Engraving of Margaret Cavendish flanked by two classical figures. Here on this Figure Cast a Glance, But so as if it were by Chance, Your eyes not fixt, they must not stay, Since this like Shadowes to the Day It only represent’s; for Still, Her Beuty’s found beyond the Skill Of the best Paynter, to Imbrace, These lovely Lines within her face, View her Soul’s Picture, Judgment, witt, Then read those Lines which Shee hath writt, By Phancy’s Pencill drawne alone Which Peece but Shee, Can justly owne.

A1r

Poems,
and
Fancies:

Written
By the Right Honourable, the Lady
Margaret
Countesse ofMarchiones
Newcastle
.

Winged head above a bell, with the monogram “MA” in a cartouche at the bottom.

London,
Printed by T. R. for J. Martin, and J. Allestrye
at the Bell in Saint Pauls Church Yard, 16531653.

A1v A2r

The
Epistle Dedicatory:

To Sir
Charles Cavendish
,
My
Noble Brother-in-Law.


Sir,

I Do here dedicate this my Work
unto you, not that I think my Book
is worthy such a Patron, but that
such a Patron may gaine my Book
a Respect, and Esteeme in the
World, by the favour of your Protection. True
it is, Spinning with the Fingers is more proper to
our Sexe, then studying or writing Poetry, which is
the Spinning with the braine: but I having no
skill in the Art of the first (and if I had, I had
no hopes of gaining so much as to make me a Garment
to keep me from the cold) made me delight in
the latter; since all braines work naturally, and incessantly,
in some kinde or other; which made me endeavour
to Spin a Garment of Memory, to lapp
up my Name, that it might grow to after Ages: I A2 cannot A2v
cannot say the Web is strong, fine, or evenly
Spun
, for it is a Course peice; yet I had rather my
Name should go meanly clad, then dye with cold;
but if the Sute be trimmed with your Favour, shee
may make such a shew, and appeare so lovely, as
to wed to a Vulgar Fame. But certainely your
Bounty hath been the Distaffe, from whence Fate
hath Spun the thread of this part of my Life, which
Life I wish may be drawne forth in your Service.
For your Noble minde is above petty Interest, and
such a Courage, as you dare not onely look Misfortunes
in the Face, but grapple with them in the defence
of your Freind; and your kindnesse hath
been such, as you have neglected your selfe, even in
ordinary Accoutrements, to maintaine the distressed;
which shewes you to have such an Affection,
as St. Paul expresses for his Brethren in
Christ, who could be accurst for their sakes. And
since your Charity is of that Length, and Generosity
of that Height, that no Times, nor Fortunes
can cut shorter, or pull downe lower; I am
very confident, the sweetnesse of your disposition,
which I have alwayes found in the delightfull conversation
of your Company, will never change,
but be so humble, as to accept of this Booke, which
is the Work of,


Your most Faithfull
Servant,

M. N.Margaret Newcastle

A3r

To All
Noble, and Worthy Ladies.

Noble, Worthy Ladies,


Condemne me not as a dishonour of your Sex, for
setting forth this Work; for it is harmlesse and
free from all dishonesty; I will not say from Vanity:
for that is so naturall to our Sex, as it were
unnaturall, not to be so. Besides, Poetry, which is built
upon Fancy, Women may claime, as a worke belonging
most properly to themselves: for I have observ’d, that
their Braines work usually in a Fantasticall motion, as in
their severall, and various dresses, in their many and singular
choices of Cloaths, and Ribbons, and the like, in
their curious shadowing, and mixing of Colours, in their
Wrought workes, and divers sorts of Stitches they imploy
their Needle, and many Curious things they make, as
Flowers, Boxes, Baskets with Beads, Shells, Silke, Straw,
or any thing else; besides all manner of Meats to eate:
and thus their Thoughts are imployed perpetually with
Fancies. For Fancy goeth not so much by Rule, & Method,
as by Choice: and if I have chosen my Silke with fresh colours,
and matcht them in good shadows, although the stitches
be not very true, yet it will please the Eye; so if my
Writing please the Readers, though not the Learned, it wil
satisfie me; for I had rather be praised in this, by the
most, although not the best. For all I desire, is Fame, and
Fame is nothing but a great noise, and noise lives most in a
Multitude; wherefore I wish my Book may set a worke
every Tongue. But I imagine I shall be censur’d by my
owne Sex; and Men will cast a smile of scorne upon my
Book, because they think thereby, Women incroach too A3 much A3v
much upon their Prerogatives; for they hold Books as
their Crowne, and the Sword as their Scepter, by which
they rule, and governe. And very like they will say to
me, as to the Lady that wrote the Romancy, “Work Lady, Work, let writing Books alone, For surely wiser Women nere wrote one.”

But those that say so, shall give me leave to wish,
that those of neerest Relation, as Wives, Sisters, & Daughters,
may imploy their time no worse then in honest, Innocent,
and harmlesse Fancies; which if they do, Men
shall have no cause to feare, that when they go abroad
in their absence, they shall receive an Injury by their loose
Carriages
. Neither will Women be desirous to Gossip abroad,
when their Thoughts are well imployed at
home. But if they do throw scorne, I shall intreat
you, (as the Woman did in the Play of the Wife, for a
Month, which caused many of the Effeminate Sex) to help
her, to keep their Right, and Priviledges, making it their
owne Case. Therefore pray strengthen my Side, in defending
my Book; for I know Womens Tougnngs are as
sharp, as two-edged Swords, and wound as much, when
they are anger’d. And in this Battell may your Wit be
quick, and your Speech ready, and your Arguments so
strong, as to beat them out of the Feild of Dispute. So shall
I get Honour, and Reputation by your Favours; otherwise
I may chance to be cast into the Fire. But if I burn,
I desire to die your Martyr; if I live, to be


Your humble Servant,
M. N.Margaret Newcastle
A4r

An Epistle
to
Mistris Toppe.

Some may think an Imperfection of wit may be a
blemish to the Family from whence I sprung: But
Solomon sayes, “A wise man may get a Fool”. Yet there
are as few meer Fools, as wise men: for Understanding
runs in a levell course, that is, to know in generall, as of
the Effects: but to know the Cause of any one thing of
Natures workes, Nature never gave us a Capacity thereto.
Shee hath given us Thoughts which run wildly about,
and if by chance they light on Truth, they do not
know it for a Truth. But amongst many Errours, there
are huge Mountaines of Follies; and though I add to the
Bulke of one of them, yet I make not a Mountaine alone,
and am the more excusable, because I have an Opinion,
which troubles me like a conscience, that tis a part of
Honour to aspire towards a Fame. For it cannot be an Effeminacy
to seek, or run after Glory, to love Perfection, to
desire Praise; and though I want Merit to make me
worthy of it, yet I make some satisfaction in desiring
it. But had I broken the Chaines of Modesty, or behav’d
my selfe in dishonourable and loose carriage, or had run the
wayes
of Vice, as to Perjure my self, or betray my Freinds,
or denyed a Truth, or had lov’d deceit: Then I might
have prov’d a Greife to the Family I came from, and a dishonour
to the Family I am link’t to, raised Blushes in their
cheeks being mentioned, or to turne Pale when I were
published. But I hope, I shall neither greive, nor shame A4 them, A4v
them, or give them cause to wish I were not a Branch
thereof. For though my Ambition’s great, my designes are
harmelesse, and my wayes are plaine Honesty: and if I
stumble at Folly, yet will I never fall on Vice. Tis true,
the World may wonder at my Confidence, how I dare put
out a Book, especially in these censorious times; but why
should I be ashamed, or affraid, where no Evill is, and
not please my selfe in the satisfaction of innocent desires?
For a smile of neglect cannot dishearten me, no more can
a Frowne of dislike affright me; not but I should be well
pleased, and delight to have my Booke commended. But
the Worlds dispraises cannot make me a mourning garment:
my mind’s too big, and I had rather venture an indiscretion,
then loose the hopes of a Fame. Neither am I ashamed
of my simplicity, for Nature tempers not every Braine alike;
but tis a shame to deny the Principles of their Religion,
to break the Lawes of a well-governed Kingdome, to
disturbe Peace, to be unnaturall, to break the Union and
Amity of honest Freinds, for a Man to be a Coward, for a
Woman to be a Whore; and by these Actions, they are not
onely to be cast out of all Civill society, but to be blotted
out of the Roll of Mankinde. And the reason why I
summon up these Vices, is, to let my Freinds know, or
rather to remember them, that my Book is none of them:
yet in this Action of setting out of a Booke, I am not
clear without fault, because I have not asked leave of
any Freind thereto; for the feare of being denied, made
me silent: and there is an Old saying; That it is easier
to aske Pardon, then Leave: for a fault will sooner be forgiven,
then a suite granted: and as I have taken the One,
so I am very confident they will give me the Other. For
their Affection is such, as it doth as easily obscure all infirmity
and blemishes, as it is fearfull and quick-sighted in
spying the Vices of those they love; and they doe with as
much kindnesse pardon the One, as with griefe reprove
the Other. But I thought it an Honour to aime at Excellencies,
and though I cannot attaine thereto, yet an Endeavour
shews a good will, and a good will ought not to be
turned out of Noble mindes, nor be whipt with dispraises, but χ1r
but to be cherished with Commendations. Besides, I Print
this Book, to give an Account to my Freinds, how I spend
the idle Time of my life, and how I busie my Thoughts,
when I thinke upon the Objects of the World. For the
truth is, our Sex hath so much waste Time, having but
little imployments, which makes our Thoughts run wildly
about, having nothing to fix them upon, which wilde
thoughts
do not onely produce unprofitable, but indiscreet
Actions; winding up the Thread of our lives in
snarles on unsound bottoms. And since all times must be
spent either ill, or well, or indifferent; I thought this was
the harmelessest Pastime: for sure this Worke is better then
to sit still, and censure my Neighbours actions, which nothing
concernes me; or to condemne their Humours, because
they do not sympathize with mine, or their lawfull
Recreations
, because they are not agreeable to my delight;
or ridiculously to laugh at my Neighbours Cloaths, if they
are not of the Mode, Colour, or Cut, or the Ribbon tyed
with a Mode Knot, or to busie my selfe out of the Sphear
of our Sex, as in Politicks of State, or to Preach false
Doctrine
in a Tub, or to entertaine my selfe in hearkening
to vaine Flatteries, or to the incitements of evill perswasions;
where all these Follies, and many more may be cut off
by such innocent worke as this. I write not this onely
to satisfie you, which my Love makes me desire so to
doe; but to defend my Book from spightfull Invaders,
knowing Truth and Innocence are two good Champions against
Malice and Falshood: and which is my defence, I
am very confident is a great satisfaction to you. For being
bred with me, your Love is twisted to my Good,
which shall never be undone by any unkinde Action of
Mine, but will alwayes remaine


Your loving Freind,
M. N.Margaret Newcastle
χ1v

Madam,

You are not onely the first English Poet of your
Sex, but the first that ever wrote this way: therefore
whosoever that writes afterwards, must own
you for their Pattern, from whence they take their
Sample; and a Line by which they measure their Conceits
and Fancies. For whatsoever is written afterwards, it will
be but a Copy of your Originall, which can be no more Honour
to them, then to Labouring Men, that draw Water from
another mans Spring, for their owne use; neither can there
be anything writ, that your Honour have not imployed your
Pen in: As there is Poeticall Fictions, Morall instructions,
Philosophicall Opinions, Dialogues, Discourses,
Poeticall Romances
. But truely, Madam, this Book is not
the onely occasion to Admire you; for having been brought up
from my Childhood in your Honourable Family, and alwayes
in your Ladyships company; seeing the course of your
life, and honouring your Ladyships disposition, I have admired
Nature more, in your Ladiship, then in any other Works
besides. First, in the course of your Life, you were alwayes
Circumspect, by Nature, not by Art; for naturally your
Honour did hate to do any thing that was mean and unworthy,
or any thing that your Honour might not owne to all the
World with confidence; & yet your Ladiship is naturally bashful,
& apt to be out of Countenance, that your Ladiship could
not oblige all the World. But truly, Madam, Fortune hath
not so much in her power to give, as your Honour hath to
bestow; which apparently shineth in all Places, especially
where your Ladyship hath been, as France, Flanders, Holland,
&c. to your everlasting Honour and Fame; which will
manifest this Relation to be the Truth, as well as I, who am,


Madam,
Your Honours most humble
and obedient Servant,

E. Toppe.

χ2r


To Naturall Philosophers.

If any Philosophers have written of these Subjects, as I
make no question, or doubt, but they have, of all that
Nature hath discover’d, either in meere Thought, and Speculation,
or other waies in Observation; yet it is more then
I know of: for I never read, nor heard of any English Booke
to Instruct me: and truly I understand no other Language; not
French, although I was in France five yeares: Neither do I understand
my owne Native Language very well; for there are
many words, I know not what they signifie; so as I have onely
the Vulgar part, I meane, that which is most usually spoke. I
do not meane that which is us’d to be spoke by Clownes in every
Shire, where in some Parts their Language is knowne to
none, but those that are bred there. And not onely every Shire
hath a severall Language, but every Family, giving Marks for
things according to their Fancy. But my Ignorance of the Mother
Tongues
makes me ignorant of the Opinions, and Discourses in
former times; wherefore I may be absurd, and erre grossely. I cannot
say, I have not heard of Atomes, and Figures, and Motion,
and Matter; but not throughly reason’d on: but if I do erre,
it is no great matter; for my Discourse of them is not to be accounted
Authentick: so if there by any thing worthy of noting,
it is a good Chance; if not, there is no harm done, nor
time lost. For I had nothing to do when I wrot it, and I suppose
those have nothing, or little else to do, that read it. And
the Reason why I write it in Verse, is, because I thought Errours
might better passe there, then in Prose; since Poets write
most Fiction, and Fiction is not given for Truth, but Pastime;
and I feare my Atomes will be as small Pastime, as themselves:
for nothing can be lesse then an Atome. But my desire that
they should please the Readers, is as big as the World they
make; and my Feares are of the same bulk; yet my Hopes fall to
a single Atome agen: and so shall I remaine an unsettled Atome,
or a confus’d heape, till I heare my Censure. If I be prais’d, it
fixes them; but if I am condemn’d, I shall be Annihilated to
nothing: but my Ambition is such, as I would either be a
World, or nothing.

χ2v I de-

I desire all that are not quick in apprehending, or will not
trouble themselves with such small things as Atomes, to skip
this part of my Book, and view the other, for feare these
may seem tedious: yet the Subject is light, and the Chapters
short. Perchance the other may please better; if not the second,
the third; if not the third, the fourth; if not the fourth, the
fifth: and if they cannot please, for lack of Wit, they may please
in Variety, for most Palates are greedy after Change. And though
they are not of the choicest Meates, yet there is none dangerous;
neither is there so much of particular Meat, as any can feare a
Surfet; but the better pleas’d you are, the better Welcome. I
wish heartily my Braine had been Richer, to make you a fine
Entertainment: truly I should have spar’d no Cost, neither have
I spar’d any Paines: for my Thoughts have been very busily imployed,
these eight, or nine Months, when they have not been
taken away by Wordly Cares, and Trouble, which I confesse hath
been a great hinderance to this Work. Yet have they sat up late,
and risen earely, running about untill they have been in a fiery
heat
, so as their Service hath not been wanton, nor their Industry
slack. What is amisse, excuse it as a Fault of too much
Care; for there may be Faults committed with being over-busie,
as soon as for want of Diligence. But those that are poore,
have nothing but their labour to bestow; and though I cannot
serve you on Agget Tables, and Persian Carpets, with Golden Dishes,
and Chrystall Glasses, nor feast you with Ambrosia, and Nectar,
yet perchance my Rye Loafe, and new Butter may tast more savoury,
then those that are sweet, and delicious.

If you dislike, and rise to go away,

Pray do not Scoff, and tell what I did say.

But if you do, the matter is not great,

For tis but foolish words you can repeat.

Pray do not censure all you do not know,

But let my Atomes to the Learned go.

If you judge, and understand not, you may take

For Non-sense that which learning Sense will make.

But I may say, as Some have said before,

I’m not bound to fetch you Wit from Natures Store.

χ3r

To the
Reader.

Reader,

If any do read this Book of mine, pray be not too severe in your
Censures. For first, I have no Children to imploy my Care,
and Attendance on; And my Lords Estate being taken away,
had nothing for Huswifery, or thrifty Industry to imploy
my selfe in; having no Stock to work on. For Housewifery
is a discreet Management, and ordering all in Private, and
Household Affaires, seeing nothing spoil’d, or Profusely spent,
that every thing has its proper Place, and every Servant his proper
Work, and every Work to be done in its proper Time; to be Neat,
and Cleanly, to have their House quiet from all disturbing Noise.
But Thriftiness is something stricter; for good Housewifery may be
used in great Expenses; but Thriftiness signifies a Saving, or a getting;
as to increase their Stock, or Estate. For Thrift weighs, and
measures out all Expence. It is just as in Poetry: for good Husbandry
in Poetry, is, when there is great store of Fancy well order’d,
not onely in fine Language, but proper Phrases, and significant
Words. And Thrift in Poetry, is, when there is but little Fancy,
which is not onely spun to the last Thread, but the Thread is drawne
so smal, as it is scarce perceived. But I have nothing to spin, or order,
so as I become Idle; I cannot say, in mine owne House, because
I have none, but what my Mind is lodg’d in. Thirdly, you are to spare
your severe Censures, I having not so many yeares of Experience, as
will make me a Garland to Crowne my Head; onely I have had
so much time, as to gather a little Posie to stick upon my Breast. Lastly,
the time I have been writing them, hath not been very long, but
since I came into England, being eight Yeares out, and nine
Months
in; and of these nine Months, onely some Houres in the
Day, or rather in the Night. For my Rest being broke with discontented
Thoughts
, because I was from my Lord, and Husband,
knowing him to be in great Wants, and my selfe in the same Condition;
to divert them, I strove to turne the Stream, yet shunning the χ3v
the muddy, and foule waies of Vice, I went to the Well of Helicon,
and by the Wells side, I have sat, and wrote this Worke. It
is not Excellent, nor Rare, but plaine; yet it is harmelsse, modest,
and honest. True, it may taxe my Indiscretion, being so fond of my
Book, as to make it as if it were my Child, and striving to shew her
to the World, in hopes Some may like her, although no Beauty to
Admire, yet may praise her Behaviour, as not being wanton, nor
rude. Wherefore I hope you will not put her out of Countenance,
which she is very apt to, being of bashfull Nature, and as ready to
shed Repentant Teares, if she think she hath committed a Fault:
wherefore pity her Youth, and tender Growth, and rather taxe
the Parents Indiscretion, then the Childs Innocency. But my
Book coming out in this Iron age, I feare I shall find hard Hearts;
yet I had rather she should find Cruelty, then Scorne, and that my
book should be torn, rather then laught at; for there is no such regret
in Nature as Contempt: but I am resolv’d to set it at all Hazards.
If Fortune plaies Aums Ace, I am gon; if size Cinque, I shall win a
Reputation of Fancy, and if I loose, I loose but the Opinion of
Wit: and where the Gaine will be more then the Losse, who would
not venture: when there are many in the World, (which are accounted
Wise) that will venture Life, and Honour, for a petty
Interest, or out of Envie, or for Revenge sake. And why should not
I venture, when nothing lies at Stake, but Wit? let it go; I shall nor
cannot be much Poorer. If Fortune be my Friend, then Fame will
be my Gaine, which may build me a Pyramid, a Praise to my Memory.
I shall have no cause to feare it will be so high as Babels Tower,
to fall in the mid-way; yet I am sorry it doth not touch at Heaven:
but my Incapacity, Feare, Awe, and Reverence kept me
from that Work. For it were too great a Presumption to venture
to Discourse that in my Fancy, which is not describeable. For God,
and his Heavenly Mansions, are to be admired, wondred, and
astonished at, and not disputed on.

But at all other things let Fancy flye,

And, like a Towring Eagle, mount the Skie.

Or like the Sun swiftly the World to round,

Or like pure Gold, which in the Earth is found.

But if a drossie Wit, let’t buried be,

Under the Ruines of all Memory.

the χ4r

The Poetresses hasty Resolution.

Reading my Verses, I like’t them so well,

Selfe-love did make my Judgement to rebell.

Thinking them so good, I thought more to write;

Considering not how others would them like.

I writ so fast, I thought, if I liv’d long,

A Pyramid of Fame to build thereon.

Reason observing which way I was bent,

Did stay my hand, and ask’t me what I meant;

Will you, said shee, thus waste your time in vaine,

On that which in the World small praise shall gaine?

For shame leave off, sayd shee, the Printer spare,

Hee’le loose by your ill Poetry, I feare

Besides the World hath already such a weight

Of uselesse Bookes, as it is over fraught.

Then pitty take, doe the World a good turne,

And all you write cast in the fire, and burne.

Angry I was, and Reason strook away,

When I did heare, what shee to me did say.

Then all in haste, I to the Presse it sent,

Fearing Perswasion might my Book prevent:

But now ’tis done, with greife repent doe I,

Hang down my head with shame, blush sigh, and cry.

Take pitty, and my drooping Spirits raise,

Wipe off my teares with Handkerchiefes of Praise.

The Poetresses Petition.

Like to a Feavers pulse my heart doth beat,

For fear my Book some great repulse should meet.

If it be naught, let her in silence lye,

Disturbe her not, let her in quiet dye;

Let not the Bells of your dispraise ring loud,

But wrap her up in silence as a Shrowd;

Cause black oblivion on her Hearse to hang,

In stead of Tapers, let darke night there stand;

In χ4v

In stead of Flowers to the grave her strow

Before her Hearse, sleepy, dull Poppy throw;

In stead of Scutcheons, let my Teares be hung,

Which greife and sorrow from my eyes out wrung:

Let those that beare her Corps, no Jesters be,

But sad, and sober, grave Mortality:

No Satyr Poets to her Funerall come;

No Altars rays’d to write Inscriptions on:

Let dust of all forgetfulnesse be cast

Upon her Corps, there let them lye and waste:

Nor let her rise againe; unlesse some know,

At Judgements, some good Merits shee can shew:

Then shee shall live in Heavens of high praise:

And for her glory, Garlands of fresh Bayes.

An excuse for so much writ upon my
Verses.

Condemne me not for making such a coyle

About my Book, alas it is my Childe.

Just like a Bird, when her Young are in Nest,

Goes in, and out, and hops and takes no Rest;

But when their Young are fledg’d, their heads out peep,

Lord what a chirping does the Old one keep.

So I, for feare my Strengthlesse Childe should fall

Against a doore, or stoole, aloud I call,

Bid have a care of such a dangerous place:

Thus write I much, to hinder all disgrace.

Poems. B1r 1

Poems.

Nature calls a Councell, which was Motion,
Figure, matter
, and Life, to advise
about making the World.

When Nature first this World she did create,

She cal’d a Counsell how the same might
make;

Motion was first, who had a subtle wit,

And then came Life, and Forme, and Matter
fit.

First Nature spake, my Friends if we agree,

We can, and may do a fine Worke, said she,

Make some things adore us, worship give,

Which now we only to our selves do live.

Besides it is my nature things to make,

To give out worke, and you directions take.

And by this worke, a pleasure take therein,

And breed the Fates in huswifery to spin,

And make strong Destiny to take some paines,

Least she growe idle, let her Linke some Chaines:

Inconstancy, and Fortune turne a Wheele,

Both are so wanton, cannot stand, but reele.

And Moisture let her poure out Water forth,

And Heat let her suck out, and raise up growth,

And let sharp Cold stay things that run about,

And Drought stop holes, to keepe the water out.

Vacuum, and Darkenesse they will domineere,

If Motions power make not Light appeare;

Produce B1v 2

Produce a Light, that all the World may see,

My only Childe from all Eternitie:

Beauty my Love, my Joy, and deare delight,

Else Darknesse rude will cover her with spight.

Alas, said Motion, all paines I can take,

Will do no good, Matter a Braine must make;

Figure must draw a Circle, round, and small,

Where in the midst must stand a Glassy Ball, An Eye.

Without Convexe, the inside a Concave,

And in the midst a round small hole must have,

That Species may passe, and repasse through,

Life the Prospective every thing to view.

Alas, said Life, what ever we do make,

Death, my great Enemy, will from us take:

And who can hinder his strong, mighty power?

He with his cruelty doth all devoure:

And Time, his Agent, brings all to decay:

Thus neither Death, nor Time will you obey:

He cares for none of your commands, nor will

Obey your Lawes, but doth what likes him still;

He knowes his power far exceedeth ours;

For whatso’ere we make, he soone devours.

Let me advise you never take such paines

A World to make, since Death hath all the gaines.

Figures opinion did agree with Life,

For Death, said she, will fill the World with strife;

What Forme soever I do turne into,

Death findes me out, that Forme he doth undoe.

Then Motion spake, none hath such cause as I,

For to complaine, for Death makes Motion dye.

’Tis best to let alone this worke, I thinke.

Saies Matter, Death corrupts, and makes me stinke.

Saies Nature, I am of another minde,

If we let Death alone, we soone shall finde,

He wars will make, and raise a mighty power,

If we divert him not, may us devoure.

He is ambitious, will in triumph sit,

Envies my workes, and seekes my State to get.

And Fates, though they upon great Life attend,

Yet feare they Death, and dare not him offend.

Though B2r 3

Though Two be true, and spin as Life them bids,

The Third is false, and cuts short the long threads.

Let us agree, for feare we should do worse,

And make some worke, for to imply his force.

Then all rose up, we do submit, say they,

To Natures will, in every thing obey.

First Matter she brought the Materialls in,

And Motion cut, and carv’d out every thing.

And Figure she did draw the Formes and Plots,

And Life divided all out into Lots.

And Nature she survey’d, directed all,

With the foure Elements built the Worlds Ball.

The solid Earth, as the Foundation lai’d,

The Waters round about as Walls were rais’d,

Where every drop lies close, like Stone, or Bricke,

Whose moisture like as Morter made them sticke.

Aire, as the Seeling, keeps all close within,

Least some Materialls out of place might spring.

Aire presses downe the Seas, if they should rise,

Would overflow the Earth, and drowne the Skies.

For as a Roofe that’s laid upon a Wall,

To keepe it steddy, that no side might fall,

So Nature Aire makes that place to take,

And Fire highest laies, like Tyle, or Slat,

To keepe out raine, or wet, else it would rot:

So would the World corrupt, if Fire were not.

The Planets, like as Weather-fans, turne round,

The Sun a Diall in the midst is found:

Where he doth give so just account of time,

He measures all, though round, by even Line.

But when the Earth was made, and seed did sow,

Plants on the Earth, and Mineralls downe grow,

Then Creatures made, which Motion gave them sense,

Yet reason none, to give intelligence.

But Nature found when she was Man to make,

More difficult then new Worlds to create:

For she did strive to make him long to last,

Into Eternity then he was cast.

For in no other place could keep him long,

But in Eternity, that Castle strong.

B2 There B2v 4

There she was sure that Death she could keep out,

Although he is a Warriour strong, and stout.

Man she would make not like to other kinde,

Though not in Body, like a God in minde.

Then she did call her Councell once againe,

Told them the greatest work ee did yet remaine.

For how, said she, can we our selves new make?

Yet Man we must like to our selves create:

Or else he can never escape Deaths snare,

To make this worke belongs both skill, and care;

But I a Minde will mixe, as I thinke fit,

With Knowledge, Understanding, and with Wit,

And, Motion, you your Serjeants must imploye:

Which Passions are, to waite still in the Eye,

To dresse, and cloath this Minde in fashions new,

Which none knowes better how to doe’t then you.

What though this Body dye, this Minde shall live,

And a free-will we must unto it give.

But, Matter, you from Figure Forme must take,

Different from other Creatures, Man must make.

For he shall go upright, the rest shall not,

And, Motion, you in him must tye a knot

Of severall Motions there to meet in one:

Thus Man like to himselfe shall be alone.

You, Life, command the Fates a thread to spin,

From which small thread the Body shall begin.

And while the thread doth last, not cut in twaine,

The Body shall in Motion still remaine.

But when the thread is broke, then downe shall fall,

And for a time no Motion have at all.

But yet the Minde shall live, and never dye;

We’le raise the Body too for company.

Thus, like our selves, we can make things to live

Eternally, but no past times can give.

Deaths B3r 5

Deaths endeavour to hinder, and obstruct
Nature.

When Death did heare what Nature did intend;

To hinder her he all his force did bend.

But finding all his forces were too weake,

He alwaies strives the Thread of life to breake:

And strives to fill the Minde with black despaire,

Let’s it not rest in peace, nor free from care;

And since he cannot make it dye, he will

Send griefe, and sorrow to torment it still.

With grievous paines the Body he displeases,

And bindes it hard with chaines of strong diseases.

His Servants, Sloth, and Sleep, he doth imploye,

To get halfe of the time before they dye:

But Sleep, a friend to Life, oft disobeyes

His Masters will, and softly downe her lay’s

Upon their weary limbs, like Birds in nest,

And gently locks their senses up in rest.

A World made by Atomes.

Small Atomes of themselves a World may make,

As being subtle, and of every shape:

And as they dance about, fit places finde,

Such Formes as best agree, make every kinde.

For when we build a house of Bricke, and Stone,

We lay them even, every one by one:

And when we finde a gap that’s big, or small,

We seeke out Stones, to fit that place withall.

For when not fit, too big, or little be,

They fall away, and cannot stay we see.

So Atomes, as they dance, finde places fit,

They there remaine, lye close, and fast will sticke.

Those that unfit, the rest that rove about,

Do never leave, untill they thrust them out.

Thus by their severall Motions, and their Formes,

As severall work-men serve each others turnes.

And B3v 6

And thus, by chance, may a New World create:

Or else predestinated to worke my Fate.

The foure principall Figur’d Atomes make
the foure Elements, as Square, Round,
Long
, and Sharpe.

The Square flat Atomes, as dull Earth appeare,

The Atomes Round do make the Water cleere.

The Long streight Atomes like to Arrowes fly,

Mount next the points, and make the Aiery Skie;

The Sharpest Atomes do into Fire turne,

Which by their peircing quality they burne:

That Figure makes them active, active, Light;

Which makes them get above the rest in flight;

And by this Figure they stick fast, and draw

Up other Atomes which are Round and Raw:

As Waters are round drops, though nere so small,

Which shew that water is all sphæricall.

That Figure makes it spungy, spungy, wet,

For being hollow, softnesse doth beget.

And being soft, that makes it run about;

More solid Atomes thrust it in, or out;

But sharpest Atomes have most power thereon,

To nip it up with Cold, or Heate to run.

But Atomes Flat, are heavy, dull, and slow,

And sinking downward to the bottome go:

Those Figur’d Atomes are not active, Light,

Whereas the Longe are like the Sharp in flight.

For as the Sharpe do pierce, and get on high,

So do the long shoot streight, and evenly.

The Round are next the Flat, the Long next Round,

Those which are sharp, are still the highest found:

The Flat turne all to Earth, which lye most low,

The Round, to Water cleer, which liquid flow.

The Long to Aire turne, from whence Clouds grow,

The Sharp to Fire turne, which hot doth glow.

These Foure Figures foure Elements do make,

And as their Figures do incline, they take.

For B4r 7

For those are perfect in themselves alone,

Not taking any shape, but what’s their owne.

What Forme is else, must still take from each part,

Either from Round, or Long, or Square, or Sharp;

As those that are like to Triangulars cut,

Part of three Figures in one Forme is put.

And those that bow and bend like to a Bow;

Like to the Round, and joynted Atomes shew.

Those that are Branch’d, or those which crooked be,

You may both the Long, and sharp Figures see.

Thus severall Figures, severall tempers make,

But what is mixt, doth of the Four partake.

Of Aiery Atomes.

The Atomes long, which streaming Aire makes,

Are hollow, from which Forme Aire softnesse takes.

This makes that Aire, and water neer agree,

Because in hollownesse alike they be.

For Aiery Atomes made are like a Pipe,

And watry Atomes, Round, and Cimball like.

Although the one is Long, the other Round;

Yet in the midst, a hollownesse is found.

This makes us thinke, water turnes into Aire,

And Aire often runs into water faire.

And like two Twins, mistaken they are oft;

Because their hollownesse makes them both soft.

Of Aire.

The reason, why Aire doth so equall spred,

Is Atomes long, at each end ballanced.

For being long, and each end both alike,

Are like to Weights, which keep it steddy, right:

For howsoere it moves, to what Forme joyne,

Yet still that Figure lies in every line.

For Atomes long, their Formes are like a Thread,

Which interveaves like to a Spiders Web:

And thus being thin, it so subtle growes,

That into every empty place it goes.

Of B4v 8

Of Earth.

Why Earth’s not apt to move, but slow and dull,

Is, Atomes flat no Vacuum hath, but full.

That Forme admits no empty place to bide,

All parts are fil’d, having no hollow side.

As Round, and
Long have.
And where no Vacuum is, Motion is slow,

Having no empty places for to go.

