my Ioy That more I doubted losse of my content By losing of my close imprisonment Then ever I can feare the bodies thrall Or any mischiefe which attend it shall For as if some Antipathyâ—rose â—rose Betwixt the pleasures of the world and those Enjoyed then I found tâ—ue Ioyes begin To issue ouâ— as they were entring iâ— Tiâ—l others brought me hopes of my Release I scarcely held it worth my hopefulnesse I had no frighting dreame no waking care I tooke no thought for meat nor what to weare I sleighted frownes and I despis'd the threat Of such as threatned were they meane or great I laught at dreadfull Rumors and disdained Of any suffrings to have then complained I valued not a jot the vulgar doome Nor what men pratâ—d might of me bâ—come I mindâ—d no such trifles wherewith you And I and others are oft busied now But being as it were exiled then From living in the world with other men Twixt God and mine owne Conscienâ—e to and fro My thoughts in a quotidian walke did go With Contemplations I was then inspired Beseeming one that wholly was retyred I thought like him that was to live alâ—â—e I did like him that had to doe with none And of all outward actions left the care Vnto the world and those who lived there Nor hath God onely pleased beene to show What comforts from a pâ—ivate griefe may flow But that a new experience might be taught me He to the house of Publike-sâ—rrow brought me In this late Pestilence And there I saw Such inward joy commixt with outward awe Things bitter with such sweetnesses allaid Such pleasures into sorrowes cup convaid Such fiâ—me assurance in the greatest dangers Such fâ—endlines when others friends were strangers Such fâ—eedome in restraint such â—ase in paine Such life in death and ev'ry feare so vaine Which outwardly affrights that Pleasures Court Would halfe be robbed of her large resort And stand lesse visited if men could see What profits in the Cels of Sorrow be For he that knew what wisdome there is had Would say that mirth were foolish laughter mad That â—ase perpetuâ—ll bringeth endlesse paine That carnall joy arives at hope in vaine That from all outwâ—rd perilsâ—o â—o be free Mâ—y prove most perâ—llous that hâ—alth may be The dâ—adl'est sicknesse that our pleasures are But pit-fâ—llâ— our seâ—urity a snare And that sometimes those things to which we run May bane us more then those we sâ—eke â—o shun I found it so And in my blamed slay Whilst others fâ—om the Plague made haste away I gained some renewings of that â—esâ— Whereof I hâ—d beene formerly possest It forced follâ— further to depart It brought Gods meâ—cies nearer to my heart Brave combats in my soule did then begin Which I tooke courage from and pleasure in New trialls of my Frailty did befall And of Gods love I had new pâ—ooâ—es withall In all my discontentments such conâ—ents And of Gods woâ—kings such experiments Vouchsafed were that crowned should I live With all those glorious wreathes that Kingâ— can gâ—ve And had by them obtain'd each happinâ—sse Which woâ—ldlings in their greatnesse doâ— possesse I would not sell the comfort of my sâ—ay For that and all which those imagine may Nor doe I over-prise the same altho The ignoranâ—e of some will think I doe For it hath left within me ever since Of Gods firme love so strong a confidence That whatsoever accidents betide I hope to stand the better fortifi'd Whilst here I live and that no time to come Can send me to a place so perilsome That I shall feare it or to undergoe The dreadfull'st perills man can fall into If that my calling doe oblige me to it Or God in Iustice mâ—ke me undergoe it In other cases I expect no moâ—e But rather lesse imboldning then beâ—ore For he that any dangerous taske assumes Wiâ—hout good warrant foâ—lishly presumâ—s Tempts God and justly perisheth unlesse The veâ—le of Mercy hide his wilfulnesse Yea they who over desp'rately have dar'd Bold things at first at last have basely fear'd Reâ—enting their foole-hardinesse in vaine When hope was lost of turning baâ—k againe For though from dangâ—râ— griefes and miseries Far greater comforts oftentimes arise Then from prospeâ—ity if we attend Godâ— pleasure and accept
what he doth send Yâ—t oâ— themselves nor paines nor pleasures can Felicitate nor is the wit of man So perfect that precisely he doth know His owne just temper or his nature so As to appoint himselfe what will be needing Of weale or woe nought wanting or exceeding And therefore as some man hath by affecting Ease wealth or temp'rall fame without respecting Gods pleasure often perished by that Which his unbounded will haâ—h reached at So they who shall that â—ase or wealth contemne Which God by lawâ—ull meanes doth offer them And they who shall unthankfully refuse Of any outward bleâ—sing meanes to use Through discontent selfe trust or wilfull pride When they might honestly those meanes provide Ev'n both of these are gâ—ilty of offence Against the wise eteâ—nall Providence And are in danger to be lâ—ft of God In those misleading pâ—ths which thâ—y have trod These things I mused and in heart revolved A thousand more before I was resolved To keepe in London where mâ—n draw no breath But that which menaced the bâ—dies death And seeing many have condemn'd the fact As an unwarâ—antablâ— foolish act Since iâ— may teach them to forbeare to give Their Verdict till they Evidence receive Since thus to mention it a mâ—aneâ— may be To build againe the like Resolves in me When â—uture perill so requireth it And when perhaps this minde I may forget Yea since the manner of it may perchance Deliver others from some ignorance And help their Christian Resâ—lutions out When they are