Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end? Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend, How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend, Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes Now, leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes Them; birds build — but not I build; no, but strain, Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

iustus es, Omnipotens, si per discrimina tecum     contendam; tamen haec altera iusta loquar. cur est pravorum via prospera? cur ego fallor     omnibus inceptis, spesque caduca perit? num peius, si tu meus hostis, amice, fuisses,     laederer? et tantas ferre necesse moras? florent, quos agitat vacua et vinosa libido;     sed mea languescit dedita vita tibi. en ubi praetexta scandice et murride serta     frondibus et densis ripa rubusque virent, egelidusque movet Zephyrus, texuntque volucres;     texit avis, sed mi deest avis instar opus: nitor ego sterilis. radicibus implue, vitae     tu Domine, ut mea sit denique viva seges.