As the numbers
of Sharpe Atomes
do peirce
and make way
through greater
numbers, as
a Sparke of
fire
will kindle,
and burn
up a house.
Though Atomes all are small, as small may bee,

Yet by their Formes, Motion doth disagree.

For Atomes sharp do make themselves a Way,

Cutting through other Atomes as they stray.

But Atomes flat will dull, and lazy lay,

Having no Edge, or point to make a Way.

The weight of Atomes.

If Atomes are as small, as small can bee,

They must in quantity of Matter all agree:

And if consisting Matter of the same (be right,)

Then every Atome must weigh just alike.

Thus Quantity, Quality aund Weight, all

Together meets in every Atome small.

The bignesse of Atomes:

MWhen I say Atomes small, as small can bee;

I mean Quantity, quality, and Weight agree

Not in the Figure, for some may shew

Much bigger, and some lesser: so

Take Water fluid, and Ice thats firme,

Though the Weight be just, the Bulke is not the same.

So Atomes are some soft, others more knit,

According as each Atome’s Figured;

Round and Long Atomes hollow are, more slacke

Then Flat, or Sharpe, for they are more compact:

And being hollow they are spread more thin,

Then other Atomes which are close within:

And Atomes which are thin more tender far,

For those that are more close, they harder are.

The C1r 9

The joyning of severall Figur’d Atomes
make other Figures.

Severall Figur’d Atomes well agreeing,

When joyn’d, do give another Figure being.

For as those Figures joyned, severall waies,

The Fabrick of each severall Creature raise.

What Atomes make Change.

Tis severall Figur’d Atomes that make Change,

When severall Bodies meet as they do range.

For if they sympathise, and do agree,

They joyne together, as one Body bee.

But if they joyne like to a Rabble-rout,

Without all order running in and out;

Then disproportionable things they make,

Because they did not their right places take.

All things last, or dissolve, according to the
Composure of Atomes.

Those Atomes loosely joyn’d, do not remaine

So long as those, which Closenesse do maintaine.

Those make all things i’th World ebb, and flow;

According as the moving Atomes go.

Others in Bodies, they do joyne so close,

As in long time, they never stir, nor loose:

And some will joyne so close, and knit so fast,

As if unstir’d, they would for ever last.

In smallest Vegetables, loosest Atomes lye,

Which is the reason, they so quickly dye.

In Animals, much closer they are laid,

Which is the cause, Life is the longer staid.

Some Vegetables, and Animals do joyne

In equall strength, if Atomes so combine.

But Animals, where Atomes close lay in,

Are stronger, then some Vegetables thin.

But in Vegetables, where Atomes do stick fast,

C As C1v 10

As in strong Trees, the longer they do last.

In Minerals, they are so hard wedg’d in,

No space they leave for Motion to get in:

Being Pointed all, the closer they do lye,

Which make them not like Vegetables dye.

Those Bodies, where loose Atomes most move in,

Are Soft, and Porous, and many times thin.

Those Porous Bodies never do live long,

For why, loose Atomes never can be strong.

There Motion having power, tosses them about,

Keeps them from their right places, so Life goes out.

Of Loose Atomes.

In every Braine loose Atomes there do lye,

Those which are Sharpe, from them do Fancies flye.

Those that are long, and Aiery, nimble be.

But Atomes Round, and Square, are dull, and sleepie.

Change is made by several-figur’d Atomes,
and Motion.

If Atomes all are of the selfe same Matter;

As Fire, Aire, Earth, and Water:

Then must their severall Figures make all Change

By Motions helpe, which orders, as they range.

Of Sharpe Atomes.

Then Atomes Sharpe Motion doth mount up high;

Like Arrowes sharpe, Motion doth make them flye.

And being sharpe and swift, they peirce so deep,

As they passe through all Atomes, as they meet:

By their swift motion, they to bright Fire turne;

And being Sharpe, they peirce, which we call Burne.

What C2r 11

What Atomes make Flame.

Those Atomes, which are Long, These Atomes
are halfe
aiery Atomes,
and half Fiery.
sharp at each end,

Stream forth like Aire, in Flame, which Light doth seem:

For Flame doth flow, as if it fluid were,

Which shewes, part of that Figure is like Aire.

Thus Flame is joyn’d, two Figures into one:

But Fire without Flame, is sharpe alone.

Of Fire and Flame.

Although we at a distance stand; if great

The Fire be, the Body through will heat.

Yet those sharpe Atomes we do not perceive;

How they flye out, nor how to us they cleave.

Nor do they flame, nor shine they cheere and bright,

When they flie out, and on our Bodies strike.

The reason is, they loose, and scattered flye;

And not in Troupes, nor do they on heaps lye.

Like small dust rais’d, which scatter’d all about;

We see it not, nor doth it keep Light out:

When gathered thick up to a Mountaine high,

We see them then in solid Earth to lye.

Just so do Atomes sharpe looke, cleere, and bright,

When in heaps lye, or in a streaming flight.

Of Fire in the Flint.

The reason, Fire lies in Flint unseene;

Is, other Figur’d Atomes lye betweene:

For being bound, and overpowred by

A Multitude, they do in Prison lye.

Unlesse that Motion doth release them out,

With as strong power, which make them flye about

But if that Flint be beat to powder small;

To sep’rate the grossest, releas’d are all.

But when they once are out, do not returne,

But seeke about to make another Forme.

C2 Of C2v 12

Of the Sympathy of Atomes.

By Sympathy, Atomes are fixed so,

As past some Principles they do not go.

For count the Principles of all their workes,

You’le find, there are not many severall sorts.

For when they do dissolve, and new Formes make,

They still to their first Principles do take.

As Animals, Vegetables, Minerals;

So Aire, Fire, Earth, Water falls.

Of the Sympathy of their Figures.

Long, Round,
Sharpe, Flat.
Such Sympathy there is in every Figure,

That every severall sort do flock together.

As Aire, Water, Earth and Fire;

Which make each Element to be entire:

Not but loose Atomes, like Sheep stray about,

And into severall places go in, and out:

And some as Sheep and Kine do mixe together;

Which when they mixe, tis severall change of weather.

But Motion, as their Shepheard, drives them so,

As not to let them out of order go.

What Atomes make Vegetables, Minerals,
and Animals.

The Branched Atomes Formes each Planted thing,

The hooked points pull out, and makes them spring,

The Atomes Round give Juice, the Sharpe give heate;

And those grow Hearbs, and Fruits, and Flowers sweet.

Those that are Square, and Flat, not rough withall,

Make those which Stone, and Minerals we call.

But in all Stones, and Minerals, (no doubt,)

Sharpe points do lye, which Fire makes strike out.

Thus Vegetables, Minerals do grow,

According as the severall Atomes go.

In Animals, all Figures do agree;

But in Mankinde, the best of Atomes bee.

And C3r 13

And thus, in Nature the whole World may be,

For all we know, unto Eternitie.

What Atomes make Heate and Cold.

SSuch kinde of Atomes, which make Heat, make Cold;

Like Pincers sharpe, which nip, and do take hold.

But Atomes that are pointed sharpe, peirce through:

And Atomes which are sharpe, but Hookt, pull to.

Yet, all must into pointed Figures turne;

For Atomes blunt will never freeze, nor burne.

’Cause Blunt Figures do to a soft Forme bend;

And Soft do unto wet, or Liquid tend.

What Atomes make Fire to burne, and what
Flame.

What makes a Sparke of Fire to burne more quick,

Then a great Flame? because ’tis small to stick.

For Fire of it selfe, it is so dry,

Falls into parts, as crowds of Atomes lye.

The Sharpest Atomes keepe the Body hot,

To give out Heat, some Atomes forth are shot.

Sometimes for anger, the Sparkes do flye about;

Or want of roome, the weakest are thrust out.

They are so sharpe, that whatsoere they meet,

If not orepower’d, by other Atomes, This is, when
some Atomes
overpower others
by their
Numbers, for
they cannot
change their
Formes.
eate:

As Ants, which small, will eate up a dead Horse:

So Atomes sharpe, on Bodies of lesse force.

Thus Atomes sharpe, yet sharper by degrees;

As Stings in Flies, are not so sharpe as Bees.

And when they meet a Body, solid, flat,

The weakest Flye, the Sharpest worke on that.

Those that are not so sharpe, do flye about,

To seeke some lighter matter, to eate out.

So lighter Atomes do turne Aire to Flame,

Because more Thin, and Porous is the same

Thus Flame is not so hot as Burning Coale;

The Atomes are too weake, to take fast hold.

The sharpest into firmest Bodies flye,

But if their strength be small, they quickly dye.

Or C3v 14

Or if their Number be not great, but small;

The Blunter Atomes beate and quench out all.

What Atomes make the Sun, and the Sea, go
round.

All pointed Atomes, they to Fire turne;

Which by their drinesse, they so light become:

Above the rest do flye, and make a Sun.

Which by consent of parts, a Wheele of Fire growes,

Which being Sphæricall, in round motion goes:

And as it turnes round, Atomes turne about;

Which Atomes round, are Water, without doubt.

This makes the Sea go round, like Water-Mill;

For as the Sun turnes round, so doth the water still.

What Atomes make Life.

All pointed Atomes to Life do tend,

Whether pointed all, or at one end.

Or whether Round, are set like to a Ring;

Or whether Long, are roul’d as on a String.

Those which are pointed, streight, quick Motion give;

But those that bowe and bend, more dull do live.

For Life lives dull, or merrilie,

According as Sharpe Atomes be.

The Cause why things do live and dye,

Is, as the mixed Atomes lye.

What Atomes make Death.

Life is a Fire, and burnes full hot,

But when Round watry Atomes power have got:

Then do they quench Lifes Atomes out,

Blunting their Points, and kill their courage stout.

Over power’d. Thus they sometimes do quite thrust out each other,

When equall mix’d, live quietly together.

The cause why things do live and dye,

Is as the mixed Atomes lye.

What C4r 15

What Atomes cause Sicknesse.

When sicke the Body is, and well by fits,

Atomes are fighting, but none the better gets.

If they agree, then Health returnes againe,

And so shall live as long as Peace remaine.

What Atomes make a Dropsie.

When Atomes round do meet, joyne in one Ball,

Then they swell high, and grow Hydropicall.

Thus joyning they ’come strong, so powerfull grow,

All other Atomes they do overflow.

What Atomes make a Consumption.

The Atomes sharpe, when they together meet,

They grow so hot, all other Atomes beate.

And being hot, becomes so very dry,

They drinke Lifes moisture up, make motion dye.

What Atomes make the wind Collick.

Long aiery Atomes, when they are combin’d,

Do spread themselves abroad, and so make Wind:

Making a Length and Breadth extend so far,

That all the rest can neither go nor stir.

And being forc’d, not in right places lye:

Thus press’d too hard, Man in great pain doth lye.

What Atomes make a Palsey, or Apoplexy.

Dull Atomes flat, when they together joyne,

And with each other in a heape combine;

This Body thicke doth stop all passage so,

Keeps Motion out, so num’d the Body grow.

Atomes that are sharpe, in which Heate doth live,

Being smothered close, no heate can give:

But if those Atomes flat meet in the Braine,

They choake the Spirits, can no heate obtaine.

In C4v 16

In all other Diseases they are mixed, taking
parts, and factions.

But in all other Diseases they are mix’d,

And not in one consisting Body fix’d.

But do in factions part, then up do rise;

Striving to beate each other out, Man dies.

All things are govern’d by Atomes.

Thus Life and Death, and young and old,

Are, as the severall Atomes hold.

So Wit, and Understanding in the Braine,

Are as the severall Atomes reigne:

And Dispositions good, or ill,

Are as the severall Atomes still.

And every Passion which doth rise,

Is as the severall Atomes lies.

Thus Sicknesse, Health, and Peace, and War;

Are alwaies as the severall Atomes are.

A warr with Atomes:

Some factious Atomes will agree, combine,

They strive some form’d Body to unjoyne.

The Round beate out the Sharpe: the Long

The Flat do fight withall, thus all go wrong.

Those which make Motion Generall in their war,

By his direction they much stronger are.

Atomes and Motion fall out.

When Motion, and all Atomes disagree,

Thunder in Skies, and sicknesse in Men bee.

Earthquakes, and Windes which make disorder great,

Tis when that Motion all the Atomes beate.

In this confusion a horrid noise they make,

For Motion will not let them their right places take.

Like frighted Flocks of Sheepe together run,

Thus Motion like a Wolfe doth worry them.

The D1r 17

The agreement of some kinde of Motion, with
some kinde of Atomes.

Some Motion with some Atomes well agree;

Fits them to places right, as just may bee.

By Motions helpe, they so strong joyne each to,

That hardly Motion shall againe undo.

Motions inconstancy oft gives such power

To Atomes, as they can Motion devoure.

Motion directs, while Atomes dance.

Atomes will dance, and measures keep just time;

And one by one will hold round circle line,

Run in and out, as we do dance the Hay;

Crossing about, yet keepe just time and way:

While Motion, as Musicke directs the Time:

Thus by consent, they altogether joyne.

This Harmony is Health, makes Life live long;

But when they’re out, ’tis death, so dancing’s done.

The difference of Atomes and Motion, in youth
and age.

In all things which are young, Motion is swift:

But moving long, is tir’d, and groweth stiff.

So Atomes are, in youth, more nimble, strong,

Then in old Age, but apt more to go wrong.

Thus Youth by false Notes and wrong Steps doth dye,

In Age Atomes, and Motion, weary downe do lye.

Motions Ease is Change, weary soone doth grow,

If in one Figure she doth often go.

Motion makes Atomes a Bawd for Figure.

Did not wild Motion with his subtle wit,

Make Atomes as his Bawd, new Formes to get.

They still would constant be in one Figure,

And as they place themselves, would last for ever.

D But D1v 2018

But Motion she perswades new Formes to make,

For Motion doth in Change great pleasure take.

And makes all Atomes run from place to place;

That Figures young he might have to imbrace.

For some short time, she will make much of one,

But afterwards away from them will run.

And thus are most things in the World undone,

And by her Change, do young ones take old’s roome.

But ’tis butt like unto a Batch of Bread,

The Floure is the same of such a Seed.

But Motion she a Figure new mould, bak’d,

Because that She might have a new hot Cake.

Motion and Figure.

A Figure Sphericall, the Motion’s so,

Streight Figures in a darting Motion go:

As severall Figures in small Atomes bee,

So severall Motions are, if we could see.

If Atomes joyne, meet in another Forme,

Then Motion alters as the Figures turne.

For if the Bodies weighty are, and great,

Then Motion’s slow, and goes upon lesse feet.

Out of a Shuttle-cocke a feather pull,

And flying strike it, as when it was full;

The Motion alters which belongs to that,

Although the Motion of the hand do not.

Yet Motion, Matter, can new Figures find,

And the Substantiall Figures turne and wind.

Thus severall Figures, severall Motions take,

And severall Motions, severall Figures make.

But Figure, Matter, Motion, all is one,

Can never separate, nor be alone.

Of the Subtlety of Motion.

Could we the severall Motions of Life know,

The Subtle windings, and the waies they go:

We should adore God more, and not dispute,

How they are done, but that great God can doe’t.

But D2r 19

But we with Ignorance about do run,

To know the Ends, and how they first begun.

Spending that Life, which Natures God did give

Us to adore him, and his wonders with,

With fruitlesse, vaine, impossible pursuites,

In Schooles, Lectures, and quarrelling Disputes.

But never give him thanks that did us make,

Proudly, as petty Gods, our selves do take.

Motion is the Life of all things.

As Darknesse a privation is of Light;

That’s when the Opticke Nerve is stopt from Light:

So Death is even a cessation in

Those Formes, and Bodies, wherein Motions spin.

As Light can only shine but in the Eye,

So Life doth only in a Motion lye.

Thus Life is out, when Motion leaves to bee,

Like to an Eye that’s shut, no Light can see.

Of Vacuum.

Some thinke the World would fall, and not hang so,

If it had any empty place to go.

One cannot thinke that Vacuum is so vast,

That the great World might in that Gulfe be cast.

But Vacuum like is to the Porous Skyn,

Where Vapour Atomes do so. goeth out, and Aire takes in:

And though that Vapour fills those places small,

We cannot thinke, but first were empty all:

For were they all first full, they could not make

Roome for succession, their places for to take.

But as those Atomes passe, and repasse through,

Yet still in empty places must they go.

Of the Motion of the Sea.

If that the Sea the Earth doth run about,

It leaves a Space, where first the Tide went out.

For if the Water were as much as In compasse. Land,

The Water would not stir, but still would stand.

D2 Which D2v 20

Which shewes, that though the Water still goes round,

Yet is the Land more then the Water In compasse. found.

But say, the Aire
As water will
make a wheele
to go, so Aire
makes water go.
that’s moveable without,

Which being thin, gives leave to run about.

Or like a Wheele, which Water A crosse Motion
stops the
Circular, if
there be no
space between.
The world turns
upon two imaginary
Poles,
the Earth, upon
one, the Heavens
upon another;
yet the
Earth, nor the
Heavens could
not stir, having
no vacuum. For
example, A
wheel could not
turne round, if
the circumference
were
prest upon close,
and the center
on either side.
makes to go,

So Aire may the Water make to flow.

But if that Aire hath not roome to move,

It cannot any other Body shove.

Besides what drives, must needs be stronger far,

Then what it drives, or else it would not stir.

If so, then Infinites of strengths must be

In Motions power, to move Eternally.

But say, all things do run in Circles line,

And every part doth altogether joyne.

They cannot in each others places stir,

Unlesse some places were left empty bare.

For take a Wheele, circumference stop without,

And Center too, it cannot turne about.

If Breadth and Depth were full, leaving no space,

Nothing can stir out of the selfe same place.

Ebbing and Flowing of the Sea.

The Reason the Sea so constant Ebbs and Flowes,

Is like the Hammer of a Clocke, which goes.

For when it comes just to the Notch, doth strike,

So water to that empty place doth like.

For when it Flowes, Water is cast out still,

And when it Ebbs, runs back that place to fill.

Vacuum in Atomes.

If all the Atomes, Long, Sharpe, Flat, and Round,

Be onely of one sort of Matter found:

The Hollow Atomes must all empty be.

For there is nought to fill Vacuitie.

Besides being severall Bodies, though but small,

Betwixt those Bodies, there is nought at all.

For as they range about from place to place,

Betwixt their Bodies there is left a Space.

How D3r 21

How should they move, having no space between?

For joyning close, they would as one Lumpe seem.

Nor could they move into each others place,

Unlesse there were somewhere an Empty space.

For though their Matter’s infinite, as Time,

They must be fix’d, if altogether joyne.

And were all Matter fluid, as some say,

It could not move, having no empty way.

Like Water that is stopt close in a Glasse,

It cannot stir, having no way to passe.

Nor could the Fishes swim in Water thin,

Were there no Vacuum to crowd those waters in.

For as they Crowd, those waters on heapes high

Must some waies rise to Place that empty lye.

For though the water’s thin, wherein they move,

They could not stir, if water did not shove.

Of Contracting and Dilating, whereby Vacuum
must needs follow.

Contracting, and Dilating of each part,

It is the chiefest worke of Motions Art.

Yet Motion can’t dilate, nor yet contract

A Body, which at first is close compact:

Unlesse at first an empty place was found.

To spread those Compact Bodies round.

Nor fluid matter can contract up close,

But by contracting it some place must lose.

The Attraction of the Earth.

The reason Earth attracts much like the Sun,

Is, Atomes sharpe out from the Earth do come:

From the Circumference, those like Bees arise,

As from a Swarm, dispers’d sev’rally flyes,

And as they wander, meet with duller Formes,

Wherein they sticke their point, then backe returnes.

Yet like a Bee, which loaded is each Thigh,

Their weight is great, they cannot nimbly flye.

So when their points are loaded, heavy grow,

Can peirce no further, backward must they go.

And D3v 22

And, as their Hives, to Earth returne againe:

Thus by their travell they the Earth maintaine.

The Attraction of the Sun.

When all those Atomes which in Rayes do spread,

And ranged long, like to a slender I mean all
Rayes in generall,
of all sorts
of Atomes
which move.
thread:

They do not scatter’d flye, but joyne in length,

And being joyn’d, though small, add to their strength.

The further forth they streame, more weake become,

Although those Beames The Suns
Rayes.
are fastened to the Sun.

For all those Rayes which Motion sends downe low,

Are, loose, sharp Atomes, from the Sun do flow.

And as they flow in severall Streames, and Rayes,

They sticke their points in all that stop their waies.

Like Needle points, whereon doth something sticke,

No passage make, having no points to pricke.

Thus being stop’d, strait-waies they backe do run,

Drawing those Bodies with them to the Sun.

The cause of the breaking of the Suns
Beames.

If Porous Atomes by the Sharpe are found,

They’re borne on points away, as Prisoners bound:

But as they mount, Atomes of their own kinde,

If chance to meet, strait helpe them to unbinde.

For Porous Atomes being soft and wet,

When Numbers meet, they close together get:

And being glut, they joyne together all,

By one consent they pull, so backe do fall.

If they be round, in showring Drops returne,

Like Beads that are upon a long thread strunge.

But if their Figures different be from those,

Then like a thicke and foggy mist it shewes.

Of the Rayes of the Sun.

The Rayes are not so hot, as is the Sun,

Because they are united strong to burne.

But D4r 2123

But with a Glasse those scatter’d Beames draw in,

When they’re united, peirce through every Concaves
draw to a center.
thing.

But being separate, they weake become,

And then like Cowards sev’rall waies they run.

Of the Beames of the Sun.

Those Splendent Beames which forth the Sun doth spread

Are loose sharpe Atomes, ranged long like Thread.

And as they streame, if Porous bodies meet,

Sticke in their Points; to us that Touch is heat.

The Sun doth set the Aire on a light, as some
Opinions hold.

If that the Sun so like a Candle is,

That all the Aire doth take a Light from his;

Not from Reflexion, but by kindling all

That part, which we our Hemispheare do call:

Then should that Aire whereon his Light takes place,

Be never out, unlesse that Substance waste:

Unlesse the Sun Extinguishers should throw,

Upon the Aire, so out the Light doth go.

But sure the Suns reflexion gives the Light, Noe Atomes
shine but sharp
Atomes.

For when he’s gone, to us it is darke Night.

For why, the Sun is Atomes sharpe entire,

Being close wedg’d round, It seems like
a burning coal.
is like a wheele of Fire.

And round that Wheele continually do flow

Sharpe streaming Atomes, which like Flame do shew.

And in this Flame Long Atomes
sharp
at
each end.
the Earth its face doth see,

As in a Glasse, as cleere, as cleere may bee.

And when the Earth doth turne aside his face,

It is not seene, but Darkenesse in that That part of
the Earth is
darke which is
from the Sun.
place.

Or when the Moone doth come betwixt that Light,

Then is the Earth shut up To that part
of the Earth
the Moone
hides.
as in darke Night.

What Atomes the Sun is made of.

The Sun is of the sharpest Atomes made,

Close knit together, and exactly laid.

The D4v 24

The Fabricke like a Wheele is just made round,

And in the midst of all, the Planets found.

And as the Planets move about the Sun,

Their Motions make the loose sharpe Atomes run.

Of Vapour.

Loose Atomes sharpe, which Motion shoots about,

Sticke on loose Porous Atomes, those draw out.

From those more close, for these do highest lye,

Thus Vapour’s drawne toward the Region high.

But being their weight is equall with their owne,

They let them fall to Earth, so backe returne.

Of Dewes, and Mists from the Earth.

Some Atomes sharpe thrust from the Earth some Round,

And then a Pearled dew lies on the ground.

But if they beare them on their sharpe points high,

Those being rais’d, a Mist seemes to the Eye.

On the Circumference of the Earth there lies

The loosest Atomes, which are apt to rise;

Yet not to mount so high as to the Sun,

For being dull, they backe to Earth returne:

As water, which is shov’d with force of strength,

Is not so apt to move, as run at length.

The Attraction of the Poles, and of Frost.

The North and South Attracts, Contracts, are like the Sun,

They freeze as hard, as he with Heate doth burne.

For Atomes there are like to Pincers small,

By which they At the Poles. draw, and others pull withall.

When Motion from the Poles shoots them about,

Mixing with Porous bodies when they’re out:

And with those Pincers small those Bodies nip,

So close and hard, they cannot from them get;

Unlesse that fiery Atomes sharpe do peirce

Betwixt those Pincers small, so do release.

Those E1r 25

Those Porous Atomes, like an Aule that bores;

Or like a Picklocke, which doth open doors.

For when they’re opened by those fiery Aules,

Let go their holds, which Men a Thaw strait calls.

If not, they pinch those Bodies close together,

Then men do say, it is hard Frosty weather.

Quenching out of Fire.

Round Atomes
are water.
The Atomes round, tis not their Numbers great

Sharp Atomes. That put out Fire, quenching both Light and Heate.

But being wet, they loosen, and unbinde,

Those sharpe dry Atomes, which together joyn’d.

For when they are dispers’d, their power’s but small,

Nor give they Light, nor Heate, if single all.

Besides those Atomes sharpe will smother’d be,

Having no vent, nor yet Vacuity.

For if that Fire in a place lies close,

Having no vent, but stop’d, it strait out goes.

There is no better Argument, to prove

That Vacuum is, then to see Fire move.

For if that Fire had not Liberty

To run about, how quickly would it dye?

Quenching, and Smothering out of Heat, and
Light, doth not change the Property, nor
Shape of sharpe Atomes.

Tis not, that Atomes sharpe do change their Forme,

When Heat and Flame is out, but Motion’s gone:

When Motion’s gone, sharpe Atomes cannot pricke,

Having no force By Gone, is
meant Motion
ceases.
Their Forme
doth not dissolve
just at
their Death.
in any thing to sticke.

For if the Sun quicke Motion mov’d it not,

T’ would neither shine, nor be to us so hot.

Just so, when Creatures dye, change not their Forme,

That kinde of Motion, which made Life, is gone. Life is
such kinde of
Motion as
sharp Atomes.

For Animall Spirits, which we Life do call,

Are onely of the sharpest Atomes small.

Thus Life is Atomes sharpe, which we call Fire,

When those are stopt, or quench’d, Life doth expire. That is, when
they are separated,
or their
Motion stopt,
and though every
Figure
hath proper
Motions belonging
to their
Shape, yet they
do not move alwaies
alike, for
they have one
kinde of Motion
singly, and
another kinde
when they are
united, but
when they are
mixt with other
Figures, their
Motion is according
to their
severall mixtures.

E Of E1v 26

Of a Sparke of Fire:

A Sparke of Fire, is like a Mouse, The sharpe
Atomes are
like the Teeth
of Mice.
doth eate

Into a Cheese, although both hard, and great.

Just so a Sparke, although it be but small,

If once those Points can fasten, peirce through all.

Of a Coale.

Why that a Coale should set an house on Fire,

Is, Atomes sharpe are in that Coale entire.

Being strong arm’d with Points, do quite peirce through;

Those flat dull Atomes, and their Formes Not the form
of the Atomes,
but the forme
of their Settlement.
undo.

And Atomes sharpe, whose Forme is made for flight,

If loose, do run to helpe the rest in fight.

For like as Souldiers, Stragling,
loose Atomes,
which we perceive
not, doe
run to those
which are united
in the
Coale.
which are of one side,

When they see Friends ingag’d, to rescue ride.

But Atomes flat, where Motion is but slow,

They cannot fight, but strait to Ashes go.

Of Ashes.

Burnt wood is like unto an Army’s rout, Wood is made
most of flat Atomes.

Their Formes undone, lye scattered all about.

When Atomes sharpe, flat Atomes unbinde all,

Those loose flat Atomes, we strait Ashes call. For severall
Formes are
according to the
Composure of
Atomes, which
Formes are
undone still by
the strongest
party.

The Increasing, and Decreasing of visible
Fire
.

When Fuel’s kindled, Fire seemes but small,

That Fuell afterward doth seem Fire all.

Just like a Crow, that on a dead Horse lights;

When other Crowes perceiving in their flights,

They strait invite themselves unto that Feast,

And thus from one, to Numbers are increas’d.

So Atomes sharpe, which singly flye about,

Joyne with the rest, to eate the Fuell out.

And, as the Fuell doth increase, do they,

When there
is no Substance
left for
sharp Atomes
to worke upon,
they disperse,
for they seek to
undo the composure
of all
other Atomes.
And as it wasts, so do they flye away.

The E2r 27

The Power of Fire.

Fire such power hath of every thing,

As like to Needle points that peirce the Skyn.

So doth that Element peirce into all,

Bee’t nere so hard, strong, thicke, or Solid Ball.

All things it doth dissolve, or bow, or breake,

Keeping its strength, by making others weake.

Of Burning.

The cause why Fire doth burne, and burning smarts,

The reason is of Numerous little parts.

Which parts are Atomes sharpe, that wound like Stings,

If they so far do peirce into our Skyns;

And like an angry Porcupine, doth shoot

His fiery Quils, if nothing quench them out.

Their Figure makes their Motion sudden, quicke,

And being sharpe, they do like Needles pricke.

If they peirce deep, When it burns. do make our flesh to ake,

If only touch Warmth. the skyn, we pleasure take.

That kinde of paine, do we a Burning call:

For Atomes numerous, and very small,

Do make from Needles point a different touch,

Whose points are grosse, and Numbers not so much;

Which cannot lye so close, and spread so thin,

All at one time our Pores to enter in.

The Reason Water quenches Fire.

The Reason Water Fire quenches out,

Is, Atomes They separate
the sharp Atomes.
round the sharpe put to a rout.

For when a House is on a Fire set,

Is, Atomes sharpe do in great Armies meet.

And then they range themselves in Ranks and Files,

And strive alwaies to havocke, and make spoiles.

Running about as nimble as may bee,

From side to side, as in great Fire we see.

But Atomes round do like a rescue When Water
is throwne on
Fire.
come,

And separate the sharpe, which in heapes run,

E2 For E2v 28

For being seperate, they have no force;

Like to a Troope, or Regiment of Horse:

Which when great Canon bullets are shot through,

They disunite, and quite their strength undo.

So water, that is throwne on flaming Fire,

Doth separate, and make that strength expire.

Of the sound of Waters, Aire, Flame,
more then Earth, or Aire without
Flame.

When Crowds of Atomes meet, not joyned close,

By Motion quicke do give The encounters
of Bodies
make all
Sound.
each other blowes.

So Atomes hollow which are Long, and Round,

When they do strike, do make the greatest sound:

Not that there ’s any thing that moves therein,

To make Rebounds, but that their Forme’s more thin. Long, and
round Atomes
are more thin
then flat, or
sharpe
, by reason
they are
more hollow:
and their hollowness
makes
their Bulk bigger,
though not
their weight
heavier
.

For being thin, they larger are, and wide,

Which make them apt to strike each others side.

In larger Bulks encounters are more fierce,

When they that strike, though not so quicke to pierce.

This is the reason Water, Aire, and Flame,

Do make the most noise, when Motions move the same.

For Atomes loose are like to people rude,

Make horrid noise, when in a Multitude.

The reason of the Roaring of the Sea.

All Waters Sphæricall, when Tides do flow,

Beat all those sphæricall Drops as they do go.

So Winds do strike those watry drops together,

Which we at Sea do call Tempestuous weather:

And being sphæricall, and Cymball like,

They make a sound, when each ’gainst other strike.

The Agilenesse of Water.

Water is apt to move, being round like Balls,

No points to fixe, doth trundle as it falls.

This makes the Sea, when like great Mountaines high

The waves do rise, it steddy canot lye.

But E3r 29

But falls againe into a Liquid Plaine,

Tides, Winds disturbe them not, levell remaine.

Thus watry Balls they do not intermixe,

But sticke Those Drops
joyning close
and even.
so close, as nothing is betwixt.

Of the Center.

In Infinites no Center can be laid,

But if the Unlesse there be
Infinites of
Worlds; then
there may be infinites
of Centers,
although
not a Center
in Infinites.
World has Limits, Center’s made.

For whatsoe’re’s with Circumference fac’d,

A Center in the midst must needs be plac’d.

This makes all Formes that Limit have, and Bound,

To have a Center, and Circumference round.

This is the Cause; the World in circle runs,

Because a Center hath whereon it turnes.

The Center small, Circumference big without,

Which by the weight doth make it turne about.

All sharpe Atomes do run to the Center, and
those that settle not, by reason of the straitnesse
of the Place, flye not to the Circumference.
Sharpe Atomes to the Center, make a
Sun.

All Atomes sharpe to every Center flye,

In midst of Earth, and midst of Planets lye;

And in The Sun in
the midst of the
Planets, which
are sharpe Atomes.
those Planets there are Centers too,

Where the sharpe Atomes with quicke Motion go.

And to the Center of the Earth they run,

There gathering close, and so become a Sun.

This is the Axe whereon the Earth turnes round,

And gives the heat which in the Earth is found;

A World of Fire: thus may we guesse the Sun;

If all sharpe Atomes to the Center run.

For why, the Sun amongst the Planets round,

Just as a Center, in the midst is found.

And fixed Stars, which give a twinckling Light,

Are Center Worlds of Fire, that shineth bright.

In E3v 30

In the Center Atomes never Separate.