thrall'd with carnall feare or doubt Ev'n for these causes and to glorifie The pow'r of God in this my victory I will relate what Reasonâ— mâ—de me stay What â—opes they were which drove my feares away And with what circumstances I obtained That knowledg which my shaking Faith maintained When I perceiv'd the PESTILENCE to rage In ev'ry street nor sparing sex nor age How from their City-hive like Bees in May The fearfull Citizens did swarme away How fast our Gentry hasted to be gone How often I was urg'd and call'd upon To beare them company what safeties were By absence promist what great terrors here My death did mâ—nace how by timely flight I might behold my Country with delight How nothing could be gotten by â—y stay But wants and new afflictions ev'ry day With such like disadvantages which brought A hundred other musings to my tâ—ougâ—t They made it seeme a while well worâ—h reproving To stay a minute longer from removing But then my Conscience also did begin To draw such pow'rfull Motiâ—es from within And to propose before my understanding Such Reasons my departure countermanding As made me stagger and new doubts to make What course it best behoved me to take At first I thought by counsell from the Wise To build up my Resolves and to advise By their opinions what I â—hould pursue But of the gravest I perceiv'd so few Who could advise themâ—elves that I grew more Divided by their counsels then before I saw such foolishnesse and such distractions Appeare among them in their words and actions That I perceiv'd they had enough to doe Their owne particulars to looke unto Then guided by example would I be But that I quickly found no Rule â—or me For they who in opinion do consent Oft differ in â—he active President And some who have a tongue the truth to say Have wanted grace to walke the safest way Beside mens actions which indiffeâ—ent are May foolish wise or bad or good appeare As their unknowne occasions are who doe them And small respect is to be had unto them By way of Pâ—esident till we can finde Their outward motives and their secret minde This heeding and still waxing more molested With diffâ—ring thoughts and reasons undisgested I knew no better way then to repaire For counsell unto God â—y humble Pray'r Beseeching his direction how to take That course which for his glory most should make And he I think was pleaseâ— to suggest That if I askt my Conscience what was besâ— His Word and Spirit would informe her so That she should shew me what was best to do Then from the noise of other mens perswasions From selfe-câ—nceit and from those vaine occasions Which bring disturbances I did retire Gods pleasure of my Conscience to enqâ—ire Who finding in my brest a strong contention Twixt Faiâ—h and Reason and how their dissention Was fiâ—st to be composed that I might The sooner understand the tâ—uth aright She call'd a Court within me sâ—mmon'd thither Those Pow'rs and all those Faculties together Which Tenaâ—ts aâ—e in chiefe uâ—to the Soule Their faulty inclinations did controule And that she might not without profit chide Some ill advisâ—d courses rectifi'd Then will'd she FAITH and REASON to debate Their Cause at large and that which they of late Had urg'd confusedly within my brest She will'd them into Method to digest That so my Iudgement might the better see To whether part I should enclined be They both oâ—eâ—'d And REASON who suppos'd Delay bred danger hastily compos'd Those many strong perswasions wherewithall She did my person from the City call Before my Conscience them in order laid And as halfe angry thus me thought she said What meanest thou thus fondly out of season To shew thy boldnesse in contempt of Reason Why art thou alwayes these mad courses taking Thy Lines and Actions Paradoxes making Why thus pursu'st thou what to ruine tends To glad thy foes and discontent thy friends By making wilde adventures to the blame Of thy blinde Faith and my perpetuall shâ—me Is 't not enough that by thy little caring To humor Fooles and by thy over daring To â—eard proud Vices thou hâ—st lately crosâ— Thy way to riches and preferment lost Is 't not enough that when thou dost become The scorne of Fooleâ— thou wert delivered from A mâ—â—ked Hate ev'n in that day and place Which Malice had assign'd for thy disgrâ—ce And sawst the shame of that unjust Iâ—tention Alight on him who plotted that Invention Is 't not enough that thou escapeâ— hast Through many wants and perils undâ—sgrac'd When thy advent'rous Muse drew downe upon thee Those Troubles which were like to have undone thee Suffice not these unlesse thou now assay A needlesse act and foole thy life away By tempting Heav'n in wilfull staying there Where in thy face grim death doth alway stare Looke what thou dâ—st and wâ—ll obseâ—ve â—hine errors For thou art round about enclos'd with terrors And if thou be not stupid thou maist see That there is cause thou shouldst affrighted be Dost thou not smell the vapours of the Grâ—ve Dost thou not heare thy plague-sicke neighbours rave Dost thou not tast infection in the Aire Dost thou not view sad objects of despaire Dost thou not fâ—ele thy vitall pow'rs assailed Dost thou not finde thy spirits often quailâ—d Or with thy judgement hast thou lost thy sense That thou dost make no greater speed from hence Marke there how fast with Corpses they do throng See
