ix Yet fince your brethren pleased with it be, Forbear to judge till you do farther fee.
If that thou wilt not read, let it alone, Some love the meat, fome love to pick a bone. Yea, that I might them better moderate, I did too with them thus expoftulate:
May I not write in such a stile as this? In fuch a method too, and yet not miss My end, thy good? Why may it not be done? Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. Yea, dark or bright, if they their filver drops Cause to defcend, the earth, by yielding crops, Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, But treasures up the fruit they yield together; Yea, fo commixes both, that in their fruit None can diftinguish this from that; they fuit Her well, when hungry: but if fhe be full, She fpews out both, and makes their bleifing null.
You fee the ways the fisherman doth take To catch the fish; what engines doth he make? Behold! how he engageth all his wits; Also his fnares, lines, angles, hooks and nets: Yet fish there be that neither hook nor line, Nor fnare, nor net, nor engine can make thine: They must be grop'd for, and be tickled too, Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do,
How does the fowler feek to catch his game By divers means? All which one cannot name: His gun, his nets, his lime-twigs, light and bell: He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell Of all his poftures? Yet there's none of thefe Will make him master of what fowls he pleafe.
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Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this, Yet, if he does fo, that bird he will mifs. If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, And may be found too in an oyster-fhell; If things that promife nothing, do contain What better is than gold; who will difdain, That have an inkling of it, there to look, That they may find it? Now my little book, (Tho' void of all thefe paintings that may make It with this or the other man to take) Is not without thofe things that do excel What do in brave, but empty notions dwell.
Well, yet I am not fully fatisfy'd,
That this your book will ftand, when foundly try'd.
Why, what's the matter? It is dark: What tho'? But it is feigned: What of that? I tro
Some men, by feigned words as dark as mine. Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine! But they want folidnefs: fpeak, man, thy mind: They drown the weak; us, metaphors make blind,
Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men: But muft I needs want folidness, because
By metaphors I fpeak? Were not God's laws, His gofpel laws, in older times held forth By fhadows, types, and metaphors? Yet loth fober man be to find fault
With them, left he be found for to affault The highest wisdom: No, he rather ftoops, And seeks to find out by what pins and loops, By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and full happy he That finds the light and grace that in them be!
Be not too forward therefore to conclude That I want folidnefs; that I am rude: 7 All things folid in fhew, not folid be, All things in parables defpife not we, Left things most hurtful lightly we receive; And things that good are, of our fouls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words they do but hold The truth, as cabinets inclofe the gold.
The prophets used much by metaphors To set forth truth: yea, whofo confiders Chrift, his Apostles too, fhall plainly fee, That truths to this day in fuch mantles be.
Am I afraid to fay that holy writ, Which for its style and phrafe puts down all wit, Is every where fo full of all these things, (Dark figures, allegories) yet there springs. From that fame book, that luftre, and those rays Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.
Come, let my carper to his life now look, And find there darker lines than in my book He findeth any: yea, and let him know, That in his best things, there are worse lines too.
May we but stand before impartial mẹn, To his poor one I dare adventure ten, That they will take my meaning in these lines Far better than his lies in filver fhrines. Come, truth, altho' in fwaddling clouts, I find, Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind Pleases the understanding, makes the will Submit, the memory alfo it doth fill
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With what doth our imagination please; Likewife it tends our troubles to appeafe.
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, And old wives fables he is to refuse ; But yet grave Paul him no where did forbid The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, thofe pearls, and precious ftones that were Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.
Let me add one word more. O man of God, Art thou offended? Doft thou wish I had Put forth my matter in another dress? Or, that I had in things been more express? To those that are my betters, as is fit, Three things let me propound, then I fubmit.
1. I find not that I am deny'd the use Of this my method, fo I no abuse Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude In handling figure, or fimilitude, In application; but all that I may,
Seek the advance of truth, this or that way: Denied, did I say? nay, I have leave, (Examples too, and that from them that have God better pleased by their words and ways, Than any man that breatheth now a-days) Thus to express my mind, thus to declare Things unto thee that excellenteft are.
2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write Dialogue-wife; yet no man doth them flight, For writing fo indeed if they abuse Truth, curfed be they, and the craft they use To that intent; but yet let truth be free To make her fallies upon thee and me,
Which way it pleafes God: for who knows how Better than he that taught us first to plow,
To guide our minds and pens for his defign? And he makes base things usher in divine.
3. I find that holy writ in many places Hath femblance with this method, where the cafes Do call for one thing to fet forth another; Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may Make it caft forth its rays as light as day.
And now, before I do put up my pen I'll fhew the profit of my book, and then Commit both thee and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down,and makes weak ones stand. This book it chalketh out before thine eyes The man that feeks the everlasting prize:
It fhews you whence he comes, whither he goes; What he leaves undone, also what he does; It also fhews you, how he runs, and runs, 'Till he unto the gate of glory comes.
It fhews too who fet out for life amain, As if the lafting crown they would obtain: Here also you may fee the reason why They lose their labour, and like fools do die.
This book will make a traveller of thee, If by its counfel thou wilt ruled be; It will direct thee to the holy land, If thou wilt its directions understand. Yea, it will make the slothful active be The blind alfo delightful things to fee.
Art thou for fomething rare and profitable? Or would'st thou fee a truth within a fable? Art thou forgetful? Or would'st thou remember From New-year's day to the laft of December?
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