Just at the Center is a point that’s small,

Those Atomes that are there are wedg’d in all;

They lye so close, firme in one Body binde,

No other Forme, or Motion can unwinde:

For they are wreath’d so hard about that point,

As they become a Circle without a joynt. As it were
without partition,
but it is
but one.

If Infinite Worlds, Infinite Centers.

If Infinites of Worlds they must be plac’d

At such a distance, as between lies waste.

If they were joyned close, moving about,

By justling they would push each other out.

And if they swim in Aire, as Fishes do

In Water, they would meet They would
beat against
each other.
as they did go.

But if the Aire each World doth inclose

Them all about, then like to Water flowes;

Keeping them equall, and in order right.

That as they move, shall not each other strike.

Or like to water wheels by water turn’d,

So Aire round about those Worlds do run:

And by that Motion they do turne about,

No further then that Motion strength runs out.

Like to a Bowle, which will no further go,

But runs according as that strength do throw.

Thus like as Bowles, the Worlds do turne, and run,

But still the Jacke, and Center is the Sun. They are stinted
according to
the severall
strengths of
their motion.
They turne as
they go.
A Jacke Bowle
is the marke.

The Infinites of Matter.

If all the World were a confused heape,

What was beyond? for this World is not great:

We finde it Limit hath, and Bound,

And like a Ball in compasse is made round:

And if that Matter, with which the World’s made,

Be Infinite, then more Worlds may be said;

Then Infinites of Worlds may we agree,

As well, as Infinites of Matters bee.

A E4r 31

A World made by foure Atomes.

Sharpe Atomes Fire subtle, quicke, and dry,

The Long, like Shafts still into Aire fly.

The Round to Water moist, (a hollow Forme,)

The Figure square to heavy dull Earth turne.

The Atomes sharpe hard Mineralls do make,

The Atomes round soft Vegetables take.

In Animals none singly lye alone,

But the foure Atomes meet, and joyne as one.

And thus foure Atomes the Substance is of all;

With their foure Figures make a worldly Ball.

Thus the Fancy of my Atomes is, that the foure Principall Figures
as Sharpe, Long, Round, Square, make the foure Elements; not that
they are of severall matters, but are all of The severall
Elements are
al but one matter.
one matter, onely their severall
Figures do give them severall Proprieties; so likewise do the
mixt Figures give them mixt Proprieties, & their several composures
do give them other Proprieties, according to their Formes they put
themselves into, by their severall Motions. This I do repeate, that
the ground of my Opinion may be understood.

Of Elements.

Some hold foure perfect Elements there bee,

Which do surmount each other by degree.

And some Opinions thinke that One is all,

The rest from that, and to that One shall fall:

This single Element it selfe to turne

To severall qualities, as Fire to burne.

So water moist, that heate to quench, and then

To subtle Aire, and so to Earth agen.

Like fluid water, which turnes with the Cold,

To Flakes of Snow, or in firme Ice to hold.

But that Heate doth melt that Icy Chaine,

Then into water doth it turne againe.

So from the Earth a Vapour thicke ascends,

That Vapour thicke it selfe to thin Aire spends;

Or else it will condense it selfe to Raine,

And by its weight will fall to Earth againe.

And E4v 32

And what is very thin, so subtle growes,

As it turnes Fire, and so a bright flame shewes.

And what is dull, or heavy, slow to move;

Of a cold quality it oft doth prove.

Thus by contracting, and dilating parts,

Is all the skill of Natures working Arts.

Fire compared to Stings.

Nothing is so like Fire, as a Flies Sting,

If we compare th’ effect which both do bring.

For when they sting the flesh, they no blood draw,

But blisters raise, the Skin made red, the Flesh raw.

Were there as many Stings, as Fiery Atomes small,

Would peirce into the Flesh, Bones turne to Ashes all.

Thus we finde Flies do carry every where

Fire in their Tailes, their Breech they do not feare.

Comparing Flame to the Tide of the Sea.

Like watry Tides, a Flame will ebb and flow,

By sinking downe, and then strait higher grow.

And if supprest, all in a rage breake out,

Streaming it selfe in severall parts about.

Some thinke the Salt doth make the Sea to move,

If so, then Salt in Flame the like may prove.

From that Example, Salt all Motions makes,

Then Life the chiefe of Motion from Salt takes.

What is Liquid.

Wee cannot call all Liquid which doth flow,

For then a flame may turne to water so.

But that is Liquid, which is moist, and wet.

Fire that Propriety can never get.

Then ’tis not Cold, that puts the Fire out,

But ’tis the Wet that makes it dye, no doubt.

Fire and moisture.

If Hay be not quite dry, but stackt up wet,

In time that Moisture will a Fire beget.

This F1r 33

This proves that Fire may from Moisture grow,

We proofe have none, Moisture from fire flow.

This shewes that Fire in its selfe is free,

No other Element in it can bee.

For Fire is pure still, and keeps the same,

Where oyly Moisture’s not, no Fire can flame.

Aire begot of Heate and Moisture.

Heate, and Moisture joyn’d with equall merit,

Get a Body thin of Aire, or Spirit;

Which is a Smoake, or Steame begot from both,

If Mother Moisture rule, ’tis full of sloth.

If the Father Fire predominates,

Then it is active, quicke, and Elevates.

This Aiery Childe is sometimes good, or bad,

According to the nourishment it had.

The Temper of the Earth.

The Earth we finde is very cold, and dry;

And must therefore have Fire and water nigh,

To wash and bath, then dry her selfe without,

Else she would uselesse be without all doubt.

Winds are made in the Aire, not in the Earth.

How can we thinke Winds come from Earth below,

When they from Skye do down upon us blow?

If they proceeded from the Earth, must run

Strait up, and upon Earth againe backe come:

They cannot freely blow, least Earth were made

Like to a Bowling-Greene, so levell laid.

But there are Rocks, and Hills, and Mountaines great,

Which stop their waies, and make them soone retreat.

Then sure it is, the Sun drawes Vapour out,

And rarifies it thin, then blow’th ’t about.

If Heat condens’d, that turnes it into Raine,

And by its weight falls to the Earth againe.

Thus Moisture and the Sun do cause the Winds,

And not the Crudities in hollow Mines.

F Thunder F1v 34

Thunder is a Wind in the middle Region.

Who knowes, but Thunders are great Winds, which
lye

Within the middle vault above the Skye;

Which Winde the Sun on Moisture cold begot,

When he is in his Region Cancer hot.

This The Wind. Childe is thin, and subtle, made by heat,

It gets a voice, and makes a noise that’s great;

It’s Thinnesse makes it agile, agile strong,

Which by its force doth drive the Clouds along.

And when the Clouds do meet, they each do strike,

Flashing out Fire, as do Flints the like.

Thus in the Summer Thunder’s caus’d by Wind,

Vapour drawne so high, no way out can find.

But in the Winter, when the Clouds are loose,

Then doth the Wind on Earth keep Rendezvous.

Of cold Winds.

Asrarified water makes Winds blow,

So rarified Winds do colder grow.

For if they thin are rarified, then they

Do further blow, and spread out every way.

So cold they are, and sharpe as Needle points,

For by the thinnesse breaks, and disunites;

Into such Atomes fall, sharpe Figures bee,

Which Porous Bodies peirce, if we could see.

Yet some will thinke, if Aire were parted so,

The Winds could not have such strong force to blow.

’Tis true, if Atomes all were Blunt and Flat,

Or Round like Rings, they could not peirce, but pat;

But by themselves they do so sharpe become,

That through all Porous Bodies they do run.

But when the Winds are soft, they intermixe,

As water doth, and in one Body fixe.

More like they wave, then blow as Fanns are spread.

Which Ladies use to coole their Cheeks, when red.

As water Drops feele harder when they strike,

Then when they’re intermixt, and on us light;

Unlesse F2r 35

Unlesse such streames upon our heads downe runne,

As we a Shelter seeke the Wet to shun.

But when a Drop congealed is with Cold,

As Haile-stones are, more strength thereby doth hold.

Then Flakes of Snow may have more quantity,

Then Haile-stones, yet not have more force thereby.

They fall so soft, they scarce do strike our Touch,

Haile-stones we feele, and know their weight too much.

But Figures that are Flat, are dull, and slow,

Make weake Impression wheresoe’re they go.

For let ten times the quantity of Steele

Be beaten thin, no hurt by that you’le feele.

But if that one will take a Needle small,

The Point be sharpe, and presse the Flesh withall;

Strait it shall hurt, and put the Flesh to paine,

Which with more strength that shall not do, that’s plaine.

Although you presse it hard against the Skin,

May heavy feele, but shall not enter in.

So may the Wind that’s thinly rarified,

Presse us downe, but it shall not peirce the side.

Or take a Blade that’s flat, though strong and great,

And with great strength upon the Head that beat;

The Skull may breake, seldome knocke out the Braines,

Which Arrowes sharpe soone do, and with lesse paines.

Thus what is small, more subtle is, and quicke,

For all that’s small in Porous Bodies sticke.

Then are the Winds more cold when they do blow,

Broke into Atomes small, then streaming flow:

For all which knit, and closely do compose,

Much stronger are, and give the harder Blowes.

This shewes what’s neerest absolute to bee,

Although an Atome to its small degree:

Take quantity, for quantity alike,

Union more then Mixture hard shall strike.

Of Stars.

Wee finde in the East-Indies Stars there bee,

Which we in our Horizon did nere see;

Yet we do take great paines in Glasses cleere,

To see what Stars do in the Skie appeare;

F2 But F2v 36

But yet the more we search, the lesse we know,

Because we finde our Worke doth endlesse grow.

For who doth know, but Stars we see by Night,

Are Suns wich to some other Worlds give Light?

But could our outward Senses pace the Skie,

As well as can Imaginations high;

If we were there, as little may we know,

As those which stay, and never do up go.

Then let not Man, in fruitlesse paines Life spend,

The most we know, is, Nature Death will send.

Of the Motion of the Sun.

Sometimes we finde it Hot, and sometimes Cold,

Yet equall in Degrees the Sun doth hold:

And in a Winters day more Heate have found,

Then Summer, when the Sun should parch the Ground.

For if this heate doth make him gallop fast,

Must ever equall be, or stay his haste.

If so, then Seas which send a Vapour high,

May coole his Courage, so in the mid way lye.

Besides, the middle Region which is cold,

And full of Ice, will of his strength take hold.

Then ’tis not heat that makes him run so fast,

But running fast, doth heat upon Earth cast;

And Earth sends Vapours cold, to quench his heate,

Which breake his strength, and make his Beames so weake.

Of the Suns weaknesse.

The Sun doth not unto the Center go,

He cannot shoot his Beames so deep and low.

For, a thicke Wall will breake his Arrowes small,

So that his heate can do not hurt at all;

And Earth hath Armes so thicke, to keepe out all

His fiery Darts, which he on her lets fall.

A Fire in the Center.

As Heate about the Heart alwaies keeps nigh,

So doth a Fire about the Center lye.

This F3r 37

This heate disperses through the Body round,

And when that heate is not, no Life is found.

Which makes all things she sends, to bud, and beare,

Although the Suns hot Beames do ne’re come there.

But yet the Sun doth nourish all without,

But Fire within the Earth gives Life, no doubt.

So heate within begets with Childe the Earth,

And heate without is Mid-wife to her Birth.

The Sun is Nurse to all, the Earth beares.

Though the Earth to all gives Forme, and Feature,

Yet the Sun is Nurse to every Creature.

For long she could not live without his Heate,

Which is the nourishing, and ripening Meate.

Just as a Childe is got, and born of Man,

It must be fed, or ’twill soone dye agen.

What makes Eccho.

The same Motion, which from the Mouth doth move,

Runs through the Aire; which we by Eccho prove.

As severall Letters do a word up-joyne,

So severall Figures through the Aire combine.

The Aire is waxe, words Seale, and give the Print,

Those words an Eccho in the Aire do mint.

And while those Figures last, Life do maintaine;

When Motion weares it out, is Eccho slaine.

As Sugar in the Mouth doth melt, and taste,

So Eccho in the Aire it selfe doth waste.

Of Rebounds.

R ebounds resisting substance must worke on,

Both in its selfe, and what it beates upon.

For yeilding Bodies, which do bow, or breake,

Can ne’re Rebound, nor yet like Eccho speake.

Then every word of Aire formes a Ball,

And every Letter like a Ball doth fall.

Words are condensed Aire, which heard, do grow

As water, which by Cold doth turne to Snow.

And F3v 38

And as when Snow is pres’d, hard Balls become,

So words being pres’d, as Balls do backward run.

Of Sound:

A Sound seemes nothing, yet a while doth live,

And like a wanton Lad, mocke-Answers give.

Not like to Soules, which from the Body go,

For Eccho hath a Body of Aire we know.

Yet strange it is, that Sound so strong and cleere,

Resisting Bodies have, yet not appeare;

But Aire which subtle is, encounter may.

Thus words a Sound may with selfe Eccho play;

Grow weary soone, and cannot hold out long,

Seemes out of breath, and faulter with the Tongue.

Of Shadow, and Eccho.

A Shadow fell in love with the bright Light,

Which makes her walke perpetually in her sight;

And when He’s absent, then poore Soule she dyes,

But when He shewes himselfe, her Life revives.

She Sister is to Eccho loud, and cleere,

Whose voice is heard, but no Body appeare:

She hates to see, or shew her selfe to men,

Unlesse Narcissus could live once agen.

But these two Soules, for they no Bodies have,

Do wander in the Aire to seeke a Grave.

Silence would bury on the other Night,

Both are denied by Reflections spight;

And each of these are subject to the Sense,

One strikes the Eare, Shadow the Eye presents.

Of Light.

Some thinke no Light would be without the Eye,

Tis true, a Light our Braine could not descry;

And if the Eye makes Light, and not the Sun,

As well our Touch may make the Fire to burne.

Of F4r 39

Of Light, and Sight.

Philosophers, which thought to reason well,

Say, Light, and Colour, in the Braine do dwell;

That Motion in the Braine doth Light beget,

And if no Braine, the World in darknesse shut.

Provided that the Braine hath Eyes to see,

So Eyes, and Braine, do make the Light to bee.

If so, poore Donne was out, when he did say,

If all the World were blind, ’twould still be day.

Say they, Light would not in the Aire reigne.

Unlesse (you’le grant) the World were one great Braine.

Some Ages in Opinion all agree,

The next doth strive to make them false to be.

But what is, doth please so well the Sense,

That Reasons old are thought to be Non-sense.

But all Opinions are by Fancy fed,

And Truth under Opinions lieth dead.

The Objects of every Sense, are according
to their Motions in the Braine.

Wee mad should thinke those Men, if they should
tell

That they did see a Sound, or tast a Smell.

Yet Reason proves a Man doth not erre much,

When that we say his Senses all are Touch.

If Actions in a Table be lively told,

The Braine strait thinks the Eye the same behold.

The Stomacke Hungry, the Nose good Meat doth smell,

The Braine doth thinke that Smell the Tongue tasts well.

If we a Theefe do see, and him do feare,

We strait do thinke that breaking Doors we heare.

Imaginations just like Motions make,

That every Sense doth strike with the mistake.

According F4v 40

According as the Notes in Musicke agree with
the Motions of the Heart, or Braine, such
Passions are produced thereby.

In Musicke, if the Eighths tun’d Equall are,

If one be strucke, the other seemes to jarre.

So the Heart-strings, if equally be stretch’d,

To those of Musick, Love from thence is fetch’d.

For when one’s strucke, the other moves just so,

And with Delight as evenly doth go.

The Motion of Thoughts.

M using alone, mine Eyes being fixt

Upon the Ground, my Sight with Gravell mixt:

My Feet did walke without Directions Guide,

My Thoughts did travell farre, and wander wide;

At last they chanc’d up to a Hill to climbe,

And being there, saw things that were Divine.

First, what they saw, a glorious Light to blaze,

Whose Splendor made it painfull for the Gaze:

No Separations, nor Shadowes by stops made,

No Darknesse to obstruct this Light with Shade.

This Light had no Dimension, nor Extent,

But fil’d all places full, without Circumvent;

Alwaies in Motion, yet fixt did prove,

Like to the Twinkling Stars which never move.

This Motion working, running severall waies,

Did seeme a Contradiction for to raise;

As to it selfe, with it selfe disagree,

Is like a Skeine of Thread, if’t knotted bee.

For some did go strait in an even Line,

But some againe did crosse, and some did twine.

Yet at the last, all severall Motions run

Into the first Prime Motion which begun.

In various Formes and Shapes did Life run through,

Life from Eternity, but Shapes still new;

No sooner made, but quickly pass’d away,

Yet while they were, desirous were to stay.

But G1r 41

But Motion to one Forme can nere constant be,

For Life, which Motion is, joyes in varietie.

For the first Motion every thing can make,

But cannot add unto it selfe, nor take.

Indeed no other Matter could it frame,

It selfe was all, and in it selfe the same.

Perceiving now this fixed point of Light,

To be a Union, Knowledge, Power, and Might;

Wisdome, Justice, Truth, Providence, all one,

No Attribute is with it selfe alone.

Not like to severall Lines drawne to one Point,

For what doth meet, may separate, disjoynt.

But this a Point, from whence all Lines do flow,

Nought can diminish it, or make it grow.

Tis its owne Center, and Circumference round,

Yet neither has a Limit, or a Bound,

A fixt Eternity, and so will last,

All present is, nothing to come, or past,

A fixt Perfection nothing can add more,

All things is It, and It selfe doth adore.

My Thoughts then wondring at what they did see,

Found at the last All things
come from God
Almighty.
themselves the same to bee;

Yet was so small a Branch, perceive could not,

From whence they Sprung, or which waies were begot.

Some say, all that we know of Heaven above,

Is that we joye, and that we love.

Who can tell that? for all we know,

Those Passions we call Joy, and Love below,

May, by Excesse, such other Passions grow,

None in the World is capable to know.

Just like our Bodies, though that they shall rise,

And as St. Paul saies, see God with our Eyes;

Yet may we in the Change such difference find,

Both in our Bodies, and also on our Mind,

As if that we were never of Mankind,

And that these Eyes we see with now, were blind.

Say we can measure all the Planets high,

And number all the Stars be in the Skie;

And Circle could we all the World about,

And all th’ Effects of Nature could finde out:

G Yet G1v 42

Yet cannot all the Wise, and Learned tell,

What’s done in Heaven, or how we there shall dwell.

The Reason why the Thoughts are onely
in the Head.

The Sinewes are small, slender Strings,

Which to the Body Senses brings;

Yet like to Pipes, or Gutters, hollow be,

Where Animall Spirits run continually.

Though they are small, such Matter do containe,

As in the Skull doth lye, which we call Braine.

That makes, if any one doth strike the Heele,

The Thought of that, Sense in the Braine doth feele.

Yet tis not Sympathy, but tis the same

Which makes us thinke, and feele the paine.

For had the Heele such quantity of Braine,

Which doth the Head, and Skull therein containe;

Then would such Thoughts, wich in the Braine dwell high,

Descend downe low, and in the Heele would lye.

In Sinewes small, Braine scatter’d lyes about,

It wants both roome, and quantity no doubt.

For if a Sinew could so much Braine hold,

Or had a Skin so large for to infold,

As in the Skull, then might the Toe, or Knee,

Had they an Opticke Nerve, both heare and see.

Had Sinewes roome, Fancy therein to breed,

Copies of Verses might from the Heele proceed.

The Motion of the Blood.

Some by Industry of Learning found,

That all the Blood like to the Sea runs round:

From two great Arteries the Blood it runs

Through all the Veines, to the same backe comes.

The Muscles like the Tides do ebb, and flow,

According as the severall Spirits go.

The Sinewes, as small Pipes, come from the Head,

And all about the Body they are spread;

Through which the Animall Spirits are conveyed,

To every Member, as the Pipes are laid.

And G2r 43

And from those Sinewes Pipes each Sense doth take

Of those Pure Spirits, as they us do make.

Tis thought, an Unctuous Matter comes from the Sun

In streaming Beames, which Earth doth feed upon:

And that the Earth by those Beames back doth send

A Nourishment to the Sun, her good Friend.

So every Beame the Sun doth make a Chaine,

To send to Earth, and to draw backe againe.

But every Beame is like a blazing Ship,

The Sun doth trafficke to the Earth in it.

Each Ship is fraught with heat, through Aire it swims,

As to the Earth warme Nourishment it brings:

And Vapour moist, Earth for that warmth returnes,

And sends it in those Ships backe to the Sun.

Great danger is, if Ships When the Sun
draws up more
Moisture then
it can digest, it
turns to Raine,
or Wind.
be over-fraught,

For many times they sincke with their own weight;

And those gilt Ships such Fate they often find,

They sincke with too much weight, or split with Wind.

It is hard to beleive, that there are other
Worlds in this World.

Nothing so hard in Nature, as Faith is,

For to beleive Impossibilities:

As doth impossible to us appeare,

Not ’cause As it seems to
us.
’tis not, but to our Sense not cleere;

But that we cannot in our Reason finde,

As being against Natures Course, and Kinde.

For many things our Senses dull may scape,

For Sense is grosse, not every thing can Shape.

So in this World another World may bee,

That we do neither touch, tast, smell, heare, see.

What Eye so cleere is, yet did ever see

Those little Hookes, that in the Load-stone bee,

Which draw hard Iron? or give Reasons, why

The Needles point still in the North will lye.

As for Example, Atomes in the Aire,

We nere perceive, although the Light be faire.

G2 And G2v 44

And whatsoever can a Body claime,

Though nere so small, Life may be in the same.

And what has Life, may Understanding have,

Yet be to us buried in the Grave.

Then probably may Men, and Women small,

Live in the World which wee know not at all;

May build them Houses, severall things may make,

Have Orchards, Gardens, where they pleasure take;

And Birds which sing, and Cattell in the Feild,

May plow, and sow, and there small Corne may yeild;

And Common-wealths may have, and Kings to Reigne,

Wars, Battells have, and one another slaine:

And all without our hearing, or our sight,

Nor yet in any of our Senses light.

And other Stars, and Moones, and Suns may be,

Which our dull Eyes shall never come to see.

But we are apt to laugh at Tales so told,

Thus Senses grosse do backe our Reason hold.

Things against Nature we do thinke are true,

That Spirits change, and can take Bodies new;

That Life may be, yet in no Body live,

For which no Sense, nor Reason, we can give.

As Incorporeall Spirits this Fancy faines,

Yet Fancy cannot be without some Braines.

If Fancy without Substance cannot bee,

Then Soules are more, then Reason well can see.

Of many Worlds in this World.

Just like unto a Nest of Boxes round,

Degrees of sizes within each Boxe are found.

So in this World, may many Worlds more be,

Thinner, and lesse, and lesse still by degree;

Although they are not subject to our Sense,

A World may be no bigger then two-pence.

Nature is curious, and such worke may make,

That our dull Sense can never finde, but scape.

For Creatures, small as Atomes, may be there,

If every Atome a Creatures Figure beare.

If G3r 45

If foure Atomes a World can make, As I have
before shewed
they do, in my
Atomes.
then see,

What severall Worlds might in an Eare-ring bee.

For Millions of these Atomes may bee in

The Head of one small, little, single Pin.

And if thus small, then Ladies well may weare

A World of Worlds, as Pendents in each Eare.

A World in an Eare-Ring.

An Eare-ring round may well a Zodiacke bee,

Where in a Sun goeth round, and we not see.

And Planets seven about that Sun may move,

And Hee stand still, as some wise men would prove.

And fixed Stars, like twinkling Diamonds, plac’d

About this Eare-ring, which a World is vast.

That same which doth the Eare-ring hold, the hole,

Is that, which we do call the Pole.

There nipping Frosts may be, and Winter cold,

Yet never on the Ladies Eare take hold.

And Lightnings, Thunder, and great Winds may blow

Within this Eare-ring, yet the Eare not know.

There Seas may ebb, and flow, where Fishes swim,

And Islands be, where Spices grow therein.

There Christall Rocks hang dangling at each Eare,

And Golden Mines as Jewels may they weare.

There Earth-quakes be, which Mountaines vast downe fling.

And yet nere stir the Ladies Eare, nor Ring.

There Meadowes bee, and Pastures fresh, and greene,

And Cattell feed, and yet be never seene:

And Gardens fresh, and Birds which sweetly sing,

Although we heare them not in an Eare-ring.

There Night, and Day, and Heat, and Cold, and so

May Life, and Death, and Young, and Old, still grow.

Thus Youth may spring, and severall Ages dye,

Great Plagues may be, and no Infections nigh.

There Cityes bee, and stately Houses built,

Their inside gaye, and finely may be gilt.

There Churches bee, and Priests teach therein,

And Steeple too, yet heare the Bells not ring.

From G3v 46

From thence may pious Teares to Heaven run,

And yet the Eare not know which way they’re gone.

There Markets bee, and things both bought, and sold,

Know not the price, nor how the Markets hold.

There Governours do rule, and Kings do Reigne,

And Battels fought, where many may be slaine

And all within the Compasse of this Ring,

And yet not tidings to the Wearer bring.

Within the Ring wise Counsellors may sit,

And yet the Eare not one wise word may get.

There may be dancing all Night at a Ball,

And yet the Eare be not disturb’d at all.

There Rivals Duels fight, where some are slaine;

There Lovers mourne, yet heare them not complaine.

And Death may dig a Lovers Grave, thus were

A Lover dead, in a faire Ladies Eare.

But when the Ring is broke, the World is done,

Then Lovers they into Elysium run.

Severall Worlds in severall Circles.

There may be many Worlds like Circles round,

In after Ages more Worlds may be found.

If we into each Circle can but slip,

By Art of Navigation in a Ship;

This World compar’d to some, may be but small:

No doubt but Nature made degrees of all.

If so, then Drake had never gone so quick

About the Largest Circle in one Ship.

For some may be so big, as none can swim,

Had they the life of old Methusalem.

Or had they lives to number with each day,

They would want time to compasse halfe the way.

But if that Drake had liv’d in Venus Star,

His Journey shorter might have been by farre.

The G4r 47

The Claspe.

When I did write this Booke, I tooke great
paines,

For I did walke, and thinke, and breake
my Braines.

My Thoughts run out of Breath, then
downe would lye,

And panting with short wind, like those that dye.

When Time had given Ease, and lent them strength,

Then up would get, and run another length.

Sometimes I kept my Thoughts with a strict dyet,

And made them Faste with Ease, and Rest, and Quiet;

That they might run agen with swifter speed,

And by this course new Fancies they could breed.

But I doe feare they’re not so Good to please,

But now they’re out, my Braine is more at ease.

The Circle of the Brain cannot be Squar’d

A Circle Round divided in foure Parts,

Hath been a Study amongst Men of Arts;

Ere since Archimedes, or Euclid’s time,

Hath every Brain been stretch’d upon a Line.

And every Thought hath been a Figure set,

Doubts Cyphers are, Hopes as Triangulars meet.

There is Division, and Substraction made,

And Lines drawne out, and Points exactly layd.

But yet None can demonstrate it plaine,

Of Circles round, a just Foure square remaine.

Thus while the Braine is round, no Squares will be,

While Thoughts are in Divisions, no Figures will agree.

Another G4v 48

Another to the same Purpose.

And thus upon the same account,

Doubling the Cube must mount;

And the Triangular must be cut so small,

Till into Equall Atomes it must fall.

For such is Mans Curiosity, and mind,

To seek for that, which hardest is to find.

The Squaring of the Circle.

Within the Head of Man’s a Circle Round

Of Honesty, no Ends in it is found.

To Square this Circle many think it fit,

But Sides to take without Ends, hard is it.

Prudence and Temperance, as two Lines take;

With Fortitude and Justice, foure will make.

If th’ Line of Temperance doth prove too short,

Then add a Figure of a discreet Thought;

Let Wisedomes Point draw up Discretions Figure,

That make two equall Lines joyn’d both together.

Betwixt the line Temperance and Justice, Truth must point,

Justice’s Line draw downe to Fortitude, that Corner joynt;

Then Fortitude must draw in equall length,

To Prudence Line, Temperance must give the breadth.

And Temperance with Justice Line must run, yet stand

Betwixt Prudence and Fortitude, of either hand.

At every corner must a Point be layd,

Where every Line that meets, an Angle’s made;

And when the Points too high, or low do fall,

Then must the Lines be stretch’d, to mak’t even all.

And thus the Circle Round you’l find,

Is Squar’d with the foure Virtues of the Mind.

A Circle Squar’d in Prose.

Because my
Lines are too
long for my
Rhimes, therefore
I put them
in Prose.
A Circle is a Line without Ends, and a Square is foure equall
Sides, not one longer, or shorter then another. To square
the Circle, is to make the Line of the Square Figure to be equall with H1r 49
with the Round Figure. Honesty is the Circle without Ends, or
By-respects, but is honest for Honesties sake. But to square
this Circle, it is very difficult, and hard it is for Honesty to take
part with foure sides without Faction: for where there is siding
there’s Faction, and where Factions are, there is Partiality, and
where Partiality is, there is Injustice, and where Injustice is,
Wrong, and where Wrong is, Truth is not, and where Truth is
not, Honesty cares not to live. But let us see how we can square
this Circle of Honesty. First, draw foure Lines, Prudence, Temperance,
Fortitude
, and Justice; these foure Lines let them be
Crosse Parallels, that they may be Longitudes, and Latitudes to
each other, and at each end of every Line make a Point.
As at the Line of Justice a point of Severity at one end, and
another of Facility at the other end. And at either end of
Fortitude, one of Rashnesse, and another of Timorosity. And at
the end of Temperance, Prodigality, and Covetousnesse: At each
end of Prudence, Sloth, and Stupidity. Then draw out these
Points, and make them Angles: As Severity, and Timorosity
make one Angle; Rashnesse, and Stupidity another. Sloth, and
Prodigality make a third Angle; Facility and Covetousnesse make
the fourth. Then exactly in the midst of either Line, set of either
side of the Line, a Figure: As Distributive on the outside
of the Line of Justice, and Communicative within the Line. So
on the side of Fortitude, Despaire on the outside, and Love within.
On Prudence Line, Experience on the outside, and Industry
within. On Temperance Line, Observation on the outside, and
Ease within. Then draw a Line of Charity from the point
Distribution, and from the Point of Observation, a Line of Discretion,
and make an Angle with Hope. Then from Community,
a Line of Clemency, and from the point of Ease, a Line of Comfort,
which make an Angle of Peace. Then from Despaire, a Line
of Hope, and from Industry, a Line of Fruition, which make an
Angle of Tranqnuillity. Then from the point of Love, a Line of
Faith, and from the point of Ease, a Line of Pleasure; this makes
an Angle of Joy. Then set a Point at every Angle, as Obedience,
Humility, Respect, and Reverence; And thus the Square
measur’d with Truth, the Line will be equall with the Circle
of Honesty.

H The H1v 50

The Trasection.

Cut the Line of Wisdome into three parts; Prudence,
Experience, and Judgment; Then draw a Line of Discretion,
equall to the Line of Experience, and a Line of Industry,
equall to the Line of Prudence, and a Line of Temperance, equall
to the Line of Judgment, and to Temperance, an equall
Line of Tranquillity, and to the Line Industry, a line of Ingenuity,
and to the line of Discretion, draw an equall line of Obedience.
Then all these lines measur’d with the Rule of Reason,
And you’l finde it equall to the line of Wisedome; joyne these
lines together, Truth makes the Angle. This is the Trasection.

The Arithmetick of Passions.

With Numeration Moralists begin

Upon the Passions, putting Quotients in,

Numbers divide with Figures, and Substract,

And in their Diefinitions are exact:

And there Substract, as taking One, from Three,

That add to Foure, ’twill make Five to be.

Thus the Odd Numbers to the Even joyn’d,

Will make the Passions rise within the Mind.

To H2r 51

To Morall
Philosophers.

M orall Philosophy is a severe Schoole, for there is no
Arithmetitian so exact in his Accounts, or doth
Divide and Substract his Numbers more subtlely,
then they the Passions; & as Arithmetick can multiply
Numbers above all use, so Passions may be divided beyond
all Practice. But Moralists live the happiest lives of Man-kind,
because most contented, for they do not onely subdue the Passions,
but can make the best use of them, to the Tranquility of
the mind: As Feare to make them Circumspect, Hate to Evill, Desire
to Good, Love to Vertue, Hope makes Industry Jealous of Indiscretions,
Angry
at Follies, and so the like of all the rest. For they
do not only subdue the feircest of them, making them Slaves to
execute several works, in several places. But those Passions that
are mild, & of gentle Nature, they make perfect Friend-ship with:
for the Passions are like Privie Counsellors, where some Counsell
for Peace, others for Warre, and some being brib’d with the
World, and Appetite, perswade to mutiny, which uses a Rebellion.
But Moralists are like powerfull Monarchs, which can
make their Passions obedient at their pleasure, condemning
them at the Bar of Justice, cutting of their heads with the sword
of Reason; or, like skilfull Musitians, making the Passions Musicall
Instruments
, which they can tune so exactly, and play so
well, and sweetly, as every severall Note shall strike the Eares
of the Soule with delight: and when they play Concords,
the Mind dances in Measure, the Sarabrand of Tranquillity.
Whereas when they are out of Tune, they do not onely sound
harsh and unpleasant, but when the Notes disagreeing, the Mind
takes wrong Steps, and keeps false time, and the Soule is disquieted
with the noise. But there is no Humour, or Passion so
troublesome as Desire, because it yeilds no sound satisfaction;
for all it is mixt most commonly with pleasing hopes: but hope
is a greater pleasure then Injoyment, just as Eating is a greater
pleasure to the Hungry, then when the Stomacke is fully satisfied.
Yet Desire, and Curiosity make a Man to be above other
Creatures: for by desiring Knowledge, Man is as much above H2 a Beast H2v 52
a Beast, as want of perfect Knowledge makes him lesse then God;
and Man, as he hath a transcending Soule to out-live the World to
all Eternity; so he hath a transcending desire to live in the
Worlds Memory, as long as the World lasts; that he might not
dye like a Beast, and be forgotten; but that his Works may beget
another Soule, though of shorter life, which is Fame; and
Fame is like a Soule, an Incorporeall Thing.

