Ecclesiastes, Chapter 5

Whether thou goest conceive, and to what end,
When thy bold feet the House of God ascend.
There rather heare his Life-directing Rules;
Then offer up the sacrifice of Fooles.
For sinfull are their gifts, who neither know
What they to God should give, or what they owe.
The Ryot of thy tongue let feare restraine:
Nor with rash Orisons his Eares profane.
God sits in Heaven, with Rayes of Beauty crown'd;
Thou a poore Mortall creep'st upon the ground:
Since nothing lies concealed from his view,
Nor scapes his knowledge, let thy words be few.
As Dreames proceed from multitude of Cares:
So multitude of words a foole declares.
Performe thy vowes to God without delay:
Fooles please not him: thy vowes sincerely pay.
Since they are offerings of the gratefull will;
Vow not at all, or else thy vowes fulfill.
Let not thy tongue oblige thy flesh to sinne:
Nor say, I err'd: by that pretext to winne
Thy Angels Pardon. Why shouldst thou incense
Thy God, and draw his wrath on thy offence?
In multitudes of words and Dreames appeare
Like vanities: my Sonne, Jehova feare.
Nor let it quench thy Piety, when thou
Shalt see the poore beneath the mighty bow;
All Lawes perverted, Justice cast aside;
As if the Vniverse had lost her guide:
That Power to whom all are subordinate,
Shall crush them with an unsuspected fate.
The Mother Earth, to all her bosome yields:
Even Princes are beholding to the fields.
Who silver Covet, and Excesse of Gaine,
Shall ever want: this folly is as vaine.
As Riches multiply; even so doe they
Who feed thereon, and on their Plenty prey.
What profit to the owner can arise,
But to behold them with his carefull Eyes?
Sweet is the sleepe, which honest toyle begets;
Whether he liberally, or little eates:
When ever-troublesome Abundance keeps
The wealthy waking, and affrights his sleeps.
What Penury than Riches can be worse,
If by the Owner turn'd into a Curse?
Or to consuming vice become a spoyle?
Who Sonnes begets to misery and toyle.
Naked he issu'd from his Mothers wombe:
And naked must descend into his Tombe.
Of all, with travell got, and kept with feare,
He nothing to the House of Death shall beare:
But must returne as Emptie as he came;
His Entrie, and his Exit, but the same.
What bootes it then to Labour for the winde?
This is a sore affliction to the Minde.
He feeds his sorrow in continuall Night:
Repleat with Anguish, Fury, and Despight.
This truth have I found out in her pursuite:
To feed our Bodies, to enjoy the fruit
Of our enricht endeavours, and to give
Our selves their comforts, whil'st on Earth we live;
Is good and Pleasurable: this alone
Is all we have, that can be call'd our owne.
For, to have Riches, and the Power with all
To use them freely, is the Principall
Of earthly Benefits: for God on those
He most affects, this Happinesse bestowes.
That man retaines no sence of former Ill's:
Whose Heart the Lord of Life with gladnesse fills.