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WHEN at the first I took my Pen in hand |
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Thus for to write; I did not understand |
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That I at all should make a little Book |
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In such a mode; Nay, I had undertook |
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To make another, which when almost done, |
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Before I was aware I this begun. |
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And thus it was: I was writing of the Way |
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And Race of Saints, in this our Gospel-day, |
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Fell suddenly into an Allegory |
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About their Journey, and the way to Glory, |
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In more than twenty things which I set down: |
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This done, I twenty more had in my Crown, |
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And they again began to multiply, |
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Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. |
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Nay then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, |
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I’ll put you by yourselves, lest you at last |
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Should prove an infinitum, and eat out |
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The Book that I already am about. |
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Well, so I did; but yet I did not think |
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To shew to all this World my Pen and Ink |
20 |
In such a mode; I only thought to make |
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I knew not what: nor did I undertake |
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Thereby to please my Neighbor; no not I; |
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I did it mine own self to gratifie. |
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Neither did I but vacant seasons spend |
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In this my Scribble; nor did I intend |
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But to divert myself in doing this |
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From worser thoughts which make me do amiss. |
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Thus I set Pen to Paper with delight, |
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And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. |
30 |
For having now my Method by the end, |
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Still as I pull’d, it came; and so I penn’d |
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It down, until it came at last to be |
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For length and breadth the bigness which you see. |
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Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, |
35 |
I shew’d them others, that I might see whether |
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They would condemn them, or them justifie; |
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And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die; |
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Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so: |
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Some said, It might do good; others said, No. |
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Now was I in a straight, and did not see |
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Which was the best thing to be done by me: |
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At last I thought, Since you are thus divided, |
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I print it will, and so the case decided. |
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For, thought I, some I see would have it done, |
45 |
Though others in that Channel do not run. |
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To prove then who advised for the best, |
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Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. |
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I further thought, if now I did deny |
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Those that would have it thus, to gratifie, |
50 |
I did not know but hinder them I might |
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Of that which would to them be great delight. |
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For those which were not for its coming forth |
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I said to them, Offend you I am loth, |
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Yet since your Brethren pleased with it be, |
55 |
Forbear to judge till you do further see. |
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If that thou wilt not read, let it alone; |
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Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone: |
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Yea, that I might them better palliate, |
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I did too with them thus Expostulate: |
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May I not write in such a stile as this? |
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In such a method too, and yet not miss |
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Mine end, thy good? why may it not be done? |
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Dark Clouds bring Waters, when the bright bring none. |
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Yea, dark or bright, if they their Silver drops |
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Cause to descend, the Earth, by yielding Crops, |
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Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, |
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But treasures up the Fruit they yield together; |
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Yea, so commixes both, that in her Fruit |
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None can distinguish this from that: they suit |
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Her well, when hungry; but, if she be full, |
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She spues out both, and makes their blessings null. |
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You see the ways the Fisher-man doth take |
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To catch the Fish; what Engines doth he make? |
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Behold how he engageth all his Wits, |
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Also his Snares, Lines, Angles, Hooks, and Nets. |
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Yet Fish there be, that neither Hook, nor Line, |
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Nor Snare, nor Net, nor Engine can make thine; |
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They must be grop’d for, and be tickled too, |
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Or they will not be catch’d, whate’er you do. |
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How doth the Fowler seek to catch his Game |
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By divers means, all which one cannot name? |
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His Gun, his Nets, his Lime-twigs, Light, and Bell; |
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He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea who can tell |
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Of all his postures? Yet there’s none of these |
85 |
Will make him master of what Fowls he please. |
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Yea, he must Pipe and Whistle to catch this; |
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Yet if he does so, that Bird he will miss. |
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If that a Pearl may in a Toad’s head dwell, |
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And may be found too in an Oyster-shell; |
90 |
If things that promise nothing do contain |
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What better is than Gold; who will disdain, |
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That have an inkling of it, there to look, |
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That they may find it? Now my little Book |
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(Though void of all those Paintings that may make |
95 |
It with this or the other man to take) |
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Is not without those things that do excel |
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What do in brave, but empty notions dwell. |
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Well, yet I am not fully satisfied, |
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That this your Book will stand, when soundly try’d. |
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Why, what’s the matter? It is dark. What tho? |
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But it is feigned: What of that I tro? |
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Some men, by feigning words as dark as mine, |
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Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine. |
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But they want solidness. Speak man thy mind. |
105 |
They drowned the weak; Metaphors make us blind. |
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Solidity indeed becomes the Pen |
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Of him that writeth things Divine to men; |
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But must I needs want solidness, because |
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By Metaphors I speak? Were not God’s Laws, |
110 |
His Gospel-Laws, in olden time held forth |
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By Types, Shadows, and Metaphors? Yet loth |
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Will any sober man be to find fault |
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With them, lest he be found for to assault |
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The highest Wisdom. No, he rather stoops, |
115 |
And seeks to find out what by Pins and Loops, |