Dia- H3r 53

Dialogues.

Of Fame.

A Dialogue between two Supernaturall
Opinions.

I. Op.

Who knows, but that Mans Soule in Fame
delights

After the Body and It disunites?

If we allow the Soule shall live, not dye,

Although the Body in the Grave doth lie;

And that some knowledge still It doth retaine,

Why may not then some love of Fame remaine?

2. Op.

There doth no Vanity in Soules then dwell,

When separate, they goe to Heaven, or Hell.

I. Op.

Fame’s Vertues Child, or ought to be;

What comes not from her, is an Infamy.

2. Op.

Soules of the World remember nought at all,

All that is past into Oblivion fall.

I. Op.

Why may not Soules, as well as Angels, know,

And heare and see, what’s done i’ th’ World below?

2. Op.

Soules neither have Ambition, nor desire,

When once in Heaven, nor after Fame inquire.

I. Op.

Who can tell that? since Heaven loves good Deeds,

And Fame of Piety from Grace proceeds.

Of Fame.
A Dialogue between two Naturall
Opinions
:

I. Op.

To desire Fame, it is a Noble thought,

Which Nature in the best of Minds hath wrought.

2. Op.

Alas, when Men do dye, all Motion’s gone,

If no Motion, no thought of Fame hath one.

What if the Motion of the Body dye?

I. Op.

The Motion of the Mind may live on high;

And in the Aiery Elements may lye,

Although H3v 54

Although we know it not, about may flye.

And thus by Nature may the Mind delight

To heare its Fame, and see its Pyramid;

Or grieve, and mourne, when it doth see, and know,

Her Acts and Fame do to Oblivion go.

A simple naturall Opinion of the Mind.

Nature a Talent gives to every one,

As Heaven gives grace to work Salvation from.

The Talent Nature gives a Noble Mind,

Where Actions good are minted currant Coyne.

Where every Virtue stamps their Image so,

That all the World each severall Peice may know.

If Men be lazy, let this Talent lye,

Seek no occasion to improve it by:

Who knowes, but Natures punishment may be,

To make the Mind to grieve eternally?

That when his Spirit’s fled, and Body rot,

To know himselfe of Friend’s and World’s forgot.

If men have used their best Industry,

Yet cannot get a Fame to live thereby:

Then may the Minds of Men rest satisfied,

That they had left no Meanes, or waies untri’d.

The Purchase of Poets, or a Dialogue
betwixt the Poets, and Fame, and
Homers Marriage.

A Company of Poets strove to buy

Parnassus Hill, where Fame thereon doth lye:

And Helicon, a Well that runs below,

Which those that drink thereof, strait Poets grow.

But Money they had none, (for Poets all are poore,)

And Fancy, which is Wit, is all their store.

Thinking H4r 55

Thinking which way this Purchase they should get,

They did agree in Councell all to sit:

Knowing that Fame was Honour to the Well,

And that She alwaies on the Hill did dwell:

They did conclude to tell her their desire,

And for to know what price she did require.

Then up the Hill they got, the Journey long,

Some nimbler feet Numbers. had, and their breath Fancy. more strong:

Which made them get before, by going fast,

But all did meet upon the Hill at last.

And when shee heard them all, what they could say,

She askt them where their Money was to pay.

They told her, Money they had none to give,

But they had Wit, by which they All did live;

And though they knew, sometimes She Bribes would take,

Yet Wit, in Honours Court, doth greatnesse make.

Said shee, this Hill I’le neither sell, nor give,

But they that have most Wit shall with Mee live.

Then go you downe, and get what Friends you can,

That will be bound, or plead for every man,

Strait every Poet was twixt hope, and Doubt,

And Envy strong to put each other out.

Homer, the first of Poets, did begin;

Brought Greece, and Troy for to be bound for him.

Virgill brought Æneas, hee all Rome,

For Horace all the Country-men came soon.

Juvenall, Catullus, all Satyrs joyn’d,

And in firme Bonds they all themselves did bind.

And for Tibullus, Venus, and her Sonne

Would needs be bound, ’cause wanton verse he sung.

Pythagoras his Transmigration brings

Ovid, who seales the Bond with severall things.

Lucan brought Pompey, Senate all in armes,

And sars Army with their hot Alarmes:

Mustring them all in the Emathian Feilds,

To Fames Bond to set their hands, and Seales.

Poets, which Epitaphes on the Dead had made,

Their Ghosts did rise, faire Fame for to perswade

To take their Bonds, that they might live, though dead,

To after Ages when, their Names were read.

The H4v 56

The Muses nine came all at Barre to plead,

Which partiall were, according as th’ were fee’d.

At last all Poets were cast out, but three,

Where Fame disputed long, which should her Husband bee.

Pythagoras for Ovid first did speake,

And said, his numbers smooth, and words were sweet.

Variety, said he, doth Ladies please,

They change as oft, as he makes Beasts, Birds, Trees:

As many severall Shapes, and Formes they take,

Some Goddesses, and some do Devils make.

Then let faire Fame sweet Ovids Lady be,

Since Change doth please that Sex, none’s fit but he.

Then spoke Æneas on brave Virgils side,

Declar’d, he was the glory, and the pride

Of all the Romanes, who from him did spring,

And in his Verse his praises high did sing.

Then let him speed, ever for faire Venus sake,

And for your Husband no other may you take.

Wise Ulisses in an Orators Stile

Began his Speech, whose Tongue was smooth as Oyle;

Bowing his head downe low, to Fame did speake,

I come to plead, although my Wit is weake:

But since my Cause is just, and Truth my Guide,

The way is plaine, I shall not erre aside.

Homers lofty Verse doth reach the Heavens high,

And brings the Gods downe from the Aiery Skie:

And makes them side in Factions, for Man-kind,

As now for Troy, then Greece, as pleas’d his mind.

So walkes he downe into Infernals deep,

And wakes the Furies out of their deep sleep:

With Fancy’s Candles seeks above all Hell,

Where every Place, and Corner he knowes well.

Opening the Gates where sleepy Dreames do lye,

Walking into the Elysium fields hard by:

There tells you, how Lovers their time imploy,

And that pure Soules in one another joy.

As Painters shadowes make, mixing Colours,

So Soules do mixe of Platonick Lovers:

Shewes how Heroick Spirits there do play

At the Olympick Games, to passe the time away.

As I1r 57

As Wrestling, Running, Leaping, Swimming, Ride,

And many other Exercises beside.

What Poet, before him, did ever tell

The Names of all the Gods, and Devils in Hell?

Their Mansions, and their Pleasures He describes,

Their Powers, and Authorities divides.

Their Chronologies, which were before all time,

And their Adulteries he puts in Rhime:

Besides, great Fame, thy Court he hath fill’d full

Of Brave Reports; which else an Empty Skull

It would appeare, and not like Heavens Throne,

Nor like the Firmament, with Stars thick strowne:

Makes Hell appeare with a Majestick Face,

Because there are so many in that Place.

Fame never could so great a Queen have bin,

If Wits Invention had not brought Arts in.

Your Court by Poets fire is made light:

Quencht out, you dwell as in perpetuall Night.

It heats the Spirits of Men, inflames their blood,

And makes them seek for Actions great, and good.

Then be you just, since you the ballance hold,

Let not the Leaden weights weigh downe the Gold.

It were Injustice, Fame, for you to make

A Servant Because al Poets
imitate
Homer.
low, his Masters place to take.

Or Theeves, that pick the Purse, you should preferre

Before the Owner, since condemn’d they were.

His are not Servants Lines; but what He leaves,

Theeves The Theft of
Poets.
steale, and with the same the World deceives.

If so, great Fame, the World will never care

To worship you, unlesse you right preferre.

Then let the best of Poets find such grace

In your faire Eyes, to choose him first in place.

Let all the rest come offer at thy Shrine,

And shew thy selfe a Goddesse that’s divine.

I, at your word, will Homer take, said Fame,

And if he proves not good, be you to blame.

Ulisses bowed, and Homer kis’d her hands,

Then were they joyn’d in Matrimonial Bands:

And Mercury from all the Gods was sent,

To give her joy, and wish her much content.

I And I1v 58

And all the Poets were invited round,

All that were knowne, or in the World were found.

Then did they dance with measure, and in time,

Each in their turne took out the Muses nine.

In Numbers smooth their Feet did run,

Whilst Musick plaid, and Songs were sung.

The Bride, and Bridegroome went to bed,

There Homer got Fames Maiden-head.

A Dialogue betwixt Man, and Nature.

Man.

Tis strange,

How we do change.

First to live, and then to dye,

Is a great misery.

To give us sense, great paines to feele,

To make our lives to be Deaths wheele;

To give us Sense, and Reason too,

Yet know not what we’re made to do.

Whether to Atomes turne, or Heaven up flye,

Or into new Formes change, and never dye.

Or else to Matter Prime to fall againe,

From thence to take new Formes, and so remaine.

Nature gives no such Knowledge to Man-kind,

But strong Desires to torment the Mind:

And Senses, which like Hounds do run about,

Yet never can the perfect Truth find out.

O Nature! Nature! cruell to Man-kind,

Gives Knowledge none, but Misery to find.

Nature.

Why doth Man-kind complaine, and make such Moane?

May not I work my will with what’s my owne?

But Men among themselves contract, and make

A Bargaine for my Tree; that Tree will take:

Most cruelly do chop in peeces small,

And formes it as he please, then builds withall.

Although that Tree by me was made to stand,

Just as it growes, not to be cut by Man.

Man.

O Nature, Trees are dull and have no Sense,

And therefore feel not paine, nor take offence.

But I2r 59

But Beasts have life and Sense, and passion strong,

Yet cruell man doth kill, and doth them wrong.

To take that life, I gave, before the time

I did ordaine, the injury is mine.

What Ill man doth, Nature did make him do,

For he by Nature is prompt thereunto.

For it was in great Natures power, and Will,

To make him as she pleas’d, either good, or ill.

Though Beast hath Sense, feels paine, yet whilst they live,

They Reason want, for to dispute, or grieve.

Beast hath no paine, but what in Sense doth lye,

Nor troubled Thoughts, to think how they shall dye.

Reason doth stretch Mans mind upon the Rack,

With Hopes, with Joyes, pull’d up, with Feare pull’d back.

Desire whips him forward, makes him run,

Despaire doth wound, and pulls him back agen.

For Nature, thou mad’st Man betwixt Extreames,

Wants perfect Knowledge, yet thereof he dreames.

For had he bin like to a Stock, or Stone,

Or like a Beast, to live with Sense alone.

Then might he eate, or drinke, or lye stone-still,

Nere troubled be, either for Heaven or Hell.

Man knowledge hath enough for to inquire,

Ambition great enough for to aspire:

And Knowledge hath, that yet he knowes not all,

And that himselfe he knoweth least of all:

Which makes him wonder, and thinks there is mixt

Two severall Qualities in Nature fixt.

The one like Love, the other like to Hate,

By striving both hinders Predestinate.

And then sometimes, Man thinks, as one they be,

Which makes Contrariety so well agree;

That though the World were made by Love and hate,

Yet all is rul’d, and governed by Fate.

These are Mans feares; mans hopes run smooth, and high,

Which thinks his Mind is some great Deity.

For though the body is of low degree,

In Sense like Beasts, their Soules like Gods shall be.

Saies Nature, why doth Man complaine, and crye,

If he beleives his Soule shall never dye?

I2 A Dia- I2v 60

A Dialogue betwixt the Body, and
the Mind:

Body.

What Bodies else but Mans, did Nature make,

To joyne with such a Mind, no rest can take;

That Ebbs, and flowes, with full, and falling Tide,

As Minds dejected fall, or swell with Pride:

In Waves of Passion roule to Billowes high,

Alwaies in Motion, never quiet lye.

Where Thoughts like Fishes swim the Mind about,

Where the great Thoughts the smaller Thoughts eate out.

My Body the Barque rowes in Minds Ocean wide,

Whose Waves of Passions beat on every side.

When that dark Cloud of Ignorance hangs low,

And Winds of vaine Opinions strong do blow:

Then Showers of doubts into the Mind raine downe,

In deepe vast Studies my Barque of flesh is drown’d.

Mind.

Why doth the Body thus complaine, when I

Do helpe it forth of every Misery?

For in the World your Barque is bound to swim,

Nature hath rigg’d it out to trafficke in.

Against hard Rocks you breake in peeces small,

If my Invention helpe you not in all.

The Load-stone of Attraction I find out,

The Card of Observation guides about.

The Needle of Discretion points the way,

Which makes your Barque get safe into each Bay.

Body.

If I ’scape drowning in the Watry Maine,

Yet in great mighty Battels I am slaine.

By your Ambition I am forc’d to fight,

When many Wounds upon my Body light.

For you care not, so you a Fame may have,

To live, if I be buried in a Grave.

Mind.

If Bodies fight, and Kingdomes win, then you

Take all the pleasure that belongs thereto.

You have a Crowne, your Head for to adorne,

Upon your Body Jewels are hung on.

All things are sought, to please your Senses Five,

No Drugge unpractis’d, to keepe you alive.

And I3r 61

And I, to set you up in high Degree,

Invent all Engines us’d in Warre to be.

Tis I that make you in great triumph sit,

Above all other Creatures high to get:

By the Industrious Arts, which I do find,

You other Creatures in Subjection bind:

You eate their Flesh, and after with their Skinne,

When Winter comes, you lap your Bodies in.

And so of every thing that Nature makes,

By my direction you great pleasure takes.

Body.

What though my Senses all do take delight,

Yet you upon my Entrals alwaies bite.

My flesh eate up, that all my bones are bare,

With the sharpe Teeth of Sorrow, Griefe, and Care.

Drawes out my Blood from Veines, with envious spight,

Decaies my Strength with shame, or extreame fright.

With Love extreamly sicke, I lye,

With cruell hate you make me dye.

Mind.

Care keeps you from all hurt, or falling low,

Sorrow, and Greife are Debts to Friends we owe.

Feare makes man just, to give each one his owne,

Shame makes Civility, without there’s none.

Hate makes good Lawes, that all may live in Peace,

Love brings Society, and gets Increase.

Besides, with Joy I make the Eyes looke gay,

With pleasing Smiles they dart forth every way.

With Mirth the Cheeks are fat, smooth, Rosie-red,

Your Speech flowes Wit, when Fancies fill the Head.

If I were gone, you’ld misse my Company,

Wish we were joyn’d againe, or you might dye.

A Complaint of Water, Earth and Aire,
against the Sun, by way of Dialogue.

Moisture to Earth.

There’s none hath such an Enemy as I,

The Sun doth drinke me up, when he’s a dry,

He sucks me out of every hole I lye:

Drawes me up high, from whence I downe do fall,

In Showers of Raine, am broke in peeces small,

Where I am forc’d to Earth for helpe to call.

Strait I3v 62

Strait Earth her Porous doors sets open wide,

And takes me in with hast on every side;

Then joynes my Limbs fast in a flowing Tide.

Earth to Moisture.

Alas, Deare Friend, the Sun, my greatest Foe,

My tender Buds he blasts as they do grow:

He burnes my Face, and makes it parcht, and dry,

He sucks my Breast, which starves my Young thereby.

Thus I, and all my Young, for thirst were slaine,

But that with Wet you fill my Breast againe.

Aire to Earth
and Moisture.

The Sun doth use me ill, as all the rest,

For his hot Soultry heats do me molest:

Melts me into a thin and flowing Flame,

To make him light, when men it Day do name.

Corrupts me, makes me full of Plaguy soares,

Which Putrefaction on mens Bodies poures:

Or else the subtle Flame into mens Spirits run,

Which makes them raging, or starke mad become.

Draws me into a length, and breadth, till I

Become so thin, with windy wings do flye:

Never can leave, till all my Spirits spent,

And then I dye, and leave no Monument.

The Sun to
Earth.

O most unkind, and most ungratefull Earth,

I am thy Mid-wife, brings your Young to Birth:

I with my heat do cause your Young to grow,

And with my light I teach them how to go.

My Sun-Beames are Strings, whereon to hold,

For feare they fall, and breake their Limbs on Cold.

All to Maturity I do bring, and give

Youth, Beauty, Strength, and make Old Age to live,

The Sun to Water.

Sluggish Moisture I active, and light make

All grosse and corrupt Humours away take.

All Superfluity I dry up cleane,

That nothing but pure Christall water’s seen.

The hard-bound Cold I loosen, and unty,

When you in Icy Chaines a Prisoner lye:

With Frost your Limbs are nipt, and bit with Cold,

Your smooth, and glassie Face makes wrinkled, Old.

I mak I4r 63

I make you nimble, soft, and faire,

And Liquid, Nourishing, and Debonaire.

The Sun to
Aire.

Aire I purge, and make it cleere, and bright,

Black Clouds dissolve, which make the Day seem Night.

The crude, raw Vapours, I digest and straine,

The thicker part all into Showers of Raine.

The thinnest part I turne all into Winds,

Which, like a Broome, sweeps out all Dirt it findes.

The cleerest part turne into Azure Skie,

Hang’d all with Stars, and next the Gods you lye.

A Dialogue between Earth, and Cold.

Earth.

O Cruell Cold, to life an Enemy,

A Misery to Man, and Posterity!

Most envious Cold, to Stupifie Mens Braine,

Destroies that Monarchy, where Wit should reigne.

Tyrant thou art, to bind the Waters clear

In Chaines of Ice, lye fetter’d halfe the yeare.

Imprisons every thing that dwels in me,

Shutting my Porous doors, no Light can see:

And smothered am almost up to death,

Each hole is stopt so close, can take no breath.

Congeales the Aire to massie Clouds of Snow,

Like Mountaines great, they on my Body throw.

And all my Plants, and strong great fruitfull Trees,

You nip to death, or cloath them in course Freeze.

My fresh green Robes, which make me fine, and gay,

You strip me of, or change to black, or gray.

For feare of Cold, my Moisture shrinks so low,

My Head weares bald, no haire thereon will grow;

And breakes the Suns bright Beames, their heat destroy,

Which takes away my comfort, and my joy:

And makes my Body stiff, so deadly numb’d,

That in my Veines nothing will fluent run.

Cold.

Why do you thus complaine, poore Earth, and grieve?

I give you strength, and make you long to live.

I do refresh you from the Scorching Sun,

I give you breath, which makes you strong become.

I cloath I4v 64

I cloath you from the Cold with Milke-white Snow,

Send downe your Sap to nourish you below.

For if that heat should dwell, and long time stay,

His Thirst would drinke your Moisture all away.

I take nought from you, nor do make you poore,

But, like a Husband good, do keepe your Store.

My Ice are Locks, and Barrs, all safe to keepe;

From Busie Motion gives you quiet sleepe.

For heat is active, and doth you molest,

Doth make you worke, and never let you rest.

Heat spends your Spirits, makes you crackt, and dry,

Drinkes all himselfe; with Thirst you almost dye.

With sweating Labour you grow weake, and faint,

I wonder why you make such great complaint.

Earth.

Both Heat, and Cold, in each extreame Degree,

Two Hells they are, though contrary they be.

Two Devils are, torment me with great paines,

One shoots hot Arrowes, th’ other ties in Chaines.

A Dialogue betwixt Earth, and Darknesse.

Earth.

O Horrid Darknesse, and you powers of Night,

Melancholy Shades, made by obstructed Light;

Why so Cruell? what Evil have I done?

To part me from my Husband, There may be
more Earths
then one, for all
we know, and
but one Sun.
the bright Sun?

Darknesse

I do not part you, he me hither sends,

Whilst Hee rides about, to visit all his Friends.

Besides, he hath more Wives to love, then you;

He never constant is to one, nor true.

Earth.

You do him wrong, for though he Journies make

For Exercise, he care for me doth take.

He leaves his Stars, and’s Sister in his place,

To comfort me, whilst he doth run his Race.

But you do come, most wicked Theevish Night,

And rob me of that faire, and Silver Light.

Darknesse.

The Moon, and Stars, they are but shadowes thin,

Small Cob-web Lawne they from his Light do spin:

Which they in scorne do make, you to disgrace,

As a thin Vaile, to cover your Ill Face.

For K1r 65

For Moon, or Stars have no strong Lights to shew

A Colour true, nor how you bud, or grow.

Onely some Ghosts do rise, and take delight,

To walke about, when that the Moon shines bright.

Earth.

Your are deceived, they cast no such Disguise,

Strive me to please, by twinkling in the Skies.

And for the Ghosts my Children are, being weake,

And tender Ey’d, helpe of the Moon they seeke.

For why, her Light is gentle, moist, and Cold,

Doth ease their Eyes, when they do it behold.

But you with Shadowes fright, delude the Sight,

Like Ghost appeare, with gloomy shades of Night.

And you with Clouds do cast upon my Back

A Mourning Mantle of the deepest black:

That covers me with darke Obscuritie,

That none of my deare Children I can see.

Their Lovely Faces mask’st thou from my Sight,

Which shew most beautifull in the day Light.

They take delight to View, and to adorne,

And fall in love with one anothers Forme.

By which kind Sympathy they bring me store

Of Children young: those, when growne up, brings more.

But you are spightfull to those Lovers kind,

Muffling their Faces, makes their Eyes quite blind.

Darknesse.

Is this my thanks for all my Love, and Care,

And for the great respect to you I beare?

I am thy kind, true, and constant Lover,

I all your Faults, and Imperfections cover

I take you in my gentle Armes of rest,

With coole freshe Dewes I bath your dry, hot Breast.

The Children which you by the Sun did beare,

I lay to sleepe, and rest them from their Care.

In Beds of silence soft I lay them in,

And cover them, though black, with Blankets cleane.

Then shut them close from the Disturbing Light,

And yet you raile against your Lover, Night.

Besides if you had Light through all the yeare,

Though Beauty great, ’twould not so well appeare.

For, what is Common, hath not such respect,

Nor such regard: for Use doth bring neglect.

K Nought K1v 66

Nought is admired, but what is seldome seen,

And black, for change, delights as well as green.

Yet I should constant bee, if I might stay,

But the bright Sun doth beat me quite away.

For he is active, and runs all about,

Nere dwels with one, but seeks new Lovers out.

He spightfull is to other Lovers, since

He by his Light doth give intelligence.

But I Loves confident am made, I bring

Them in my Shade, to meet and whisper in.

Thus am I faithfull, kind to Lovers true,

And all is for the sake, and Love to you.

What though I am Melancholy, my Love’s as strong,

As the great Light which you so dote upon.

Then slight me not, nor do my Suit disdaine,

But when the Sun is gone, me entertaine.

Take me sweet Love with Joy into your Bed,

And on your fresh green Breast lay my black Head.

A Dialogue between an Oake, and a
Man cutting him downe.

Oake.

Why cut you off my Bowes, both large, and long,

That keepe you from the heat, and scorching Sun;

And did refresh your fainting Limbs from sweat?

From thundering Raines I keepe you free, from Wet;

When on my Barke your weary head would lay,

Where quiet sleepe did take all Cares away.

The whilst my Leaves a gentle noise did make,

And blew coole Winds, that you fresh Aire might take.

Besides, I did invite the Birds to sing,

That their sweet voice might you some pleasure bring.

Where every one did strive to do their best,

Oft chang’d their Notes, and strain’d their tender Breast.

In Winter time, my Shoulders broad did hold

Off blustring Stormes, that wounded with sharpe Cold.

And on my Head the Flakes of Snow did fall,

Whilst you under my Bowes sate free from all.

And will you thus requite my Love, Good Will,

To take away my Life, and Body kill?

For K2r 67

For all my Care, and Service I have past,

Must I be cut, and laid on Fire at last?

And thus true Love you cruelly have slaine,

Invent alwaies to torture me with paine.

First you do peele my Barke, and flay my Skinne,

Hew downe my Boughes, so chops off every Limb.

With Wedges you do peirce my Sides to wound,

And with your Hatchet knock me to the ground.

I minc’d shall be in Chips, and peeces small,

And thus doth Man reward good Deeds withall.

Man.

Why grumblest thou, old Oake, when thou hast stood

This hundred yeares, as King of all the Wood.

Would you for ever live, and not resigne

Your Place to one that is of your owne Line?

Your Acornes young, when they grow big, and tall,

Long for your Crowne, and wish to see your fall;

Thinke every minute lost, whilst you do live,

And grumble at each Office you do give.

Ambition flieth high, and is above

All sorts of Friend-ship strong, or Naturall Love.

Besides, all Subjects they in Change delight,

When Kings grow Old, their Government they slight:

Although in ease, and peace, and wealth do live,

Yet all those happy times for Change will give.

Growes discontent, and Factions still do make;

What Good so ere he doth, as Evill take.

Were he as wise, as ever Nature made,

As pious, good, as ever Heaven sav’d:

Yet when they dye, such Joy is in their Face,

As if the Devill had gone from that place.

With Shouts of Joy they run a new to Crowne,

Although next day they strive to pull him downe.

Oake.

Why, said the Oake, because that they are mad,

Shall I rejoyce, for my owne Death be glad?

Because my Subjects all ingratefull are,

Shall I therefore my health, and life impaire.

Good Kings governe justly, as they ought,

Examines not their Humours, but their Fault.

For when their Crimes appeare, tis time to strike,

Not to examine Thoughts how they do like.

I2K2 If K2v 68

If Kings are never lov’d, till they do dye,

Nor wisht to live, till in the Grave they lye:

Yet he that loves himselfe the lesse, because

He cannot get every mans high applause:

Shall by my Judgment be condemn’d to weare,

The Asses Eares, and Burdens for to beare.

But let me live the Life that Nature gave,

And not to please my Subjects, dig my Grave.

Man.

But here, Poore Oake, thou liv’st in Ignorance,

And never seek’st thy Knowledge to advance.

I’le cut the downe, ’cause Knowledge thou maist gaine,

Shalt be a Ship, to traffick on the Maine:

There shalt thou swim, and cut the Seas in two,

And trample downe each Wave, as thou dost go.

Though they rise high, and big are sweld with pride,

Thou on their Shoulders broad, and Back, shalt ride:

Their lofty Heads shalt bowe, and make them stoop,

And on their Necks shalt set thy steddy Foot:

And on their Breast thy stately Ship shalt beare,

Till thy Sharpe Keele the watry Wombe doth teare.

Thus shalt thou round the World, new Land to find,

That from the rest is of another kind.

Oake.

O, said the Oake, I am contented well,

Without that Knowledge, in my Wood to dwell.

For I had rather live, and simple be,

Then dangers run, some new strange Sight to see.

Perchance my Ship against a Rock may hit;

Then were I strait in sundry peeces split.

Besides, no rest, nor quiet I should have,

The Winds would tosse me on each troubled Wave.

The Billowes rough will beat on every side,

My Breast will ake to swim against the Tide.

And greedy Merchants may me over-fraight,

So should I drowned be with my owne weight.

Besides with Sailes, and Ropes my Body tye,

Just like a Prisoner, have no Liberty.

And being alwaies wet, shall take such Colds,

My Ship may get a Pose, and leake through holes.

Which they to mend, will put me to great paine,

Besides, all patch’t, and peec’d, I shall remaine.

I care K3r 69

I care not for that Wealth, wherein the paines,

And trouble, is farre greater then the Gaines.

I am contented with what Nature gave,

I not Repine, but one poore wish would have,

Which is, that you my aged Life would save.

Man.

To build a Stately House I’le cut thee downe,

Wherein shall Princes live of great renowne.

There shalt thou live with the best Companie,

All their delight, and pastime thou shalt see.

Where Playes, and Masques, and Beauties bright will shine,

Thy Wood all oyl’d with Smoake of Meat, and Wine.

There thou shalt heare both Men, and Women sing,

Farre pleasanter then Nightingals in Spring.

Like to a Ball, their Ecchoes shall rebound

Against the Wall, yet can no Voice be found.

Oake.

Alas, what Musick shall I care to heare,

When on my Shoulders I such burthens beare?

Both Brick, and Tiles, upon my Head are laid,

Of this Preferment I am sore afraid.

And many times with Nailes, and Hammers strong.

They peirce my Sides, to hang their Pictures on.

My Face is smucht with Smoake of Candle Lights,

In danger to be burnt in Winter Nights.

No, let me here a poore Old Oake still grow;

I care not for these vaine Delights to know.

For fruitlesse Promises I do not care,

More Honour tis, my owne green Leaves to beare.

More Honour tis, to be in Natures dresse,

Then any Shape, that Men by Art expresse.

I am not like to Man, would Praises have,

And for Opinion make my selfe a Slave.

Man.

Why do you wish to live, and not to dye,

Since you no Pleasure have, but Misery?

For here you stand against the scorching Sun:

By’s Fiery Beames, your fresh green Leaves become

Wither’d; with Winter’s cold you quake, and shake:

Thus in no time, or season, rest can take.

Oake.

Yet I am happier, said the Oake, then Man;

With my condition I contented am.

He K3v 70

He nothing loves, but what he cannot get,

And soon doth surfet of one dish of meat:

Dislikes all Company, displeas’d alone,

Makes Griefe himselfe, if Fortune gives him none.

And as his Mind is restlesse, never pleas’d;

So is his Body sick, and oft diseas’d.

His Gouts, and Paines, do make him sigh, and cry,

Yet in the midst of Paines, would live, not dye.

Man.

Alas, poore Oake, thou understandst, nor can

Imagine halfe the misery of Man.

All other Creatures onely in Sense joyne,

But Man hath something more, which is divine.

He hath a Mind, doth to the Heavens aspire,

A Curiosity for to inquire:

A Wit that nimble is, which runs about

In every Corner, to seeke Nature out.

For She doth hide her selfe, as fear’d to shew

Man all her workes, least he too powerfull grow.

Like to a King, his Favourite makes so great,

That at the last, he feares his Power hee’ll get.

And what creates desire in Mans Breast,

A Nature is divine, which seekes the best:

And never can be satisfied, untill

He, like a God, doth in Perfection dwell.

If you, as Man, desire like Gods to bee,

I’le spare your Life, and not cut downe your Tree.

A Dialogue of Birds.

As I abroad in Feilds, and Woods did walke,

I heard the Birds of severall things did talke:

And on the Boughes would Gossip, prate, and chat,

And every one discourse of this, and that.

I, said the Larke, before the Sun do rise,

And take my flight up to the highest Skies:

There sing some Notes, to raise Appollo’s head,

For feare that hee might lye too long a Bed.

And as I mount, or if descend downe low,

Still do I sing, which way so ere I go.

Winding K4r 71

Winding my Body up, just like a Scrue,

So doth my Voice wind up a Trillo too.

What Bird, besides my selfe, both flyes and sings,

Just tune my Trilloes keeps to my flutt’ring Wings.

I, said the Nightingale, all night do watch,

For feare a Serpent should my young Ones catch:

To keep back sleep, I severall Tunes do sing,

Which Tunes so pleasant are, they Lovers bring

Into the Woods; who listning sit, and mark:

When I begin to sing, they cry, hark, hark,

Stretching my Throat, to raise my Trilloes high,

To gaine their praises, makes me almost dye.

Then comes the Owle, which saies, here’s such a doe

With your sweet Voices; through spight cries Wit-a-woo.

In Winter, said the Robin, I should dye,

But that I in a good warm house do flye:

And there do pick up Crummes, whic make me fat,

But oft am scar’d away with the Pusse-cat.

If they molest me not, then I grow bold,

And stay so long, whilst Winter Tales are told.

Man superstitiously dares not hurt me,

For if I am kill’d, or hurt, ill Luck shall be.

The Sparrow said, were our Condition such,

But Men do strive with Nets us for to catch:

With Guns, and Bowes, they shoot us from the Trees,

And by small Shot, we oft our Lifes do leese,

Because we pick a Cherry here, and there,

When, God he knowes, we eate them in great feare.

But Men will eat, untill their Belly burst,

And surfets take: if we eat, we are curst.

Yet we by Nature are revenged still,

For eating over-much themselves they kill.

And if a Child do chance to cry, or brawle,

They strive to catch us, to please that Child withall:

With Threads they tye our legs almost to crack,

That when we hop away, they pull us back:

And when they cry Fip, Fip, strait we must come,

And for our paines they’l give us one small Crum.

