The Pilgrim's Progress
Part 1 Section 3
The pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh,
Will seek its ease; but oh! how they afresh
Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into!
Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo.
Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So
when he was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to
wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into
his dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her
also what he had best to do further to them. So she asked him
what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound;
and he told her. Then she counselled him that when he arose in
the morning he should beat them without any mercy. So, when he
arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down
into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of
them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word
of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully,
in such sort that they were not able to help themselves, or to
turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves
them there to condole their misery and to mourn under their
distress. So all that day they spent the time in nothing but
sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night, she, talking with
her husband about them further, and understanding they were yet alive, did advise him to
counsel them to make away themselves. So when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly
manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them the
day before, he told them, that since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way
would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison, for why,
said he, should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness? But they desired
him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and, rushing to them, had doubtless
made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits, (for he
sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits,) and lost for a
time the use of his hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left them
as before, to consider what to do. Then did the prisoners
consult between themselves whether it was best to take his
counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse: --
Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that we
now live is miserable. For my part I know not whether is best,
to live thus, or to die out of hand. My soul chooseth strangling
rather than life, and the grave is more easy for me than this
dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the Giant?
Hope. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would
be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet,
let us consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going
hath said, Thou shalt do no murder: no, not to another man's
person; much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to
kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can but commit
murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover,
my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain
the murderers go? For no murderer hath eternal life. And let us consider, again, that all the law
is not in the hand of Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him,
as well as we; and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows, but the God that made the
world may cause that Giant Despair may die? or that, at some time or other, he may forget to
lock us in? or that he may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose
the use of his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to
pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I
did not try to do it before; but, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a while. The
time may come that may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers. With these
words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together (in the
dark) that day, in their sad and doleful condition.
Well, towards evening, the Giant goes down into the dungeon
again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when
he came there he found them alive; and truly, alive was all; for
now, what for want of bread and water, and by reason of the
wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little but
breathe. But, I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into
a grievous rage, and told them that, seeing they had disobeyed
his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had never
At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon; but, coming a little
to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the Giant's counsel; and whether yet they
had best to take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it, but Hopeful made his
second reply as followeth: --
Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been heretofore?
Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could
all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship,
terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through! And art thou now nothing but fear! Thou
seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also, this
Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth;
and with thee I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience; remember how
thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of
bloody death. Wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame, that becomes not a Christian to be
found in) bear up with patience as well as we can.
Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being in
bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had
taken his counsel. To which he replied, They are sturdy rogues,
they choose rather to bear all hardship, than to make away
themselves. Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard
to-morrow, and shew them the bones and skulls of those that thou
hast already despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear
them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.
So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes them into the
castle-yard, and shews them, as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims as you
are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore
them in pieces, and so, within ten days, I will do you. Go, get you down to your den again; and
with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a
lamentable case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her
husband, the Giant, were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and
withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither by his blows nor his counsel bring them to
an end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some will come
to relieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to
escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the Giant; I will, therefore, search them in the
Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and
continued in prayer till almost break of day.
Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half
amazed, brake out in this passionate speech: -- What a fool,
quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as
well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise,
that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.
Then said Hopeful, That is good news, good brother; pluck it out
of thy bosom, and try.
Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at
the dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back,
and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both
came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and, with his key,
opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock
went damnable hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape
with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who,
hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took
him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they
went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe,
because they were out of his jurisdiction.
Now, when they were over the stile, they began to contrive with
themselves what they should do at that stile to prevent those
that should come after from falling into the hands of Giant
Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to
engrave upon the side thereof this sentence -- 'Over this stile
is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair,
who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to
destroy his holy pilgrims.' Many, therefore, that followed after
read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they
sang as follows: --
- Out of the way we went, and then we found
What 'twas to tread
upon forbidden ground;
And let them that come after have a care,
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare.
Lest they for
trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose
They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which mountains belong to the
Lord of that hill of which we have spoken before; so they went up to the mountains, to behold
the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water; where also they drank and
washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops of these
mountains Shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway side. The Pilgrims
therefore went to them, and leaning upon their staves, (as is common with weary pilgrims when
they stand to talk with any by the way,) they asked, Whose Delectable Mountains are these? And
whose be the sheep that feed upon them?
- Mountains delectable they now ascend,
Where Shepherds be,
which to them do commend
Alluring things, and things that cautious
Pilgrims are steady kept by faith and fear.
Shep. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are within sight of his city; and the
sheep also are his, and he laid down
his life for them.
Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City?
Shep. You are just in your way.
Chr. How far is it thither?
Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither indeed.
Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous?
Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but the
transgressors shall fall therein.
Chr. Is there, in this place, any relief for pilgrims that are
weary and faint in the way?
Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be forgetful to entertain
strangers, therefore the good of the place is before you.
I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that
they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, to which they made answer as in other
places; as, Whence came you? and, How got you into the way? and, By what means have you so
persevered therein? For but few of them that begin to come hither do shew their face on these
mountains. But when the Shepherds heard their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked
very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains.
The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere,
took them by the hand, and had them to their tents, and made them partake of that which was
ready at present. They said, moreover, We would that ye should stay here awhile, to be
acquainted with us; and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these Delectable
Mountains. They then told them, that they were content to stay; so they went to their rest that
night, because it was very late.
Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds called up to Christian and
Hopeful to walk with them upon the
mountains; so they went forth with them, and walked a while,
having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the
Shepherds one to another, Shall we shew these pilgrims some
wonders? So when they had concluded to do it, they had them
first to the top of a hill called Error, which was very steep on
the furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So
Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several
men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from the top.
Then said Christian, What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered,
Have you not heard of them that were made to err by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus as
concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body? They answered, Yes. Then said the
Shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they; and
they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take heed how
they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain.
Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain,
and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; which, when they did, they
perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there;
and they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs,
and because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, What means
The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below
these mountains a stile, that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this way? They answered,
Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting
Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, and these, pointing to them among the tombs, came once
on pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came to that same stile; and because the right way
was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by
Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle; where, after they had been a while kept in the
dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he has left
them to wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, He that
wandereth out of the way of understanding, shall remain in the congregation of the dead. Then
Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to
Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to another place, in a bottom, where
was a door in the side of a hill, and
they opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in,
therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they
also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise as of fire,
and a cry of some tormented, and that they smelt the scent of
brimstone. Then said Christian, What means this? The Shepherds
told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites go in
at; namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau; such as
sell their master, with Judas; such as blaspheme the gospel,
with Alexander; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and
Sapphira his wife. Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I
perceive that these had on them, even every one, a show of
pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not?
Shep. Yes, and held it a long time too.
Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since
they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?
Shep. Some further, and some not so far, as these mountains.
Then said the Pilgrims one to another, We have need to cry to
the Strong for strength.
Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you have it,
By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the
Shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together towards
the end of the mountains. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Let us here shew to the
Pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our perspective glass.
The Pilgrims then lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of a high hill, called
Clear, and gave them their glass to look.
Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last
thing that the Shepherds had shewn them, made their hands shake;
by means of which impediment, they could not look steadily
through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like the
gate, and also some of the glory of the place. Then they went
away, and sang this song --
- Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal'd,
Which from all
other men are kept conceal'd.
Come to the Shepherds, then, if you
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.
When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them a note of the way. Another
of them bid them beware of the
Flatterer. The third bid them take heed that they sleep not upon
the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God-speed. So I
awoke from my dream.
And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims
going down the mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little below these
mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit; from which country there comes into
the way in which the Pilgrims walked, a little crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met with a very
brisk lad, that came out of that country; and his name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him
from what parts he came, and whither he was going.
Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there a
little on the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City.
Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may
find some difficulty there.
Ignor. As other people do, said he.
Chr. But what have you to shew at that gate, that may cause that
the gate should be opened to you?
Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good liver; I
pay every man his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms,
and have left my country for whither I am going.
Chr. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the
head of this way; thou camest in hither through that same
crooked lane, and therefore, I fear, however thou mayest think
of thyself, when the reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have
laid to thy charge that thou art a thief and a robber, instead
of getting admittance into the city.
Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me, I know you not;
be content and follow the religion of your country, and I will
follow the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for
the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that is a
great way off of our country. I cannot think that any man in all
our parts doth so much as know the way to it, nor need they
matter whether they do or no, since we have, as you see, a fine,
pleasant green lane, that comes down from our country, the next
way into the way.
When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit, he said to Hopeful,
whisperingly, There is more hope of a fool than
of him. And said, moreover, When he that is a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth him,
and he saith to every one that he is a fool. What, shall we talk further with him, or out-go him at
present, and so leave him to think of what he hath heard already, and then stop again for him
afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do any good to him? Then said Hopeful --
- Let Ignorance a little while now muse
On what is said, and let
him not refuse
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain
ignorant of what's the chiefest gain.
God saith, those that no
Although he made them, them he will not save.
Hope. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say all to
him at once; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him
anon, even as he is able to bear it.
So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now when they had passed him a little
way, they entered into a very dark lane,
where they met a man whom seven devils had bound with seven
strong cords, and were carrying of him back to the door that
they saw on the side of the hill. Now good Christian began to
tremble, and so did Hopeful his companion; yet as the devils led
away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew him; and he
thought it might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of
Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he did hang
his head like a thief that is found. But being once past,
Hopeful looked after him, and espied on his back a paper with
this inscription, Wanton professor and damnable apostate. Then
said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance, that
which was told me of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout. The name of the man was
Little-faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of Sincere. The thing was this: -- At the
entering in at this passage, there comes down from Broad-way Gate, a lane called Dead Man's
Lane; so called because of the murders that are commonly done there; and this Little-faith going
on pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there, and slept. Now there happened, at that
time, to come down the lane, from Broadway Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were
Mistrust, and Guilt, (three brothers,) and they espying Little-faith, where he was, came galloping
up with speed. Now the good man was just awake from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his
journey. So they came up all to him, and with threatening language bid him stand. At this
Little-faith looked as white as a clout, and had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said
Faint-heart, Deliver thy purse. But he making no haste to do it (for he was loath to lose his
money,) Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of
silver. Then he cried out, Thieves! Thieves! With that Guilt, with a great club that was in his
Little-faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding
as one that would bleed to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But, at last, they hearing
that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-grace, that dwells in the
city of Good-confidence, they betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift
for himself. Now, after a while, Little-faith came to himself, and getting up, made shift to
scrabble on his way. This was the story.
Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had?
Chr. No; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked,
so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was
much afflicted for his loss, for the thieves got most of his
spending-money. That which they got not (as I said) were jewels,
also he had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring
him to his journey's end; nay, if I was not misinformed, he was
forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive; for his jewels
he might not sell. But beg, and do what he could, he went (as we
say) with many a hungry belly the most part of the rest of the
Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his
certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at the
Chr. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed
it not through any good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed
with their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide
anything; so it was more by good Providence than by his
endeavour, that they missed of that good thing.
Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him, that they got not
his jewels from him.
Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as
he should; but they that told me the story said, that he made
but little use of it all the rest of the way, and that because
of the dismay that he had in the taking away his money; indeed,
he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey; and
besides, when at any time it came into his mind, and he began to
be comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and
those thoughts would swallow up all.
Hope. Alas! poor man! This could not but be a great grief to
Chr. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any
of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed, and wounded too,
and that in a strange place, as he was? It is a wonder he did
not die with grief, poor heart! I was told that he scattered
almost all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and
bitter complaints; telling also to all that overtook him, or
that he overtook in the way as he went, where he was robbed, and
how; who they were that did it, and what he lost; how he was
wounded, and that he hardly escaped with his life.
Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon
selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have
wherewith to relieve himself in his journey.
Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this
very day; for what should he pawn them, or to whom should he
sell them? In all that country where he was robbed, his jewels
were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could
from thence be administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been
missing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded
from an inheritance there; and
that would have been worse to him than the appearance and
villainy of ten thousand thieves.
Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau sold his
birthright, and that for a mess of pottage, and that birthright
was his greatest jewel; and if he, why might not Little-faith do
Chr. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many
besides, and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief
blessing, as also that caitiff did; but you must put a
difference betwixt Esau and Little-faith, and also betwixt their
estates. Esau's birthright was typical, but Little-faith's
jewels were not so; Esau's belly was his god, but Little-faith's
belly was not so; Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite,
Little-faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further
than to the fulfilling of his lusts; Behold, I am at the point
to die, (said he,) and what profit shall this birthright do me?
But Little-faith, though it was his lot to have but a little
faith, was by his little faith kept from such extravagances, and
made to see and prize his jewels more than to sell them, as Esau
did his birthright. You read not anywhere that Esau had faith,
no, not so much as a little; therefore, no marvel if, where the
flesh only bears sway, (as it will in that man where no faith is
to resist,) if he sells his birthright, and his soul and all,
and that to the devil of hell; for it is with such, as it is
with the ass, who in her occasions cannot be turned away. When
their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them
whatever they cost. But Little-faith was of another temper, his
mind was on things divine; his livelihood was upon things that
were spiritual, and from above; therefore, to what end should he
that is of such a temper sell his jewels (had there been any
that would have bought them) to fill his mind with empty things?
Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with hay; or can you
persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow?
Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage,
or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot; yet
they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so.
Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake.
Hope. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection had
almost made me angry.
Chr. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are
of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths,
with the shell upon their heads; but pass by that, and consider
the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and
Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my
heart, are but a company of cowards; would they have run else,
think you, as they did, at the noise of one that was coming on
the road? Why did not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart? He
might, methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have
yielded when there had been no remedy.
Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have found
it so in the time of trial. As for a great heart, Little-faith
had none; and I perceive by thee, my brother, hadst thou been
the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to yield.
And, verily, since this is the height of thy stomach, now they
are at a distance from us, should they appear to thee as they
did to him they might put thee to second thoughts.
But, consider again, they are but journeymen thieves, they serve
under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come
into their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of alion. I myself have been engaged as this
Little-faith was, and I found it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me, and I beginning,
like a Christian, to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I would, as the saying is,
have given my life for a penny, but that, as God would have it, I was clothed with armour of
proof. Ay, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself like a man. No
man can tell what in that combat attends us, but he that
hath been in the battle himself.
Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose
that one Great-grace was in the way.
Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and their master,
when Great-grace hath but appeared; and no marvel; for he is the
King's champion. But, I trow, you will put some difference
betwixt Little-faith and the King's champion. All the King's
subjects are not his champions, nor can they, when tried, do
such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think that a little child
should handle Goliath as David did? Or that there should be the
strength of an ox in a wren? Some are strong, some are weak;
some have great faith, some have little. This man was one of the
weak, and therefore he went to the wall.
Hope. I would it had been Great-grace for their sakes.
Chr. If it had been, he might have had his hands full; for I
must tell you, that though Great-grace is excellent good at his
weapons, and has, and can, so long as he keeps them at sword's
point, do well enough with them; yet, if they get within him,
even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but
they will throw up his heels. And when a man is down, you know,
what can he do?
Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall see those scars
and cuts there, that shall easily give demonstration of what I
say. Yea, once I heard that he should say, (and that when he was
in the combat,) We despaired even of life. How did these sturdy
rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar? Yea,
Heman, and Hezekiah, too, though champions in their day, were forced to
bestir them, when by these assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding,
they had their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a
time, would go try what he could do; but though some do say of
him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so,
that they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl.
Besides, their king is at their whistle. He is never out of
hearing; and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if
possible, comes in to help them; and of him it is said, The
sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold the spear, the dart,
nor the habergeon; he esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as
rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee; sling stones are
turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble: he
laugheth at the shaking of a spear. What can a man do in this
case? It is true, if a man could, at every turn, have Job's
horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he might do
notable things; for his neck is clothed with thunder, he will
not be afraid of the grasshopper; the glory of his nostrils is
terrible: he paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his
strength, he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear,
and is not affrighted, neither turneth he back from the sword.
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and the
shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage,
neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He
saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha! and he smelleth the battle
afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.
But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to
meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we
hear of others that they have been foiled. Nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood; for
commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I
made mention before. He would swagger, ay, he would; he would,
as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better, and stand more
for his Master than all men; but who so foiled, and run down by
these villains, as he?
When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the
King's highway, two things become us to do: --
1. To go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us;
for it was for want of that, that he that laid so lustily at
Leviathan could not make him yield; for, indeed, if that be
wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore, he that had skill hath said, Above all, taking the shield
of faith, wherewith ye
shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, yea,
that he will go with us himself. This made David rejoice when in
the Valley of the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather for
dying where he stood, than to go one step without his God. Oh,
my brother, if he will but go along with us, what need we be
afraid of ten thousands that shall set themselves against us?
But, without him, the proud helpers fall under the slain.
I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and though,
through the goodness of him that is best, I am, as you see,
alive, yet I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad shall I be, if I
meet with no more such brunts; though I fear we are not got
beyond all danger. However, since the lion and the bear have not
as yet devoured me, I hope God will also deliver us from the
next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian --
- Poor Little-faith! Hast been among the thieves?
Remember this, whoso believes,
And gets more faith, shall then a
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three.
So they went on and Ignorance followed. They went then till they
came at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way,
and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they
should go: and here they knew not which of the two to take, for
both seemed straight before them; therefore, here they stood
still to consider. And as they were thinking about the way,
behold a man, black of flesh, but covered with a very light
robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there. They
answered they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not
which of these ways to take. Follow me, said the man, it is
thither that I am going. So they followed him in the way that
but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned
them so from the city that they desired to go to, that, in
little time, their faces were turned away from it; yet they
followed him. But by and by, before they were aware, he led them
both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so
entangled that they knew not what to do; and with that the white
robe fell off the black man's back. Then they saw where they
were. Wherefore, there they lay crying some time, for they could
not get themselves out.
Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in
error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers? As
is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day. A
man that flattereth his neighbour, spreadeth a net for his feet.
Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for
our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept
ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we; for saith he,
Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips, I have kept me from the paths of the
destroyer. Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a Shining One
coming towards them with a whip of small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place
where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did there. They told him that
they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black man, clothed in
white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he with the
whip, It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light. So he
rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your
way again. So he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he
asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night? They said, With the Shepherds upon the
Delectable Mountains. He asked them then if they had not of those Shepherds a note of direction
for the way. They answered, Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and
read your note? They answered, No. He asked them, Why? They said, they forgot. He asked,
moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer? They answered, Yes, but
we did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had been he.
Then I saw in my dream that he commanded them to lie down;
which, when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should
walk; and as he chastised them he said, As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous,
therefore, and repent. This done, he bid them go on their way, and take good heed to the other
directions of the shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the
right way, singing --
- Come hither, you that walk along the way;
See how the pilgrims
fare that go astray.
They catched are in an entangling net,
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget:
'Tis true they rescued
were, but yet you see,
They're scourged to boot. Let this your
Now, after a while, they perceived, afar off, one coming softly
and alone all along the highway to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a man
with his back towards Zion, and he is coming to meet us.
Hope. I see him; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he
should prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, and
at last came up unto them. His name was Atheist, and he asked
them whither they were going.
Chr. We are going to Mount Zion.
Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.
Chr. What is the meaning of your laughter?
Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take
upon you so tedious a journey, and you are like to have nothing
but your travel for your pains.
Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received?
Atheist. Received! There is no such place as you dream of in all
Chr. But there is in the world to come.
Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you
now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have been
seeking this city this twenty years; but find no more of it than
I did the first day I set out.
Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place
to be found.
Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus
far to seek; but finding none, (and yet I should, had there been
such a place to be found, for I have gone to seek it further
than you,) I am going back again, and will seek to refresh
myself with the things that I then cast away, for hopes of that
which, I now see, is not.
Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, Is it true which
this man hath said?
Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers; remember what it
hath cost us once already for our hearkening to such kind of
fellows. What! no Mount Zion? Did we not see, from the
Delectable Mountains the gate of the city? Also, are we not now
to walk by faith? Let us go on, said Hopeful, lest the man with
the whip overtake us again. You should have taught me that
lesson, which I will round you in the ears withal: Cease, my
son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the words
of knowledge. I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us
believe to the saving of the soul.
Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I
doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee,
and to fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As
for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this
world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, and no lie is of the
Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. So they
turned away from the man; and he laughing at them went his way.
I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came into a
certain country, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy,
if he came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very
dull and heavy of sleep; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that
I can scarcely hold up mine
eyes, let us lie down here and take one nap.
Chr. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping, we never awake
Hope. Why, my brother? Sleep is sweet to the labouring man; we may be refreshed if we
take a nap.
Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware of the Enchanted
Ground? He meant by that that we should beware of sleeping; Therefore let us not sleep, as do
others, but let
us watch and be sober.
Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault, and had I been here alone I had by sleeping run the
danger of death. I see it is true that
the wise man saith, Two are better than one. Hitherto hath thy
company been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good reward for thy
Chr. Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this
place, let us fall into good discourse.
Hope. With all my heart, said the other.
Chr. Where shall we begin?
Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please.
Chr. I will sing you first this song: --
- When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,
And hear how
these two pilgrims talk together:
Yea, let them learn of them, in
Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumb'ring eyes.
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well,
Keeps them awake, and
that in spite of hell.
Chr. Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a question.
How came you to think at first of so doing as you do now?
Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good of
Chr. Yes, that is my meaning.
Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those things
which were seen and sold at our fair; things which, I believe
now, would have, had I continued in them, still drowned me in
perdition and destruction.
Chr. What things are they?
Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also, I
delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying,
uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to
destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing and
considering of things that are divine, which indeed I heard of
you, as also of beloved Faithful that was put to death for his
faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of these
things is death. And that for these things' sake cometh the
wrath of God upon the children of disobedience.
Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this
Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin,
nor the damnation that follows upon the commission of it;
but endeavoured, when my mind at first began to
be shaken with the Word, to shut mine eyes against the light
Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the
first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you?
Hope. The causes were --
- 1. I was ignorant that this was the work of God upon me. I never
thought that, by awakenings for sin, God at first begins the conversion
of a sinner.
- 2. Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loath to leave it.
- 3. I could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their
presence and actions were so desirable unto me.
- 4. The hours in which convictions were upon me were such
troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours that I could not bear, no
not so much as the remembrance of them, upon my heart.
Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble.
Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again, and
then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I was before.
Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again?
Hope. Many things; as,
1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or,
2. If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,
3. If mine head did begin to ache; or,
4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were sick; or,
5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or,
6. If I thought of dying myself; or,
7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others;
8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I must quickly come to judgment.
Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of
sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you?
Hope. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my conscience;
and then, if I did but think of going back to sin, (though my
mind was turned against it,) it would be double torment to me.
Chr. And how did you do then?
Hope. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life; for else,
thought I, I am sure to be damned.
Chr. And did you endeavour to mend?
Hope. Yes; and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company
too; and betook me to religious duties, as prayer, reading,
weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours, These
things did I, with many others, too much here to relate.
Chr. And did you think yourself well then?
Hope. Yes, for a while; but at the last, my trouble came
tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck of all my
Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed?
Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, especially
such sayings as these: All our righteousnesses are as filthy
rags. By the works of the law shall no flesh be justified. When
ye shall have done all those things, say, We are unprofitable;
with many more such like. From whence I began to reason with
myself thus: If ALL my righteousnesses are filthy rags; if, by
the deeds of the law, NO man can be justified; and if, when we
have done ALL, we are yet unprofitable, then it is but a folly
to think of heaven by the law. I further thought thus: If a man runs a
hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall
pay for all that he shall fetch; yet, if this old debt stands
still in the book uncrossed, for that the shopkeeper may sue
him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt.
Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? I thought
thus with myself.
Hope. Why; I have, by my sins, run a great way into God's book,
and that my now reforming will not pay off that score; therefore
I should think still, under all my present amendments, But how
shall I be freed from that damnation that I have brought myself
in danger of by my former transgressions?
Chr. A very good application: but, pray, go on.
Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my late
amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I
do now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of
that I do; so that now I am forced to conclude, that
notwithstanding my former fond conceits of myself and duties, I
have committed sin enough in one duty to send me to hell, though
my former life had been faultless.
Chr. And what did you do then?
Hope. Do! I could not tell what to do, until I brake my mind to
Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me,
that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never
had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the
world could save me.
Chr. And did you think he spake true?
Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with
mine own amendment, I had called him fool for his pains; but now,
since I see mine own infirmity, and the
sin that cleaves to my best performance, I have been forced to
be of his opinion.
Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you,
that there was such a man to be found, of whom it might justly
be said that he never committed sin?
Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely, but
after a little more talk and company with him, I had full
conviction about it.
Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and how you must be
justified by him?
Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth
on the right hand of the Most High. And thus, said he, you must
be justified by him, even by trusting to what he hath done by
himself, in the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did hang
on the tree. I asked him further, how that man's righteousness
could be of that efficacy to justify another before God? And he told me he was the mighty God,
and did what he did, and died the death also, not for himself, but for me; to whom his doings,
and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I believed on him.
Chr. And what did you do then?
Hope. I made my objections against my believing, for that I
thought he was not willing to save me.
Chr. And what said Faithful to you then?
Hope. He bid me go to him and see. Then I said it was
presumption; but he said, No, for I was invited to come. Then he
gave me a book of Jesus, his inditing, to encourage me the more
freely to come; and he said, concerning that book, that every
jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth. Then
I asked him, What I must do when I came; and he told me, I must entreat upon my knees, with all
my heart and soul, the Father to reveal him to me. Then I asked him further, how I must make
my supplication to him? And he said, Go, and thou shalt find him upon a mercy-seat, where he
sits all the year long, to give pardon and forgiveness to them that come. I told him that I knew
not what to say when I came.And he bid me say to this effect: God be merciful to me a sinner,
and make me to know and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see, that if his righteousness had not
been, or I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I have heard that
thou art a merciful God, and hast ordained that thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the
world; and moreover, that thou art willing to bestow him upon such a poor sinner as I am, (and I
am a sinner indeed;) Lord, take therefore this opportunity and magnify thy grace in the salvation
of my soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
Chr. And did you do as you were bidden?
Hope. Yes; over, and over, and over.
Chr. And did the Father reveal his Son to you?
Hope. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor
fifth; no, nor at the sixth time neither.
Chr. What did you do then?
Hope: What! why, I could not tell what to do.
Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying?
Hope. Yes; an hundred times twice told.
Chr. And what was the reason you did not?
Hope. I believed that that was true which had been told me, to
wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ, all the
world could not save me; and therefore, thought I with myself,
if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the throne of grace. And withal, this came into my mind,
Though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it
will not tarry. So I continued praying until the Father shewed
me his Son.
Chr. And how was he revealed unto you?
Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes
of my understanding; and thus it was: One day I was very sad, I
think sadder than at any one time in my life, and this sadness
was through a fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of my
sins. And as I was then looking for nothing but hell, and the
everlasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw
the Lord Jesus Christ look down from heaven upon me, and saying,
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.
But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner. And he
answered, My grace is sufficient for thee. Then I said, But,
Lord, what is believing? And then I saw from that saying, He
that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on
me shall never thirst, that believing and coming was all one;
and that he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and
affections after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed in
Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and I asked further.
But, Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of
thee, and be saved by thee? And I heard him say, And him that
cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out. Then I said, But how,
Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that my
faith may be placed aright upon thee? Then he said, Christ Jesus
came into the world to save sinners. He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that
believeth. He died for our
sins, and rose again for our justification. He loved us, and
washed us from our sins in his own blood. He is mediator betwixt God and us. He ever liveth to
make intercession for us. From all which I gathered, that I must look for righteousness in his
and for satisfaction for my sins by his blood; that what he did
in obedience to his Father's law, and in submitting to the
penalty thereof, was not for himself, but for him that will
accept it for his salvation, and be thankful. And now was my
heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections
running over with love to the name, people, and ways of Jesus
Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed; but
tell me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit.
Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the
righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me
see that God the Father, though he be just, can justly justify
the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of
my former life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own
ignorance; for there never came thought into my heart before now
that shewed me so the beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love a
holy life, and long to do something for the honour and glory of
the name of the Lord Jesus; yea, I thought that had I now a
thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all for
the sake of the Lord Jesus.
I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and saw
Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming after. Look, said
he to Christian, how far yonder youngster loitereth behind.
Chr. Ay, ay, I see him; he careth not for our company.
Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he kept pace
with us hitherto.
Chr. That is true; but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise.
Hope. That, I think, he doth; but, however, let us tarry for
him. So they did.
Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do you stay so
Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great
deal than in company, unless I like it the better.
Then said Christian to Hopeful, (but softly,) Did I not tell you
he cared not for our company? But, however, said he, come up,
and let us talk away the time in this solitary place. Then
directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you?
How stands it between God and your soul now?
Ignor. I hope well; for I am always full of good motions, that
come into my mind, to comfort me as I walk.
Chr. What good motions? pray, tell us.
Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven.
Chr. So do the devils and damned souls.
Ignor. But I think of them and desire them.
Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. The soul of
the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing.
Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them.
Chr. That I doubt; for leaving all is a hard matter: yea, a
harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or by what, art
thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven.