whereunto Thy Death or Sicknesse will no service do Nay if thou now miscarry where will be Those honest hopes which late possessed thee To â—hose thy Studies who an end shall adde Which but a while agoe beginning had And being left unfinisht make the paine And houres upon them spent to be in vaine With somewhat thou endued art whereby Thou maâ—st thy blessed Maker glorifie Thy selfe advantage and a joy become To such as well affect thee and 'gainst whom If thus thy selfe thou separate thou shalt Commit a most inexpiable fault Oh! theâ—efore I beseech thee wary be To thinke what service God requires of thee Think what thou wâ—st thy selfe and call to mind That some wel-willeâ—s thou maist leave behinde Whose hopes thou should'st not wilfully bereave Whose loves thou should'st not unrequited leave By hazarding thy Life which is a debt To their deservings For thou know'st not yet How that may grieve thy soule or fill thy head With troubled sancies oâ— thy dying-bed I cannot make dâ—scovery by all My faculties and poâ—'rs rationall What worke thoâ— maist imagine should be done Tâ—at's worthy of the hazard thou dost run Nor can as yet my understanding reach What hope soever Faith may please to preâ—ch To those Felicities which after death Her supernaturall Doctrines promiseth Nor finde I sucâ— assurances aâ— may Preserve thee unaffrighted in thy stay For when within my Naturall Scale I place Those Arguments and Promises of Grace Which Faith alledgeth they so ayrie prove That they my Ballance very little move Yea such transcendent things declareth she As they me thinks should so distemper thee That doubts and terrors rather should possesse Thy Soule then hopes of reall â—appinesse Since what in Death or after Death shall come Are things that Nature is estranged from Fly therefore this great perill Seeke a place Where thou maist plead more safely of thy Case And since thy God with Reason thee doth blesse Now most thou need'st it be not reasonlesse All this and what the caâ—nall wit of man Object in such an undertaking can Did Râ—ASON urge to make my stay appeare An act impâ—ovident and full of feare And what her seeming rightfull câ—use advances Was utt'red with such dreadfull ciâ—cumstances That she did halâ—e peâ—swade me to confesse My Resolution would be foolishnesse But when my Râ—ASON had no more to speake My FAITH began though her stâ—ength was weak Because my â—railties had enfeebled her Yet then I felt her with more vigour stir Then in lesse perills For she blew aside Those fogs wheâ—ewith my heart was tâ—rrifi'd Made cleare my Iudgement and as having waâ—gh'd The speech fâ—regoing thus me thought she said How wise is REASON in an Ethnicke Schoole And in divine proceedings what a foole How many likely things she musâ—er can To startle and amaze a naturall man Wâ—ich when I am advis'd withall are found But pannick feares and terrors without ground And yet how often doth blinde Ignorancâ— Above my reach her shallownesse advance Or else of madnesse wickedly condemne My wisdome and my safest paths contemne Yet be not thou my Soule deceived by The foolishnesse of humane Sophistry But since by thy Afflictions thou hast got Expâ—rience which the world attaineth not Give heed to me and I will make thee know Those things which carnall Reason cannot show Yea make thee by my pow'r more certaine be Of that which mortals can nor heare nor see Then of the plainest objects that appeare Vnto the sense of corp'rall eye or eare And though my promise or my counsell seeme To vulgar Iudgements but of meane esteeme I le so enable theâ— those seares to bide Wâ—erewiâ—h the worldly-wise are terrifi'd And teach thee such contentednesse to gaine Though in Deaths gloomy shades thou dost remaine That thou without all doubtings shalt perceive Thou shouldst not this afflicted Citie leave And Flesh and Blood with wonder shall confessâ— That Faith hath pow'r to teach men fearlesnesse Iâ— perils which do make their hearts to ake Who scoffe at her and part with Reason take It cannot be denyed that this Place Yeelds dread enough to make the boldest face To put a palenesse on unlesse the minde Be over much to senâ—â—esnesse enclinde Because we nat'rally abhor to see Such loathed objects of mortality ' Tâ—s also true that there is no defence To guard the body from this Pesâ—ilence Within the compasse of mans powâ—r or wit Nor can thy merit so prevaile with it But that for ought thou knowest thou maist fâ—ll The growing number of Deathâ— weekly Bill And what of that whìlst I befriend thee shall Caâ— such a common danger thee apalâ— Shall that which heath'nish men and women beare Yea tender infants without shewes of feare Amate thy spirit shall the drawing nigh Of that from which thou hasâ— no meanes to â—â—ye And which thou walkest toward ev'ry day With seeming stouâ—nesse fright thee now away Is Death so busie growâ—e in London streets That hâ— with no man in thâ— Country meâ—ts Beleeveâ—â— thou the number he hath slaine Hath added any thing unto the paine Or hast thou lately apprehended more Deaths fearfull gast linâ—sse then heretofore That in this time of tryall thou shouldst finde Thy Soule to slavish Cowardice enclinde Death is that Path which ev'ry man must tread Aâ—d wheâ— thou shalt dâ—scend among the dead Thou go'st but thither where thy fathers be And whither all that live shall follow thee Death is that Haven where tâ—y Barke shall casâ— Her hopefull Anchor and lye moored fast Exempted from those furious windes and seas VVhich in thy heav'nly voyage thee diseasâ— Death iâ— thâ— Iaile-deliv'ry of â—he Soule Thy joyfull yeare of Iubilee thy Goale The Day that ends thy sorrowes and thy sins And that wherein best happinesse begins A lawfull act then wherefore shouldst thou feare To prosecute although thy death it were Full oft have I enabled thee to bide The brunt of dreadfâ—ll stormes unterrifide And when thy dastard Reason not espying That heav'nly Game at which thy