I wonder, said Mag-pye, you grumble so,

Dame Sparrow, we are us’d much worse I trow.

For K4v 72

For they our Tongues do slit, their words to learne,

And with the paine, our food we dearely earne.

Why, say the Finches, and the Linnets all,

Do you so prate Mag-pie, and so much baule?

As if no Birds besides were wrong’d but you,

When we by cruell Man are injur’d to.

For we, to learn their Tunes, are kept awake,

That with their whistling we no rest can take.

In darknesse we are kept, no Light must see,

Till we have learnt their Tunes most perfectlie.

But Jack-dawes, they may dwell their houses nigh,

And build their Nests in Elmes that do grow high:

And there may prate, and flye from place to place;

For why, they think they give their House a grace.

Lord! said the Partridge, Cock, Puet, Snite, and Quaile,

Pigeons, Larkes, my Masters, why d’yee raile?

You’re kept from Winters cold, and Summers heat,

Are taught new Tunes, and have good store of meat.

Having a Servant you to wait upon,

To make your Cages cleane from filth, and Dung:

When we poore Birds are by the dozens kill’d,

And luxuriously us eate, till they be fill’d:

And of our Flesh they make such cruell wast,

That but some of our Limbes will please their tast.

In Wood-cockes thighes they onely take delight,

And Partridge wings, which swift were in their flight.

The smaller Lark they eate all at one bite,

But every part is good of Quaile, and Snite.

The Murtherous Hawk they keep, us for to catch,

And learn their Dogs, to crouch, and creep, and watch:

Untill they have sprung us to Nets, and Toiles,

And thus poore Creatures we are made Mans spoiles.

Cruell Nature! to make us Gentle, Mild:

They happy are, which are more feirce, and wild.

O would our flesh had been like Carrion, course,

To eate us onely Famine might inforce.

But when they eate us, may they surfets take,

May they be poore, when they a Feast us make.

The more they eate, the leaner may they grow,

Or else so fat, they cannot stir, nor go.

O said L1r 73

O, said the Swallow, let me mourne in black,

For, of Mans cruelty I do not lack:

I am the Messenger of Summer warme,

Do neither pick their Fruit, nor eate their Corne;

Yet they will take us, when alive we be,

I shake to tell, O horrid Cruelty!

Beate us alive, till we an Oile become.

Can there to Birdes be a worse Martyrdome?

Man, O Man, if we should serve you so,

You would against us your great Curses throw.

But Nature, shee is good, do not her blame:

We ought to give her thankes, and not exclaime.

For Love is Natures chiefest Law in Mind,

Hate but an Accident from Love we find.

Tis true, Selfe-Preservation is the chiefe,

But Luxury to Nature is a Theefe.

Corrupted manners alwaies do breede Vice,

Which by Perswasion doth the Mind intice.

No Creature doth usurp so much as Man,

Who thinkes himselfe like God, because he can

Rule other Creatures, makes them to obey:

We Soules have, Nature never made, say they.

What ever comes from Natures Stock, and Treasure,

Created is onely to serve their pleasure.

Although the Life of Bodies comes from Nature,

Yet still the Soules come from the great Creator.

And they shall live, though wee to dust do turne,

Either in Blisse, or in hot flames to burne.

Then came the Parrot with her painted wing;

Spake like an Orator in every thing.

Sister Jay, Neighbour Daw, Gossip Pie,

We taken are, not like the rest, to dye:

Onely to talk, and prate, the best we can,

To Imitate to th’ Life, the Speech of Man.

And just like men, we passe our time away,

With many words, not one wise Speech can say:

And speak as gravely Non-sense as the best

As full of empty words as all the rest

Then Nature we will praise, because she have

Given us such Tongues, as Men our Lives to save.

L Mourne L1v 74

Mourne not my Friends, but sing in Sun-shine gay,

And while you ’ave time, joy in your selves you may.

What though your lives be short, yet merry be,

And not complaine, but in delights agree.

Strait came the Titmouse with a frowning face,

And hopt about, as in an angry pace.

My Masters all, what are you mad,

Is no regard unto the publick had?

Are private Home-Affaires cast all aside?

Your young Ones cry for meat, tis time to chide.

For shame disperse your selves, and some paines take,

Both for the Common good, and young Chickes sake:

And not sit murmuring here against great Man,

Unlesse for to revenge our selves we can.

Alas, alas, we want their Shape, which they

By it have power to make all obey.

For they can Lift, beare, strike, turne and wind,

What waies they will, which makes them new Arts find.

Tis not their Wit, which new Inventions make,

But tis their Shapes which heighth, breadth, depth, can take.

Thus they can measure the great wordly Ball,

And Numbers set, to prove the Truth of all.

What Creature else hath Armes, or goeth upright,

Or have all sorts of Motions so unite?

Man by his Shape can Nature imitate,

Can governe, rule, and new Arts can create.

Then come away, since talk no good can do,

And what we cannot help, submit unto.

Then some their Wives, others their Husbands call,

To gather Sticks, to build their Nests withall.

Some that were Shrewes, did chide, and scold, and fret,

The Wind blew downe their Nest where they should sit:

For all they gathered, with paines, and care,

Those Sticks, and Strawes were blowne they knew not where.

But none did labour like the little Wren,

To build her Nest, to hatch her young Ones in.

Shee laies more Eggs then all the rest,

And with much Art doth build her Nest.

The younger sort made love, and kis’d each others Bill,

The Cock would catch some Flies to give his Mistresse still.

The L2r 75

The Yellow hammer cried, tis wet, tis wet.

For it will raine before the Sun doth set.

Taking their Flight, as each Mind thought it best

Some flew abroad, and some home to their Nest.

Some went to gather Corne from Sheaves out strew’d,

And some to pick up Seed thats newly sowed.

Some had Courage a Cherry ripe to take,

Others catcht Flies, when they a Feast did make.

And some did pick up Ants, and Eggs, though small,

To carry home, to feed their young withall.

When every Crap was fil’d, and Night came on,

Then did they stretch their Wings to flye fast home.

And as like Men, from Market home they come,

Set out alone, but every Mile addes some:

Untill a Troop of Neighbours get together,

So do a flight of Birds in Sun-shine weather.

When to their Nests they get, Lord how they baule,

And every one doth to his Neighbour call:

Asking each other if they weary were,

Rejoycing at past dangers, and great feare.

When they their wings had prun’d, and young ones fed,

Sate gossipping, before they went to Bed.

Let us a Carroll, said the Black-bird, sing,

Before we go to Bed this fine Evening.

The Thrushes, Linnets, Finches, all took parts,

A Harmony by Nature, not by Arts.

But all their Songs were Hymnes to God on high,

Praising his Name, blessing his Majesty.

And when they askt for Gifts, to God did pray,

He would be pleas’d to give them a faire day.

At last they drousie grew, and heavie were to sleep,

And then instead of singing, cried, Peep, Peep.

Just as the Eye, when Sense is locking up,

Is neither open wide, nor yet quite shut:

So doth a Voice still by degrees fall downe,

And as a Shadow, wast so doth a Sound.

Thus went to rest each Head, under each wing,

For Sleep brings Peace to every living thing.

L2 A Dia- L2v 76

A Dialogue between Melancholy, and
Mirth.

As I sate Musing, by my selfe alone,

My Thoughts on severall things did work upon.

Some did large Houses build, and Stately Towers,

Making Orchards, Gardens, and fine Bowers:

And some in Arts, and Sciences delight,

Some wars in Contradiction, Reasons fight.

And some, as Kings, do governe, rule a State;

Some as Republickes, which all Monarches hate.

Others, as Lawyers, pleading at the Bar,

Some privie Counsellors, and Judges are.

Some Priests, which do preach Peace, and Godly life,

Others Tumultuous are, and full of strife.

Some are debauch’d, do wench, swagger, and sweare,

And some poore Thoughts do tremble out of feare.

Some jealous are, and all things do suspect,

Others so Carelesse, every thing neglect.

Some Nymphes, Shepheards, and Shepheardesses,

Some so kind, as one another kisses.

All sorts of Lovers, and their Passions,

Severall waies of Court-ship, and fine Fashions.

Some take strong Townes, and Battels win,

Few do loose, but all must yield to him.

Some are Heroick, Generous, and Free,

And some so base, do crouch with Flattery.

Some dying are, and in the Grave halfe lye,

And some Repenting, which for sorrow cry.

The Mind oppres’d with Griefe, Thoughts Mourners bee,

All cloath’d in Black, no light of Joy can see.

Some with Despaire do rage, are almost mad,

And some so merry, nothing makes them sad.

And many more, which were too long to tell,

Thoughts severall bee, in severall places dwell.

At last came two, which were in various dresse,

One Melancholy, th’ other did Mirth expresse.

Melancholy was all in black Array,

And Mirth was all in Colours fresh, and gay

Mirth L3r 77

Mirth.

Mirth laughing came, running unto me, flung

Her fat white Armes, about my Neck she hung:

Imbrac’d, and kis’d me oft, and strok’t my Cheek,

Telling me, shee would no other Lover seek.

I’le sing you Songs, and please you every day,

Invent new Sports, to passe the time away.

I’le keep your Heart, and guard it from that Theefe,

Dull Melancholy Care, or sadder Griefe:

And make your Eyes with Mirth to over-flow,

With springing blood, your Cheekes they fat shall grow.

Your Legs shall nimble be, your Body light,

And all your Spirits, like to Birds in flight.

Mirth shall digest your Meat, and make you strong,

Shall give you Health, and your short daies prolong.

Refuse me not, but take me to your Wife,

For I shall make you happy all your Life.

If you take Melancholy, shee’l make you leane,

Your Cheekes shall hollow grow, your Jawes all seen:

Your Eyes shall buried be within your Head,

And look as Pale, as if you were quite dead.

Shee’l make you start at every noise you heare,

And Visions strange shall in your Eyes appeare.

Your Stomack cold, and raw, digesting nought,

Your Liver dry, your Heart with sorrow fraught.

Your shriveled Skin, and Cloudy Browes, blood thick.

Your long lank Sides, and back to Belly stick.

Thus would it be, if you to her were wed,

But better far it were, that you were dead.

Her Voice is low, and gives a hollow sound,

Shee hates the Light, in darknesse onely found:

Or set with blinking Lampes, or Tapers small,

Which various Shadowes make against a Wall.

She loves nought else but Noise, which discords make,

As croaking Frogs which do dwell in the Lake.

The Ravens hoarse, and so the Mandrake groane,

And shreeking Owles, which in Night flye alone.

The Tolling Bell, which for the dead rings out,

A Mill, where rushing waters run about.

The roaring windes, which shake the Cedars tall,

Plow up the Seas, and beat the Rocks withall.

Shee L3v 78

Shee loves to walk in the still Moon-shine Night,

Where in a thick dark Grove she takes delight.

In hollow Caves, Houses thatcht, or lowly Cell,

Shee loves to live, and there alone to dwell.

Her Eares are stopt with Thoughts, her Eyes purblind,

For all shee heares, or sees, is in the Mind.

But in her Mind, luxuriously shee lives,

Imagination severall pleasures gives.

Then leave her to her selfe, alone to dwell,

Let you and I in Mirth and pleasure swell:

And drink long lusty Draughts from Bacchus Boule,

Untill our Braines on Vaporous Waves do roule.

Lets joy our selves in Amorous Delights.

There’s none so happy, as the Carpet Knights.

Melancholy with sad, and sober Face,

Complexion pale, but of a comely grace:

With modest Countenance, soft speech thus spake.

May I so happy be, your Love to take?

True, I am dull, yet by me you shall know

More of your selfe, so wiser you shall grow.

I search the depth, and bottome of Man-kind,

Open the Eye of Ignorance that’s blind.

I travell far, and view the World about,

I walk with Reasons Staff to find Truth out,

I watchfull am, all dangers for to shun,

And do prepare ’gainst Evils that may come.

I hange not on inconstant Fortunes wheele,

Nor yet with unresolving doubts do reele.

I shake not with the Terrours of vaine feares,

Nor is my Mind fill’d with unusefull Cares.

I do not spend my time like idle Mirth,

Which onely happy is just at her Birth.

Which seldome lives for to be old,

But, if she doth, can no affections hold.

For in short time shee troublesome will grow,

Though at first shee makes a pretty shew.

But yet shee makes a noise, and keepes a rout,

And with dislike most commonly goes out.

Mirth good for nothing is, like Weeds do grow,

Such Plants cause madnesse, Reason doth not know.

Her L4r 79

Her face with Laughter crumples on a heap,

Which plowes deep Furroughes, making wrinckles great.

Her Eyes do water, and her Skin turnes red,

Her mouth doth gape, Teeth bare, like one that’s dead.

Her sides do stretch, as set upon the Last,

Her Stomack heaving up, as if shee’d cast.

Her Veines do swell, Joynts seem to be unset;

Her Pores are open, streaming out a sweat.

She fulsome is, and gluts the Senses all;

Offers her selfe, and comes before a Call:

Seekes Company out, hates to be alone.

Unsent-for Guests Affronts are throwne upon.

Her house is built upon the golden Sandes;

Yet no Foundation hath, whereon it stands.

A Palace tis, where comes a great Resort,

It makes a noise, and gives a loud report.

Yet underneath the Roofe, Disasters lye,

Beates downe the house, and many kills thereby.

I dwell in Groves that gilt are with the Sun,

Sit on the Bankes, by which cleare waters run.

In Summers hot, downe in a Shade I lye;

My Musick is the buzzing of a Fly:

Which in the Sunny Beames do dance all day,

And harmelsly do passe their time away.

I walk in Meadowes, where growes fresh green Grasse.

Or Feilds, where Corne is high, in which I passe:

Walk up the Hills, where round I Prospects see;

Some Brushy Woods, and some all Champians bee.

Returning back, in the fresh Pasture go,

To heare the bleating Sheep, and Cowes to lowe.

They gently feed, no Evill think upon,

Have no designes to do another wrong.

In Winter Cold, when nipping Frosts come on,

Then do I live in a small House alone.

The littlenesse doth make it warm, being close,

No Wind, nor Weather cold, can there have force.

Although tis plaine, yet cleanly tis within,

Like to a Soule, that’s pure, and cleare from Sin.

And there I dwell in quiet, and still Peace,

Not fill’d with Cares, for Riches to increase.

I wish, L4v 80

I wish, nor seek for vaine, and fruitlesse Pleasures,

No Riches are, but what the Mind intreasures.

Thus am I solitary, and live alone,

Yet better lov’d, the more that I am knowne.

And though my Face b’ill favoured at first sight,

After Acquaintance it shall give delight.

For I am like a Shade, who sits in me,

Shall not come wet, not yet Sun-burned be.

I keep off blustring Stormes, from doing hurt,

When Mirth is often smutch’d with dust, and durt.

Refuse me not, for I shall constant be,

Maintaine your Credit, keep up Dignity.

A Dialogue betwixt Joy, and Discretion.

Joy.

Give me some Musick, that my Spirits may

Dance a free Galliard, whilst Delight doth play.

Let every Voice sing out, both loud, and shrill,

And every Tongue too run what way it will.

For Feare is gone away with her Pale Face,

And Paine is banisht out from every place.

Discretion.

O Joy, take Moderation by the hand,

Or else you’l fall so drunk, you cannot stand.

Your Tongue doth run so fast, no time can keep,

High as a Mountaine, many words you heap.

Your Thoughts in multitudes the Braine do throng,

That Reason is cast downe, and trod upon.

Joy.

O wise Discretion, do not angry grow,

Great dangers, feares, alas, you do not know.

But Feare being past, they suddenly are slackt,

Feare, being a string, bindes hard; when once tis crackt:

Spirits find Liberty, strait run about:

Hard being stopt, they suddenly burst out,

And to recover what they had before,

When once untied, their liberty is more.

Like Water, which was pen’t, the passage findes,

Goeth in a Fury like the Northerne windes.

What M1r 81

What gathers on a heap, so strong doth grow,

That when they’re loose, far swifter do they go.

But deare Discretion with me do not scold,

Whilst you do feele great Feares, your Tongue pray hold.

For Joy cannot containe it selfe in rest:

It never leaves till some way is exprest.

A Dialogue betwixt Wit, and Beauty.

Wit.

Mixt Rose, and Lilly, why are you so proud,

Since Faire is not in all Minds best allow’d?

Some like the Black, the Browne, as well as White,

In all Complexions some Eyes take delight:

Nor doth one Beauty in the World still reigne.

For Beauty is created in the Braine.

But say there were a Body perfect made,

Complexion pure, by Natures pensill laid:

A Countenance where all sweet Spirits meet,

A Haire that’s thick, or long curl’d to the Feet:

Yet were it like a Statue made of stone,

The Eye would weary grow to look thereon.

Had it not Wit, the Mind still to delight,

It soon wonuld weary be, as well as Sight.

For Wit is fresh, and new, doth sport, and play,

And runs about the Humour every way.

Withall the Passions Wit can well agree;

Wit tempers them, and makes them pleas’d to bee.

Wit’s ingenious, doth new Inventions find,

To ease the Body, recreate the Mind.

Beauty.

When I appeare, I strike the Optick Nerve,

I wound the Heart, I make the Passions serve.

Soules are my Prisoners, yet love me so well,

My Company is Heaven, my absence Hell.

Each Knee doth bow to me, as to a Shrine,

And all the World accounts me as Divine.

Wit.

Beauty, you cannot long Devotion keep:

The Mind growes weary, Senses fall a sleep.

As those which in the House of God do go,

Are very zealous in a Prayer, or two:

M But M1v 82

But if they kneele an houre-long to pray,

Their Zeale growes cold, nor know they what they say.

So Admirations last not very long,

After nine daies the greatest wonder’s gone.

The Mind, as Senses all, delights in Change;

They nothing love, but what is new, and strange.

But subtle Wit can both please long, and well;

For, to the Eare a new Tale Wit can tell.

And, for the Tast, meat dresses severall waies,

To please the Eye, new Formes, and Fashions raise.

And for the Touch, Wit spins both Silk, and Wooll,

Invents new waies to keep Touch warm, and coole.

For Sent, Wit mixtures, and Compounds doth make,

That still the Nose a fresh new smell may take.

I by discourse can represent the Mind,

With severall Objects, though the Eyes be blind.

I can create Ideas in the Braine,

Which to the Mind seem reall, though but fain’d.

The Mind like to a Shop of Toies I fill,

With fine Conceits, all sorts of Humours sell.

I can the work of Nature imitate;

And change my selfe into each severall Shape.

I conquer all, am Master of the Feild,

I make faire Beauty in Loves Wars to yeild.

A Dialogue between Love, and Hate.

Both Love, and Hate fell in a great dispute;

And hard it was each other to confute:

Which did most Good, or Evill most did shun.

Then Hate with frowning Browes this Speech begun.

Hate.

I flye, said shee, from wicked, and base Acts,

And teare the Bonds unjust, or ill Contracts.

I do abhor all Murther, War, and strife,

Inhumane Actions, and disorder’d life.

Ungratefull, and unthankfull Mindes, that shun

All those, from whom they have receiv’d a Boon.

From Discords harsh, and rude, my Eares I stop,

And what is Bad, I from the Good do lop.

I Perjur’d’ M2r 83

I Perjur’d Lovers brand with foule disgrace,

And from ill Objects do I hide my Face.

Things, that are Bad, I hate; or what seemes so:

But Love is contrary to this, I know.

Love loves Ambition, the Mind’s hot Fire,

And Worlds would ruine, for to rise up higher.

You love to please your Appetite, and your Will,

To glut your Gusto you delight in still.

You love to Flatter, and be flattered too;

And, for your Lust, poore Virgins would undo.

You love the ruine of your Foes to see,

And of your Friends, if they but Prosperous bee.

You nothing love besides your selfe, though ill,

And with vaine-glorious wind your Braine do fill.

You love no waies, but where your Bias tends,

And love the Gods onely for your owne Ends.

Love.

But Love, in words as sweet, as Nature is,

Said, Hate was false, and alwaies did amisse.

For she did Canker-fret, the Soule destroy,

Disturbe the pleasure, wherein Life takes joy;

The World disorder, which in Peace would keep,

Torment the Head, the Heart revenge to seek:

And never rests, till she descends to Hell;

And therefore ever amongst Devils dwell.

For I, said Love, unite, and Concords make,

All Musick was invented for my sake.

I Men by Lawes in Common-wealthes do joyne;

Against a common Foe, as one combine.

I am a Guard, to watch, defend, and keep,

The Sick, the Lame, the Helplesse, Aged, weak:

I for Honours sake high Courage raise;

And bring to Beautie Shrine, Offerings of praise.

I Pity, and Compassion the World throughout

Do carry, and distribute all about.

I to the Gods do reverence, bow, and pray,

And in their Heavenly Mansions beare great sway.

Thus Love, and Hate, in somethings equall bee;

Yet in Disputes will alwaies disagree.

M2 A Dia- M2v 84

A Dialogue betwixt Learning, and Ignorance.

Learning.

Thou Busie Forrester, that searchest ’bout

The World, to find the Heart of Learning out.

Or, Perseus like, foule Monsters thou dost kill;

Rude Ignorance, which alwaies doeth ill,

Ignorance.

O thou Proud Learning, that standst on Tip-toes high,

Can never reach to know the Deity:

Nor where the Cause of any one thing lies,

But fill man full of Care, and Miseries.

Learning inflames the Thoughts to take great paines,

Doth nought but make an Almes-tub of the Braines.

Learning.

Learning doth seek about, new things to find;

In that Pursuit, doth recreate the Mind.

It is a Perspective, Nature to espie,

Can all her Curiosity descry.

Ignorance.

Learning’s an uselesse paine, unlesse it have

Some waies, or meanes to keep us from the Grave.

For, what is all the World, if understood,

If we do use it not, nor tast the Good?

Learning may come to know the use of things,

Yet not receive the Good which from them springs.

For Life is short, and Learning tedious, long;

Before we come to use what’s Learned, Life’s gone.

Learning.

O Ignorance, thou Beast, which dull and lazy liest,

And onely eat’st, and sleepest, till thou diest.

Ignorance.

The Lesson Nature taught, is, most delight,

To please the Sense, and eke the Appetite.

I Ignorance am still the Heaven of Blisse:

For in me lies the truest happinesse.

Give me still Ignorance, that Innocent Estate,

That Paradise, that’s free from Envious Hate.

Learning a Tree was, whereon Knowledge grew,

Tasting that Fruit, Man onely Misery knew.

Had M3r 85

Had Man but Knowledge, Ignorance to love,

Hee happy would have been, as Gods above.

Learning.

O Ignorance, how foolish thou dost talk!

I’st happinesse in Ignorance to walk?

Can there by Joy in Darknesse, more then Light?

Or Pleasure more in Blindnesse, then in Sight?

A Dialogue betwixt Riches, and
Poverty.

Riches.

I, Wealth, can make all Men of each degree,

To crouch, and flatter, and to follow me.

I many Cities build, high, thick, and large,

And Armies raise, against each other charge:

I make them loose their Lives, for my deare sake,

Though when they’re dead, they no Rewards can take.

I trample Truth under my Golden Feet,

And tread downe Innocence, that Flower sweet.

I gather Beauty, when tis newly blowne.

Reape Chastity, before tis over-growne.

I root our Vertue with a Golden Spade,

I cut of Justice with a Golden Blade.

Pride, and Ambition are my Vassals low,

And on their Heads I tread, as I do go:

And by Man-kind much more adorn’d am I,

Although but Earth, then the Bright Sun so high.

Poverty.

Riches, thou art a Slave, and runn’st about,

On every Errant thou com’st in, go’st out:

And Men of Honour set on thee no price,

Nor Honesty, nor Vertue can intice.

Some foolish Gamesters, which do love to play

At Cardes, and Dice, corrupt perchance you may:

A Silly Virgin gather here, and there,

That doth gay Cloathes, and Jewels love to weare.

Some Poore, which hate their Neighbour Brave to see,

Perchance may seek, and love your Company.

And those that strive to please their Senses all,

If they want Health, if you passe by, will call.

On Age, tis true: you have a great, strong power;

For they imbrace you, though they dye next Houre.

You M3v 86

Riches.

You speake, poore Poverty, meere out of spight,

Because there’s none with you doth take delight:

If you into Mans Company will thrust

They call that Fortune ill, and most accurst.

Men are asham’d with them you should be seen,

You are so ragged, torne, and so uncleane.

When I come in, much Welcome do I find,

Great Joy there is, and Mirth in every Mind.

And every doore is open set, and wide,

And all within is busily imploy’d.

There Neighbours all invited are to see,

And proud they are in my deare Company.

Poverty.

Tis Prodigality you brag so on,

Which never lets you rest, till you are gone;

Calls in for help to beat you out of doores,

His deare Companions, Drunkards, Gamesters, Whores.

What though you’re Brave, and Gay in outward Shew?

Within you are foule, and beastly, as you know.

Besides, Debauchery is like a Sink,

And you are Father to that filthy stink.

True, I am thread-bare, and am very leane;

Yet I am Decent, sweet, and very cleane.

I healthfull am, my Diet being spare:

You’re full of Gouts, and Paines, and Surfets feare.

I am Industrious new Arts to find,

To ease the Body, and to please the Mind.

The World like to a Wildernesse would be,

If it were not for the Poores Industry.

For Poverty doth set awork the Braines,

And all the Thoughts to labour, and take paines.

The Mind nere idle sits, but is imploy’d:

Riches breed Sloth, and fill it full of Pride.

Riches, like a Sow, in its owne Mire lies;

But Poverty’s light, and like a Bird still flyes.

A Dia- M4r 87

A Dialogue betwixt Anger, and Patience.

Patience.

Anger, why are you so hot, and fiery red?

Or else so pale, as if you were quite dead?

Joynts seem unset, Flesh shakes, the Nerves grow Slack,

Your Spirits all disturb’d, your Senses lack,

Your Tongue doth move, but not a plaine word speak,

Or else words flow so thick, like Torrents great.

Anger.

Lord, what a Beadroule of dislike you tell!

If you were stung with wrong, your Mind would swell:

Your Spirits would be set on flame with Fire,

Or else grow chill with Cold, and back retire.

Patience.

Alas, it is for some supposed wrong:

Sometimes you have no ground to build upon.

Suspition is deceitfull, runs about,

And, for a Truth, it oft takes wrong, no doubt.

If you take False-hood, up, nere search them through,

You do a wrong to Truth, and your selfe too.

Besides, you’re blind, and undiscerning flye

On every Object, though Innocence is by.

Anger.

O Patience, you are strict, and seem precise,

And Counsels give, as if you were so wise.

But you are cruell, and fit times will take

For your Revenge, and yet no show do make.

Your Browes unknit, your Heart seemes not to burne,

Yet on Suspition will do a shrewd turne.

But I am sudden, and do all in hast,

Yet in short time my fury all is past.

Though Anger be not right, but sometimes wrong,

The greatest Mischiefe lies but in the Tongue.

But you do mischiefe, and your time you’l find

To work Revenge, though quiet in your Mind.

Patience.

If I take time, I clearly then can see,

To view the Cause, and seek for remedy.

If I have wrong, my selfe I well may right,

But I do wrong, if Innocence I strike.

The M4v 88

The Knot of Anger by degrees unties;

Take of that Muffler from Discretions Eyes.

My Thoughts run cleare, and smooth, as Christall Brookes,

That every Face may see, that therein lookes.

Though I run low, yet wisely do I wind,

And many times through Mountaines passage find:

When you swell high, like to a flowing Sea,

For windy Passions cannot in rest be.

Where you are rould in Waves, and tost about,

Tormented is, no passage can find out.

Angry.

Patience, your mouth with good words you do fill,

And preach Morality, but you act ill,

Besides, you seem a Coward full of feare,

Or like an Asse, which doth great Burthens beare.

Lets every Poultron at his will give blowes,

And every foole in scorne to wring your Nose.

Most of the World do think you have no Sense,

Because not angry, nor take no Offence.

When I am thought right wise, and of great Merit,

Heroick, Valorous, and of great Spirit;

And every one doth feare me to offend,

And for to please me, all their Forces bend:

I flatter’d am, make Feare away to run:

Thus I am Master wheresoere I come.

Away you foolish Patience, give me rage,

That I in Wars may this great World ingage.

Patience.

O Anger thou art mad, there’s none will care

For your great brags, but Fooles and cowardly Feare.

Which in weak Women, and small Children dwell;

Wisedome knowes you talk, more then fight, right well.

Besides, great Courage takes me by the hand,

That whilst he fights, I close by him may stand.

I Patience want, not Sense, Misfortunes t’ espie,

Although I silent am, and do not cry.

Ill Accidents, and Greife, I strive to cure,

What cannot help, with Courage, I indure.

Whilst you do vex your selfe with grevious Paines,

And nothing but Disturbance is your Gaines.

Let N1r 89

Let me give counsell, Anger, take’t not ill,

That I do offer you my Patience still.

For you in danger live still all your life,

And Mischiefe do, when you are hot in Strife.

A Dialogue between a Bountifull Knight,
and a Castle ruin’d in War.

Knight.

Alas, poore Castle, how thou now art chang’d

From thy first Form! to me thou dost seem strange.

I left thee Comely, and in perfect health;

Now thou art wither’d, and decayed in Wealth.

Castle.

O Noble Sir, I from your Stock was rais’d,

Flourished in plenty, and my all Men prais’d:

For your Most Valiant Father did me build,

Your Brother furnish’d me, my Neck did gild:

And Towers on my Head like Crownes The Crest in
the Wainscot
gilt.
were plac’d,

Like to a Girdle, Walls went round my Waste.

And on this pleasant Hill he set me high,

Viewing the Vales below, as they did lye.

Where every Feild, like Gardens, is inclos’d,

Where fresh green Grasse, and yellow Cowslips grow’d.

There did I see fat Sheep in Pastures go,

Hearing the Cowes, whose bags were full, to low.

By Wars am now destroy’d, all Right’s o’repowr’d,

Beauty, and Innocency are devoured.

Before these Wars I was in my full Prime,

And thought the greatest Beauty in my time.

But Noble Sir, since I did see you last,

Within me hath a Garrison been plac’d.

Their Gunnes, and Pistols all about me hung,

And in despight their Bullets at me flung;

Which through my Sides they passages made out,

Flung downe my Walls, that circl’d me about.

And let my Rubbish on huge heapes to lye,

With Dust am choackt, for want of Water, dry.

For those small Leaden Pipes, which winding lay,

Under the ground, the water to convey:

Were all cut off, the water murmuring,

Run back with Griefe to tell it to the Spring.

N My N1v 90

My Windowes all are broke, the wind blowes in,

With Cold I shake, with Agues shivering.

O pity me, deare Sir, release my Band,

Or let me dye by your most Noble hand.

Knight.

Alas, poore Castle, I small help can bring,

Yet shall my Heart supply the former Spring:

From whence the water of freshe teares shall rise,

To quench thy Drought, will spout them from mine Eyes.

That Wealth I have for to release thy woe,

Will offer for a Ransome to thy Foe.

Thy Health recover, and to build thy Wall,

I have not Meanes enough to do’t withall.

Had I the Art, no paines that I would spare,

For what is broken downe, I would repaire.

Castle.

Most Noble Sir, you that me Freedome give,

May your great Name in after Ages live.

For this your Bounty may the Gods requite,

And keep you from such Enemies of Spight.

And may great Fame your Praises sound aloud:

Gods give me life to shew my Gratitude.

A Dialogue betwixt Peace, and
War.

Peace.

War makes the Vulgar Multitude to drink

In at the Eare the foule, and muddy Sinck

Of Factious Tales, by which they dizzy grow,

That the cleare sight of Truth they do not know.

And reeling stand, know not what way to take,

But when they chuse, ’tis wrong, so a War make.

War.

Thou Flattering Peace, and most unjust, which drawes

The Vulgar by thy Rhet’rick to hard Lawes:

Which makes them silly Ones, content to be,

To take up Voluntary Slavery.

And mak’st great Inequalities beside,

Some like to Asses beare, others on Horsback ride.

O VVar N2r 91

Peace.

O War, thou cruell Enemy to Life,

Unquieted Neighbour, breeding alwaies Strife.

Tyrant thou art, to Rest will give no time,

And Blessed Peace thou punishest as a Crime.

Factions thou mak’st in every Publick-weale,

From Bonds of Friendship tak’st off Wax, and Seale.

On Naturall Affections thou dost make

A Massacre, that hardly one can ’scape.

The Root of all Religion thou pull’st up,

And every Branch of Ceremony cut.

Civill Society is turn’d to Manners base,

No Lawes, or Customes can by thee get place.

Each Mind within it selfe cannot agree,

But all do strive for Superiority:

In the whole World dost such disturbance make,

To save themselves none knowes what waies to take.

War.

O Peace, thou idle Drone, which lov’st to dwell,

If it but keep the safe, in a poore Cell.

Thy Life thou sleepst away, Thoughts lazy lye.

Sloath buries Fame, makes all great Actions dye.

Peace.

I am the Bed of Rest, and Couch of Ease,

My Conversation doth all Creatures please.

