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it is to meddle with an enemy that goes under the invisible protection of the Almighty. No sooner hath David spoken, than his foot and hand second his tongue; he runs to fight with the Philistine. It is a cold courage that stands only upon defence as a man that saw no cause of fear, and was full of the ambition of victory, he flies upon that monster, and, with a stone out of his bag, smites him in the forehead. There was no part of Goliah that was capable of that danger, but the face, and that piece of the face; the rest was defended with a brazen wall, which a weak sling would have tried to batter in vain. What could Goliah fear, to see an adversary come to him without edge or point! And, behold, that one part hath God found out for the entrance of death. He, that could have caused the stone to pass through the shield and breast-plate of Goliah, rather directs the stone to that part whose nakedness gave advantage. Where there is power or possibility of nature, God uses not to work miracles, but chooses the way that lies most open to his purposes.

The vast forehead was a fair mark; but how easily might the sling have missed it, if there had not been another hand in this cast besides David's! He that guided David into this field, and raised his courage to this combat, guides the stone to his end, and lodges it in that seat of impudence. There now lieth the great defier of Israel, grovelling and grinning in death, and is not suffered to deal one blow for his life, and bites the unwelcome earth, for indignation that he dies by the hand of a shepherd! Earth and hell share him betwixt them. Such is the end of insolence and presumption. O God, what is flesh and blood to thee, who canst make a little pebble-stone stronger than a giant, and, when thou wilt, by the weakest means, canst strew thine enemies in the dust! Where now are the two shields of Goliah, that they did not bear off this stroke of death? or wherefore serves that weaver's beam, but to strike the earth in falling? or that sword, but to behead his master? What needed David load himself with an unnecessary weapon! one sword can serve both Goliah and him. If Goliah had a man to bear his shield, David had Goliah to bear his sword, wherewith that proud blasphemous head is severed from his shoulders. Nothing more honours God, than the turning of wicked men's forces against themselves. There are none of his enemies but carry with them their own destruction. Thus didst thou, O son of David, foil Satan with his

own weapon; that whereby he meant destruction to thee and us, vanquished hin through thy mighty power, and raised thee to that glorious triumph and super-exaltation wherein thou art, wherein we shall be with thee.

CONTEMPLATION V.-JONATHAN'S LOVE, AND SAUL'S ENVY.

BESIDES the discomfiture of the Philistines, David's victory had a double issue: Jonathan's love, and Saul's envy, which God so mixed, that the one was a remedy of the other. A good son makes amends for a wayward father. How precious was that stone that killed such an enemy as Goliah, and purchased such a friend as Jonathan! All Saul's courtiers looked upon David: none so affected him, none did match him but Jonathan; that true correspondence, that was both in their faith and valour, hath knit their hearts. If David did set upon a bear, a lion, a giant; Jonathan had set upon a whole host, and prevailed: the same spirit animated both; the same faith incited both; the same hand prospered both. All Israel was not worth this pair of friends, so zealously confident, so happily victorious. Similitude of dispositions and estates ties the fastest knots of affection

A wise soul hath piercing eyes, and hath quickly discerned the likeness of itself in another; as we do no sooner look into the glass of water, but face answers to face, and, where it sees a perfect resemblance of itself, cannot choose but love it with the same affection that it reflects upon itself.

No man saw David that day, which had so much cause to disaffect him; none in Israel should be a loser by David's success, but Jonathan. Saul was sure enough settled for his time: only his successor should forego all that which David should gain; so as none but David stands in Jonathan's light; and yet all this cannot abate one jot or dram of his love. Where God uniteth hearts, carnal respects are too weak to dissever them, since that, which breaks off affection, must needs be stronger than that which conjoineth it.

