English

SOUL

Such as are Gracious grow in Grace therefore
Such as have Grace, are Gracious evermore.
Who sin Commit are sinfull: and thereby
They grow Ungodly. So I feare do I.

SAINT

Such as are Gracious, Graces have therefore
They evermore desire to have more.
But such as never knew this dainty fare
Do never wish them 'cause they dainties are.

SOUL

Alas! alas! this still doth me benight.
I've no desire, or no Desire aright.
And this is Clear: my Hopes do witherd ly,

SAINT

Is this thy Case, Poor Soul, Come then begin:
Make known thy griefe: anatomize thy sin.
Although thy sins as Mountains vast do show,
Yet Grace's fountain doth these mountains flow.

SOUL

True, true indeed, where Mountains sinke but where
They swim, their Heads above these mountains peare.
Mine swim in Mercies boundless Ocean do:
Therefore their Heads above these waters goe.

SAINT

I thought as you, but loe the Lyon hee
Is not so fierce as he is feign'd to bee.

SOUL

Long lookt for Sir! Happy, right Happy Saint.
I long to lay before you my Complaint:
And gain your Counsill: but you're strange: and I
Through backwardness lost opportunity.

SAINT

How is't good Sir: methinks I finde there dart
Some pleasant Hopes of you within my heart.
What is your Rantery declinde, foregone?
Your looks are like the Earth you Tread upon.

SOUL

Its true: I do, and well may look so, too
For worse than mee the world did never show.

SECOND

Oh you! How do you? Alas! how do things go
With you, and with your Souls? For once we know
You did as we, Welt, Wallow, Soake in Sin;
For which Gods ire infires our hearts within.

THIRD

Ne're worse, though when secure in sin much worse.
Though curst by sin, we did not feele the Curse.
Now seing we no help can see, we, rue.
Would God it was with us as't is with you.

SECOND

With us! alas! a Flint would melt to see
A Deadly foe, in such a Case as wee.

When thou dost go to serve thy God, behold
What greate Distractions do thy Soule infold?
How thy Religious Worship's much abusde?
And with Confusion greate thy Soul's amus'de?
What thoughts to God on Errand dost thou send
That have not Sin therein, or in the End?
In Holy-Waters I delight to fish
For then I mudd them, or attain a Dish,
Of Holy things. I oft have Chiefest part,
And Cutting: nay do Carve the fat, and heart.
For in Gods worship still thy heart doth cling
Unto and follows toyish Earthly things.

SATAN

Soon ripe, soon rot. Young Saint, Old Divell. Loe
Why to an Empty Whistle did you goe?
What Come Uncalld? And Run unsent for? Stay
Its Childrens Bread: Hands off: out, Dogs, away.

SOUL

It's not an Empty Whistle: yet withall,
And if it be a Whistle, then a Call:
A Call to Childrens Bread, which take we may.
Thou onely art the Dog whipt hence away.

SATAN

If I then you: for by Apostasy
You are the Imps of Death as much as I.
And Death doth reign o're you through Sin: you see,

Offended Justice comes in fiery Rage,
Like to a Rampant Lyon new assaild,
Array'd in Flaming fire now to engage,
With red hot burning Wrath poore man unbaild.
In whose Dread Vissage sinfull man may spy
Confounding, Rending, Flaming Majesty.

Out Rebell, out (saith Justice) to the Wrack,

Richard , who now was half asleep,
Rous'd; nor would longer silence keep:
And sense like this, in vocal breath,
Broke from his two-fold hedge of teeth.
Now, if this phrase too harsh be thought,
Pope, tell the world, 'tis not my fault.
Old Homer taught us thus to speak;
If 'tis not sense, at least 'tis Greek.

As folks, quoth Richard, prone to leasing
Say things at first, because they're pleasing,
Then prove what they have once asserted,
Nor care to have their lie deserted,

In Britain's isles, as Heylyn notes,
The ladies trip in petticoats;
Which, for the honour of their nation,
They quit but on some great occasion.
Men there in breeches clad you view:
They claim that garment as their due.
In Turkey the reverse appears;
Long coats the haughty husband wears;
And greets his wife with angry speeches,
If she be seen without her breeches.

In our fantastic climes, the fair
With cleanly powder dry their hair:

But shall we take the Muse abroad,
To drop her idly on the road?
And leave our subject in the middle;
As Butler did his bear and fiddle?
Yet he, consummate master, knew
When to recede, and where pursue;
His noble negligences teach
What others' toils despair to reach.
He, perfect dancer, climbs the rope,
And balances your fear and hope:
If, after some distinguish'd leap,
He drops his pole, and seems to slip,
Straight gathering all his active strength,
He rises higher half his length.