I the Parent of Learning am, and Arts,

Nurse to Religion, and Comfort to all Hearts.

I am the Guardian, which keepes Vertue safe,

Under my Roofe security shee hath.

I am adorn’d with Pastimes, and with Sports,

Each severall Creature still to me resorts.

War.

I a great Schoole am, where all may grow wise:

For Prudent Wisdome in Experience lyes.

And am a Theater to all Noble Minds,

A Mint of true Honour, that Valour still coines.

I am a high Throne for Valour to sit,

And a great Court where all Fame may get.

I am a large Feild, where doth Ambition run,

Courage still seekes me, though Cowards me shun.

N2 Morall N2v 92

Moral Discourses.

A Discourse of Love, the Parent of
Passions
.

No Mind can think, or Understanding know,

To what a Height, and Vastnesse Love can grow.

Love, as a God, all Passions doth create,

Besides it selfe, and those determinate.

Bowing downe low, devoutly prayeth Feare,

Sadnesse, and Griefe, Loves heavie burthens beare.

Anger Rage makes, Envie, Spleene, and Spight,

Like Thunder roares, and in Loves quarrels fight.

Jealousie, Loves Informer is t’espie,

And Doubt its Guide, to search where’ts Foe doth lye.

Pity, Loves Child, whose Eyes Teares overflow,

On every Object Misery can shew.

Hate is Loves Champion, which opposeth all

Loves Enemies, their Ruine, and their Fall.

A Discourse of Love neglected, burnt
up with Griefe.

Love is the Cause, and Hate is the Effect,

Which is produc’d, when Love doth find Neglect.

For Love, as Fire, doth on Fuell burne,

And Griefe, as Coles, when quench’d, to Blacknesse turne.

Thence pale, and Melancholy Ashes grow,

Which every Wind though weak dispersing blow.

For Life, and Strength from it is gone, and past,

With th’ Species, which caus’d the Forme to last.

Which nere regaine the Form it had at first:

So Love is lost in Melancholy dust.

A Dis- N3r 93

A Discourse of Pride.

What Creature in the World, besides Man-kind,

That can such Arts, and new Inventions find?

Or hath such Fancy, as to Similize,

Or that can rule, or governe as the Wise?

And by his Wit he can his Mind indite,

As Numbers set, and subtle Letters write.

What Creature else, but Man, can speak true sense?

At distance give, and take Intelligence?

What Creature else, by Reason can abate

All Passions, raise Doubts, Hopes, Love, and Hate?

And can so many Countenances shew?

They are the ground by which Affections grow.

The’re severall Dresses, which the Mind puts on.

Some serve as Veiles, which over it is throwne.

What Creature is there hath such peircing Eyes,

That mingles Soules, and a fast Friend-ship tyes?

What Creature else, but Man, hath such Delights,

So various, and such strong odd Appetites?

Man can distill, and is a Chymist rare.

Divides, and separates, Water, Fire, and Aire.

Thus can Hee divide, and separate

All Natures work, what ere she made:

Can take the Breadth, and Heighth of things,

Or know the Vertue of all Plants that springs:

Makes Creatures all submit unto his will,

Makes Fame to live, though Death his Body kill.

What else, but Man, can Nature imitate,

With Pen, and Pencill can new Worlds create?

There’s none like Man, for like to Gods is he:

Then let the World his Slave, and Vassall be.

Of Ambition.

Ten Thousand Pounds a yeare will make me live:

A Kingdome, Fortune then to me must give.

I’le conquer all, like Alexander Great,

And, like to Cesar, my Opposers beat.

Give N3v 94

Give me a Fame, that with the World may last,

Let all Tongues tell of my great Actions past.

Let every Child, when first tis taught to speak,

Repeat my Name, my Memory for to keep.

And then great Fortune give to me thy power,

To ruine Man, and raise him in an Houre.

Let me command the Fates, and spin their thread;

And Death to stay his Sithe, when I forbid.

And, Destiny, give me your Chaines to tye,

Effects from Causes to produce thereby.

And let me like the Gods on high become,

That nothing can but by my will be done.

Of Humility.

When with returning Thoughts my selfe behold,

I find all Creatures else made of that Mould.

And for the Mind, which some say is like Gods,

I do not find, ’twixt Man, and Beast such oddes:

Onely the Shape of Men is fit for use,

Which makes him seem much wiser then a Goose.

For had a Goose (which seemes of simple Kind)

A Shape to form, and fit things to his Mind:

To make such Creatures as himselfe obey,

Could hunt and shoot those that would ’scape away;

As wise would seem as Man, be as much fear’d,

As when the Goose comes neere, the Man be scar’d.

Who knowes but Beasts may wiser then Men bee?

We no such Errours, or Mistakes can see.

Like quiet Men besides they joy in rest,

To eat, and drink in Peace, they think it best.

Their Food is all they seek, the rest think vaine,

If not unto Eternity remaine.

Despise not Beast, nor yet be proud of Art,

But Nature thank, for forming so each Part.

And since your Knowledge is begot by form,

Let not your Pride that Reason overcome.

For if that Motion in your Braine workes best,

Despise not Beast, cause Motion is deprest.

Nor proud of Speech, ’cause Reason you can shew,

For Beast hath Reason too, for all we know.

But N4r 95

But Shape the Mind informes with what doth find,

Which being taught, is wiser then Beast-kind.

Of Riches, or Covetousnesse.

What will not Riches in abundance do,

Or make the Mind of Man submit unto?

It bribes out Vertue from her strongest hold,

It makes the Coward valorous, and bold:

It corrupts Chastity, meltes Thoughts of Ice,

And bashfull Modesty it doth intice.

It makes the humble, proud, and Meek to swell,

Destroies all Loyalty, makes Hearts rebell.

It doth unty the Knots of Friend-ship fast,

Naturall Affections away to cast.

It cuts th’ Innocents Throat, and Hearts divide;

It buyes out Conscience, doth each Cause decide.

It makes Man venture Life, and Limb,

So much is Wealth desir’d by him.

It buies out Heaven, and casts Soules to Hell,

For Man to get this Muck his God will sell.

Of Poverty.

I live in low Thatcht House, Roomes small, my Cell

Not big enough for Prides great Heart to dwell.

My Roomes are not with Stately Cedars built,

No Marble Chimney-peece, nor Wainscot gilt.

No Statues cut, or carv’d, nor cast in Brasse,

Which, had they Life, would Natures Art surpasse.

Nor painted Pictures which Appelles drew,

There’s nought but Lime, and Haire homely to view;

No Agget Table, with a Tortoise Frame,

Nor Stooles stuft with Birds feathers, wild, or tame.

But a Stump of an old decayed Tree,

And Stooles with three legs, which halfe lame they bee,

Cut with a Hatchet from some broken Boughes.

And this is all which Poverty allowes;

Yet it is free from Cares, no Theeves do feare,

The Doore stands open, all is welcome there.

Not N4v 96

Not like the Rich, who Guests doth entertaine,

With cruelty to Birds, Beasts that are slaine

Who oile their Bodies with their melted Grease,

And by their Flesh their Bodies fat increase.

We need no Cook, nor Skill to dresse our Meat;

For Nature dresses most of what we eate:

As Roots, and Herbes, not such as Art doth sow,

But such in Feilds which naturally grow.

Our wooden Cups we from the Spring do fill,

Which is the Wine-presse of great Nature still.

When rich Men they, for to delight their tast,

Suck out the Juice from Earth, her strength do wast:

For, Bearing often, shee will grow so leane,

A Sceleton, for Bones bare Earth is seen.

And for their Drink, the subtle Spirits take

Both from the Barley, and the full-ripe Grape.

Thus by their Luxury, their life they wast,

All their delight is still to please their tast.

This heates the Mind with an ambitious fire,

None happy is; but in a low desire.

Their desires run, they fix themselves no where,

What they have, or can have, they do not care.

What they injoy not, long for, and admire,

Sick for that want; so restlesse is desire.

When we from Labours come, blest with a quiet sleep,

No restlesse Thoughts our Sense awake doth keep.

All’s still and silent, in our House, and Mind,

Our Thoughts are chearfull, and our Hearts are kind.

And though that life in Motion still doth dwell,

Yet rest in life a poore Man loveth well.

Of Tranquillity.

That Mind which would in Peace, and quiet be,

Must cast off Cares, and foolish Vanity.

With honest desires a house must build,

Upon the ground of Honour, and be seild

With constant Resolutions, to last long,

Rais’d on the Pillars of Justice strong.

Let nothing dwell there, but Thoughts right holy,

Turne out Ignorance, and rude rash folly.

There O1r 97

There will the Mind injoy it selfe in Pleasure,

For, to it selfe, it is the greatest Treasure.

For, they are poore, whose Mind is discontent,

What Joy they have, it is but to them lent.

The World is like unto a troubled Sea,

Life as a Barque, made of a rotten Tree.

Where every Wave indangers it to split,

And drown’d it is, if ’gainst a Rock it hit.

But if this Barque be made with Temperance strong,

It mounts the Waves, and Voyages takes long.

If Discretion doth, as the Pilot guide,

It scapes all Rocks, still goes with Wind, and Tide.

Where Love, as Merchant, trafficks up to Heaven,

And, for his Prayers, he hath Mercies given.

Conscience, as Factor, sets the price of things,

Tranquillity, as Buyers, in the Money brings.

Of the Shortnesse of Mans Life, and
his foolish Ambition.

In Gardens sweet, each Flower mark did I,

How they did spring, bud, blow, wither, and dye.

With that, contemplating of Mans short stay,

Saw Man like to those Flowers passe away.

Yet build they Houses, thick, and strong, and high,

As if they should live to Eternity.

Hoard up a Masse of Wealth, yet cannot fill

His Empty Mind, but covet he will still.

To gaine, or keep such Falshhood Men do use,

Wrong Right, and Truth, no base waies will refuse.

I would not blame them, could they Death out keep,

Or ease their Paines, or cause a quiet Sleep.

Or buy Heavens Mansions, so like Gods become,

And by it, rule the Stars, the Moon, and Sun.

Command the Windes to blow, Seas to obey,

To levell all their Waves, to cause the Windes to stay.

But they no power have, unlesse to dye,

And Care in Life is a great Misery.

O This O1v 98

This Care is for a word, an empty sound,

Which neither Soule nor Substance in is found.

Yet as their Heire, they make it to inherit,

And all they have, they leave unto this Spirit.

To get this Child of Fame, and this Bare word,

They feare no Dangers, neither Fire, nor Sword.

All horrid Paines, and Death they will indure,

Or any thing that can but Fame procure.

O Man, O Man, with high Ambition growes,

Within your Braine, and yet how low he goes!

To be contented onely in a Sound,

Where neither Life, nor Body can be found.

A Morall Discourse betwixt Man, and
Beast.

Man is a Creature like himselfe alone

In him all qualities do joyne as one.

When Man is injur’d, and his Honour stung,

He seemes a Lion, furious, feirce, and strong.

With greedy Covetousnesse, like to Wolves, and Beares,

Devoures Right, and Truth in peeces teares.

Or like as crafty Foxes lye in wait,

To catch young Novice-Kids by their deceit;

So subtill Knaves do watch, who Errours make,

That they thereby Advantages might take.

Not for Examples then to rectifie,

But that much Mischiefe they can make thereby.

Others, like Crouching Spaniels, close will set,

Creeping about the Partridge too in Net.

Some humble seem, annd lowly bend the Knee,

To those which have Power, and Authority:

Not out of Love to Honour, or Renoune,

But to insnare, and so to pull them downe.

Or as a Mastiff flyes at every Throat,

So Spight will flye at all, that is of note.

With Slanderous words, as Teeth, good Deeds out teare,

Which neither Power, nor Strength, nor Greatnesse spare.

And are so mischievous, love not to see

Any to live without an Infamy.

Most O2r 99

Most like to ravenous Beasts in blood delight,

And onely to do mischiefe, love to fight.

But some are like to Horses, strong, and free,

Will gallop over Wrong, and Injury.

Who feare no Foe, nor Enemies do dread,

Will fight in Battells till they fall downe dead.

Their Heart with noble rage so hot will grow,

As from their Nostrils Cloudes of Smoake do blow.

And with their Hoofes the firm hard ground will strike,

In anger, that they cannot go to fight.

Their Eyes (like Flints) will beat out Sparkes of Fire,

Will neigh out loud, when Combates they desire.

So valiant Men their Foe aloud will call,

To try their Strength, and grapple Armes withall.

And in their Eyes such Courage doth appeare,

As if that Mars did rule the Hemispheare.

Some like to slow, dull Asses, full of Feare,

Contented are great Burthens for to beare.

And every Clowne doth beat his Back, and Side,

Because hee’s slow, when fast that he would ride.

Then will he bray out loud, but dare not bite;

For why, he hath not Courage for to fight.

Base Mindes will yeild their Heads under the TYoake,

Offer their Backs to every Tyrants stroke.

Like Fooles will grumble, but they dare not speak,

Nor strive for Liberty, their Bonds to break.

Those that in Slavery live, so dull will grow,

Dejected Spirits make the Body slow.

Others as Swine lye groveling in the Mire,

Have no Heroick Thoughts to rise up higher:

They from their Birth, do never sport, nor play,

But eat, and drink, and grunting, run away:

Of grumbling Natures, never doing good,

And cruell are, as of a Boorish Brood.

So Gluttons, Sluggards care for nought but ease,

In Conversations will not any please:

Ambition none, to make their Name to live;

Nor have they Generosity to give:

And are so Churlish, that if any pray

To help their Wants, will cursing go away.

O2 So O2v 100

So cruell are, so far from death to save,

That they will take away the Life they have.

Some like to fearefull Hart, or frighted Hare,

Shun every noise, and their owne Shadowes feare.

So Cowards, that are sent in Wars to fight,

Think not to beat, but how to make their flight.

When Trumpet sounds to charge the Foe, it calls,

And with that noise, the Heart o’th Coward falls.

Others as harmlesse Sheep in peace do live,

Contented are, no Injury will give:

But on the tender Grasse they gently feed,

Which do no Spight, nor ranckled Malice breed.

They never in the waies of mischiefe stood,

To set their Teeth in flesh, or drink up blood.

They grieve to walk alone, will pine away,

Grow fat in Flockes, will with each other play.

The naked they do cloath with their soft Wool,

The Ewes do feed the hungry Stomack full.

So gentle Nature’s Disposition sweet

Shuns foolish Quarrels, loves the Peace to keep.

Full of Compassion, pitying the distrest,

And with their Bounty help they the opprest.

They swell not with the Pride of self-conceit,

Nor for their Neighbours life do lye in wait.

Nor Innocence by their Extortions teare,

Nor fill the Widowes Heart with Greife, or Care:

Nor Bribes will take with covetous hands,

Nor set they back the Mark of th’ Owners Lands.

But with a gratefull Heart do still returne

The Curtesies that have for them been done.

And in their Conversation, meek, and mild,

Without Lascivious words, or Actions wild.

Those Men are Fathers to a Common-wealth,

Where Justice lives, and Truth may shew her selfe.

Others as Apes do imitate the rest,

And when they mischiefe do, seem but to jest.

So are Buffoones, tha seem for Mirth to sport,

Whose liberty fills Factions in a Court.

Those that delight in Fooles, must in good part

Take what they say, although the words are smart.

But O3r 101

But many times such ranckled Thoughts beget

In Hearts of Princes, and much Envie set,

By praising Rivalls; or else do reveale

Those Faults, most fit for privacy to conceale.

For though a Foole, if he an ill truth tells.

Or be it false, if like a Truth it smels;

It gets such hold, though in a wise mans Braine,

That hardly it will ever out againe.

And so like Wormes, some will be troad to Earth,

Others as venemous Vipers stung to death.

Some like to subtle Serpents wind about,

To compasse their designes craule in, and out:

And never leave untill some Nest they find,

Sucke out the Eggs, and leave the Shels behind.

So Flatterers with Praises wind about

A Noble Mind, to get a Secret out.

For Flattery through every Eare will glide,

Downe to the Heart, and there some time abide;

And in the Brest with feigned Friend-ship lye,

Till to the Death he stings him cruelly.

Thus some as Birds, and Beasts, and Flies, are such:

To every Creature men resemble much.

Some, like to soaring Eagle, mount up high:

Wings of Ambition beare then to the Skie.

Or, like to Hawkes, flye round to catch their Prey,

Or like to Puttocks, beare the Chick away.

Some like to Ravens, which on Carrion feed,

And some their spight feed on, what slanders breed.

Some like to Peacock proud, his taile to shew:

So men, that Followers have, will haughty grow.

Some Melancholy Owles, that hate the Light,

And as the Bat flyes in the Shades of Night:

So Envious Men their Neighbour hate to see,

When that he Shines in great Prosperity:

Keep home in discontent, repine at all,

Untill some Mischiefe on the Good do fall.

Others, as chearfull Larkes, sing as they flye.

So men are merry, wich have no Envie.

And some as Nightingales do sweetly sing,

As Messengers, when they good Newes do bring.

Thus O3v 102

Thus Men, Birds, Beasts, in Humours much agree,

But severall Properties in these there bee.

Tis proper for a lively Horse to neigh,

And for a slow, dull foolish Asse to bray.

For Dogs to bark, Bulls roare, Wolves houle, Pigs squeak,

For Men to frowne, to weep, to laugh, to speake.

Proper for Flyes to buzze, Birds sing, and chatter,

Onely for Men to promise, sweare, and flatter:

So Men these Properties can imitate,

But not their Faculties that Nature made.

Men have no Wings to flye up to the Skie,

Nor can they like to Fish in waters lye.

What Man like Roes can run so swift, and long?

Nor are they like to Horse or Lions strong.

Nor are they Sent, like Dogs, a Hare to find,

Or Sight like Swine to see the subtle wind.

Thus severall Creatures, by severall Sense,

Have better far (then Man) Intelligence.

These severall Creatures, severall Arts do well,

But Man in generall, doth them far excell.

For Arts in Men as well did Nature give,

As other qualities in Beast to live.

And from Mens Braines such fine Inventions flow,

As in his Head all other heads do grow.

What Creature builds like Man such Stately Towers,

And make such things, as Time cannot devoure?

What Creature makes such Engines as Man can?

To traffick, and to use at Sea, and Land.

To kill, to spoile, or else to alive to take,

Destroying all that other Creatures make.

This makes Man seem of all the World a King,

Because hee power hath of every thing.

He’l teach Birds words, in measure Beast to go,

Makes Passions in the Mind, to ebb, and flow.

And though he cannot flye as Birds, with wings,

Yet he can take the height, and breadth of things.

He knows the course and number of the Stars,

But Birds, and Beasts are no Astrologers.

And though he cannot like to Fishes swim,

Yet Nets He makes, to catch those Fishes in.

And O4r 103

And with his Ships hee’l circle the World round.

What Beast, or Bird that can do so, is found?

Hee’l fell downe Woods, with Axes sharp will strike;

Whole Heards of Beasts can never do the like.

What Beast can plead, to save anothers Life,

Or by his Eloquence can end a Strife?

Or Counsels give, great Dangers for to shun,

Or tell the Cause, or how Eclipses come?

Hee’l turne the Current of the Water cleare,

And make them like the new Seas for to appeare.

Where Fishes onely in old waters glide.

Can cut new Rivers out on any side.

Hee Mountaines makes so high, the Cloudes will touch,

Mountaines of Moles, or Ants, scarce do so much.

What Creature like to Man can Reasons shew,

Which makes him know, that he thereby doth know?

And who, but Man, makes use of every thing,

As Goodnesse out of Poyson Hee can bring?

Thus Man is filled a withwith a strong Desire,

And by his Rhet’rick sets the Soule on Fire.

Beasts no Ambition have to get a Fame,

Nor build they Tombes, thereon to write their Name.

They never war, high Honour for to get.

But to secure themselves, or Meat to eat.

But Men are like to Gods, they live for ever shall;

And Beasts are like themselves, to Dust shall fall.

Of the Ant.

Mark but the little Ant; how she doth run,

In what a busie motion shee goeth on:

As if she ordered all the Worlds Affaires;

When tis but onely one small Straw shee beares.

But when they find a Flye, which on the ground lyes dead,

Lord, how they stir; so full is every Head.

Some with their Feet, and Mouths, draw it along,

Others their Tailes, and Shoulders thrust it on.

And if a Stranger Ant comes on that way,

Shee helpes them strait, nere asketh if shee may.

Nor staies to ask Rewardes, but is well pleas’d:

Thus paies her selfe with her owne Paines, their Ease.

They O4v 104

They live as the Lacedemonians did,

All is in Common, nothing is forbid.

No Private Feast, but altogether meet,

Wholesome, though Plaine, in Publick do they eat.

They have no Envie, all Ambition’s downe,

There is no Superiority, or Clowne.

No Stately Palaces for Pride to dwell,

Their House is Common, called the Ants Hill.

All help to build, and keep it in repaire,

No ’speciall work-men, all Labourers they are.

No Markets keep, no Meat they have to sell,

For what each one doth eat, all welcome is, and well.

No Jealousie, each takes his Neighbours Wife,

Without Offence, which never breedeth Strife.

Nor fight they Duels, nor do give the Lye,

Their greatest Honour is to live, not dye.

For they, to keep in life, through Dangers run,

To get Provisions in ’gainst Winter comes.

But many loose their Life, as Chance doth fall,

None is perpetuall, Death devoures all.

A Morall Description of Corne.

The yellow Bearded Corne bowes downe each Head,

Like Gluttons, when their Stomacks over-fed.

Or like to those whose Wealth make heavie Cares,

So doth the full-ripe Corne bow downe their Eares.

Thus Plenty, makes Oppression, gives small ease;

And Superfluity is a Disease.

Yet all that Nature makes, aspiring runs

Still forward for to get, nere backward turnes;

Untill the Sight of Death doth lay them low,

Upon the Earth, from whence at first they grow.

Then who would hoard up Wealth, and take such paines,

Since nothing but the Earth hath all the Gaines?

No Riches are, but what the Mind doth keep:

And they are poore, who from the Earth do seek.

For Time, that feeds on Life, makes all things fall,

Is never satisfied, yet eates up all.

Then let the Mindes of Men in peace to rest,

And count a Moderation still the best:

Nor P1r 105

Nor grumble not, nor covet Natures Store,

For those that are content, can nere be poore,

And blesse the Gods, submit to their Decree,

Think all things best, what they are pleas’d shall bee.

For he that murmures at what cannot mend,

Is one that takes a thing at the wrong End.

A Discourse of Beasts.

Who knowes; but Beasts, as they do lye,

In Meadowes low, or else on Mountaines high?

But that they do contemplate on the Sun,

And how his daily, yearely Circles run.

Whether the Sun about the Earth doth rove,

Or else the Earth upon its owne Poles move.

And in the Night, when twinkling Stars we see,

Like Man, imagines them all Suns to bee.

And may like Man, Stars, Planets number well,

And could they speak, they might their Motions tell.

And how the Planets in each Orbe do move:

’Gainst their Astrology no Man can prove.

For they may know the Stars, and their Aspects,

What Influence they cast, and their Effects.

Of Fishes.

Who knowes, but Fishes which swim in the Sea,

Can give a Reason, why so Salt it be?

And how it Ebbs and Flowes, perchance they can

Give Reasons, for which never yet could Man.

Of Birds.

Who knowes; but Birds which in the Aire flyes,

Do know from whence the Blustring Wind do rise?

May know that Thunder is, which no Man knowes,

And what’s a blazing Star, or where it goes.

Whether it be a Chip, fallen from the Sun,

And so goes out, when Aliment is done.

Whether a Sulphurous Vapour drawne up high,

And when the Sulphure’s spent, the Flame doth dye.

P Or P1v 106

Or whether it be a Gelly set on Fire,

And wasting like a Candle doth expire.

Or whether it be a Star wholly intire,

Perchance might know of Birds, could we inquire.

Earths Complaint.

O Nature, Nature, hearken to my Cry,

Each Minute wounded am, but cannot dye.

My Children which I from my Womb did beare,

Do dig my Sides, and all my Bowels teare:

Do plow deep Furroughs in my very Face,

From Torment, I have neither time, nor place.

No other Element is so abus’d,

Nor by Man-kind so cruelly is us’d.

Man cannot reach the Skies to plow, and sow,

Nor can they set, or mark the Stars to grow.

But they are still as Nature first did plant,

Neither Maturity, nor Growth they want.

They never dye, nor do they yeild their place

To younger Stars, but still run their owne Race.

The Sun doth never groane young Suns to beare,

For he himselfe is his owne Son, and Heire.

The Sun just in the Center sits, as King,

The Planets round about incircle him.

The slowest Orbes over his Head turn slow,

And underneath, the swiftest Planets go.

Each severall Planet, severall measures take,

And with their Motions they sweet Musick make.

Thus all the Planets round about him move,

And he returnes them Light for their kind Love.

A Discourse of a Knave.

A Prosperous Knave, that Mischiefes still doth plot,

Swels big with Pride, since he hath power got.

Whose Conscience, like a Purse, drawne open wide,

False hands do cast in Bribes on every side.

And as the Guts are stuft with Excrement,

So is his Head with Thoughts of ill intent.

Compassions P2r 107

Compassions none, for them who’re pres’d with Griefe,

But yet is apt to pity much a Thiefe.

Hee thinkes them Fooles, that wickednesse do shun,

Esteemes them wise, which Evill waies do run.

He scornes the Noble, if that they be poore,

The Rich, though nere so base, he doth adore.

He alwaies smiles, as if he Peace still meant,

When all the while his Heart is evill bent.

A Seeming friend-ship, large Professions make,

Where he doth think Advantages to take.

Thus doth a Glossing Knave the World abuse,

To work his End, the Devill a Friend will chuse.

Of a Foole.

I hate your Fooles, for they my Braines do crack,

And when they speak, my Patience’s on the Rack.

Their Actions all from Reason quite do run,

Their Ends prove bad, ’cause ill they first begun.

They flye from Wisedome, do her Counsels feare,

As if some Ruine neere their heads there were.

They seek the Shadow, let the Substance go,

And what is good, or best, they do not know.

Yet stiff in their Opinions, Stuborne, strong,

Although you bray them, sayeth Salomon.

As Spiders Webs intangle little Flies,

So Fooles wrapt up in Webs of Errours lyes.

Then comes the Spider, Flies with Poyson fills,

So Mischiefe, after Errours, Fooles oft kills.

A Discourse of Melancholy.

A Sad, and solemne Verse doth please the Mind,

With Chaines of Passions doth the Spirits bind.

As Pensil’d Pictures drawne presents the Night,

Whose Darker Shadowes give the Eye delight;

Melancholy Aspects invite the Eye,

And alwaies have a seeming Majesty.

By its Converting Qualities, there growes

A Perfect Likenesse, when it selfe it shewes.

P2 Then P2v 108

Then let the World in mourning sit, and weep,

Since onely Sadnesse we are apt to keep.

In light and Toyish things we seek for Change,

The Mind growes weary, and about doth range.

What Serious is, there Constancies will dwell;

Which shewes that Sadnesse Mirth doth far excell.

Why should Men grieve when they do think of Death,

Since they no settlement can have in Mirth?

The Grave, though sad, in quiet still they keep,

Without disturbing Dreames they lye a sleep.

No rambling Thoughts to vex their restlesse Braines,

Nor Labour hard, to scortch, and dry their Veines.

No care to search for that, they cannot find,

Which is an Appetite to every Mind.

Then wish, good Man, to dye in quiet Peace,

Since Death in Misery is a Release.

A Discourse of the Power of Devils.

Women, and Fooles, feare in the Dark to be;

They think the Devill in some Shape should see:

As if like silly Owles, he takes delight,

To sleep all Day, then goes abroad at Night.

To beat the Pots, and Pans, Candles blow out,

And all the Night to keep a Revell-rout.

To make the Sow to grunt, the Pigs to squeek,

The Dogs to bark, Cats mew, as if they speak.

Alas, poore Devill, whose Power is small,

Onely to make a Cat, or Dog to baule:

And with the Peuter, Brasse to make a noise,

To stew with fearefull sweat poore Girles, and Boies.

Why should we feare him, since he doth no harm?

For we may bind him fast within a Charm.

Then what a Devill ailes a Woman Old,

To play such Tricks, to give away her Soule?

Can he destroy Man-kind, or new Worldes make,

Or alter States for an Old Womans sake?

Or put Day-light out, or stop the Sun,

Or change the Planets from their course to run?

And yet methinkes tis odd, and very strange,

That since the Devils cannot Bodies change,

Should P3r 109

Should have such power over Soules, to draw

Them from their God, and from his holy Law.

Perswading Conscience to do more ill,

Then the sweet Grace of God to rule the Will:

To cut of Faith, by which our Soules should climbe,

To make us leave our Folly, and our Crime:

Destroying Honesty, disgracing Truth;

Yet can He neither make Old Age, nor Youth.

Nor can he add, or take a Minute short;

Yet many Soules he keepes from Heavens Court.

It seemes, his Power shall for ever last,

Because tis on the Soule, which never wast.

And thus hath God the Devill Power lent,

To punish Man, unlesse he doth repent.

The P3v 110

The Claspe:

Give Mee the Free, and Noble Stile,

Which seems uncurb’d, though it be wild:

Though It runs wild about, It cares not where;

It shewes more Courage, then It doth of Feare.

Give me a Stile that Nature frames, not Art:

For Art doth seem to take the Pedants part.

And that seemes Noble, which is Easie, Free,

Not to be bound with ore-nice Pedantry.

The Hunting of the Hare.

Betwixt two Ridges of Plowd-land, lay Wat,

Pressing his Body close to Earth lay squat.

His Nose upon his two Fore-feet close lies,

Glaring obliquely with his great gray Eyes.

His Head he alwaies sets against the Wind;

If turne his Taile his Haires blow up behind:

Which he too cold will grow, but he is wise,

And keepes his Coat still downe, so warm he lies.

Thus resting all the day, till Sun doth set,

Then riseth up, his Reliefe for to get.

Walking about untill the Sun doth rise,

Then back returnes, downe in his Forme he lyes.

At last, Poore Wat was found, as he there lay,

By Hunts-men, with their Dogs which came that way.

Seeing, gets up, and fast begins to run,

Hoping some waies the Cruell Dogs to shun.

But they by Nature have so quick a Sent,

That by their Nose they trace what way he went.

And with their deep, wide Mouths set forth a Cry,

Which answer’d was by Ecchoes in the Skie.

Then Wat was struck with Terrour, and with Feare,

Thinkes every Shadow still the Dogs they were.

And running out some distance from the noise,

To hide himselfe, his Thoughts he new imploies.

Under P4r 111

Under a Clod of Earth in Sand-pit wide,

Poore Wat sat close, hoping himselfe to hide.

There long he had not sat, but strait his Eares

The Winding Hornes, and crying Dogs he heares:

Starting with Feare, up leapes, then doth he run,

And with such speed, the Ground scarce treads upon.

Into a great thick Wood he strait way gets,

Where underneath a broken Bough he sits.

At every Leafe that with the wind did shake,

Did bring such Terrour, made his Heart to ake.

That Place he left, to Champian Plaines he went,

Winding about, for to deceive their Sent.

And while they snuffling were, to find his Track,

Poore Wat, being weary, his swift pace did slack.

On his two hinder legs for ease did sit,

His Fore-feet rub’d his Face from Dust, and Sweat.

Licking his Feet, he wip’d his Eares so cleane,

That none could tell that Wat had hunted been.

But casting round about his faire great Eyes,

The Hounds in full Careere he neere him spies:

To Wat it was so terrible a Sight,

Feare gave him Wings, and made his Body light.

Though weary was before, by running long,

Yet now his Breath he never felt more strong.

Like those that dying are, think Health returnes,

When tis but a faint Blast, which Life out burnes.

For Spirits seek to guard the Heart about,

Striving with Death, but Death doth quench them out.

Thus they so fast came on, with such loud Cries,

That he no hopes hath left, nor help espies,

With that the Winds did pity poore Wats case,

And with their Breath the Sent blew from the Place.

Then every Nose is busily imployed,

And every Nostrill is set open, wide:

And every Head doth seek a severall way,

To find what Grasse, or Track, the Sent on lay.

Thus quick Industry, that is not slack,

Is like a Witchery, brings lost things back.

For though the Wind had tied the Sent up close,

A Busie Dog thrust in his Snuffling Nose:

And P4v 112

And drew it out, with it did foremost run,

Then Hornes blew loud, for th’ rest to follow on.

The great slow-Hounds, their throats did set a Base,

The Fleet swift Hounds, as Tenours next in place;

The little Beagles they a Trebble sing,

And through the Aire their Voice a round did ring?

Which made a Consort, as they ran along;

If they but words could speak, might sing a Song,

The Hornes kept time, the Hunters shout for Joy,

And valiant seeme, poore Wat for to destroy:

Spurring their Horses to a full Careere,

Swim Rivers deep, leap Ditches without feare;

Indanger Life, and Limbes, so fast will ride,

Onely to see how patiently Wat died.

For why, the Dogs so neere his Heeles did get,

That they their sharp Teeth in his Breech did set.