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By Calves, and Sheep, by Heifers, and by Rams, |
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By Birds, and Herbs, and by the blood of Lambs, |
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God speaketh to him. And happy is he |
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That finds the light and grace that in them be. |
120 |
Be not too forward therefore to conclude |
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That I want solidness, that I am rude: |
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All things solid in shew not solid be; |
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All things in parables despise not we; |
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Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, |
125 |
And things that good are, of our souls bereave. |
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My dark and cloudy words they do but hold |
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The Truth, as Cabinets inclose the Gold. |
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The Prophets used much by Metaphors |
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To set forth Truth; yea, whoso considers |
130 |
Christ, his Apostles too, shall plainly see, |
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That Truths to this day in such Mantles be. |
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Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ, |
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Which for its Stile and Phrase puts down all Wit, |
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Is everywhere so full of all these things, |
135 |
Dark Figures, Allegories? Yet there springs |
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From that same Book that lustre, and those rays |
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Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days. |
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Come, let my Carper to his Life now look, |
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And find there darker lines than in my Book |
140 |
He findeth any; Yea, and let him know, |
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That in his best things there are worse lines too. |
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May we but stand before impartial men, |
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To his poor One I dare adventure Ten, |
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That they will take my meaning in these lines |
145 |
Far better than his lies in Silver Shrines. |
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Come, Truth, although in Swaddling-clouts, I find, |
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Informs the Judgment, rectifies the Mind, |
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Pleases the Understanding, makes the Will |
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Submit; the Memory too it doth fill |
150 |
With what doth our Imagination please; |
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Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. |
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Sound words I know Timothy is to use, |
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And old Wive’s Fables he is to refuse; |
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But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid |
155 |
The use of Parables; in which lay hid |
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That Gold, those Pearls, and precious stones that were |
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Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. |
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Let me add one word more. O man of God, |
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Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had |
160 |
Put forth my matter in another dress, |
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Or that I had in things been more express? |
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Three things let me propound, then I submit |
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To those that are my betters, as is fit. |
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1. I find not that I am denied the use |
165 |
Of this my method, so I no abuse |
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Put on the Words, Things, Readers; or be rude |
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In handling Figure or Similitude, |
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In application; but, all that I may, |
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Seek the advance of Truth this or that way. |
170 |
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave, |
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(Example too, and that from them that have |
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God better pleased, by their words or ways, |
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Than any man that breatheth now a-days) |
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Thus to express my mind, thus to declare |
175 |
Things unto thee, that excellentest are. |
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2. I find that men (as high as Trees) will write |
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Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight |
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For writing so; Indeed if they abuse |
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Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use |
180 |
To that intent; but yet let Truth be free |
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To make her sallies upon thee and me, |
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Which way it pleases God. For who knows how, |
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Better than he that taught us first to Plow, |
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To guide our Mind and Pens for his Design? |
185 |
And he makes base things usher in Divine. |
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3. I find that Holy Writ in many places |
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Hath semblance with this method, where the cases |
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Do call for one thing, to set forth another; |
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Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother |
190 |
Truth’s golden Beams: nay, by this method may |
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Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. |
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And now, before I do put up my Pen, |
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I’ll shew the profit of my Book, and then |
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Commit both thee and it unto that hand |
195 |
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. |
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This Book it chalketh out before thine eyes |
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The man that seeks the everlasting Prize; |
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It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes, |
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What he leaves undone, also what he does; |
200 |
It also shews you how he runs and runs, |
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Till he unto the Gate of Glory comes. |
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It shews too, who set out for life amain, |
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As if the lasting Crown they would obtain; |
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Here also you may see the reason why |
205 |
They lose their labour, and like Fools do die. |
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This Book will make a Traveller of thee, |
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If by its Counsel thou wilt ruled be; |
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It will direct thee to the Holy Land, |
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If thou wilt its directions understand: |
210 |
Yea, it will make the slothful active be; |
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The blind also delightful things to see. |
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Art thou for something rare and profitable? |
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Wouldest thou see a Truth within a Fable? |
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Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember |
215 |
From New-year’s-day to the last of December? |
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Then read my Fancies, they will stick like Burrs, |
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And may be to the Helpless, Comforters. |
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This Book is writ in such a Dialect |
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As may the minds of listless men affect: |
220 |
It seems a novelty, and yet contains |
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Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains. |
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Would’st thou divert thyself from Melancholy? |
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Would’st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? |
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Would’st thou read Riddles, and their Explanation? |
225 |
Or else be drowned in thy Contemplation? |
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Dost thou love picking meat? Or would’st thou see |
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A man i’ th’ Clouds, and hear him speak to thee? |
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Would’st thou be in a Dream, and yet not sleep? |
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Or would’st thou in a moment laugh and weep? |
230 |
Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm, |
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And find thyself again without a charm? |
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Would’st read thyself, and read thou know’st not what, |
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And yet know whether thou art blest or not, |
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By reading the same lines? O then come hither, |
235 |
And lay my Book, thy Head, and Heart together.
JOHN BUNYAN.
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