Yea, but this is very good counsell, and rightly applied to such as have it, and will not use it, that have a competency, that are able to work and get their living by the sweat of their browes, by their trade, that have something yet; he that hath birds, may catch birds; but what shall we do that are slaves by nature, impotent, and unable to help our selves, meer beggers, that languish and pine away, that have no means at all, no hope of means, no trust of delivery, or of better successe?

as those old Britans complained to their Lords and Masters the Romans oppressed by the Picts, mare ad Barbaros, Barbari ad mare, the Barbarians drove them to the sea, the sea drove them back to the Barbarians; our present misery compels us to cry out and howl, to make our moan to rich men; they turn us back with a scornfull answer to our misfortune again, and will take no pity of us;

they commonly overlooke their poor friends in adversity, if they chance to meet them, they voluntarily forget and will take no notice of them; they will not, they cannot help us. Insteed of comfort they threaten us, miscall, scoffe at us, to aggravate our misery, give us bad language, or if they do give good words, what’s that to relieve us? According to that of Thales, Facile est alios monere; who cannot give good counsell? ’tis cheap, it costs them nothing.

It is an easie matter when ones belly is full to declame against fasting, Qui satur est pleno laudat jejunia ventre; Doth the wild Asse bray when he hath grasse, or loweth the Oxe when he hath fodder? Job 6.5. Neque enim populo Romano quidquam potest esse lætius, No man living so jocond, so merry as the people of Rome when they had plenty; but when they came to want, to be hunger-starved, neither shame, nor lawes, nor armes, nor Magistrates could keep them in obedience.

Seneca pleadeth hard for poverty, and so did those lazie Philosophers: but in the mean time he was rich, they had wherewithall to maintain themselves; but doth any poor man extoll it? There are those (saith Bernard) that approve of a mean estate, but on that condition they never want themselves; and some again are meek so long as they may say or do what they list; but if occasion be offered, how far are they from all patience? I would to God (as he said) No man should commend povertie, but he that is poor, or he that so much admires it, would relieve, help, or ease others.

Nunc si nos audis, atque es divinus Apollo, Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet, unde petat:

Now if thou hear’st us, and art a good man, Tell him that wants, to get means, if you can.

But no man hears us, we are most miserably dejected, the skumme of the world,

Vix habet in nobis jam nova plaga locum,

We can get no relief, no comfort, no succour,

Et nihil inveni quod mihi ferret opem.

We have tried all means, yet finde no remedy: No man living can express the anguish and bitternesse of our souls, but we that endure it; we are distressed, forsaken, in torture of body and mind, in another hell: and what shall we do?

When Crassus the Roman Consul warred against the Parthians, after an unlucky battell fought, he fled away in the night, and left four thousand men sore sick and wounded in his tents, to the furie of the enemie, which when the poor men perceived, clamoribus & ululatibus omnia compleverunt, they made lamentable moan, and roared down right, as lowd as Homers Mars when he was hurt, which the noise of a 10000 men could not drown, and all for fear of present death.

But our estate is farre more tragicall and miserable, much more to be deplored, and far greater cause have we to lament; the devil and the world persecute us, all good fortune hath forsaken us, we are left to the rage of beggery, cold, hunger, thirst, nastiness, sickness, irksomeness, to continue all torment, labour and pain, to derision and contempt, bitter enemies all, and far worse then any death; Death alone we desire, death we seek, yet cannot have it, and what shall we do?

Quod male fers, assuesce; feres bene —— accustome thy self to it, and it will be tolerable at last. Yea but I may not, I cannot. In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo, I am in the extremitie of humane adversitie; and as a shadow leaves the bodie when the Sun is gone, I am now left and lost, and quite forsaken of the world.

Qui jacet in terra, non habet unde cadat; Comfort thy self with this yet, thou art at the worst, and before it be long it will either overcome thee or thou it. If it be violent, it cannot endure, aut solvetur, aut solvet: Let the devil himself and all the plagues of Egypt come upon thee at once,

Ne tu cede malis, sed contra audentior ito,

be of good courage; Misery is vertues whetstone.

—— serpens, sitis, ardor, arenæ, Dulcia virtuti,

as Cato told his souldiers marching in the desarts of Lybia, Thirst, heat, sands, serpents, were pleasant to a valiant man; honourable enterprises are accompanied with dangers and dammages, as experience evinceth; they will make the rest of thy life rellish the better.

But put case they continue; thou art not so poor as thou wast born, and as some hold, much better to be pitied then envied. But be it so thou hast lost all, poor thou art, dejected, in pain of body, grief of mind, thine enemies insult over thee, thou art as bad as Job; yet tell me (saith Chrysostome) was Job or the devil the greater conquerour? surely Job; The devil had his goods, he sate on the muck-hil and kept his good name; he lost his children, health, friends, but he kept his innocency; he lost his mony, but he kept his confidence in God, which was better then any treasure.

Do thou then as Job did, triumph as Job did, and be not molested as every fool is. Sed qua ratione potero? How shall this be done? Chrysostome answers, facilè si cœlum cogitaveris, with great facility, if thou shalt but meditate on heaven.

Hanna wept sore, and troubled in mind, could not eat; but, why weepest thou, said Elkanah her husband, and why eatest thou not? why is thine heart troubled? am not I better to thee then ten sons? and she was quiet. Thou art here vexed in this world; but say to thy self, Why art thou troubled, O my soule? Is not God better to thee then all temporalities, and momentany pleasures of the world? be then pacified.

And though thou beest now peradventure in extreme want, it may be ’tis for thy further good, to try thy patience, as it did Jobs, and exercise thee in this life: trust in God, and rely upon him, and thou shalt be crowned in the end. What’s this life to eternity? The world hath forsaken thee, thy friends and fortunes all are gone: yet know this, that the very hairs of thine head are numbred, that God is a spectator of all thy miseries, he sees thy wrongs, woes, and wants, ’Tis his good will and pleasure it should be so, and he knows better what is for thy good then thou thy self.

His providence is over all, at all times he hath set a guard of angels over us, and keeps us as the apple of his eye, Ps. 17.8. Some he doth exalt, prefer, blesse with worldly riches, honours, offices and preferments, as so many glistering stars he makes to shine above the rest: some he doth miraculously protect from theeves, incursions, sword, fire, and all violent mischances,

and as the Poet fains of that Lycian Pandarus, Lycaons son, when he shot at Menelaus the Græcian with a strong arm, and deadly arrow, Pallas, as a good mother keeps flies from her childs face asleep, turned by the shaft, and made it hit on the buckle of his girdle; so some he solicitously defends, others he exposeth to danger, poverty, sickness, want, misery, he chastiseth and corrects, as to him seems best, in his deep, unsearchable and secret judgement, and all for our good.

The tyrant took the city (saith Chrysostome) God did not hinder it; led them away captives, so God would have it; he bound them, God yielded to it: flung them into the furnace, God permitted it: heat the Oven hotter, it was granted: and when the Tyrant had done his worst, God shewed his power, and the Childrens patience, he freed them: so can he thee, and can help in an instant, when it seems to him good.