Then tumbling downe, did fall with weeping Eyes,

Gives up his Ghost, and thus poore Wat he dies.

Men hooping loud, such Acclamations make,

As if the Devill they did Prisoner take.

When they do but a shiftlesse Creature kill;

To hunt, there needs no Valiant Souldiers skill.

But Man doth think that Exercise, and Toile,

To keep their Health, is best, which makes most spoile.

Thinking that Food, and Nourishment so good,

And Appetite, that feeds on Flesh, and Blood.

When they do Lions, Wolves, Beares, Tigers see,

To kill poore Sheep, strait say, they cruell be.

But for themselves all Creatures think too few,

For Luxury, wish God would make them new.

As if that God made Creatures for Mans meat,

To give them Life, and Sense, for Man to eat;

Or else for Sport, or Recreations sake,

Destroy those Lifes that God saw good to make:

Making their Stomacks, Graves, which full they fill.

With Murther’d Bodies, that in sport they kill.

Yet Man doth think himselfe so gentle, mild,

When he of Creatures is most cruell wild.

And is so Proud, thinks onely he shall live,

That God a God-like Nature did him give.

And Q1r 113

And that all Creatures for his sake alone,

Was made for him, to Tyrannize upon.

The hunting of the Stag.

Teere was a Stag did in the Forrest lye,

Whose Neck was long, and Hornes branch’d up high.

His Haunch was broad, Sides large, and Back was long,

His Legs were Nervous, and his Joynts were strong.

His Haire lay sleek, and smooth upon his Skin,

None in the Forrest might compare with him.

In Summers heat he in coole Brakes him laies,

Which grew so high, kept of the Suns hot Raies.

In Evenings coole, or dewy Mornings new,

Would he rise up, and all the Forrest view.

Then walking to some cleare, and Christall Brook,

Not for Drink, but on his Hornes to look:

Taking such Pleasure in his Stately Crowne,

His Pride forgets that Dogs might pull him downe.

From thence unto a Shady Wood did go,

Where Streightest Pines, and tallest Cedars grow;

And upright Olives, which th’ loving Vine oft twines,

And slender Birch bowes head Good Mines
are found out
by the Birches
bowing.
to golden Mines.

Small Aspen Stalkt which shakes like Agues cold,

That from perpetuall Motion never hold.

The sturdy Oake on Foamy Seas doth ride,

Firre, which tall Masts doth make, where Sailes are tied.

The weeping Maple, and the Poplar green,

Whose Cooling Buds in Salves have healing been.

The Fatting Chestnut, and the Hasle small,

The Smooth-rind Beech, which groweth large, and tall.

The Loving Myrtle is for Amorous kind,

The yeilding Willow, as inconstant Mind.

The Cypres sad, which makes the Funerall Hearse,

And Sicomers, where Lovers write their Verse:

And Juniper, which gives a pleasant smell,

And many more, which were too long to tell.

Round from their Sappy Roots sprout Branches small,

Some call it Under-wood, that’s never tall.

There walking through, the Stag was hindred much,

The bending Twigs his Hornes would often catch.

Q While Q1v 114

While on the tender Leaves, and Buds did browse,

His Eyes were troubl’d with the broken Boughs.

Then strait He seeks this Labyrinth to unwind,

But hard it was his first way out to find.

Unto this Wood a rising Hall did joyne,

Where grew wild Margerom, and sweet wild Time:

And Winter-savory which was never set,

On which the Stag delighted much to eat.

But looking downe upon the Vallies low,

He sees the Grasse, and Cowslips thick to grow;

And Springs, which dig themselves a Passage out,

Much like as Serpents wind each Feild about.

Rising in Winter high, do over-flow,

The Flowry Banks, but rich in Soi’e doth grow.

So as he went, thinking therein to feed,

He saw a Feild, which sow’d was with Wheat Seed.

The Blades were growne a hand-full high, and more,

Which Sight his Tast did soon invite him o’re.

In hast goes on, feeds full, then downe he lies,

The Owner coming there, he soon espies:

Strait call’d his Dogs to hunt him from that place,

At last it came to be a Forrest Chase.

The Chase grew hot, the Stag apace did run,

Dogs followed close, and Men for sport did come.

At last a Troop of Men, Horse, Dogs did meet,

Which made the Hart to try his Nimble Feet.

Full swift he was, his Hornes he bore up high,

Then Men did shout, the Dogs ran yelping by:

And Bugle Hornes with severall Notes did blow,

Hunts-men to crosse the Stag did side-waies go.

The Horses beat their Hoofes against dry ground,

Raising such Clouds of dust their waies scarce found.

Their Sides ran downe with Sweat, as if they were

New come from watring, dropping every Haire.

The Dogs their Tongues out of their Mouths hung long,

Their Sides did beat like Feaverish Pulse so strong.

Their Short Ribbs heave up high, then fall downe low,

As Bellowes draw in wind the same to blow.

Men tawny grew, the Sun their Skins did turne,

Their Mouths were dry, their Bowels felt to burne.

The Q2r 115

The Stag so hot as Coles, when kindled through,

Yet swiftly ran, when he the Dogs did view.

Coming at length unto a Rivers side,

Whose Current flow’d, as with a falling Tide;

Where he leapes in to quench his scortching heat,

To wash his Sides, to coole his burning Feet.

Hoping the Dogs in water could not swim,

But hee’s deceiv’d, the Dogs do enter in;

Like Fishes, try’d to swim in water low:

But out alas, his Hornes too high do shew.

When Dogs were cover’d over Head, and Eares,

No part is seen, onely their Nose appeares.

The Stag, and River, like a Race did shew,

He striving still the swift River to out-go.

Whilst Men, and Horses ran the Banks along,

Encouraging the Dogs to follow on:

Where he on waters, like a Looking-glasse,

By a Reflection sees their Shadowes passe.

Feare cuts his Breath off short, his Limbs do shrink,

Like those the Cramp doth take, to bottom sink.

Thus out of Breath, no longer could he stay,

But leapes on Land, and swiftly runs away.

Change gave him ease, ease strength, in strength hope lives,

Hope joyes the Heart, or light Heele joy still gives.

His Feet like to a Feather’d Arrow flies,

Or like a winged Bird, that mounts the Skies.

The Dogs like Ships, that saile with Wind, and Tide,

Which cut the Aire, and waters deep divide.

Or like a greedy Merchant, seeks for Gaine,

Will venture Life, so trafficks on the Maine.

The Hunters, like to Boies, no dangers shun,

To see a Sight, will venture Life, and Limb.

Which sad become, when Mischiefe takes not place,

Is out of Countenance, as with disgrace.

But when they see a Ruine, and a fall,

Return with Joy, as Conquerors they were all.

Thus their severall Passions their waies did meet,

As Dogs desire to catch did make them Fleet.

The Stag with feare did run, his life to save,

Whilst Men for love of Mischiefe dig his Grave.

Q2 The Q2v 116

The angry Dust in every Face up flies,

As with Revenge, seeks to put out their Eies.

Yet they so fast went on with such loud Cries,

The Stag no hope had left, nor help espies:

His Heart so heavie grew, with Griefe, and Care,

That his small Feet his Body could not beare.

Yet loth to dye, or yield to Foes was he,

But to the last would strive for Victory.

Twas not for want of Courage he did run,

But that an Army against One did come.

Had he the Valour of bold sar stout,

Must yeild himselfe to them, or dye no doubt.

Turning his Head, as if he dar’d their Spight,

Prepar’d himselfe against them all to fight.

Single he was, his Hornes were all his helpes,

To guard him from a Multitude of Whelpes.

Besides, a company of Men were there,

If Dogs should faile, to strike him every where.

But to the last his Fortune hee’ll try out:

Then Men, and Dogs do circle him about.

Some bite, some bark, all ply him at the Bay,

Where with his Hornes he tosses some away.

But Fate his thread had spun, so downe did fall,

Shedding some Teares at his owne Funerall.

Of an Island.

There was an Island rich by Natures grace,

In all the World it was the sweetest place:

Surrounded with the Seas, whose Waves don’t misse

To do her Homage, and her Feet do kisse.

Where every Wave by turne do bow downe low,

And proud to touch her, as they overflow.

Armies of Waves in Troopes high Tides bring on,

Whose watry Armes do glister like the Sun:

And on their backs burthens of Ships do beare,

And in her Havens places them with care;

Not Mercenary, They no pay will have,

Yet as her Guard they watch to keep her safe;

And in a Ring they circle her about,

Strong as a Wall, to keep her Foes still out.

So Q3r 177117

So Windes do serve, and on the Cloudes do ride,

Blowing their Trumpets loud on every side;

And serve as Scouts, do search in every Lane,

And gallop in the Forrest, Feilds, and Plaine.

And while shee please the Gods, in safety lives,

They to delight her, all fine Pleasures gives.

For all this Place is fertile, rich, and faire.

Both Woods, and Hills, and Dales, in Prospects are.

Birds pleasure take, and with delight do sing,

In Praises of this Isle the Woods do ring;

Trees thrive with joy, this Isle their Roots do feed,

Grow tall with Pride, their Tops they over-spread;

Dance with the Windes, when they do sing, and blow,

Play like a Wanton Kid, or the swift Roe.

Their severall Branches severall Birds do beare,

Which hop, and Skip, and alwaies merry are.

Their Leaves do wave, and rushing make a noise:

Thus many waies do strive t’ expresse their Joyes.

And Flowers there look fresh, and gay with Mirth,

Whilst they are danc’d upon the lap of Earth:

Their Mother the Island, they her Children sweet,

Born from her Loines, got by Apollo great.

Who takes great care to dresse, and prune them oft,

And with cleare Dew he washes their Leaves soft.

When he hath done, he wipes those drops away,

With Webbs Sun Beames. of heat, which he weaves every day,

Paints There would
be no Colours, if
no Light.
them with severall Colours intermixt,

Veiles them with Shadowes every leafe betwixt.

Their Heads he dresses, spreads their hairy leaves,

And round their Crownes his golden Beames he wreaths.

For he this Isle esteemes above the rest;

Of all his Wives, we find he loves her best.

Presents her daily with some fine new Gift,

Twelve Ells of Light, to make her Smocks These Smocks
are the daies.
for shift.

Which every time he comes, he puts on cleane,

And changes oft, that shee may lovely seem.

And when he goeth from her, the World to see,

He leaves his Sister The Moon. for her company:

Cynthia she is, though pale, yet cleare,

Which makes her alwaies in Dark Cloudes appeare.

Besides, Q3v 118

Besides, he leaves his Stars to wait, for feare

His Isle too sad should be, when hee’s not there.

And from his bounty cloaths them all with Light,

Which makes them twinckle in a Frosty Night.

He never brings hot Beames, to do her harm,

Nor lets her take a Cold, but laps her warm;

With Mantles rich of equall heat doth spread,

And covers her with Colour Crimson red.

He gives another o’re her head to lye,

The Colour is a pure bright Azure Skie:

And with soft Aire doth line them all within,

As Furrs in Winter, in Summer Satten thin.

With silver Clouds he fringes them about,

Where spangled Meteors glistring hang without.

Thus gives her Change, least she should weary grow,

Or think them Old, and so away them throw.

Nature adornes this Island all throughout,

With Land-skips, Prospects, and Rills that run about.

There Hills o’re top the Dales, which levell be,

Covered with Cattell feeding Eagerly.

Where Grasse growes up even to the Belly high,

Where Beasts, that chew their Cud, in Pleasure lye.

Whisking their Tailes about, the Flies to beat,

Or else to coole them from the Soultry heat.

Nature, willing to th’ Gods her Love to shew,

Sent plenty in, like Niles great overflow;

Gave temperate Seasons, and equall Lights,

The Sun-shine daies, and Dewy Moon-shine Nights.

And in this pleasant Island, Peace did dwell,

No noise of War, or sad Tale could it tell.

The Ruine of the Island.

This Island liv’d in Peace full many a day,

So long as She unto the Gods did pray.

But She grew proud with Plenty, and with Ease,

Ador’d her selfe, so did the Gods displease.

She flung their Alters downe, her owne set up,

And She alone would have divine Worship.

The Gods grew angry, and commanded Fate,

To alter, and to ruine quite the State.

For Q4r 119

For they had chang’d their Mind of late; they said,

And did repent unthankfull Man th’ had made:

Fates wondred much, to heare what said the Gods,

That Mortall Men, and they were at great odds;

And found them apt to Change, they thought it shew’d,

As if poore Man the Gods had not foreknow’d.

For why, said they, if Men do evill grow,

The Gods foreseeing all, Men’s Hearts do know,

Long, long before they made, or were create;

If so, what need they Change, or alter Fate?

T was in their power to make them good, or ill:

If so, Men cannot do just what they will.

Then why do Gods complaine against them so,

Since Men are made by them such waies to go?

If Evill power hath Gods to oppose,

To equall Deities it plainly shewes;

Having no Power to keep Obedience long,

If Disobedient Power be as strong:

As being ignorant how Men will prove,

Nor know how strong, or long will last their Love.

But may not Gods decree on this Line run,

To love Obedience whensoe’ere it come?

So from the first Variation creates,

And for that work made Destiny, and Fates.

Then tis the Mind of Men, that’s apt to range,

And not the Mindes of Gods, subject to Change.

Then did the Fates unto the Planets go,

And told them they Malignity must throw

Into this Island, for the Gods will take

Even high Revenge, since she their Lawes forsake.

With that the Planets drew up with a Scrue

The Vapour bad from all the Earth, then view

What Place, to squeese that Poyson, in which all

The Venome was, that’s got from the Worlds Ball.

Which through Mens Veines, like molten Lead it came,

And like to Oile, did all their Spirits flame.

Where Malice boyl’d with rancor, Spleen, and Spight,

In War, and Fraud, Injustice took delight.

Studying which way might one another rob,

In open sight do Ravish, boldly Stab.

To Q4v 120

To Parents Children unnat’rally grow,

And former Friend-ship now’s turn’d cruell Foe.

For Innocency no Protection had,

Religious Men were thought to be stark mad.

In Witches Wizzards did they put their Trust,

Extortions, Bribes, where thought to be most just.

Like Titans Race, all in a Tumult rose,

Blasphemous words against high Heaven throwes.

Gods in a Rage unbind the Windes and blow

In forraine Nations, formerly their Foe.

Where they did plant themselves, no Brittons live,

For why the Gods their Lives, and Land them give.

Compassion wept, and Virtue wrung her hands,

To see that Right was banish’d from their Lands.

Thus Windes, and Seas, the Planets, Fates, and all,

Conspired to work her Ruine, and her fall.

But those that keep the Lawes of God on high,

Shall live in Peace, in Graves shall quiet lye.

And ever after like the Gods shall be,

Injoy all Pleasure, know no Misery.

To R1r 121

To
Poets.

There is no Spirit frights me so much, as Poets
Satyrs
, and their Faiery Wits: which are so subtle,
aiery, and nimble, as they passe through every small
Crevise
, and Cranie of Errours, and Mistakes,
and dance upon every Line, and round every Fancy; which when
they find to be dull, and sleepy, they pinch them black, and blew,
with Robbin-hoods Jests. But I hope you will spare me: for the
Harth is swept cleane, and a Bason of water with a cleane Towell
set by, and the Ashes rake’d up; wherefore let my Book sleep quietly,
and the Watch-light burning clearly, and not blew, and Blinkingly,
nor the Pots, and Pans be disturbed; but let it be still from
your noise, that the Effemenate Cat may not Mew, nor the Masculine
Curs bark
, nor houle forth Railings to disturbe my harmlesse
Bookes rest
. But if you will judge my Book severely, I doubt
I shall be cast to the Bar of Folly, there forc’d to hold up my Hand
of Indiscretion, and confesse Ignorance to my Enemies dislike.
For I have no Eloquent Orator to plead for me, as to perswade a
Severe Judge, nor Flattery to bribe a Corrupt One; which
makes me afraid, I shall loose my Suit of Praise. Yet I have Truth
to speak in my behalfe for some favour; which saith first, that Women
writing seldome, makes it seem strange, and what is unusuall,
seemes Fantasticall, and what is Fantasticall, seemes odd, and
what seemes odd, Ridiculous: But as Truth tells you, all is not
Gold that glisters; so she tells you, all is not Poore, that hath not
Golden Cloaths on, nor mad, which is out of Fashion; and if
I be out of the Fashion, because Women do not generally write;
yet, before you laugh at me, let your Reason view strictly, whether
the Fashion be not usefull, gracefull, easie, comely, and modest:
And if it be any of these, spare your Smiles of Scorne, for those
that are wanton, carelesse, rude, or unbecoming: For though
her Garments are plaine, and unusuall, yet they are cleane, and
decent. Next, Truth tells you, that Women have seldome, or R never, R1v 122
never, (or at least in these latter Ages) written a Book of Poetry,
unlesse it were in their Dressings, which can be no longer read
then Beauty lasts. Wherefore it hath seemed hitherto, as if Nature
had compounded Mens Braines with more of the Sharp Atomes,
which make the hot, and dry Element, and Womens
with more of the round Atomes, which Figure makes the cold,
and moist Element: And though Water is a usefull Element,
yet Fire is the Nobler, being of an Aspiring quality. But it is
rather a Dishonour, not a Fault in Nature, for her Inferiour
Workes
to move towards Perfection; though the best of her
Workes can never be so Perfect as her selfe; yet she is pleased
when they imitate her; and to imitate her, I hope you will be pleased,
I Imitate you. Tis true, my Verses came not out of Jupiters
Head, therefore they cannot prove a Pallas: yet they are like Chast
Penelope’s Work, for I wrote them in my Husbands absence,
to delude Melancholy Thoughts, and avoid Idle Time. The
last thing Truth tells you, is, my Verses were gathered too soon:
wherefore they cannot be of a Mature growth; for the Sun of
time was onely at that height, as to draw them forth, but not heat
enough to ripen them; which makes me feare they will tast harsh,
and unpleasant; But if they were strew’d with some Sugar of
Praises, and Bake’d in the Oven of Applause, they may passe
at a generall Feast, though they do not relish with nice, and delicate
Palates
; yet the Vulgar may digest them: for they care
not what the Meat is, if the Crust bee good, or indeed thick:
for they judge according to the quantity, not the quality, or rarity:
but they are oft perswaded by the senses of others, more
then their owne. Wherefore if it be not worthy of Commendations,
pray be silent, and cast not out severe Censures; And I
shall give Thankes for what is Eaten.

I desire all those which read this part of my Book, to consider,
that it is thick of Fancies, and therefore requires the more Study:
But if they understand not, I desire they would do as those, which
have a troubled Conscience, and cannot resolve themselves of
some Doubts; wherefore they are required by the Church to go
to a Minister thereof, to have them explain’d, and not to Interpret
according to their owne Imaginations: So I intreat those that cannot
find out the Conceit of my Fancies, to ask a Poet where the
Conceit lies, before they Censure; and not to accuse my Book
for Non-sense, condemning it with a false Construction, through an R2r 123
an Ignorant zeale of Malice; nor do not mistake, nor ask a Rhimer
instead of a Poet, least I be condemned as a Traytor to Sense,
through the blindnesse of the Judges Understanding. But if
the Judge be learned in the Lawes of Poetry, and honesty from
Bribes of Envie; I shall not need to feare, but that the Truth
will be found out, and its Innocence will be free’d at the Bar of Censure,
and be sent home with the Acquittance of Applause.
Yet pray do not think I am so Presumptuous, to compare my selfe
in this Comparison to the Church: but I onely here compare Truth
to the Church, and Truth may be compared from the lowest Subject,
or Object to the Highest.

I must intreat my Noble Reader, to read this part of my Book
very slow, and to observe very strictly every word they read; because
in most of these Poems, every word is a Fancy. Wherefore
if they loose, by not marking, or skip by too hasty reading, they
will intangle the Sense of the whole Copy.

Of Poets, and their Theft.

As Birds, to hatch their Young do sit in Spring,

Some Ages severall Broods of Poets bring;

Which to the World in Verse do sweetly sing.

Their Notes great Nature set, not Art so taught:

So Fancies, in the Braine that Nature wrought,

Are best; what Imitation makes, are naught.

For though they sing as well, as well may bee,

And make their Notes of what they learne, agree;

Yet he that teaches still, hath Mastery:

And ought to have the Crowne of Praise, and Fame,

In the long Role of Time to write his Name:

And those that steale it out to blame.

There’s None should Places have in Fames high Court,

But those that first do win Inventions Fort:

Not Messengers, that onely make Report.

To Messengers Rewards of Thanks are due,

For their great Paines, telling their Message true.

But not the Honour to Invention new.

R2 Many R2v 124

Many there are, that Sutes will make to weare,

Of severall Patches stole, both here, and there;

That to the World they Gallants may appeare.

And the Poore Vulgar, which but little know,

Do Reverence all, that makes a Glistring Shew;

Examines not, the same how they came to.

Then do they call their Friends, and all their Kin,

They Factions make, the Ignorant to bring:

And with their help, into Fames Court get in.

Some take a Line, or two of Horace Wit,

And here, and there will a Fancy pick.

And so of Homer, Virgill, Ovid sweet:

Makes all those Poets in their Book to meet:

Yet makes them not appeare in their right shapes,

But like to Ghosts do wander in dark Shades.

But those that do so, are but Poet-Juglers,

And like to Conjurers, are Spirit-troublers.

By Sorcery the Ignorant delude,

Shewing false Glasses to the Multitude.

And with a small, and undiscerning Haire,

They pull Truth out the place wherin she were.

But by the Poets Lawes they should be hang’d,

And in the Hell of Condemnation damn’d.

Most of our Moderne Writers now a daies,

Consider not the Fancy, but the Phrase.

As if fine words were Wit; or, One should say,

A Woman’s handsome, if her Cloaths be gay.

Regarding not what Beauty’s in the Face,

Nor what Proportion doth the Body grace.

As when her Shooes be high, to say shee’s tall,

And when shee is strait-lac’d, to say shee’s small.

When Painted, or her Haire is curl’d with Art,

Though of it selfe tis Plaine, and Skin is swart.

We cannot say, from her a Thanks is due

To Nature, nor those Arts in her we view.

Unlesse shee them invented, and so taught

The World to set forth that which is stark naught.

But R3r 125

But Fancy is the Eye, gives Life to all;

Words, the Complexion, as a whited Wall.

Fancy is the Form, Flesh, Blood, Bone, Skin;

Words are but Shadowes, have no Substance in.

But Number is the Motion, gives the Grace,

And is the Countenance to a well-form’d Face.

Fancies R3v 126

Fancies.

The severall Keyes of Nature, which
unlock her severall Cabinets.

A Bunch of Keyes which hung by Natures Side,

Nature to unlock these her Boxes The five Senses
are Natures
Boxes,
Cabinets
: The
Braine her
chiefe Cabinet.
try’d.

The first was Wit, that Key unlockt the Ear,

Opened the Brain, to see what things were
there.

The next was Beauties Key, unlockt the
Eyes,

Opened the Heart, to see what therein lyes.

The third was Appetite, that Key was quick,

Opens the Stomack, meat to put in it.

The Key of Sent opens the Braine, though hard,

For of a Stink the Nose is much afeard.

The Key of Paine unlocked Touch, but slow,

Nature is loath Diseases for to shew.

Natures Cabinet.

In Natures Cabinet, the Braine, you’l find

Which are Love
Verses
.
Many a fine Knack, which doth delight the Mind.

Severall Colour’d Ribbons of Fancies new,

To tye in Hats, or Haire of Lovers true.

Masques of Imaginations onely shew

The Eyes of Knowledge, t’other part none know.

Fans of Opinion, which wave the Wind,

According as the Heat is in the Mind.

Gloves of Remembrance, which draw off, and on,

Thoughts in the Braine sometimes are there, then gon.

Veiles of Forgetfulnesse the Thoughts do hide,

The Scarfe turn’d up, then is their Face espied.

Pendants of Understanding heavie were,

But Nature hangs them not in every Eare.

Black Patches of Ignorance, to stick on

The Face of Fooles: this Cabinet is shewn.

Natures R4r 127

Natures Dresse.

The Sun crownes Natures Head, Beames splendent are,

And in her Haire, as Jewels, hang each Star.

Her Garments made of pure Bright watchet Skie,

The Zodiack round her Wast those Garments tye.

The Polar Circles are Bracelets for each Wrist,

The Planets round about her Neck do twist.

The Gold, and Silver Mines, Shooes for her Feet,

And for her Garters, are soft Flowers sweet.

Her Stockings are of Grasse, that’s fresh, and green,

And Rainebow Ribbons many Colours in.

The Powder for her Haire is Milk-white Snow,

And when she combes her Locks, the Windes do blow.

Light a thin Veile doth hang upon her Face,

Through which her Creatures see in every place.

Natures Cook.

Death is the Cook of Nature; and we find

Meat drest severall waies to please her Mind.

Some Meates shee rosts with Feavers, burning hot,

And some shee boiles with Dropsies in a Pot.

Some for Gelly consuming by degrees,

And some with Ulcers, Gravie out to squeese.

Some Flesh as Sage she stuffs with Gouts, and Paines,

Others for tender Meat hang up in Chaines.

Some in the Sea she pickles up to keep,

Others, as Brawne is sous’d, those in Wine steep.

Some with the Pox, chops Flesh, and Bones so small,

Of which She makes a French Fricasse withall.

Some on Gridirons of Calentures is broyl’d

And some is trodden on, and so quite spoyl’d.

But those are bak’d, when smother’d they do dye,

By Hectick Feavers some Meat She doth fry.

In Sweat sometimes she stues with savoury smell,

A Hodge-Podge of Diseases tasteth well.

Braines drest with Apoplexy to Natures wish,

Or swimmes with Sauce of Megrimes in a Dish.

And R4v 128

And Tongues she dries with Smoak from Stomacks ill,

Which as the second Course she sends up still.

Then Death cuts Throats, for Blood-puddings to make,

And puts them in the Guts, which Collicks rack.

Some hunted are by Death, for Deere that’s red,

Or Stal-fed Oxen, knocked on the Head.

Some for Bacon by Death are Sing’d, or scal’d,

Then powdered up with Flegme, and Rhume that’s salt.

Natures Oven.

The Braine is like an Oven, hot, and dry,

Which bakes all sorts of Fancies, low, and high.

The Thoughts are Wood, which Motion sets on fire,

The Tongue a Peele, which drawes forth the Desire.

But thinking much, the Braine too hot will grow,

And burnes it up; if Cold, the Thoughts are Dough.

A Posset for Natures Breakfast.

Life scummes the Cream of Beauty with Times Spoon,

And drawes the Claret Wine of Blushes soon.

There boiles it in a Skillet cleane of Youth,

Then thicks it well with crumbl’d Bread of Truth.

And sets it on the Fire of Life, which growes

The clearer, if the Bellowes of Health blowes.

Then takes the Eggs of Faire, and Bashfull Eyes,

And puts them in a Countenance that’s wise,

And cuts a Lemmon in of sharpest Wit,

By Discretions Knife, as he thinkes fit.

A handfull of Chast Thoughts double refin’d,

Six Spoonfuls of a Noble, and Gentle Mind.

A Graine of Mirth, to give’t a little Tast,

Then takes it off, for feare the Substance wast.

And puts it in a Bason of Rich Wealth,

And in this Meat doth Nature please her selfe.

Meat S1r 129

Meat drest for Natures Dinner; an
Ollio for Nature.

Life takes a young, and tender Lovers heart

That hunted was, and wound by Cupids Dart.

Then sets it on the Fire of Love, and blowes

That Fire with Sighes, by which the Flame high growes.

And boiles it with the water of fresh Teares,

Flings in a bunch of Hope, Desires, and Feares.

More Sprigs of Passion throwes into the Pot,

Then takes it up, when it is seething hot;

And puts it in a cleane Dish of Delight,

That scoured was from Envie, and from Spight.

Then doth she presse, and squeese in Juice of Youth,

And cast therein some Sugar of sweet Truth.

Sharp Melancholy gives a quickning tast,

And Temperance doth cause it long to last.

Then doth she garnish it with Smiles, and Dress,

And serves it up a Faire, and Beautious Mess.

But Nature’s apt to surfet of this Meat,

Which makes her seldome of the same to eat.

A Bisk for Natures Table.

A Fore-head high, broad, smooth, and very sleek,

A large great Eye, black, and very quick.

A Brow that’s Arch’d, or like a Bow that’s bent,

A Rosie Cheek, and in the midst a dent.

Two Cherry Lips, whereon Dew lies wet,

A Nose between the Eyes that’s even set.

A Chin that’s neither short, nor very long,

A sharp, and quick, and ready, pleasing Tongue.

A Breath of Musk, and Amber in do strew,

Two soft round Breasts, that are as white as Snow.

A Body plump, white, of an even growth,

Quick, active lives, that’s void of Sloth:

A sound firm Heart, a Liver good,

A Speech that’s plaine, and easie understood.

S A Hand S1v 130

A Hand that’s fat, smooth, and very white,

The inside moist, and red, like Rubies bright.

A Brawny Arme, a Wrist that’s round, and small,

And Fingers long, and Joynts not big withall.

A Stomack strong, and easie to digest,

A Swan-like Neck, and an out-bearing Chest:

These mixing all with Pleasure, and Delight,

And strew upon them Eyes that’s quick of Sight;

Putting them in a Dish of Admiration,

And serves them up with Praises of a Nation.

A Hodge-Podge for Natures Table.

A wanton Eye, that seekes for to allure;

Dissembling Countenance, that lookes demure.

A griping hand that holds what’s none of his,

A jealous Mind, which thinks all is amisse.

A Purple face, where Mattery Pimples stood,

A Slandering Tongue that still dispraises Good.

A frowning Brow, with Rage, and Anger bent:

A Good that comes out from an ill Intent.

Then took he Promises that ne’re were perform’d,

And profer’d Gifts, that slighted were, and scorn’d.

Affected words that signifi’d noe thing,

Feigning Laughter, but no Mirth therein.

Thoughts idle, unusefull, and very vaine,

Which are created from a Lovers Braine.

Antick Postures, where no Coherence is,

Well meaning Mind, yet alwaies doth amisse.

A Voice that’s hoarse, where Notes cannot agree,

And squinting Eyes, that no true Shape can see.

Wrinckles, that Time hath set in every Face,

Vaine-glory brave, that fall in full Disgrace.

A Selfe-conceited Pride without a Cause,

A painefull desperate Art without Applause.

Verses no Sense, nor Fancy have, but Rhime.

Ambitious fall, where highest Hopes do climbe.

All in the Pot of dislike boileth fast,

Then stirs it with a Ladle of Distast.

The S2r 131

The Fat of Gluttons in the Pot did flow,

And Roots of severall Vices in did throw;

And severall Hearbs, as aged Time that’s dry,

Heart-burning Parsley, Buriall Rosemary.

Then powers it out into Repentant Dishes,

And sends it up by Shadowes of vaine Wishes.

A Heart drest.

Life takes a Heart, and Passions puts therein,

And covers it with a dissembling Skin.

Then take some Anger, that like Pepper bite,

And Vinegar that’s sharp, and made of Spight.

Hot Ginger of Revenge, grated in Flunge,

To which she adds a lying cloven Tongue.

A lazy flake of Mace, that lies downe flat,

Some Salt of Slander put also to that.

Then serves it up with Sauce of Jealousie,

In Dishes of Carefull Industry.

Head, and Braines.

A Braine that’s wash’d with Reasons cleare,

From Grosse Opinions, Dulnesse lying there;

And Judgement hard, and sound is grated in,

Whereto is squeesed Wit, and Fancies thin.

A Bunch of Sent, Sounds, Colours, tied up fast,

With Threads of Motion, and strong Nerves to last.

In Memory then stew them with long Tome,

So take them up, and put in Spirits of Wine.

Then poure it forth into a Dish of Touch,

The Meat is good, although it is not much.

A Tart.

Life took some Floure made of Complexions white,

Churnd Butter, by Nourishment, as cleane as might:

And kneades it well, then on a Board it laies,

And roules it oft, and so a Pye did raise.

Then did she take some Cherry Lips that’s red,

And Sloe-black Eyes from a Faire Virgins Head.

S2 And S2v 132

And Strawberry Teats from high Banks of white Breast,

And Juice from Raspes Fingers ends did presse.

These put into a Pye, which soone did bake,

Within a Heart, which she strait hot did make;

Then drew it out with Reasons Peele, and sends

It up to Nature, she it much commends.

A Dissert.

Sweet Marmalade of Kisses new gathered,

Preserv’d Children that are not Fathered:

Sugar of Beauty which melts away soon,

Marchpane of Youth, and Childish Macaroon.

Sugar Plum-words most sweet on the Lips,

And wafer Promises, which wast into Chips.

Bisket of Love, which crumbles all away,

Gelly of Feare, that quaking, quivering lay.

Then came in a fresh Green-sicknesse Cheese,

And tempting Apples, like those eat by Eve;

With Creame of Honour, thick, and good,

Firm Nuts of Friend-ship by it stood.

Grapes of delight, dull Spirits to revive,

Whose Juice, tis said, doth Nature keep alive.

