The Pilgrim's Progress In Plain and Simple English (Digital Download)
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When I first took up my penTo write this, I did not understandThat I was going to make a little bookIn this fashion; I meant to makeA different one, but when it was almost doneI had started this one before I knew it.This is how it happened: I was writing aboutThe ways and types of saints, on our gospel day,When I suddenly started writing an allegoryAbout their journey and the way to gloryIn more than twenty subjects I wrote of.This done, I twenty more had in my crown;And they again began to multiply,Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at lastShould prove ad infinitum, and eat outThe book that I already am about.Well, so I did; but yet I did not thinkTo shew to all the world my pen and inkIn such a mode; I only thought to makeI knew not what; nor did I undertakeThereby to please my neighbour: no, not I;I did it my own self to gratify. Then I found I had twenty more in my head;And then they began to breed,Like sparks flying from a coal fire.Then I thought, if you breed so fastI’ll put you on your own, in case you eventuallyTurn out to be endless, and use upAll of the book I am already writing.That’s what I did; but I hadn’t plannedTo show this writing to all the world;I didn’t know what I was trying to writeAnd I didn’t do it to please anyone else;I did this for my own amusement. Neither did I but vacant seasons spendIn this my scribble; nor did I intendBut to divert myself in doing thisFrom worser thoughts which make me do amiss.Thus, I set pen to paper with delight,And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. Nor did I spend wasted yearsOn this scribbling, and all I wantedWas by filling my time with thisTo avoid bad thoughts and wrongdoing.So I was pleased to put pen to paper,And quickly had my thoughts written out.For, having now my method by the end,Still as I pulled, it came; and so I pennedIt down: until it came at last to be,For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.Well, when I had thus put mine ends together,I shewed them others, that I might see whetherThey would condemn them, or them justify:And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die;Some said, JOHN, print it; others said, Not so;Some said, It might do good; others said, No.Now was I in a strait, and did not seeWhich was the best thing to be done by me:At last I thought, Since you are thus divided,I print it will, and so the case decided. So I’d now got a good grasp of my plot,And as I pulled at it, more came, and I wroteIt down, until at last it became, in length and breadth,The size you see here.Well, when I had finished it,I showed it to others, to see whetherThey would condemn or approve of it:Some said, “Let it live” and others, “Let it die”;Some said, “John, print it,” others said, “Don’t.”Some said it could do good, others said it wouldn’t.So I was in a quandary and didn’t knowWhat the best thing for me to do would be:Finally I thought, since you’re split over it,I’ll publish it and we’ll see what happens. For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done,Though others in that channel do not run:To prove, then, who advised for the best,Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.I further thought, if now I did denyThose that would have it, thus to gratify.I did not know but hinder them I mightOf that which would to them be great delight. For, I thought, I can see some people want it done,Though others disagree:I thought the best way of proving who was rightWas to put it to the test.Then I thought that if I didn’t provide itFor those who wanted itI could be depriving them of a great pleasure. For those which were not for its coming forth,I said to them, Offend you I am loth,Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be,Forbear to judge till you do further see.If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.Yea, that I might them better palliate,I did too with them thus expostulate:-- To those who didn’t want it published,I said, “I don’t want to offend you,But since your brothers seem pleased with it,Don’t judge until you’ve seen more.If you don’t want to read it then don’t;Some people like one thing, some another.”Then to placate them furtherI spoke to them like this: May I not write in such a style as this?In such a method, too, and yet not missMy end--thy good? Why may it not be done?Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver dropsCause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,But treasures up the fruit they yield together;Yea, so commixes both, that in her fruitNone can distinguish this from that: they suitHer well when hungry; but, if she be full,She spews out both, and makes their blessings null. “Can’t I write in this style?Can’t I use these themes, and still achieveWhat I want, which is your good? Can’t it be done?Dark clouds bring rain, when bright ones bring none.But dark or bright, if their silver dropsCome down and cause the earth to bear crops,We praise both and don’t complain about either,We cherish the fruit they both brought.They’re so mixed together that nobodyCan say which one made which fruit.They are welcome when the earth is hungryFor water, but if she is full she spews outBoth, and neither do any good. You see the ways the fisherman doth takeTo catch the fish; what engines doth he make?Behold how he engageth all his wits;Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets;Yet fish there be, that neither hook, nor line,Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:They must be groped for, and be tickled too,Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do.How does the fowler seek to catch his gameBy divers means! all which one cannot name:His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell:He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tellOf all his postures? Yet there's none of theseWill make him master of what fowls he please. You see the techniques a fisherman usesTo catch a fish; what gear does he use?See how he uses all his brainsAnd traps, lines, hooks and nets;But there are fish that neither hooks, lines,Traps, nets or machines can get for you;You must reach out by hand and tickle themOr you’ll never catch them.See how the bird hunter tries to get his gameWith many methods! You can’t name them all:He has guns, nets, lime twigs, lights and bells,He creeps, walks, waits, who knowsAll his tricks? But none of themWill let him catch all types of birds.Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this,Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss.If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell,And may be found too in an oyster-shell;If things that promise nothing do containWhat better is than gold; who will disdain,That have an inkling of it, there to look,That they may find it? Now, my little book,(Though void of all these paintings that may makeIt with this or the other man to take)Is not without those things that do excelWhat do in brave but empty notions dwell. He must pipe and whistle to get this sort,But if he does he may miss another.Pearls can be found inside toads’ headsAs well as inside oyster shells.If things that seem unpromising holdThings better than gold, who will not,If they know about it, have a lookTo find it. Now, my little book(though it has no illustrations which might attractThis or that fellow into buying)Doesn’t lack the good thingsThat can’t be found in bold but empty ideas. 'Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.'Why, what's the matter? 'It is dark.' What though?'But it is feigned.' What of that? I trow?Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine,Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.'But they want solidness.' Speak, man, thy mind.'They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind.' “That’s all very well, but I’m not convincedThat your book will stand up, when fully examined.”Why not? “It’s dark.” So what?“It’s all made up.” Again so what, I’d like to know.Some men, with made up words, as dark as mineCan polish up the truth and make it shine.“But they want reality.” Go on, speak your mind.“The weak minded won’t understand, they can’t see through metaphors.” Solidity, indeed, becomes the penOf him that writeth things divine to men;But must I needs want solidness, becauseBy metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,His gospel laws, in olden times held forthBy types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet lothWill any sober man be to find faultWith them, lest he be found for to assaultThe highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops,And seeks to find out what by pins and loops,By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,God speaketh to him; and happy is heThat finds the light and grace that in them be. Reality is indeed very suitable for the oneWho’s writing about the things of God;But am I lacking in reality, becauseI speak in metaphors? Weren’t God’s laws,The laws of the gospel, proclaimed in olden timesThrough examples, hints and metaphors? But anySensible man wouldn’t fault them, in caseHe is accused of arguingWith the highest wisdom. No, he looks downAnd tries to find out through pins and loops,Calves and sheep, heifers and rams,Birds and herbs and the blood of lambsWhat God’s saying to him; and it’s a happy manWho finds the light and grace they contain. Be not too forward, therefore, to concludeThat I want solidness--that I am rude;All things solid in show not solid be;All things in parables despise not we;Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,And things that good are, of our souls bereave.My dark and cloudy words, they do but holdThe truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.The prophets used much by metaphorsTo set forth truth; yea, who so considers Christ,his apostles too, shall plainly see,That truths to this day in such mantles be.Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,Is everywhere so full of all these things--Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springsFrom that same book that lustre, and those raysOf light, that turn our darkest nights to days. So don’t be too quick to decideThat I lack solidity, that I am unskilled;Not all things that look solid are solid,And we do not hate everything told in parables;Otherwise we would come to harm without knowing itAnd stop our souls getting many good things.My dark and misty words holdThe truth, like a safe holds gold.The prophets often used metaphorsTo show the truth, and if you look at ChristAnd his apostles you’ll see they did too,And eternal truths were spoken in this way.Should I not say that holy scripture,Which for its style and language beats everything,Is absolutely full of these things,Obscure messages and allegories? But from the same bookThere springs the shining light, whose raysMake daylight out of our darkest nights. Come, let my carper to his life now look,And find there darker lines than in my bookHe findeth any; yea, and let him know,That in his best things there are worse lines too.May we but stand before impartial men,To his poor one I dare adventure ten,That they will take my meaning in these linesFar better than his lies in silver shrines.Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,Informs the judgement, rectifies the mind;Pleases the understanding, makes the willSubmit; the memory too it doth fillWith what doth our imaginations please;Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. Now, let my critic have a look at his own life,And he’ll see there are darker things in it than anyIn my book; yes, and let him seeThat there are worse lines in his best things.If we could be judged by impartial menI’ll offer him odds of ten to oneThat they will find more sense in my writingThan all the lies he says in church.Truth, although it may be new born, I findHelps men to judge and improves the mind;It is pleasing to reason, and makes the willBehave; and it fills the memoryWith things which please our fancy,And it also soothes our troubles.Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,And old wives' fables he is to refuse;But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbidThe use of parables; in which lay hidThat gold, those pearls, and precious stones that wereWorth digging for, and that with greatest care.Let me add one word more. O man of God,Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I hadPut forth my matter in another dress?Or, that I had in things been more express?Three things let me propound; then I submitTo those that are my betters, as is fit. I know that Timothy was ordered to use sound wordsAnd to refute the old wives’ tales;But stern Paul nowhere told himHe couldn’t use parables, in which were hiddenThe gold, pearls and gems which wereWorth digging for, and taking care over too.Let me say one other thing. You Godly man,Are you offended? Do you wish I hadPut my subject out in another form?Or that I was more concise in my writing?Let me put forward three points, then I leave the matterTo be discussed by my betters, as is proper. 1. I find not that I am denied the useOf this my method, so I no abusePut on the words, things, readers; or be rudeIn handling figure or similitude,In application; but, all that I may,Seek the advance of truth this or that wayDenied, did I say? Nay, I have leave(Example too, and that from them that haveGod better pleased, by their words or ways,Than any man that breatheth now-a-days)Thus to express my mind, thus to declareThings unto thee that excellentest are. I find that it is not against the law to useThese methods, so I’m doing no harmTo words, subjects or readers, or being roughIn my handling of character or descriptionWhen I do it; all I’m doingIs trying to put out the truth in various ways.Illegal did I say? No, I have permission(As well as examples, from people who havePleased God more, in their lives and words,Than any man now alive)To express myself like this and to show youThings which are the very best. 2. I find that men (as high as trees) will writeDialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slightFor writing so: indeed, if they abuseTruth, cursed be they, and the craft they useTo that intent; but yet let truth be freeTo make her sallies upon thee and me,Which way it pleases God; for who knows how,Better than he that taught us first to plough,To guide our mind and pens for his design?And he makes base things usher in divine. I find that the loftiest men writeIn dialogue, but nobody criticizes themFor doing so: of course, if theyLie, then they should be cursed along withTheir technique; but let’s let the truthCome to you and meIn whatever way it pleases God; who knows howTo use our pens and minds betterThan the one who taught us how to plough?He can show divine things in the lowest settings. 3. I find that holy writ in many placesHath semblance with this method, where the casesDo call for one thing, to set forth another;Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smotherTruth's golden beams: nay, by this method mayMake it cast forth its rays as light as day.And now before I do put up my pen,I'll shew the profit of my book, and thenCommit both thee and it unto that HandThat pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.This book it chalketh out before thine eyesThe man that seeks the everlasting prize;It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes;What he leaves undone, also what he does;It also shows you how he runs and runs,Till he unto the gate of glory comes. I find that holy writ, in many places,Uses this method, where one thingIs described as another;So I can use it and nothing will put outThe light of Truth; in fact this methodCan make it shine even brighter.And now, before I stop writing,I’ll tell you what my book’s good for and thenHand you and it over to the OneWho pulls the strong down and raises up the weak.This book draws you a pictureOf the man who seeks eternal life;It shows you where he’s from and where he goes;What he omits to do and what he does;And it will show you how he runs and runsUntil he reaches the gate of glory. {9} It shows, too, who set out for life amain,As if the lasting crown they would obtain;Here also you may see the reason whyThey lose their labour, and like fools do die.This book will make a traveller of thee,If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;It will direct thee to the Holy Land,If thou wilt its directions understand:Yea, it will make the slothful active be;The blind also delightful things to see.Art thou for something rare and profitable?Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable?Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou rememberFrom New-Year's day to the last of December? It also shows those who thought that by their lifestyleThey could win the same prize,And you will see how their work counts for nothing,And they die like fools.This book will make you a traveller,If you follow its advice;It will direct you to the Holy Land,If you understand its directions:It will energize the lazyAnd let the blind see wonderful things.Do you want something rare and valuable?Will you see truth in a story?Are you forgetful? Can you rememberThe whole of the last year? Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,And may be, to the helpless, comforters.This book is writ in such a dialectAs may the minds of listless men affect:It seems a novelty, and yet containsNothing but sound and honest gospel strains.Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy?Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation?Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou seeA man in the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm,And find thyself again without a charm?Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not what,And yet know whether thou art blest or not,By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither,And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. Then read my fantasies, they’ll stick with youAnd may bring comfort to the despairing.This book is written in a mannerWhich will get into the minds of the downhearted:It may seem something new, but it is basedOn the sound honesty of the gospel.Do you want to escape depression?Do you want to have fun but not be stupid?Would you read some riddles and their solutions?Or drown yourself in thought?Do you love to eat, or would you like to seeA man in the clouds who speaks to you?Would you like a waking dream?Would you like to laugh and cry together?Would you like to lose yourself but come to no harm,And find your way home without any magic?Would you like to read yourself and of things you don’t know,But know from it if you areBlessed or not? In that case come here,And put my book, your head and your heart together. JOHN BUNYAN. In the Similitude of a Dream As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. [Isa. 64:6; Luke 14:33; Ps. 38:4; Hab. 2:2; Acts 16:30,31] I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and, as he read, he wept, and trembled; and, not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do?" [Acts 2:37] As I walked through the wilderness of the world I came across a place where there was a cave, and I lay down there to sleep. As I slept, I dreamed. In my dream I saw a man dressed in rags with his face turned away from his own house, with a book in his hand and a great weight on his back. I looked and saw him open the book and read. As he read he wept and shook, and unable to contain himself any longer he cried out pitifully, “What shall I do?” In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: O my dear wife, said he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am for certain informed that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he also set to talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying: and thus for some days he spent his time. In this distressed state he went home and kept himself under control as long as he could, so that his wife and children should not see his distress. But he could not keep silent for long, as that made things worse. So after a while he spoke his mind to his wife and children: “Oh dear wife,” he said, “ and you, my dear children, I, your dear friend, am absolutely beaten down by a burden I have to carry. I have been told that our city will be burned by fire from Heaven, and in this terrible event we shall all be ruined unless we can find some way of escape, which I can’t think of at the moment.” When he said this all his relatives were astonished, not because they believed him but because they thought he had gone mad. As it was getting late, and they hoped some sleep might settle his mind, they quickly put him to bed. But the night was just as bad for him as the day, and he spent it moaning and crying. So when the morning came they asked him how he was, and he said, “Worse and worse.” He also tried talking to them again, but they began to turn against him. They thought they could drive away his madness by treating him roughly: sometimes they would mock him, sometimes tell him off and sometimes they would just ignore him. So he began to keep to his bedroom, where he would pray for them and pity them, as well as try to ease his own misery. He would also walk alone in the fields, reading or praying, and he spent his time this way for days on end. Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and, as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, "What shall I do to be saved?" Now I saw a time when he was walking in the fields and as usual he was reading his book and was very upset; as he read he burst out crying, as he had done before, “What am I to do to be saved?” I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would run; yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he could not tell which way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him and asked, Wherefore dost thou cry? [Job 33:23] I saw that he was looking about as if he wanted to run, but he did not run, as I could see he had no idea of where to go. I looked and saw a man named Evangelist coming towards him who asked, “Why are you crying?” He answered, Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgement [Heb. 9:27]; and I find that I am not willing to do the first [Job 16:21], nor able to do the second. [Ezek. 22:14] He answered, “Sir, this book here tells me that I am going to die, and after that I will be judged; I don’t want to do the first and I can’t face the second.” Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this life is attended with so many evils? The man answered, Because I fear that this burden is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet. [Isa. 30:33] And, Sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judgement, and from thence to execution; and the thoughts of these things make me cry. Evangelist said, “Why not die, as this life is so miserable?” The man answered, “Because I fear that this weight I carry will drag me down further than the grave, and I will fall into hell. And, sir, if I’m not ready to go to prison then I’m not ready for judgement and execution, and the thought of these things makes me cry.” Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, Flee from the wrath to come. [Matt. 3.7] Then Evangelist said, “If this is the state you’re in, why are you standing still?” He answered, “Because I do not know where to go.” Then Evangelist gave him a parchment scroll, and written on it was, “Run from the anger that is coming.” The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I fly? Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, Do you see yonder wicket-gate? [Matt. 7:13,14] The man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light? [Ps. 119:105; 2 Pet. 1:19] He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto: so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. The man read this, and looking closely at the Evangelist he asked, “Where should I run to?” Then the Evangelist, pointing over a very wide field, said, “Do you see that gate?” The man said, “No.” So the other said, “Do you see that shining light?” He said, “I think so.” “Then,” said the Evangelist, “keep your eye on it and walk straight up to it. When you get there you’ll see the gate, and when you knock on it you’ll be told what to do.” So I saw in my dream that the man began to run.Now, he had not run far from his own door, but his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life! life! eternal life! [Luke 14:26] So he looked not behind him, but fled towards the middle of the plain. [Gen. 19:17] So in my dream I saw the man start to run. He hadn’t run far from his own door when his wife and children spotted him and called after him to come back, but he stuck his fingers in his ears and ran on, shouting, “Life! Life! Eternal life!” So he didn’t look behind but ran on to the middle of the plain. The neighbours also came out to see him run [Jer. 20:10]; and, as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and, among those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate and the name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time, the man was got a good distance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are ye come? They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But he said, That can by no means be; you dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction, the place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and, dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone: be content, good neighbours, and go along with me. The neighbors also came out to see him running, and as he ran some mocked him, some threatened him and some called after him to come back; amongst the ones that did there were two who decided to get him back by force. One was called Obstinate and the other Pliable. By this time the man had got a fair distance away, but they decided to chase him and in a little while they caught up with him. Then the man said, “Neighbors, why have you come?” They answered, “To persuade you to come back with us.” But he said, “I can’t: you live in the City of Destruction, where I was born. I can see what will happen, and if you die there you will sink down lower than the grave into hell. Be sensible, good neighbors, and come with me.” OBST. What! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts behind us? What! Go and leave all our friends and possessions? CHR. Yes, said Christian, for that was his name, because that ALL which you shall forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that which I am seeking to enjoy [2 Cor. 4:18]; and, if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough and to spare. [Luke 15:17] Come away, and prove my words. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because everything you leave can’t compare with a tiny bit of what I will be given there, and if you come with me you’ll get the same as me, for where I’m going there’s plenty for everyone. Come with me and see for yourselves. OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them? What are the things you’re looking for, that you’ll give up the world to find? CHR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away [1 Pet. 1:4], and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there [Heb. 11:16], to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book. I am looking for a property that cannot be damaged, that is undefiled and that will never disappear. It is kept in heaven and is safe there, and it will be given at the proper time to those who look for it. If you want you can read about it in my book. OBST. Tush! said Obstinate, away with your book; will you go back with us or no? Rot! Stuff your book, will you come back with us or not? CHR. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand to the plough. [Luke 9:62] I won’t, because I have chosen my course. OBST. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him; there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. [Prov. 26:16] Come on Pliable, let’s turn back and go home without him. There are always madmen like these, and when they get an idea in their heads they think they’re wiser than seven ordinary sane men. PLI. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours: my heart inclines to go with my neighbour. Don’t mock him: if what good Christian says is true then he’s going to find something better than we have; my instinct is to go with him. OBST. What! more fools still! Be ruled by me, and go back; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be wise. What! Another idiot! Do as I say and come back, who knows where this madman will lead you? Be sensible and come home. CHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable; there are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glorious besides. If you believe not me, read here in this book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it. [Heb. 9:17-22; 13:20] Come along with me, Pliable; there are all those things I spoke of and many more wonderful things besides. If you don’t believe me, read about it in this book: the truth of all that’s said in there is sealed with the blood of the one who wrote it.
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