Faith was flying Diâ—heartned grew I did thy body free From ev'ry pâ—rill which enclosed thee So working that those thinâ—s thy praise became Which Malice had projected for thy shame And common Reason who suppos'd thee mad Did blush to see how little wiâ— she had Yet now againe how fâ—olishly she tryes To cast new fogs bâ—fore thy Iudgements eyes â—hat childish Bug-Beaâ—es hath she musâ—red â—ere To scar tâ—y senses with a causelesse fâ—are Of those loath'd Objects wherefore doth she tell Which vâ—x the sight the hearing and the smell Since when the utmost of it shall be said All is but Death which can but strike thee dead And when that 's done thou shalt by me revived Enjoy a better life then thou hasâ— lived If those hobgoblin terrors of the grave Wherewith meere nat'rall men affrighted have Their troubled soules deterre thee from that path Whereto the will of God injoined hath To thee oh Soule how dreadfull would it be If WARRE with all
her feares enclosed thee Nay if such common terrors thee amaze How wouldst thou quake if in a generall blaze The world should flame about thee as it may Perhaps before thou see another day Sure if these Scar-crowes do detâ—rre thee so Thou scarce wilt welcome as thou oughtst to do That Moment when it comes nor so rejoyce As they who long to heare the Bridegroomes voice Here therefore stay and practise to inure Thy soule to tryalls that thou maist endure All changâ—s which in after times may come And wait with gladnesse for the Day of Doome Seeke here by holy dread to purge away Those Crimes which heape up terrors for that day Endure the scorching of this gentle fire To purifie thy heart from vaine desire Learne here the death of righteous men to dye That thou maist live with such eternally Hâ—re exercise thy Faith and watch and pray That when thy body shall be mixt with clay The frighâ—full Trumpet whose amazing sound Shall startle Hâ—ll and shake earths massie Round May make thee leape with gladnesse from thy grave And no sad horrors in thy Conscience have What canst thou hope to purchase here below That thou shouldst life unwillingly for goe Since there is nothing which thou canst possesse Whose sweetnesse is not marr'd with bitternesse Nor any thing so safe but that it may To thâ—e become a mischiefe many a way If honourable thou mightst live to grow That honor may effect thy overthrow And as it makes of others make of thee A thing as blockish as bruit creatures be If Rich those Riches may thy life betray Choake up thy vertues and then flye awâ—y If Pleasure follow thee that pleasing vaine May bring thy soule to everlasting paine Yea that which most thou longest to eâ—joy May all the pleasures of thy life destroy Seeke therefore true coâ—tâ—nâ—ment where it lies And feare not ev'ry Bâ—bies fantasies If Life thou love Death is that entring in Where life which is eternall doth begin There what thou most desirest is enjoy'd And Death it selfe by dying is destroy'd Though length of life a blessing be confest Yet length of dayes in sorrow is not best Although the Saylor sea-roome doth require To reach the harbour is his chiefe desire And though 't is well our debts may be delay'd Yet we are best at ease when they are paid If â—itleâ— thou aspire unto Death brings The Faithfull to become immortall Kings Whose glorie passeth earthâ—y pomp as far As Phoebus doth outshine the Morning-star Desirest thou a pleasant healthfull dwelling By Death thou gain'st a Country so excelling That plenty of all usâ—full things is there And all â—hose objects that delightfull are A golden pavement thou shâ—lt walke upon And lodge in Buildings wall'd with precious stone If in rich Garmenâ—s to be cloath'd thou seeke The Persian Monâ—rks never had the like For Puritie it selfe thy Robe shall be And like the Stars thy Crowne shall sâ—ine on thee Hast thou enjoyed those companions here VVhose love and fellowship delightfull are Thou shalt when thou from sight of those art gone Of that high Order be installed one VVhich never did false Brother entertaine VVhereof ev'n God himselfe is Soveraigne And in whose company thou shalt possesse All perfect deare and lasting friendlinesse Yea there ev'n those whom thou on earth hast loâ—ed â—nâ—â—se time with such love as is approved Thou shalt enjoy againe and not alonâ— Their friendship but the love of ev'ry one Of those blest men and women who both were And are and shall be till our Iudge appeare Hath any mortall beauty pleas'd thee so That from her presence thou â—rt loath to goe Thou shalt in stead of those poore imperfections VVhâ—râ—on thou setlest here unsure affections The Fountaine of all Beauties come to see Wiâ—hin his lovely bosome lodged be And know when thou on him hast fixt thine eyeâ— That all earths Beauties are deformities To these and happinesses greater far Then by the heart of man conceived are Death maketh passage And how grim soe're He may to those that stand alooâ—â— appeare Yet if thou bide unmoved in thy place Till he within his armes doe thee embrace Thou shâ—lt perceive that who so timely dieth Enjoyes contentments which this life denyeth Thy feare of painfulnesse in death is vainâ— In Death is easâ— in Life alone is paine Man makes it â—readfull by his owne inventions By causelesse doubts and groundlesse apprehensions But when it comes it brings of paine no more Then Sleepe to him that restlesse was before Thy Soules departurâ— from the Flesh doth maze And thee afflicteth more then there is cause For of his sting thy Saviouâ— Death despoiled And feares and dangers from the Grave exiled Thou losest not try Body when it dyes Nor doth it perish though it putrifies For when