Jonathan doth not desire to smother his love by concealment, but professes it in his carriage and actions; he puts off the robe that was upon him, and all his garments, even to his sword, and bow and girdle, and gives them unto his new friend. It was perhaps not without a mystery, that Saul's clothes fitted not David, but Jonathan's

fitted him; and these he is as glad to wear, as he was to be disburdened of the other: that there might be a perfect resemblance, their bodies are suited as well as their hearts. Now the beholders can say, There goes Jonathan's other self; if there be another body under those clothes, there is the same soul. Now David hath cast off his russet coat, and his scrip, and is a shepherd no more; he is suddenly become both a courtier and a captain, and a companion to the prince; yet himself is not changed with his habit, with his condition; yea, rather, as if his wisdom had reserved itself for his exaltation, he so manageth a sudden greatness, as that he winneth all hearts. Honour shows the man; and if there be any blemishes of imperfection, they will be seen in the man that is unexpectedly lifted above his fellows: he is out of the danger of folly, whom a speedy advancement leaveth wise. Jonathan loved David, the soldiers honoured him, the court favoured him, the people applauded him; only Saul stomached him, and therefore hated him, because he was so happy in all besides himself. It had been a shame for all Israel, if they had not magnified their champion. Saul's own heart could not but tell him, that they did owe the glory of that day, and the safety of himself and Israel, unto the sling of David, who, in one man, slew all those thousands at a blow. It was enough for the puissant king of Israel to follow the chase, and to kill them whom David had put to flight; yet he, that could lend his clothes and his armour to this exploit, cannot abide to part with the honour of it to him that had earned it so dearly. The holy songs of David had not more quieted his spirits before, than now the thankful song of the Israelitish women vexes him. One little ditty, of "Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands," sung unto the timbrels of Israel, fetched again that evil spirit, which David's music had expelled. Saul needed not the torment of a worse spirit than envy. O the unreasonableness of this wicked passion! The women gave Saul more, and David less, than he deserved; for Saul alone could not kill a thousand, and David, in that one act of killing Goliah, slew in effect all the Philistines that were slain that day: and yet, because they gave more to David than to himself, he that should have indited, and begun that song of thankfulness, repines, and grows now as mad with envy, as he was before with grief. Truth and justice are no protection against malice. Envy is blind to all objects, save other

men's happiness. If the eyes of men could be contained within their own bounds, and not rove forth into comparisons, there could be no place for this vicious affection; but, when they have once taken this lawless scope to themselves, they lose the knowledge of home, and care only to be employed abroad in their own torment.

Never was Saul's breast so fit a lodging for the evil spirit, as now that it is dressed up with envy. It is as impossible that hell should be free from devils, as a malicious heart. Now doth the frantic king of Israel renew his old fits, and walks and talks distractedly: he was mad with David, and who but David must be called to allay his madness? Such was David's wisdom, he could not but know the terms wherein he stood with Saul; yet, in lieu of the harsh and discordant notes of his master's envy, he returns pleasing music unto him. He can never be a good courtier, nor a good man, that hath not learned to repay, if not injuries with thanks, yet evil with good. While there was a harp in David's hand, there was a spear in Saul's, wherewith he threatens death, as the recompense of that sweet melody. He said, "I will smite David through to the wall. It is well for the innocent, that wicked men cannot keep their own counsel. God fetcheth their thoughts out of their mouths, or their countenance, for a seasonable prevention, which else might proceed to secret execution. It was time for David to withdraw himself; his obedience did not tie him to be the mark of a furious master; he might ease Saul with his music, with his blood he might not: twice, therefore, doth he avoid the presence, not the court, nor the service of Saul.

One would have thought rather, that David should have been afraid of Saul, because the devil was so strong with him, than that Saul should be afraid of David, because the Lord was with him; yet we find all the fear in Saul of David, none in David of Saul. Hatred and fear are ordinary companions. David had wisdom and faith to dispel his fears; Saul had nothing but infidelity, and dejected, self-condemned, distempered thoughts, which must needs nourish them; yet Saul could not fear any hurt from David, whom he found so loyal and serviceable: he fears only too much good unto David; and the envious fear is much more than the distrustful. Now David's presence begins to be more displeasing, than his music was sweet: despite itself had rather prefer him to a remote dignity, than endure him a nearer atten.

dant. This promotion increaseth David's honour and love; and his love and honour aggravate Saul's hatred and fear.

