REBECCA. Who is that calleth? Isaac, my good man?
ISAAC. Where be ye, wife Rebecca, let me understand?
MIDO. She cometh to you apace.
REBECCA. Here, my lord, at hand.
ISAAC. Saving that whatsoever God doth is all right,
No small grief it were for a man to lack his sight.
But what the Lord doth send or work by his high will—
REBECCA. Cannot but be the best, no such thing can be ill.
ISAAC. All bodily punishment or infirmity,
With all maims of nature, whatever they be,
Yea, and all other afflictions temporal:
As loss, persecution, or troubles mortal,
Are nothing but a trial or probation.
And what is he that firmly trusteth in the Lord,
Or steadfastly believeth his promise and word,
And knoweth him to be the God omnipotent,
That feedeth and governeth all that he hath sent:
Protecting his faithful in every degree,
And them to relieve in all their necessity?
What creature (I say) that doth this understand,
Will not take all thing in good heart at God's hand?
Shall we at God's hand receive prosperity,
And not be content likewise with adversity?
We ought to be thankful whatever God doth send,
And ourselves wholly to his will to commend.
REBECCA. So should it be, and I thank my lord Isaac,
Such daily lessons at your hand I do not lack.
ISAAC. Why, then, should not I thank the Lord, if it please him,
That I shall now be blind, and my sight wax all dim.
For whoso to old age will here live and endure,
Must of force abide all such defaults of nature.
MIDO. Why, must I be blind too, if I be an old man?
How shall I grope the way, or who shall lead me then?