the time appointed it hath laine It shall be raised from the dust againe And in the sâ—ead of this corrupted one Thy Soule a glorious Body shall put on But hadst thou not a Faith which might procure theâ— Such comforts and such life in death assure thee Or though thou shouldst by dying be possest Of nothing else but of a senselesse rest Me thinkes thy â—arnall Reason should for that Perswade thee rather to be desperate And stay and seeke for Death e'â—e languish in Perpetuall sorrowes such as thine have biâ— For if to God-ward â—oy thou foelest not What comfort to the world-ward â—ast thou got Which may desirous make thee to delay Or linger out thy life another day 'T is true that God hath given thee a share Iâ— all thosâ— Pleasures that good pleasures are And to the Giverâ— glory be iâ— spoken Hâ—e hath bestow'd on thee as many a â—okâ—n Of his abundant love as he bestowes On any with so sew external shâ—wes For ev'n of outward things he doth impart As much as fits the place in which thou art With full as many pleasures as may serve Thy Patience in thy suffâ—ings to preserve And when for Rest and Plenties thou art fitter I know he will not make thy cup so bittâ—r But if thou live for outwar'd pleasures meerly By living thou dost buy them over dearly For if thy peace in God were sâ—t aside So many wayes thou hast beene crucifi'd That some would think thy Fortune if they had it Most bitter though most sweet thy hopes have made it Hâ—re but a Pilgrimage thou dost possesse Iâ— wandring and perpetuall restlesnesse Like Travellers in sunshine and in raine Both dâ—y and wet and dry and wet againe With rest each Morning well refreshâ— and merry Aâ—d ev'ry Ev'ning full of griefe and weary To Vanity in bondage thou dost lie Still beaten with new stormes of Misery And in a path to which thou art a stranger Assaulted with variety of Danger His Face sometime is hid whence comforts flow And men and devills seek thy overthrow Sin multiplies upon thee ev'ry day Thy vitall pow'rs will more and more decay Wealth honor friends and what thou best
it seemes it could not be That God from this Disease would shelter thee Reported also that of Grace forsaken And by the sin of Drunkennesse o'retaken Thou brokâ—st thy neck It may be those men thought That when the Plagueâ—hy â—hy life to end bad brought They shâ—uld have added somâ—what to have slaine The life of good Report which might remaine Nor was that ayme quite void For though of all Grosse sins the staine of tâ—at least bâ—ur thee shall Some straight beleev'd what malice did surmise Condemn'd thy Vertues for Hypocrisies Made guilty all thy Lines of evill ends Vs'd thee as Iob was used by his friends Did on thy Life unâ—hristian Censures passe Affirm'd thy Death had showed what it was And many a one that heard it shall not know Vntill his dying day it was not so But then they shall perceive that most of that Is false which men of others use to prate But wonder it is none that thou among Some Strangers in thy Fame hast suffred wrong For â—o thy Neighbours though they privy be To no such act as may difparage thee But unto many rather which in show Appeared from a Christian minde to flow Ev'n they in private whisp'rings many times Have taxed thee as guilty of those crimes Thou never perpetratedst but dost more Abhor them then do Mizers to be poore And from thâ—se blots the more thy life is free The more is theirs defilde by slaundring thâ—e In wicked Places where yet nâ—ver came Thy fooâ— some acâ—ed follies in thy name That others present knowing not thy face Might spread abroad of thee to thy disgrace VVhat others did And such a mischiefe none But perfect Malice could have thought upon Thy very Prayers and thy Charities Have â—â—cked beene and judg'd hypocrisies When thou wert beâ—â— employed thou wert sâ—re The bâ—sest imputations to endure When thy intentions haâ—e beene most sincere Mens misconstructions alwayes haâ—shest were And when thy piouâ—â— action thou hadst wrought Then they the greatest mischiefe on thee brought The best and most approved of those Laies By thee composed for thy Makers praise Have lately greatly multipli'd thy Fâ—es And not procur'd alone the spight of those Whom brutish Ignorance besâ—ts among The misconceiving and illâ—terate throng But they who on the seats of Iudgement sate Thee and those Labours have inveighed at The Learned who should wiser men have beene Did censure that which they had never seene Ev'n they wâ—o make faire shewes of sanctiâ—y God grant it be not with hypocrisiâ— With spightfulnesse that scarce can matched be Have shamefully trâ—duced that and thee Nay of the Clergy some and of the chiefe Have with unseemly fâ—ry post beleefe So undervalu'd and so vilifi'd Those Labors which the tryall will abide When their proud spleene is wasted that unlesse God had in mercy curb'd their furiousnesse And by his might abated in some measure That pow'r of acting their impeâ—ious pleasure Their place and that opinion they had gained Of knowledge and sincerity unfained Had long ere this no doubt made so contemn'd Those Lines and thee that thou hadst beene condemn'd VVithout a triall And so true a feeling Hadst gain'd ere now of base and partiall dealing That Discontenâ—â—ight then have urg'd thy stay In hope this Plague would thâ—t have tooke away But thou by others hast receiv'd the â—â—ings Of Malice otherwayes in other things Those men whose over-grosse and open crimeâ— Are justly taxed in thiâ—â—â—onest â—imes Have by the generall notice of thy name Sought how to bring thee to a generall shame By raising causelesse rumors to be blowne Through ev'ry quarter where thy lines are knowne