Saul's madness hath not bereaved him of his craft; for, perceiving how great David was grown in the reputation of Israel, he dares not offer any personal or direct violence to him, but hires him into the jaws of a supposed death, by no less price than his eldest daughter: "Behold my eldest daughter Merab, her will I give thee to wife; only be a valiant son to me, and fight the Lord's battles." Could ever man speak more graciously, more holily? What could be more graciously offered by a king than his eldest daughter? what care could be more holy than of the Lord's battles? Yet never did Saul intend so much mischief to David, or so much unfaithfulness to God, as when he spake thus. There is never so much danger of the falsehearted, as when they make the fairest weather. Saul's spear bade David be gone, but his plausible words invite him to danger. This honour was due to David before, upon the compact of his victory; yet he, that twice inquired into the reward of that enterprise before he undertook it, never demanded it after that achievement; neither had Saul the justice to offer it as a recompense of so noble an exploit, but as a snare to envied victory. Charity suspects not: David construes that as an effect and argument of his master's love, which was no other but a child of envy, but a plot of mischief; and | though he knew his own desert, and the justice of his claim to Merab, yet he, in a sincere humility, disparageth himself, his birth and parentage, with a Who am I?"

As it was not the purpose of this modesty in David to reject, but to solicit the proffered favour of Saul, so was it not in the power of this bashful humiliation to turn back the edge of so keen an envy. It helps not that David makes himself mean, while others magnify his worth: whatsoever the colour was, Saul meant nothing to David but danger and death; and since all those battles will not effect that which he desired, himself will not effect that which he promised. If he cannot kill David, he will disgrace him. David's honour was Saul's disease: it was not likely, therefore, that Saul would add unto that honour whereof he was so sick already. Merab was given unto another; neither do I hear David complain of so manifest an injustice: he knew, that the God whose battles he fought had provided a due reward of his patience. If Merab fail, God hath a Michal in store for him she is in love with David; his

comeliness and valour hath so won her heart, that she now emulates the affection of her brother Jonathan. If she be the younger sister, yet she is more affectionate. Saul is glad of the news: his daughter could never live to do him better service, than to be a new snare to his adversary. She shall be therefore sacrificed to his envy; and her honest and sincere love shall be made a bait for her worthy and innocent husband: "I will give him her, that she may be a snare unto him, that the hand of the Philistines may be against him." The purpose of any favour is more than the value of it. Even the greatest honours may be given with an intent of destruction. Many a man is raised up for a fall. So forward is Saul in the match, that he sends spokesmen to solicit David to that honour. which he hopes will prove the highway to death. The dowry is set: a hundred foreskins of the Philistines; not their heads, but their foreskins, that this victory might be more ignominious: still thinking, Why may not one David miscarry, as well as a hundred Philistines? And what doth Saul's envy all this while, but enhance David's zeal, and valour, and glory? That good captain, little imagining that himself was the Philistine whom Saul maligned, supererogates of his master, and brings two hundred for one, and returns home safe and renowned. Neither can Saul now fly off for shame: there is no remedy, but David must be a son, where he was a rival; and Saul must feed upon his own heart, since he cannot see David's. God's blessing graces equally together with men's malice; neither can they devise which way to make us more happy, than by wishing us evil.

THIS advantage can Saul yet make of David's promotion, that as his adversary is raised higher, so he is drawn nearer to the opportunity of death. Now hath his envy cast off all shame; and, since those crafty plots succeed not, he directly suborns murderers of his rival. There is none in all the court that is not set on to be an executioner. Jonathan himself is solicited to embrue his hand in the blood of his friend, of his brother. Saul could not but see Jonathan's clothes on David's back; he could not but know the league of their love; yet, because he knew withal how much the prosperity of David would prejudice Jonathan, he hoped to have found him his son in malice. Those that have the jaundice see all things yellow:

