The Presumptuous sinner: Or, a Dialogue between a Noble Lord, and a
poor Woodman, concerning the fall of Adam, which brought Sin, Death and Labour into the
World; with an account how the Nobleman reproved him for his sharp Reflection, To which is
added, an agreement made between them, to place the poor Man in all the Pomps and Glories of
the World, which he was to enjoy, whilst he abstained from one Thing commanded. Concluding
with the Poor Man's Disobediences, which shews the Vanity of those that presume to stand by
their own strength.
To the Tune of, The Compleat Christian.
|
A Noble Lord of high renown
|
As he was coursing up and down,
|
[T]hrough Groves and shady Vallies green,
|
[B]y him an aged [m]an was seen,
|
With ax in Hand cleaving of Wood;
|
Now as he at his Labour stood,
|
ah! Adam, Adam, was his tone
|
[s]till as he labour'd all alone.
|
He sigh'd as if his Heart would break,
|
And said at every heavy Stroke,
|
ah! Adam, Adam, was his Cries,
|
Whilst Tears did trickle from his Eyes.
|
at length behold the noble Peer,
|
as he these Words did overhear;
|
Said, aged [m]an, pray let me know
|
Why do you talk of Adam so?
|
The old Man answer'd him and said,
|
The Laws of God he disobey'd,
|
By eating the Forbidden Fruit,
|
And thus our Sins at first took Root.
|
For if that Breach had never been,
|
We had been blest, and free from Sin!
|
In that sweet State of Innocence,
|
But Sorrow came by his Offence.
|
For Adam's fond Curiosity
|
It was ordain'd that he should be
|
Opprest with Sorrow, Grief and Pain,
|
Till he return to Earth again.
|
And I, one of poor Adam's Heirs,
|
To earn my Bread with anxious Cares,
|
and at his Fall I was brought to
|
this Labour which I now go through.
|
Why did he not his Wife oppose;
|
Why did he with the Serpent close;
|
Why did he on the apple feed,
|
Which doth so many Sorrows breed:
|
The Garden was at his Command,
|
the loaded Branches kiss'd his Hand:
|
Which he might pull with Pleasure free,
|
All but that one forbidden tree.
|
The Nobleman he th[e]n reply'd,
|
'tis true Adam he turn'd aside
|
From God's Commands, and did the thing
|
Which does continual Sorrow bring.
|
Yet don't reflect upon him so,
|
the very same, for ought I know,
|
thou might'st have done to thy disgrace,
|
If thou hadst been in Adam's Place.
|
No says he the strict command was great
|
Besides that very blessed S[t]ate
|
Of Innocence was free from Care;
|
We would have liv'd and flourish'd there.
|
I'd not have touch'd the tree of [Li]fe
|
For ever a Serpent, Friend or Wife;
|
Behold there was enough beside
|
If Man could have been satisfy'd.
|
But Father hear me what I say,
|
the Fruit was beautiful and gay,
|
this made him soon consent when woo'd,
|
to taste of the forbidden Food.
|
& Men are of a longing [k]ind,
|
Still as by Law they are confin'd
|
from this or that, they long the more,
|
to taste, tho' Death stands at the Door.
|
Right worthy Sir, I would have stood
|
Upon the Guard [f]or future Good;
|
And none should [e']er hav[e] wrought on me,
|
to taste of the forbidden tree.
|
All but that very tree alone
|
the Lord had made old Adam's own,
|
Which was enough, and eke to spare,
|
What could he not that one forbear!
|
With that replied the noble Lord,
|
thou shalt receive a large Reward,
|
And thou shalt never work again,
|
If from one thing thou wilt abstain.
|
Thou seem'st to be as poor as Job,
|
But I'll give thee a Royal Robe;
|
A Chain of G[old] and Palace gay,
|
While these Orders thou dost obey.
|
Thou shalt have honour, pomp and state,
|
and like the mighty potentate
|
Musick shall lull thee to thy Rest,
|
No Heat nor Cold shall thee molest.
|
and every Day I will afford
|
the best of Food to grace the Board
|
Choice Dainties, forty more or less,
|
But one shall be a cover'd Mess.
|
That shall be brought then each Day,
|
among the rest, then took away;
|
Still at the end[i]ng of the Feast,
|
Ye[t] thou shan't touch it in the least.