For there 's no place without an enuious â—are And slanâ—rous tongues be ready ev'ry where To cast with willingnesse disgrace on those Of whom some good report beforehand goes And since thou canst not answer ev'ry man As he that 's knowne in some few Townships can The falsest Rumors Men divulge of thee Doe soone become a common Fame to be Moreover that lesse cause there may appeare Why thou shouldst life desire or dying feare The most affected thing this world containes Hath torâ—ur'd thee with most heart-breaking paines For they whom thou hast loved they to whom Thou didst obliged many wayes become Yea â—hey who knew thy faithfulnesse ev'n they Have made their outward kindnesses the way To make thee most ingratefull seeme to be Yea they have heaped more disgrace on thee More griefes and disadvantages then all Thy Foes together bring upon thee shall And long pursued have to thy vexation Their courses with harsh trickes of agâ—ravation Yet still pretending Love which makes the curse Of this Affliction twenty times the worse I will â—ot say that thou afflâ—cted art In this by them without thy owne desert For who perceives in all how he offends Or thinks that God correction causelesse sends Nor will I say this injury proceeds Fromany Malice For perhaps it breeds From their distemper'd love And God to show Some needfullsecret which thou best maist know By this experiment a while doth please To make thy late Contentments thy Disease Thy first Acquaintanâ—e who did many a yeare Enjoy thy fellowship and glad appeare To seeme thy friends have wearied out their love By length of time and strangers now doe prove Thou also seest thy new acquaintance be Worne out as fast as gotten For to thee Most come for nothing but to satisfie Their idle fruitlesse curiositie And having seene and found thee but a man Their friendship ended just as it began Nay they who all thy course of life have seene And in appearancâ— have perswaded beene So well of thy uprightnesse as if noâ—ght Could move in them of thee one â—vill thought These by a little absence or the sound Of some untrue Relation wanting ground Doe all their good opinion someâ—ime change Suspect thy mannâ—rs and themselves â—strange So unexpecteâ—ly and without cause That what to judge of them it makes thee pause For they that vertuous are but in the show Doe soone suspect that all men else are so Thâ—se things are very bitter unto such Whose hearts are sensible to ev'ry touch Of kindnesse and unkindnesse and they make Life tedious where they deepe imprâ—ssion take But many other griefes thy Soule doe grinde And thou by them art pained in a kinde So diffâ—ring from the common sense of others Although thy patience much distemper smothers That Reason might me thinkes contented be Thou shouldst pursue thy Death to set thee free I speâ—ke not this as if thou didst repinâ— At these or any other lots of thine Nor to discourage thee beâ—ause the World So little of her Grace on thee hath hurl'd For I would have thee scorne her love and know That wheâ—her shâ— will favour thâ—e or no I wilâ— in thy due season make thee rise To honor by that way which meâ— despise Ev'n to those honors which are greater then The greatest that conferred are by men And this I mention in
passage found And troubled me by their uncertaine sound For though the sounds themselves no terror weâ—e Nor came from any thing that I could feare Yet they bâ—ed Musings and those musings bred Conjecturings in my halfe sleepiâ—g head By those Conjectures into minde wâ—re brougâ—t Some reall things before quite out of thought They divers Fancies to my soule did shew Which mâ— still further and still further drew To follow them till they did thoughts procure Which humane frailty cannot long endure Ev'n such as when I fully was awake Did make my heart to tremble and to aâ—e And when such frailties have disheartned men Oh! God how busie is the Devill then I know in part his malice and the wayes And times and those occasions which he layes To worke upon our weaknesse and there is Scarce any which doth shew him like to tâ—is I partly also know by what dâ—gâ—ees He worketh it how he doth gaine or leese Hiâ— labours and some sense I have procuâ—'d What pâ—ngs are by the soule that while endur'd For though my God in mercy hath indu'd My Soule with Knowledge and with Fortitudâ— In such a measure that I doe not feare Distractedly those tortures which appeare In solitary daâ—knessâ— yet some part Of this and of all frailties in my heart Continues he that so I might confesse His mercies with continuall thankfulnesse And somewhat â—vermore about me beare Which unto me my frailâ—ies may declare Yea thouâ—h without distemper now it be So much of those grim feares are shewed me Which terrifi'd my childhood and which makâ— The heaâ—ts of aâ—ed men sometimes to quake That I am sâ—nsible of their estate And can their case the more compassionate Who on their beds of â—eath doe pained lye Exil'd from comâ—ort and fâ—om company When dreadfull Fancies doe their soules afâ—ight Begotten by the melancholy nigâ—t Glad was I when I saw the Sun appeare And with his Rayes to blesse our Hemiâ—phere That from the tumbled bed I might arise And with more lightsomnesse refresh mine eyes Or with some good companionâ— â—ead or pray To passe the better my sâ—d thoughts away For though such â—houghts oft usâ—full are and good Yet knowing well I was but flesh and blood I also knew mans naturall condition Must have in joyes and griefes an intermission Lest too much joy should fill the heart with folly Or too much griefe breed dangerous melancholy But when the Morning came iâ— little shewed Save