Book II, 43: On the Tempter

How dares thy Bandog, Lord, presume t'approach
Into thy sacred preence? or incroach
Vpon thy choyce possessions, to devoure
Thy sporting Lambs? To counterfeit thy po'wr,
And to usurpe thy Kingdome, ev'n as He
Were, Lord, at least, a Substitute to Thee?
Why dost not rate him? why does he obtaine
Such favour to have liberty of his Chaine?
Have we not Enemies to counterbuffe,
Enow? Is not the Flesh, the World enough
To foyle us? this abroad, and that at home;
But must that Sathan, must that Bandog come
T'afflict the weake, and take the stronger side?
O, are there not enow, enow beside?
Is there not odds enough, when we have none
But mighty Foes; nay, Rebels of our owne,
Beneath a false disguise of love and peace,
That still betray us? Are not these, all these
Sufficient, to encounter and o'rthrow,
Poore sinfull Man; but must that Bandog too,
Assault us, Lord? We dare not cast our eyes
Our timorous eyes to Heav'n, we dare not rise
From off our aking knees, to plead our case,
When he can commune with thee face to face;
Nay more, were it but possible to doe,
Would draw thee, Lord, to his bold Faction too.
Lord, lend me but thy power to resist
What Foes thou sendst, and send what Foes thou list:
It is thy Battaile: If thou please to warme
My blood, and find the strength, Ile find the Arme;
March thou i'th' Front, Ile follow in the Reare;
Come then ten thousand Bandogs, Ile not feare.