Ignor. My heart tells me so.
Chr. The wise man says, He that trusts his own heart is a fool.
Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good one.
Chr. But how dost thou prove that?
Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven.
Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness; for a man's heart
may minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing for which
he yet has no ground to hope.
Ignor. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore my
hope is well grounded.
Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together?
Ignor. My heart tells me so.
Chr. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so!
Except the Word of God beareth witness in this matter, other
testimony is of no value.
Ignor. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts? and
is not that a good life that is according to God's commandments?
Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that
is a good life that is according to God's commandments; but it is one thing, indeed, to have these,
and another thing only to think so.
Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according
to God's commandments?
Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds; some respecting
ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other things.
Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves?
Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God.
Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of
Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the Word passes.
To explain myself -- the Word of God
saith of persons in a natural condition, There is none
righteous, there is none that doeth good. It saith also, that
every imagination of the heart of man is only evil, and that
continually. And again, The imagination of man's heart is evil
from his youth. Now then, when we think thus of ourselves,
having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because
according to the Word of God.
Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad.
Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning
thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As the Word passeth a
judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a judgment upon our ways;
and when OUR thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the
judgment which the Word giveth of both, then are both good,
because agreeing thereto.
Ignor. Make out your meaning.
Chr. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked
ways; not good, but perverse. It saith they are naturally out of
the good way, that they have not known it. Now, when a man thus
thinketh of his ways, -- I say, when he doth sensibly, and with
heart-humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his
own ways, because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of
the Word of God.
Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God?
Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts
of God do agree with what the Word saith of him; and that is,
when we think of his being and attributes as the Word hath
taught, of which I cannot now discourse at large; but to speak
of him with reference to us: Then we have right thoughts of God, when we think that heknows us
better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we can see none in
ourselves; when we think he knows our inmost thoughts, and that our heart, with all itsdepths, is
always open unto his eyes; also, when we think that all our righteousness stinks in his nostrils,
and that, therefore, he cannot abide to see us stand before him in any confidence, even in all our
Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God can
see no further than I? or, that I would come to God in the best
of my performances?
Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter?
Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for
Chr. How! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest not
thy need of him! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual
infirmities; but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what
thou dost, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see
a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee
before God. How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ?
Ignor. I believe well enough for all that.
Chr. How dost thou believe?
Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I shall
be justified before God from the curse, through his gracious
acceptance of my obedience to his law. Or thus, Christ makes my
duties, that are religious, acceptable to his Father, by virtue
of his merits; and so shall I be justified.
Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith: --
1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith; for this faith is
nowhere described in the Word.
2. Thou believest with a false faith; because it taketh
justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and
applies it to thy own.
3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions; and of thy person
thy actions' sake, which
4. Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave
thee under wrath, in the day of God Almighty; for true
justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its condition by
the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness,
which righteousness of his is not an act of grace, by which he
maketh for justification, thy obedience accepted with God; but
his personal obedience to the law, in doing and suffering for us
what that required at our hands; this righteousness, I say, true
faith accepteth; under the skirt of which, the soul being
shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is
accepted, and acquit from condemnation.
Ignor. What! would you have us trust to what Christ, in his own
person, has done without us? This conceit would loosen the reins
of our lust, and tolerate us to live as we list; for what matter
how we live, if we may be justified by Christ's personal
righteousness from all, when we believe it?
Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou;
even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art
of what justifying righteousness is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it,
from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this
righteousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to love his
name, his word, ways, and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest.
Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven.
Ignor. What! you are a man for revelations! I believe that what
both you, and all the rest of you, say about that matter, is but
the fruit of distracted brains.
Hope. Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural
apprehensions of the flesh, that he cannot by any man be
savingly known, unless God the Father reveals him to them.
Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, I doubt not,
is as good as yours, though I have not in my head so many
whimsies as you.
Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly
to speak of this matter; for this I will boldly affirm, even as
my good companion hath done, that no man can know Jesus Christ
but by the revelation of the Father; yea, and faith too, by
which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be
wrought by the exceeding greatness of his mighty power; the
working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art
ignorant of. Be awakened, then, see thine own wretchedness, and
fly to the Lord Jesus; and by his righteousness, which is the
righteousness of God, for he himself is God, thou shalt be
delivered from condemnation.
Ignor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on
before; I must stay a while behind.
Then they said --
- Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be,
To slight good
counsel, ten times given thee?
And if thou yet refuse it, thou
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so.
in time, stoop, do not fear;
Good counsel taken well, saves:
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be
The loser, (Ignorance,) I'll warrant thee.
Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow: --
Chr. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I
must walk by ourselves again.
So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and
Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian to his
companion, It pities me much for this poor man, it will certainly go ill with him at last.
Hope. Alas! there are abundance in our town in his condition,
whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims too;
and if there be so many in our parts, how many, think you, must
there be in the place where he was born?
Chr. Indeed the Word saith, He hath blinded their eyes lest they
should see, But now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men? Have they at no time,
think you, convictions of sin, and so consequently fears that their state is dangerous?
Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the
Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may; but they being
naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend to their good; and therefore they do
desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves in the way of
their own hearts.
Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's
good, and to make them right, at their beginning to go on
Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the
Word, The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.
Hope. How will you describe right fear?
Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three things: --
1. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions for sin.
2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation.
3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of
God, his Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid
to turn from them, to the right hand or to the left, to anything
that may dishonour God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or
cause the enemy to speak reproachfully.
Hope. Well said; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now
almost got past the Enchanted Ground?
Chr. Why, art thou weary of this discourse?
Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we are.
Chr. We have not now above two miles further to go thereon. But
let us return to our matter. Now the ignorant know not that such
convictions as tend to put them in fear are for their good, and
therefore they seek to stifle them.
Hope. How do they seek to stifle them?
- 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil, (though
indeed they are wrought of God;) and, thinking so, they resist them as
things that directly tend to their overthrow.
- 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their
faith, when, alas, for them, poor men that they are, they have none at
all! and therefore they harden their. hearts against them.