light to see discomfortings renewed For if I staid within I heard relations Of nought but dying pangâ— and lamentations If in the Streâ—ts I did my footing set With many sad disasters there I met And objects of mortaliâ—y and feare I saw in great abundance ev'ry where Here one man stagger'd by wâ—th visage pale There lean'd another grunting on a stall A third halfe dead lay gasping for his grave A fourth did out at window call and rave Yonn came the Bearers sweating from the Pit To fetch more bodies to replenish it A little further off one sits and showes The spots which he Deaths tokens doth suppose E're such they be and makes them so indeed Which had beene signes of healâ—h by taking heed For those round-purple-spotâ— which most have thoght Deaths fatall tokens where they forth are bâ—ought May prove Life tokens if that ought be done To helpe the worke which Naturâ— hâ—th begun Whereas that feare which their opinion brings Who threaten Death the want of cordiall things To helpe remove that poison from the heart Which Nature hath expelled thence in part And then the Sickmâ—ns liberty of having Cold drinks and what his appetite is craving Brings backe againe those humours pestilent Which by the vitall pow'rs had foâ—th beene sent So by recharging him that was before Nigh spent the fainting Combatant gives o're And he that cheerfully did raise his head Is often in a moment strucken dead Feaâ—e also helps it forward Yea the terror Occasion'd by their fond and common error Who tell the sickâ— that markt for Death they be When those blâ—w spots upon their flesh they see Ev'n that hath murthred thousands who might here Have lived â—lse among us many a yeare For if the Surgeons or the Searchers know Those markes which for the markes of death do goe From common-spots or purples which we must Confesse or else all kinde of spots dâ—strâ—st Then such as we Death-tokens call were seene On some that have long since recover'd beene Before I learned this I fixt mine eyes On many a private mans calamities And saw the Streets wherein a while agoe We sâ—arce could passe the people fill'd them so Appeare nigh desolate yea quite forlorne And for their wonted visitantâ— to mourne Much peopled Westminster where late I saw So many rev'rend Iudges of the Law With Clients and with Suitors hemmed round Where Courts and Palaces did so abound With busâ—nesses and whâ—re together met Our Thrones of Iustice and our Mercy-seat That place was then frequented as you see Some Villages on Holy-dayes will be When halfe the Towneship and the Hamlets nigh Are met to revell at some Parish by Perhaps the wronging of the Orphans cause Denying or perverting of the Lawes There practised did set this Plague abrâ—eding And sent the Terme from Westminster to Reading Her goodly Church and Chappell did appeare Like some poore Minster which hath twice a yeare Foure visitants And her great Hall wherein So great a Randevow had lately â—in Did look like those old Structureâ— where long since Meâ— say King Arthur kept his residence The Parliament had left her to goe see If they could learne at Oxford to agree Or if that ayre were better â—or the health And safety of our English Common-wealtâ— But there some did so counsell and so vrge The Body politike to take a purge To purifie the parts that seemed foule Some others did that motion so â—onâ—roule And plead so much for Cordialls and for that Which strengthen might the sinnewes of the State That all the time the labour and the cost Which had bestowed beene was wholly lost And here the empty House of Parliament Did lâ—oke as if iâ— had beene discoâ—tâ—nt Or griev'd me thought that Oxford should not be More proâ—perous yet nor câ—uld I any see Resâ—rt to comâ—ort her But there did I Behold two Traytors heaâ—s which perching high Did shew their teeth as if they had beene grinning At those Affliâ—tious which are now beginning Yea their wide â—ye holes star'd me thought as thâ— They lookt â—o see that House now overthrow It selfe which they with Powder up had blowne Had God their snares and them not overthrowne White Hall where not three months before I spi'd Great Britaine in the height of all her pride And France with her contending which could most Outbrave old Rome and Persiâ— in their cost On Robes and Feasts Ev'n that lay solitary As doth a quite-forsaken Monastâ—ry In some lone Forrest and we could not passe To many places but through weeds and
pâ—id for Bearers though mâ—n have Their friends to helpe convey them to the grave What for the Bâ—lls though not a Bell bâ— rung What for their mourning clothes though none be hung Vâ—on them but their owne what pay did passe For Fâ—nâ—rall Sâ—rmons where no Sermon was And what was oft extorted without shame To give him leave â—o preach who fâ—eâ—ly came If herâ— I say I should discover â—hat I might of tâ—ese things mâ—nâ—ioned relâ—â—e Those men who die that charges they may sâ—ve Would fâ—are they might be leggerâ—d in the Grave For more â—o take thâ—â— lodging haâ—â—â—eene spent Then would hâ—ve bought a pretâ—y tenement Thus aâ— one matter drew another on My Muse hath diuers things discourst upon To many sundâ—y purposes but what I chiefly in this Canâ—o aimed at VVas to preseâ—ue in mind an awfull sense Of what we sufâ—red in this Pestileâ—ce VVhat we deserved and how variously Gods Iustice this one Corsâ—ve dâ—d apply To eate out all Corruptions which be spotted Our soules and hâ—d ere this our bodies rotted I might as well have memorized here How diversly God's Merciâ—s did appeare Amid his Iudgements â—ow he comforted VVhen outwaâ—d comâ—oâ—t failed how he sed VVhen oile and meale wâ—re wasted