|
These just Commands be sure thou keep,
|
For if thou ventur'st once to peep,
|
Under the Cover, more or less,
|
You forfeit all the Happiness.
|
Said he, my Lord I do declare,
|
from time to time I will forbear,
|
Touching that private cover'd Mess
|
In any manner more or less.
|
Altho' it does before me stand,
|
I'll never touch it with my Hand;
|
Nor in the least be fond to see
|
What is conceal'd and hid from me.
|
In all Obedience I'll remain,
|
You shall in the least complain.
|
I'll never do as Adam did,
|
To taste of that which is forbid.
|
then come and follow me I pray,
|
Henceforth old Father from this Day,
|
thou shalt not labour, carp or care,
|
If this one Thing thou dost forbear.
|
After this, the noble Lord he goes;
|
Who stript him of his Leather Cloaths,
|
Then deck'd him like a noble Peer,
|
Of many Thousand Pounds a Year.
|
His [C]oach, his Star, his Chain of Gold,
|
a sumptuous palace to behold;
|
With all Things to his Heart's Content,
|
Just for to see this strange Event.
|
The Lord who had this romise made,
|
and cause him strait to be array'd
|
In Robes of rich embroider'd Gold,
|
And sent him Dishes manifold.
|
the best that all the Land could yield
|
[F]rom forest, Garden, park or field,
|
With fishes, fowls, and all that might
|
Sweeten his Want and Appetite.
|
In midst of Joy his Life was led,
|
And was with curious Dainties fed:
|
He wanted neither food nor Mirth
|
to make him blessed here on Earth.
|
The Lord allow'd that he should have.
|
Whatever his Heart could wish or crave.
|
[A]nd so he had, but see at last
|
How he did all his Glories blast.
|
[F]or Day by Day still as he din'd,
|
he cover'd Mess ran in his Mind.
|
He wants to know what there was hid,
|
Altho' he knew 'twas forbid.
|
Tho' he had plenty at his Board,
|
What Court and Kingdom could afford,
|
Yet this one Thing he wants to know,
|
Which stood before him covered so.
|
His [f]ancy to that Height was grown,
|
That as he feasted all alone:
|
Resolved he was to satisfy
|
His foolish fond Curiosity.
|
With that he raised up the Dish,
|
But there was neither [f]lesh nor Fish,
|
But out there leap'd a living Mouse,
|
Which run from him a-cross the House.
|
Which he could not the least Retrive,
|
With that he strait began to Grieve,
|
As soon as e'er he saw it run,
|
He sighing said, what have I done?
|
A Fault which makes me blush for Shame
|
I am as much or more to blame
|
Than Adam was, without Dispute,
|
Who tasted the forbidden Fruit.
|
Alas! he had no ecedent,
|
[T]o warn him of the like Event
|
As I have had from Time to Time
|
Therefore the greater is my Crime.
|
While thus he did lamenting stand
|
Behold the Servants out of Hand
|
Were sent to clear the Table strait
|
this led to his unhappy Fate.
|
for having search'd the cover'd Mess
|
Which he was never to possess.
|
And finding that the Mouse was fled
|
He to the noble Lord was led.
|
Who then examin'd him and said
|
Wherefore hast thou disobey'd
|
My just Commands, come tell me true
|
Was I not good and kind to you
|
I heard your Groans and piteous Cries,
|
I saw the tears drop down your Eyes;
|
When Adam you was pleas'd to blame,
|
Because through him your Labour came.
|
When you was encompass'd with Cares,
|
as being one of Adam's Heirs;
|
Who suffer'd by his fatal fall,
|
I took you in and gave you all.
|
that e'er your Heart could wish or crave,
|
Nothing but leasure should you have,
|
While in the World you did remain,
|
If from one thing you did abstain.
|
With great resumption you reply'd,
|
that my Commands should be your Guide
|
these were the very Words you spoke,
|
Yet now thou hast that romise broke
|
Which has offended me indeed,
|
Strip off those Royal Robes with Speed,
|
And take your Leather Cloaths once more,
|
or thou shalt labour as before.
|
the poor Man said, i must confess,
|
'tis through my own Unworthiness,
|
that i must with these pleasures part
|
therefore it is my just Desert.
|
the Nobleman said, prithee go,
|
And don't reflect on Adam so
|
As thou hast done, for as i'm true
|
[I] find a greater [fa]ult in you.
|
|
|
|
|
|