I do not hear of any reply that Jonathan made to his father, when he gave him that bloody charge; but he waits for a fit time to dissuade him from so cruel an injustice. Wisdom had taught him to give way to rage, and, in so hard an adventure, to crave aid of opportunity. If we be not careful to observe good moods when we deal with the passionate, we may exasperate, instead of reforming. Thus did Jonathan, who, knowing how much better it is to be a good friend, than an ill son, had not only disclosed that ill counsel, but, when he found his father in the fields in a calmer temper, laboured to divert it. And so far doth the seasonable and pithy oratory of Jonathan prevail, that Saul is convinced of his wrong, and swears," As God lives, David shall not die." Indeed, how could it be otherwise, upon the plea of David's innocence and well-deservings? How could Saul say, he should die, whom he could accuse of nothing but faithfulness? why should he design him to death, which had given life to all Israel? Ofttimes wicked men's judgments are forced to yield unto that truth against which their affections maintain a rebellion. Even the foulest hearts do sometimes entertain good motions: likeas, on the contrary, the holiest souls give way sometimes to the suggestions of evil. The flashes of lightning may be discerned in the darkest prisons. But if good thoughts look into a wicked heart, they stay not there; as those that like not their lodging, they are soon gone: hardly any thing distinguishes betwixt good and evil, but continuance. The light that shines into a holy heart is constant, like that of the sun, which keeps due times, and varies not his course for any of these sublunary occasions.

The Philistines' wars renew David's victories, and David's victory renews Saul's envy, and Saul's envy renews the plots of David's death. Vows and oaths are forgotten. That evil spirit which vexes Saul hath found so much favour with him, as to win him to these bloody machinations against an innocent: his own hands shall first be employed in this execution; the spear, which hath twice before threatened death to David, shall now once again go upon that message. Wise David, that knew the danger of a hollow friend, and reconciled enemy, and that found more cause to mind Saul's earnest, than his own play, gives way by his nimbleness to that deadly weapon, and, resigning that stroke unto the wall, flies for his life. No man

able man. If either goodness or merit, or affinity, or reasons, or oathis, could secure a man, David had been safe; now, if his heels do no more befriend him than all these, he is a dead man. No sooner is he gone, than messengers are sped after him. It hath been seldom seen that wickedness wanted executioners: David's house is beset with murderers, which watch at all his doors for the opportunity of blood. Who can but wonder to see how God hath fetched from the loins of Saul a remedy for the malice of Saul's heart? His own children are the only means to cross him in the sin, and to preserve his guiltless adversary. Michal hath more than notice of the plot, and with her subtle wit countermines her father, for the rescue of a husband; she taking the benefit of the night, lets David down through a window he is gone, and disappoints the ambushes of Saul. The messengers begin to be impatient of this delay, and now think it time to inquire after their prisoner: she puts them off with the excuse of David's sickness, so as now her husband had good leisure for his escape, and lays a statue in his bed. Saul likes the news of any evil befallen to David; but, fearing he is not sick enough, sends to aid his disease. The messengers return, and rushing into the house with their swords drawn, after some harsh words to their imagined charge, surprise a sick statue lying with a pillow under his head; and now blush to see they have spent all their threats upon a senseless stock, and made themselves ridiculous, while they would be serviceable.

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But how shall Michal answer this mockage unto her furious father? Hitherto she hath done like David's wife; now she begins to be Saul's daughter: “He said to me, Let me go, or else I will kill thee." She, whose wit had delivered her husband from the sword of her father, now turns the edge of her father's wrath from herself to her husband. His absence made her presume of his safety. If Michal had not been of Saul's plot, he had never expostulated with her in those terms: "Why hast thou let mine enemy escape?" Neither had she framed that answer, He said, Let me go." I do not find any great store of religion in Michal: for, both she had an image in the house, and afterward mocked David for his devotion; yet nature hath taught her to prefer a husband to a father: to elude a father, from whom she could not fly; to save a husband, who durst not but fly from her. The bonds of matrimonial love are, and should be, stronger than those of

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