how he gaue Their lives to them whose feet were in the graue VVhat Patience what high Fortitude he granted And how he still supplyed what we wantâ—d I might commemorate a world of Grace Bestow'd in this affliction on this place Both common and in private Many a vow Of theirs who will I feare forget it now Was daily heard Ten thousand suits were daigned Repriâ—ves for soules condemned were obtained Frieâ—ds prayd for friends the parents for the lives Of their deare children Husbands for their wives Wives for their husbands beg'd with teares passioÌ„ And God with pitie heard their lamentation In friends in servants in the temporall wealth In life in death in sicknesses and health God manifested Mercy Some did finde A Friend to whom till then none had beene kind Some had their servants better'd for them there By Gods correction Some left wealthy were By dying kindred who the day before Were like to beg their bread from doore to doore Some by their timely deaths were taken from Such present paines or from such woes to come That they are happy Vnto some from heav'n The blessing of a longer life was giv'n That they might call â—o minde their youthfull times Repent omissions and committed crimes Amend their courses and be warisome That they displeas'd not God in â—imes to come Againe some others by their sicknesses And by the feares they had in this Disease Grew awfull of Gods Iudgements and withiâ— Their harts good motions were wher none had bin Ev'n in their hearts who fear'd nor God nor Devill Nor guilt of sin nor punishment for â—vill And some had health continu'd that they might Gods praise exâ—oll and in his love delight Should I declare in what unusuall wise God op'ned here their soules dimsighted eyeâ— Who blinded were before how nigâ— they reacht To highest Mysteries what things they preacht Ev'n to their neighbours and their family Before their soules did from their bodies flye Or should I tell but what young Children here Did speake to take from eâ—der folke their feare Oâ— Sicknesses and Death what they exprest Oâ— heav'nly blisse and of this worlds unrest What faith they had what strange illuminations What strong assurances of their salvations And with what proper termes and boldnesse they Beyond their yeares such things did open lay It would amaze our Naturallists and raise A gooâ—ly Trophee to our Mâ—kers praise But this for me were too too large a task And many yeares and volumes it would aske Should I in these particulaâ—s record The never ending mercies of the Lord. For he that would his meanest act recite Attempts â—o measure what is infinâ—te That story therefore in particular To medâ—le with I puâ—pose to defer Till in the Kingdome of eternity My soule in honor of his Majesty Shall Haleluâ—ahâ—ing â—ing and over-looke With hallow'd eyes that great eternall Booke Which in a moment to my view shall bring Each passed present and each future thing And there my soule shall read and see revealed What is not by the LAMBE as yet unâ—ealed Meane while I le cry Hosannah and for all His love to me and mercies generall His three times holy and thrice blessed Name I pâ—aise and vow for aye to praise the same The fifth Canto The Author justifies againe His Method and his lowâ—y Straine Next having formerly made knowne The common Feares he tels his owne Shewes with what thoughts he was diseased When first the Plague his lodging seized Of what God's Iustice him accused Vpon what Doubts or Hopes he musâ—d On what and how he did resolve And who from Death did him absolve The Plagues encrease he then expresseth The Mercies of the LORD confesseth Emplores that he himselfe may never Forget them but be thankeâ—ull ever Then mounting Conâ—emplations wings Ascends to high and usefull things From thence his Muse is called downe To make Great Britaines errors knowne Wherein he doth confesse a sailing And his infirmities bewailing Is fitted and resolv'd anew His purpos'd Message to pursue And having fiâ—st anticipated His Arrant is in paâ—t relâ—ted PErhaps the nicer Criâ—ickes of these times When they shâ—ll slâ—ightly view my lowly Rimes Not to an end these Poems fully reading Nor their Occasion nor my Aymes well hâ—eding May taxe my Muse that she at random flyes For want of Method makes Tautelogies And commeth off and on in such a fashion That oft she â—aâ—les their curious expectation It is enough to me that I doe know What they commend and what they disallow And let it be enough to them that I Am pleas'd to make such faults for them to spy For I intend the Method which I use And if they doe not like it they may câ—use They who in their Composures keep the fashion Of elder times and write by imitation Whole quaint Inventions must be trimd and trickt With curious dressings from old Authers pickt And whose maine workes are little â—lâ—e but either Old scattred Peeces finely glew'd together Or some concealed Structures of the Braine Found our where long obscured they have laine And new attir'd These must and well they may Their Poesies in formall garbes aray Their naturall defects by Art to hide And make their old new-straines the Test abide These doe not much amisse if they assume Some â—stridge feathâ—rs or the Peacockes plume To strut withall nor had I greatly hâ—eded That course of theirs if they had not proceeded To câ—nsure mine My Muse no whâ—t envies That they from all their heâ—thnish Poâ—sies Have skumm'd the Creame to themselves for that The sâ—ile of Prince of Poets aâ—â—ogate For Plautus Horace Perseus â—uvenal Yea Greece and Romes best Muses we may call Their Trâ—bâ—taries since from them câ—me in Those Treasures which their princely Titles win