- 3. They presume they ought not to fear; and, therefore, in despite
of them, wax presumptuously confident.
- 4. They see that those fears tend to take away from them their
pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them with all their
Hope. I know something of this myself; for, before I knew
myself, it was so with me.
Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbour Ignorance
by himself, and fall upon another profitable question.
Hope. With all my heart, but you shall still begin.
Chr. Well then, did you not know, about ten years ago, one
Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in religion then?
Hope. Know him! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two
miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.
Chr. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that
man was much awakened once; I believe that then he had some
sight of his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto.
Hope. I am of your mind, for, my house not being above three
miles from him, he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many
tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope of him; but one may see, it
is not every one that cries, Lord, Lord.
Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage,
as we do now; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one
Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me.
Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little
inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and
Chr. It may be very profitable, but do you begin.
Hope. Well, then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it:
1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their
minds are not changed; therefore, when the power of guilt
weareth away, that which provoked them to be religious ceaseth,
wherefore they naturally turn to their own course again, even as we see the dog that is sick of
what he has eaten, so long as his
sickness prevails he vomits and casts up all; not that he doth
this of a free mind (if we may say a dog has a mind), but
because it troubleth his stomach; but now, when his sickness is
over, and so his stomach eased, his desire being not at all
alienate from his vomit, he turns him about and licks up all,
and so it is true which is written, The dog is turned to his own
vomit again. Thus I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of
the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense of
hell and the fears of damnation chills and cools, so their
desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes to
pass, that when their guilt and fear is gone, their desires for
heaven and happiness die, and they return to their course again.
2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster
them; I speak now of the fears that they have of men, for the
fear of man bringeth a snare. So then, though they seem to be
hot for heaven, so long as the flames of hell are about their
ears, yet when that terror is a little over, they betake
themselves to second thoughts; namely, that it is good to be
wise, and not to run (for they know not what) the hazard of
losing all, or, at least, of bringing themselves into
unavoidable and unnecessary troubles, and so they fall in with
the world again.
3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their
way; they are proud and haughty; and religion in their eye is
low and contemptible, therefore, when they have lost their sense
of hell and wrath to come, they return again to their former
4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. They
like not to see their misery before they come into it; though
perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that sight, might
make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. But
because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of
guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are rid of their
awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden their
hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and
Chr. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all is
for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore they
are but like the felon that standeth before the judge, he quakes
and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily, but the bottom
of all is the fear of the halter; not that he hath any
detestation of the offence, as is evident, because, let but this
man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so a rogue still, whereas, if his mind
was changed, he would be otherwise.
Hope. Now I have shewed you the reasons of their going back, do
you shew me the manner thereof.
Chr. So I will willingly.
1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the
remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come.
2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet
prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the
3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians.
4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing,
reading, godly conference, and the like.
5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of
some of the godly; and that devilishly, that they may have a
seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of some infirmity
they have espied in them) behind their backs.
6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with,
carnal, loose, and wanton men.
7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret;
and glad are they if they can see such things in any that are
counted honest, that they may the more boldly do it through
8. After this they begin to play with little sins openly.
9. And then, being hardened, they shew themselves as they are.
Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a
miracle of grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish in their
Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground,
and entering into the
country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the
way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for
a season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds,
and saw every day the flowers appear on the earth, and heard the
voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun shineth
night and day. wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair,
neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting
Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were going
to, also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in
this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon
the borders of heaven. In this land also, the contract between
the bride and the bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, As the
bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so did their God rejoice
over them. Here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this
place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all
their pilgrimage. Here they heard voices from out of the city,
loud voices, saying, Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy
salvation cometh! Behold, his reward is with him! Here all the
inhabitants of the country called them, The holy people, The
redeemed of the Lord, Sought out.
Now as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in
parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and
drawing near to the city, they had yet a more perfect view
thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the
street thereof was paved with gold; so that by reason of the
natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams
upon it, Christian with desire fell sick; Hopeful also had a fit or two
of the same disease. Wherefore, here they lay by it a while,
crying out, because of their pangs, If ye find my beloved, tell
him that I am sick of love.
But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their
sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and
nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their
gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these
places, behold the gardener stood in the way, to whom the
Pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these? He
answered, They are the King's, and are planted here for his own
delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the gardener
had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves
with the dainties. He also shewed them there the King's walks,
and the arbours where he delighted to be; and here they tarried
Now I beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep at
this time than ever they did in all their journey; and being in
a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, Wherefore
musest thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the
grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly as to cause the
lips of them that are asleep to speak.
So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go
up to the city; but, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon
the city (for the city was pure gold) was so extremely glorious
that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but
through an instrument made for that purpose. So I saw, that as
I went on, there met them two men, in raiment that shone like
gold; also their faces shone as the light.
These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came; and they told
them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what
difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had
met in the way; and they told them. Then said the men that met
them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then
you are in the city.
Christian then, and his companion, asked the men to go along
with them; so they told them they would. But, said they, you
must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they
went on together, until they came in sight of the gate.
Now, I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river,
but there was no bridge to go over: the river was very deep. At
the sight, therefore, of this river, the Pilgrims were much
stunned; but the men that went in with them said, You must go
through, or you cannot come at the gate.
The Pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to
the gate; to which they answered, Yes; but there hath not any,
save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that
path since the foundation of the world, nor shall, until the
last trumpet shall sound. The Pilgrims then, especially
Christian, began to despond in their minds, and looked this way
and that, but no way could be found by them by which they might
escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all
of a depth. They said: No; yet they could not help them in that
case; for, said they, you shall find it deeper or shallower as
you believe in the King of the place.
They then addressed themselves to the water and, entering,
Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good
friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters; the billows go
over my head, all his waves go over me! Selah.
Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the
bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah! my friend, the
sorrows of death hath compassed me about; I shall not see the
land that flows with milk and honey; and with that a great
darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not
see before him. Also here he in great measure lost his senses,
so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of
those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his
pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to
discover that he had horror of mind, and heart fears that he
should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the
gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in
the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both
since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed
that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil
spirits, for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words.
Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head
above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and
then, ere a while, he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful
also would endeavour to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the
gate, and men standing by to receive us: but Christian would
answer, It is you, it is you they wait for; you have been
Hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to
Christian. Ah! brother! said he, surely if I was right he would
now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me into
and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite
forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, There are no
bands in their death, but their strength is firm. They are not
in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other
men. These troubles and distresses that you go through in these
waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you; but are sent to
try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you
have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your
Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while.
To whom also Hopeful added this word, Be of good cheer, Jesus
Christ maketh thee whole; and with that Christian brake out with
a loud voice, Oh, I see him again! and he tells me, When thou
passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the
rivers, they shall not overflow thee. Then they both took
courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until
they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground
to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was
but shallow. Thus they got over. Now, upon the bank of the
river, on the other side, they saw the two shining men again,
who there waited for them; wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying,
are ministering spirits,
sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of
salvation. Thus they went along towards the gate.
Now, now look how the holy pilgrims ride,
Clouds are their chariots, angels are their guide:
Who would not here for him all hazards run,
That thus provides for his when this world's done.
Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill, but
the Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these
two men to lead them up by the arms; also, they had left their
mortal garments behind them in the river, for though they went
in with them, they came out without them. They, therefore, went
up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon
which the city was framed was higher than the clouds. They
therefore went up through the regions of the air, sweetly
talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got
over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.
The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of
the place; who told them that the beauty and glory of it was
inexpressible. There, said they, is the Mount Zion, the heavenly
Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of
just men made perfect. You are going now, said they, to the
paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat
of the never-fading fruits thereof; and when you come there, you
shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall
be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity. There
you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in
the lower region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness,
affliction, and death, for the former things are passed away.
You are now going to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the
prophets -- men that God hath taken away from the evil to come,
and that are now resting upon their beds, each one walking in
his righteousness. The men then asked, What must we do in the
holy place? To whom it was answered, You must there receive the
comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow;
you must reap what you have sown, even
the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the
King by the way. In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and
enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One, for there
you shall see him as he is. There also you shall serve him
continually with praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, whom
you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty,
because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be
delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant
voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends
again that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with
joy receive, even every one that follows into the holy place
after you. There also shall you be clothed with glory and
majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King
of Glory. When he shall come with sound of trumpet in the
clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with him;
and when he shall sit upon the throne of judgment; you shall sit
by him; yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon all the
workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall
have a voice in that judgment, because they were his and your
enemies. Also, when he shall again return to the city, you shall
go too, with sound of trumpet, and be ever with him.
Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a
company of the heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it
was said, by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that
have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have
left all for his holy name; and he hath sent us to fetch them,
and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that
they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a great
shout, saying, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. There
came out also at this time to meet them, several of the King's
trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with
melodious noises, and loud, made even the heavens to echo with
their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow
with ten thousand welcomes from the world; and this they did
with shouting, and sound of trumpet.
This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and
some on the right hand, some on the
left, (as it were to guard them through the upper regions,)
continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in
notes on high: so that the very sight was, to them that could
behold it, as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus,
therefore, they walked on together; and as they walked, ever and
anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing
their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian
and his brother, how welcome they were into their company, and
with what gladness they came to meet them; and now were these
two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at it, being
swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their
melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and
they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to
welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such
company, and that for ever and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen
can their glorious joy be expressed! And thus they came up to
Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in letters of gold,
Blessed are they that do his
commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and
may enter in through the gates into the city.
Then I saw in my dream that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate; the which, when
they did, some looked from above over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, to whom it
said, These pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for
the love that they bear to the King of this place; and then the
Pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they
had received in the beginning; those, therefore, were carried in
to the King, who, when he had read them, said, Where are the
men? To whom it was answered, They are standing without the
gate. The King then commanded to open the gate, That the
righteous nation, said he, which keepeth the truth, may enter
Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate:
and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had
raiment put on that shone like gold. There was also that met
them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them -- the harps
to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I
heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for
joy, and that it was said unto them, Enter ye into the joy of
your Lord. I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with
a loud voice, saying, Blessing and honour, and glory, and power,
be unto him that sitteth Upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for
ever and ever.
Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked
in after them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the
streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads,
palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.
There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one
another without intermission, saying, Holy, holy, holy, is the
Lord. And after that they shut up the gates; which, when I had
seen, I wished myself among them.
Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head
to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the river side; but
he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which
the other two men met with. For it happened that there was then
in that place, one Vain-hope, a ferryman, that with his boat
helped him over; so he, as the other I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate, only he
came alone; neither did any man
meet him with the least encouragement. When he was come up to
the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then
began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly
administered to him; but he was asked by the men that looked
over the top of the gate, Whence came you, and what would you
have? He answered, I have eat and drank in the presence of the
King, and he has taught in our streets. Then they asked him for
his certificate, that they might go in and shew it to the King;
so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said
they, Have you none? But the man answered never a word. So they
told the King, but he would not come down to see him, but
commanded the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and
Hopeful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him
hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took him
up, and carried him through the air to the door that I saw in
the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that
there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well
as from the City of Destruction. So I awoke, and behold it was
Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee;
See if thou canst interpret it to me,
Or to thyself, or neighbour; but take heed
Of misinterpreting; for that, instead
Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:
By misinterpreting, evil ensues.
Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme,
In playing with the outside of my dream:
Nor let my figure or similitude
Put thee into a laughter or a feud.
Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee,
Do thou the substance of my matter see.
Put by the curtains, look within my veil,
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail,
There, if thou seekest them, such things to find,
As will be helpful to an honest mind.
What of my dross thou findest there, be bold
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold;
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore? --
None throws away the apple for the core.
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain,
I know not but 'twill make me dream again.
On To Part 2: Stage 1