Then Nature rose, when eat, and drank her fill,

To rest her selfe in Ease, she’s pleas’d with still.

Natures Officers.

Eternity, as Usher, goeth before,

Destiny, as Porter, keepes the Doore

Of the great World, who lets Life out, and in;

The Fates, her Maides, this Thread of Life do spin.

Mutability orders with great Care,

Motion, her Foot-boy, runneth every where.

Time, as her Page, doth carry up her Traine,

But in his Service little doth he gaine.

The daies are the Surveyors, for to view,

All Natures workes, which are both old, and new.

The Seasons foure their Circuites by turnes take,

Judges to order, and distribute, make.

The S3r 133

The Mouths their Pen-clerks, write downe every thing,

Make Deeds of Gifts, and Bonds of all that spring.

Lifes Office is to pay, and give out all

To Death, which is Receiver, when he call.

Natures House.

The Ground, whereon this House, was built upon,

Was Honesty, that hates to do a Wrong.

Foundations deep were laid, and very sure,

By Love, which to all times will firm indure.

The Walls, strong Friend-ship, Hearts for Brick, lay thick,

And Constancy, as Morter, made them stick.

Free-stone of Obligations Pillars raise,

To beare high Roofed thanks, seil’d with praise.

Windowes of Knowledge let in Light of Truth,

Curtaines of Joy, wh’ are drawne by pleasant Youth.

Chimnies with Touch-stone of Affection made,

Where Beauty, the Fuell of Love, is laid.

The Harth is innocent Marble white,

Whereon the Fire of Love burnes cleare, and bright:

The Doores are Cares, Misfortunes out to shut,

That cold Poverty might not through them get.

Besides, these Roomes of severall Passions built,

Some in the right hand, others on the left.

This House, the out-side’s tyl’d with Noble Deeds,

And high Ambition covers it with Leades.

Turrets of Fame are built on every side,

And in this Palace Nature takes great pride.

This House is furnished best of Natures Courts,

For hung it is with Virtues of all sorts.

As Morall Virtues, and with those of Art,

The last from Acts, the first is from the Heart.

Comparing the head to a Barrell of Wine.

Natures Cellar.
The Head is like a Barrell, which will break,

If Liquors be too strong; but if they’re weake,

They will the riper grow by lying long:

Close kept from Vent, the Spirits grow more strong.

So S3v 134

So Wit, which Nature in a Braine tuns up,

Never leaves Working, if it close be shut:

Will through Discretions burst, and run about,

Unlesse a Pen, and Inke do tap it out.

But if the Wit be small, then let it lye,

If Broacht to soon, the Spirits quickly dye.

Comparing of Wits to Wines.

Natures wine. Malaga Wits, when broach’d, which Pens do peirce,

If strong, run strait into Heroick Verse.

Sharp Claret Satyrs searching run about

The Veines of Vice, before it passes out:

And makes the Blood of Virtue fresh to spring

In Noble Minds, Faire Truths Complexions bring.

Strong-waters. But all high Fancy is in Brandy Wits,

A Fiery heat in Understanding sits.

Natures Wardrope.

In Natures Wardrope there hangs up great store

Of severall Garments, some are rich, some poore.

Some made on Beauties Stuff, with Smiles are lac’d,

With lovely Favour is the out-side fac’d.

Some fresh, and new, by Sicknesses are rent,

Not having care the same for to prevent.

Physick, and good Diet sowes close againe,

That none could see where those slits did remaine.

Some worne so bare with Age, that none could see

What Stuff it had been, or what it might bee.

Others were so ill-shap’d, and Stuff so course,

That none would weare, least Nature did inforce.

And severall Mantles, Nature made, were there,

To keep her Creatures warm from the Cold Aire.

As Sables, Martin, and the Fox that’s black,

The powder’d Ermines, and the feirce wild Cat.

Most of her Creatures She hath clad in Furre,

Which needs no Fire, if they do but stir.

And some in Wool She clads, as well as Haire,

And some in Scales, others do Feathers weare.

But S4r 135

But Man She made his Skin so smooth, and faire,

It needs no Feathers, Scales, Wool, nor Haire.

The out-side of all things Nature keeps here,

Severall Creatures that She makes to weare.

Death pulls them off, and Life doth put them on,

Nature takes care that none puts on the wrong.

Nature hath Flesh, and
Fish.
but two sorts of Stuffs, whereon

All Garments which are made, that Life puts on.

But yet such severall Sorts there is to weare,

That seldome any two alike appeare.

Bnt Nature severall Trimmings for those Garments makes,

And severall Colours for each Trimming takes.

Soule, and Body.

Great Nature She doth cloath the Soule within,

A Fleshly Garment which the Fates do spin.

And when these Garments are growne old, and bare,

With Sicknesse torne, Death takes them off with care.

And folds them up in Peace, and quiet Rest,

So laies them safe within an Earthly Chest.

Then scoures them, and makes them sweet, and cleane,

Fit for the Soule to weare those Cloaths agen.

Natures Grange.

Grounds of losse was plow’d with Sorrowes deep,

Wherein was sowed Cares, a Fertile Seed.

Carts of Industry Horses of Hopes drew,

Laden with Expectations in Barnes of Braines they threw.

Cowes of Content, which gave the Milk of Ease,

Curds prest with Love, which made a Friend-ship Cheese.

Cream of Delight was put in Pleasures Churn,

Wherein short time the Butter of Joyes come.

Sweet Whey of Teares from laughing Eyes did run:

Thus Houswifery Nature her selfe hath done.

Eggs of Revenge were laid by some designe,

Chickens of Mischiefe, hatch’d with Words divine:

Nourishment the Poultry fat doth cram,

And so She doth all Creatures else, and Man.

And S4v 136

And Nature makes the Fates to sit and spin,

And Destiny laies out, and brings Flax in.

For Nature in this Housewifry doth take

Great pleasure, the Cloath of Life to make:

And every Garment she her selfe cuts out,

Disposing to her Creatures all about.

Where some do weare them long, all thread-bare torne,

And some do cast them off before halfe worne.

Thus Nature busily doth her selfe imploy

On every Creature small, till they do dye.

When any dies, that work is done,

And then a new work is begun.

Comparing the Tongue to a Wheele.

Natures
wheele.
The Tongue’s a Wheele, to spin words from the Mind,

A Thread of Sense, doth Understanding twine.

The Lips a Loom, to weave those words of Sense,

Into a fine Discourse each Eare presents.

This Cloath i’th Chest of Memory’s laid up,

Untill for Judgements Shirts it out be cut.

Similizing the Braine to a Garden.

Natures Garden.
The Braine a Garden seemes, full of Delight,

Whereon the Sun of Knowledge shineth bright.

Where Fancy flowes, and runs in Bubbling Streames,

Where Flowers growes upon the Banks of Dreames.

Whereon the Dew of sleepy Eyes doth fall,

Bathing each Leafe, and every Flower small.

There various Thoughts as severall Flowers grow,

Some Milk-white Innocence, as Lillies, shew.

Fancies, as painted Tulips colours fixt,

By Natures Pencils they are intermixt.

Some as sweet Roses, which are newly blowne,

Others as tender Buds, not full out growne.

Some, as small Violets, yet much sweetnesse bring:

Thus many Fancies from the Braine still spring.

Their Wit, as Butter-flies, hot love do make,

On every Flower fine their pleasure take.

Dancing T1r 137

Dancing about each Leafe in pleasant sort,

Passing their time away in Amorous sport.

Like Cupids young, their painted Wings display,

And with Apolloe’s golden Beames they play.

Industry, as Bees suck out the sweet,

Wax of Invention gather with their Feet.

Then on their Wings of Fame flye to their Hive,

From Winter of sad Death keeps them alive.

There Birds of Poetry sweet Notes still sing,

Which through the World, as through the Aire ring.

Where on the Branches of Delight do sit,

Pruning their Wings, which are with Study wet,

Then to the Cedars of High Honour flye,

Yet rest not there, but mount up to the Skie.

Similizing the Heart to a Harp, the Head
to an Organ, the Tongue to a Lute, to make
a Consort of Musick.

Natures Musicall
Instruments.
The Heart like to a Harp compare I may,

The Passions, strings on which the Mind doth play;

A Harmony, when they just time do keep,

With Notes of Peace they bring the Soule to sleep.

The Head, unto an Organ I compare,

The Thoughts, as severall Pipes make Musick there.

Imagination’s Bag doth draw, then blow

Windy Opinions, by which the Thoughts go.

The small Virginall Jacks which skip about,

Are severall Fancies that run in, and out.

The Tongue, a Lute, the Breath, are Strings strung strong,

The Teeth are Pegs, Words, Fingers play thereon.

These moving all, a sweet soft Musick make,

Wise Sentences, as grounds of Musick take.

Witty light Aires are pleasant to the Eare,

Straines of Description all Delights to heare.

In Quavers of Similizing lies great Art,

Flourishes of Eloquence a sweet part.

Stops of Reproofe, wherein there must be skill,

Flattering Division delights the Mind still.

T All T1v 138

All Thoughts, as severall Times these just do play,

And thus the Mind doth passe its time away.

Similizing the Windes to Musick.

Natures Musick.
No better Musick then the Windes can make,

If all their severall Notes right places take:

The Full, the Halfe, the Quarter-Note can set,

The Base, the Tenor, and the Treble fit.

The strong big Base the Northern wind doth sing,

The East is the sweet, soft small Treble String.

The South, and West as Tenors both applied,

By East, by West, by South, and North divide.

All that this Musick meets, it moves to dance,

If Bodies yeilding be with a Compliance.

The Clouds do dance in circle, hand in hand,

Wherein the mids the Worldly Ball doth stand.

The Seas do dance with Ships upon their back,

Where Capering high, they many times do Wrack.

As Men, which venture on the Ropes to dance,

Oft tumble downe, if they too high Advance.

But Dust, like Country-clownes, no measure keep,

But rudely run together on a Heap.

Trees grave, and civilly, first bow their Head

Towards the Earth, then every Leafe will spred;

And every Twig each other will salute,

Embracing oft, and kisse each others Root.

And so each other Plant, and Flower gay,

Will sweetly dance, when that the Windes do play.

But when they’re out of Tune, they Discord make,

Disorder all, not one right place can take.

But when Apollo with his Beames doth play,

He places all againe in the right way.

Of a Picture hung in Natures House.

A Painter was to draw the Firmament,

A round plump Face the same he did present;

His Pencils were the beames shot from faire Eyes,

Where some of them he in red Blushes dies.

Which T2r 139

Which, as the Morning, when the Clouds are cleare,

Shewes just so red before the Sun appeare.

An Azure-blew from Veines he drawes a Skie,

And for the Sun, a faire, and great gray Eye.

A Raine-bow like a Brow doth pencill out,

Which circles halfe a weeping Eye about.

From pure pale Complexions takes a White,

Mixt with a Countenance sad, he shades a Night.

Thus Heaven as faire that doth a Face present,

Which is adorn’d with Beauty excellent.

Natures Exercise, and Pastime.

Great Nature by Variations lives,

For she no constant course to any gives.

We find in Change she swiftly runs about,

To keep her Health, and yet long Life, (no doubt.)

And we are onely Food for Nature Fine,

Our Flesh her Meat, our Blood is her strong Wine.

The Trees, and Hearbes, Fruits, Roots, and Flowers sweet,

Are but her Sallets, or such cooling Meat.

The Sea’s her Bath to wash, and cleanse her in,

When she is weary, hot, or Journey bin.

The Sun’s her Fire, he serves her many waies,

His Lights her Looking-glasse, and Beauties praise.

The Wind her Horses, paces as she please,

The Clouds her Chariot soft to sit in ease.

The Earth’s her Ball, by which She trundles round,

In this slow Exercise, much Good hath found.

Night is her Bed her rest therein to take,

Silence watches, least Noise might her awake.

The Spheares her Musick, and Milkie way

Is, where she dances, whilst those Spheares do play.

Natures City.

Nature of Mountaines, Rocks, a City built,

Where many severall Creatures therein dwelt.

The Citizens, are Wormes, which seldome stir,

But sit within their Shops and sell their Ware.

T2 The T2v 140

The Moles are Magistrates, who undermine

Each ones Estate, that they their Wealth may finde.

With their Extortions, they high Houses builds,

To take their Pleasure in, called Mole-hills.

The lazy Dormouse Gentry doth keep

Much in their Houses, eat, and drink, and sleep.

Unlesse it be to hunt about for Nuts,

Wherein the sport is still to fill their Guts.

The Peasant Ants industrious are to get

Provisions store, hard Labours make them sweet.

They dig, they draw, they plow, and reap with care,

And what they get, they to their Barnes do beare.

But after all their Husbandry, and Paines,

Extortion comes and eates up all their Gaines.

And Merchant Bugs of all sorts they

Traffick on all things, travell every way.

But Vapours they are Artisans with skill,

And make strong Windes to send which way they will.

They make them like a Ball of Wild-fire to run,

Which spreads it selfe about, when that round Forme’s undone.

This is the City which great Nature makes,

And in this City Nature pleasure takes.

Natures Market.

In Natures Market you may all things finde,

Of severall Sorts, and of each severall Kind.

Carts of Sicknesse bring Paines, and Weaknesse in,

And Baskets full of Surfets some do bring.

Fruits of Green-sicknesse there are to be sold,

And Collick Hearbes, which are both hot, and cold.

Lemmons of sharp Paine, foure Orange sores,

Besides those things, within this Market store.

Of two Hearts.

Natures Arable,
and Meadow.
There were two Hearts an hundred Acres wide,

Which hedg’d were round, and ditcht on every side.

The one was very rich, and fertile Ground,

The other Barren, where small good was found.

In T3r 141

In Pasture, Grasse of Virtue grew up high,

Where Noble Thoughts did feed continually.

There they grew nimble, strong, and very large,

Fit for the Manage, or in War to charge.

Or like good Kine, that give the Milk of Wit,

And Cream of Wisedome for grave Counsels fit.

And Sheep of Patience, whose Wool is thick, and long;

Upon their Backs, and Sides to keep out Wrong.

Rich Meadowes, where the Hay of Faith doth grow;

Which with the Sithes of Reason downe we mow.

Devotions stackt it up on Hay-cocks high,

For feare in Winter Death the Soule should dye.

On Barren Ground there nothing well will grow,

Which is the cause I no good Seed will sow.

First, foure Rye of crabbed Nature ill,

Which gives the Collick of displeasure still.

And cruell Hempseed, hanging Ropes to make,

And treacherous Linseed, small Birds for to take.

And many such like Seeds this Ground doth beare,

As cole black Branck, and Melancholy Tare.

The other parts so sipid, and so dry,

That neither Furse, nor Ling will grow, but dye.

Rich Arable good Education plow’d,

Deep Furroughs of Discretion well allowed.

And severall sorts of Seeds about did sow,

Where Crops of Actions good in full Eares grow.

First Wheat of Charity, a fruitfull Seed,

It makes the Bread of Life the Poore to feed.

Ripe valiant Barley, which strong Courage make,

Drinking the Spirits no Affront will take.

And Hospitable Peas firm Friend-ship breeds,

And grateful Oates, restoring still good Deeds.

This Corne is reapt by Fames sharp Sithe, and cut,

And into large great Barnes of Honour put.

Where Truth doth thresh it out from grosse abuse.

Then Honesty doth grind it fit for Use.

Similizing T3v 142

Similizing the Clouds to Horses.

Natures Horses.
The Aiery Clouds do swiftly run a Race,

And one another follow in a Chase.

Like Horses, some are sprightfull, nimble, fleet,

Others sweld big with watry Spavind Feet.

Which lag behind, as tir’d in mid-way,

Or else, like Resty Jades, stock-still will stay.

They of all severall Shapes, and Colours be,

Of severall Tempers, seldome well agree.

As when we see Horses, which highly fed,

Do proudly snort, their Eyes look fiery red:

So Clouds exhaled, fed by the hot Sun,

With Sulphur, and Salt-Peter feirce become,

Flashing out Fire, when together strike,

And with their Flames do th’ World with Terrour fright;

Meeting each others they Encounters make,

With strong Assaults they one another break;

Falling upon each others Head, and Back,

Nere parted are, but by a Thunder Clap;

Pouring downe Showres of Raine upon the Earth,

Blow out strong Gusts of Wind with their long Breath.

Then Boreas whips them up, and makes them run,

Till their Spirits are spent, and Breath is gone;

Apollo breakes, and backs them fit to ride,

Bridling with his hot Beames their strengths to guide;

And gives them Heates, untill they foam, and sweat,

Then wipes them dry, least they a Cold should get;

Leades them into the middle Region Stable,

Where all sorts, dull, quick, weak, and able.

But when they loose do get, having no feares,

They fall together all out by the Eares.

Similizing Birds to a Ship.

Natures Ship. Birds from the Cedars tall, which take a flight,

On stretched Wings, to beare their Bodies light.

As Ships do saile over the Ocean wide,

So Birds do saile, and through the Aire glide.

Their T4r 143

Their Bodies as the Keele, Feet Cable Rope,

The Head the Steer-man is, which doth guide the Poope.

Their Wings, as Sailes, with Wind are stretcht out wide,

But hard it is to flye against the Tide.

For when the Clouds do flow against In the Aire
Clouds
move,
or wave as water
in the Sea,
and Ebb, and
Flow
according
to dry, or
moist weather.
their Breast,

Soon weary grow, and on a Bough A bough is
their Haven.
they rest.

Those Verses still to me do seem the best,

Where Lines run smooth, and Wit eas’ly exprest.

Where Fancies flow, as gentle Waters glide,

Where Flowry banks of Fancies grow each side.

That when they read, Delight may them invite

To read againe, and wish they could so write.

For Verse must be like to a Beauteous Face,

Both in the Eye, and in the Heart take place.

Where Readers must, like Lovers, wish to be

Alwaies in their Deare Mistris Company.

Similizing the Mind.

The Mind’s a Merchant, trafficking about

The Ocean of the Braine, to finde Opinions out.

Remembrance is the Ware-house to lay in

Goods, which Imaginations Ships do bring.

Which severall Trades-men of beliefe still buies

They onely gaine in Truth, but loose by Lies.

Thoughts as the Journey-men, and Prentice Boies,

Do help to sort the Wares, and sell the Toies.

A Prospect of a Church in the Mind.

Standing at Imaginations Window high,

I saw a Prospect in the Mind to lye:

Shutting the Ignorant Eye as close may be,

Because the Eye of Knowledge cleare might see:

Drawing a Circle round of fine Conceits,

Contracting Extravagant Speeches strait.

The more I view’d, my Eye the farther went,

Till Understandings Sight was almost spent.

An Isle of Thoughts so long, could see no End,

Fill’d full of Fancies Light A Church. to me there seem’d.

Pillars T4v 144

Pillars of Judgements thick stood on a row,

And in this Isle Motion walk’d to, and fro.

Feare, Love, Humility kneel’d downe to pray,

Desires beg’d of all that pass’d that way.

Poore Doubts did seem, as if they quaking stood,

Yet were they lapt in Mantles of Hope good.

Generous Faith seem’d bountifull, and free,

She gave to all that askt her Charity.

All sorts of Opinions in Pulpits seem’d to Preach,

False Doctrine for Truth might many teach;

Not that I heard what their Opinions were,

For Prospects i’th Eye do lye, not i’th Eare.

A Land-skip.

Standing upon a Hill of Fancies high,

Viewing about with Curiosities Eye:

Saw severall Land-skips under my Thoughts to lye.

Some Champians of Delights where there did feed,

Pleasures, as Weathers fat, and Ewes to breed.

And Pastures of green Hopes, wherein Cowes went,

Of Probability give Milk of sweet content.

Some Feilds though plow’d with Care, unsow’d did lye,

Wanting the fruitfull Seed, Industry.

In other Feilds full Crops of Joyes there grow’d,

Where some Ripe Joyes Fruition downe had mov’d.

Some blasted with ill Accidents look’d black,

Others blowne downe with Sorrow strong As ripe Corne
will do with
the wind.
lay flat.

Then did I view Inclosures close to lye,

Hearts hedg’d about with Thoughts of secrecy.

Fresh Meadow of green Youth did pleasant seem,

Innocency, as Cowslips, grew therein.

Some ready with Old Age to cut for Hay,

Some Hay cock’d high for Death to take away.

Cleare Rivulets of Health ran here, and there,

No Mind of Sicknesse in them did appeare.

No Stones, or Gravell stopt their passage free,

No Weeds of Paine, or Slimy Gouts could see.

Woods U1r 145

Woods did present my view on the left side,

Where Trees of high Ambition grew great Pride.

There Shades of Envie were made of dark Spight,

Which did Eclipse the Fame of Honours Light.

Faults stood so close, not many Beames of Praise

Could enter in, Spight stopt up all the waies.

But Leaves of pratling Tongues, which nere lye still,

Sometimes speak Truth, although most Lyes they tell.

Then did I a Garden of Beauty view,

Where Complexions of Roses, and Lillies grew.

And Violets of blew Veines there grow’d,

Upon the Banks of Breasts most perfect shew’d.

Lips of fresh Gilly-flowers grew up high,

Which oft the Sun did kisse as he pass’d by.

Hands of Narcissus, perfect white were set,

The Palmes were curious Tulips, finely streakt.

And by this Garden a lovely Orchard stood,

Wherein grew Fruit of Pleasure rare, and good.

All colour’d Eyes grew there, as Bullice gray,

And Dampsons black, which do tast best, some say.

Others there were of the pure blewest Grape,

And Peare-plum Faces, of an ovall Shape.

Cheeks of Apricotes made red with Heat,

And Cherry Lips, which most delight to eat.

When I had view’d this Land-skip round about,

I fell from Fancies Hill, and so Wits Sight went out.

Similizing Thoughts.

Thoughts as a Pen do write upon the Braine;

The Letters which wise Thoughts do write, are plaine.

Fooles Scribble, Scrabble, and make many a Blot,

Which makes them Non-sense speak, they know not what.

Or Thoughts like Pencils draw still to the Life,

And Fancies mixt, as Colours give delight.

Sad melancholy Thoughts are for Shadowes plac’d,

By which the lighter Fancies are more grac’d.

U As U1v 146

As through a dark, and watry Cloud, more bright,

The Sun breakes forth with his Resplendent Light.

Or like to Nights black Mantle, where each Star

Doth clearer seem, so lighter Fancies are.

Some like to Raine-bowes various Colours shew,

So round the Braine Fantastick Fancies grow.

Of Thoughts.

Imaginations high like Cedars shew,

Where Leaves of new Invention thick do grow.

Which Thoughts, as gentle Winds, do blow about,

And Contemplation makes those Leaves sprout out.

And Pleasure with Delight, as Birds, do sing,

On every Bough, to think what Fame they bring.

Similizing Navigation.

The Sea’s like Desarts which are wide, and long,

Where Ships as Horses run, whose Breath is strong.

The Stern-man holds the Reines, thereby to guide

The Sturdy Steed on foamy Seas to ride.

The Wind’s his Whip, to beat it forward on;

On either side, as Stirrops, serve each Gun.

The Sailes, as Saddles, spread upon the back;

The Ropes as Girts, which in a Storme will crack.

The Pump, the Breech, where Excrements come out,

The Needle, as the Eye, guides it about.

Similizing the Sea to Meadowes, and
Pastures, the Marriners to Shepheards,
the Mast to a May-pole, Fishes
to Beasts.

The Waves like Ridges of Plow’d-land lies high,

Whereat the Ship Here the Ship
is taken for a
Horse.
doth stumble, downe doth lye.

But in a Calme, levell as Meadowes seem,

And by its Saltnesse makes it look as green.

When Ships thereon a slow soft pace they walke,

Then Mariners, as Shepheards sing, and talke.

Some U2r 147

Some whistle, and some on their Pipes do play,

Thus merrily will passe their time away.

And every Mast is like a May-pole high,

Round which they dance, though not so merrily,

As Shepheards do, when they their Lasses bring.

Whereon are Garlands tied with Silken string.

But on their Mast, instead of Garlands, hung

Huge Sailes, and Ropes to tye those Garlands on.

Instead of Lasses they do dance with Death,

And for their Musick they have Boreas Breath.

Instead of Wine, and Wassals, drink salt Teares,

And for their Meat they feed on nought but Feares.

For Flocks of Sheep great sholes of Herrings swim,

As ravenous Wolves the Whales do feed on them.

As sportfull Kids skip over Hillocks green,

So dancing Dolphines on the Waves are seen.

The Porpoyse, like their watchfull Dog espies,

And gives them warning when great Windes will rise.

Instead of Barking, he his Head wil shew

Above the waters, where they rough do flow.

When showring Raines power downe, and Windes do blow:

Then fast Men run for Shelter to a Tree;

So Ships at Anchor lye upon the Sea.

Comparing Waves, & a Ship to Rebellion.

Thus the rough Seas, whom highly Windes inrage,

Assault a Ship, and in feirce War ingage.

Or like rude Multitudes, whom Factions swell,

With ranckled Spleen, which makes them to rebell

Against their Governours, thronging about,

With hideous Noise to throw their power out.

And if their Power gets the upper-hand,

They’l make him sinck, and then in Triumph stand.

Foaming at Mouth, as if great Deeds th’ had done,

When they were Multitudes, and he but One.

So Seas do foam, and froth about a Ship,

And both do strive which shall the Better get.

Or Wisedome, like skil’d Mariners, will guide

The Ship through Jawes of Death that do gape wide.

U2 And U2v 148

And to a Haven safe will bring her in,

Although through many dangers she did swim.

Similizing the Head of Man to the World.

The Head of Man is like the World made round,

Where all the Elements in it are found.

The Braine, as Earth, from whence all Plants do spring,

And from the Womb it doth all Creatures bring.

The Fore-head, Nose, like Hills, that do rise high,

Which over-top the Dales that levell lye.

The Haire, as Trees, which long in length do grow,

And like its Leaves the Wind waves to, and fro.

Wit, like to severall Creatures, wildly runs

On severall Subjects, and each other shuns.

The Blood, as Seas, doth through the Veines run round,

The Sweat, as Springs, by which fresh water’s found.

As Winds, which from the hollow Caves do blow,

So through the Mouth the winded Breath doth go.

The Eyes, are like the Sun, do give in light,

When Senses are asleep, it is dark Night.

And after Sleep halfe open are the Eyes,

Like dawning Light, when first the Sun doth rise.

When they do drowsie grow, the Sun doth set;

And when tis quite gone downe, the Lids do shut.

When they are dull, and heavie, like thick Mist seem,

Or as a dark black Cloud hides the Suns Beame.

By which there shewes, some Shower of Teares will fall,

Where Cheeks, as Flowry Banks grow moist withall.

As twinckling Stars shew in dark Clouds, that’s cleare,

So Fancies quick do in the Braine appeare.

Imaginations, like the Orbes move so,

Some very quick, others do move more slow.

And solid Thoughts, as the twelve Signes, are plac’d

About the Zodiack, which is Wisedome vast.

Where they as constantly in Wisedome run,

As in the Line Ecliptick doth the Sun.

To the Ecliptick Line the Head compare,

The illustrious Wit, to the Suns bright Spheare.

The U3r 149

The Braine, unto the Solid Earth,

From whence all Wisdome hath its Birth.

Just as the Earth, the Heads round Ball,

Is crown’d with Orbes Five Senses. Cœlestiall.

So Head, and World as one agree;

Nature did make the Head a World to bee

Similizing the Head of Man to a Hive
of Bees.

The Head of Man just like a Hive is made,

The Braine, like as the Combe’s exactly laid.

Where every Thought just like a Bee doth dwell,

Each by it selfe within a parted Cell.

The Soule doth governe all, as doth their King,

Each Thought imploies upon each severall thing.

Just as the Bees swarm in the hottest Weather,

In great round heapes they do hang all together.

As if for Counsell wise they all did meet;

For when they flye away, new Hives they seek.

So Men, when they have any great designe,

Their Thoughts do gather, all in Heapes do joyne.

When they resolved are, each one takes Flight,

And strives which first shall on Desire light.

Thus Thoughts do meet, and flye about, till they

For their Subsistence can finde out a way.

But Doubting Thoughts, like Droanes, live on the rest,

Hoping Thoughts, which Honey bring to Nest.

For by their Stings Industry do they get,

That Honey which the Stinglesse Droanes do eat.

So Men without Ambitious Stings do live,

Upon th’ Industrious Stock their Fathers give.

Or like to such that steales a Poets Wit,

And dresse it up in his owne Language fit.

But Fancie into every Garden flies,

And sucks the Flowers sweet, of Lips, and Eyes.

But if they light on those that are not faire,

Like Bees on Hearbes that are wither’d, dry, and seare.

For purest Honey on sweet Flowers lies,

So finest Fancies from young Beauties rise.

The U3v 150

The Prey of Thoughts.

If Thoughts be the Mindes Creatures, as some say,

Like other Creatures they on each do Prey.

Ambitious Thoughts, like to a Hawk, flye high,

In Circles of Desires mount the Skie.

And when a Covie of young Hopes do spring,

To catch them strive they with the swiftest Wing.

Thus as the Hawk on Partridges do eat,

So Hopefull Thoughts are for Ambitions Meat.

Thoughts of Selfe-love do swim in Selfe-conceit,

Imaginary Thoughts of Praises bait.

By which the Thoughts of Pride do catch to eat,

And thinke it most high, and delicious Meate.

Thoughts of Revenge are like to Lions strong,

Which whet the Appetite with Thoughts of Wrong.

With subtle Thoughts they couch to leap along,

But Bloody Thoughts like Flesh they feed upon.

And Spightfull Thoughts, like Cats, they Mice do catch,

At every corner of Imperfections Watch.

When Spight perceives detracting Thoughts to speak,

It strait leaps on, no other Meat doth seek.

Suspicious Thoughts like Hounds do hunt about,

To find the Hare, to eat of Timorous Doubt.

Observing Thoughts do swell which way to trace,

And Hatefull Thoughts do follow close the Chase.

But Thoughts of Patience like to Dormise live,

Eate little; Sleep most nourishment doth give.

And when it feeds, a Thought of Sorrow cracks

A Nut so hard, its Teeth against it knacks.

But Gratefull Thoughts do feed on Thoughts of thanks,

And are industrious, as prudent Ants.

But Thoughts of Love do live on severall Meat,

Of Feares, of Hopes, and of Suspition eat.

And like as Bees do flye on severall Flowers,

To suck out Honey: so Thoughts do of Lovers.

Similizing U4r 151

Similizing Fancy to a Gnat.

Some Fancies, like small Gnats, buz in the Braine,

Which by the hand of Worldly Cares are slaine.

But they do sting so sore the Poets Head,

His Mind is blister’d, and the Thoughts turn’d red.

Nought can take out the burning heat, and paine,

But Pen and Ink, to write on Paper plaine.

But take the Oile of Fame, and ’noint the Mind,

And this will be a perfect cure you’l finde.

Of the Spider.

The Spiders Housewifry no Webs doth spin,

To make her Cloath, but Ropes to hang Flies in.

Her Bowels are the Shop, where Flax is found,

Her Body is the Wheele that goeth round.

A Wall her Distaff, where she sticks Thread on,

The Fingers are the Feet that pull it long.

And wheresoever she goes, nere idle sits,

Nor wants a House, builds one with Ropes, and Nets.

Though it be not so strong, as Brick, and Stone,

Yet strong enough to beare light Bodies on.

Within this House the Female Spider lies,

The whilst the Male doth hunt abroad for Flies.

Nere leaves, till he the Flies gets in, and there

Intangles him within his subtle Snare.

Like Treacherous Host, which doth many welcome make,

Yet watches how his Guests Life he may take.

A Comparison between Gold, and the
Sun.

I am the purest of all Natures works,

No Drosse, nor sluggish Moisture in me lurks.

I am within the Bowels of the Earth,

None knowes of what, or whence I took my Birth.

And as the Sun I shine in Glory bright,

Onely I want his Beames to make a Light.

And as the Sun is chiefe of Planets high,

So on the Earth the chiefest thing am I.

And U4v 152

And as the Sun rules there, as Lord, and King,

So on the Earth I governe every thing.

And as the Sun doth run about the World,

So I about from Man to Man about am hurl’d.

Poets have most Pleasure in this Life.

Nature most Pleasure doth to Poets give;

If Pleasures in Variety do live.

There every Sense by Fancy new is fed,

Which Fancy in a Torrent Braine is bred.

Contrary is to all that’s borne on Earth,

For Fancy is delighted most at’s Birth.

What ever else is borne, with Paine comes forth,

But Fancy needs not time to make it grow,

Hath neither Beauty, Strength, nor perfect Growth.

Those Braine like Gods, from whence all things do flow.

The Poets Recreation.
Where Gardens are, them Paradise we call,

For-bidden Fruits, which tempt young Lovers all,

Grow on the Trees, which in the midst is plac’d

Beauty, on the other Desire vast.

The Devill selfe-conceit full craftily

Did take the Serpents shape of Flattery,

For to deceive the Female Sex thereby;

Which made was onely of Inconstancy.

The Male high Credence, which doth relaxe

To any thing, the Female Sex will ask.

Two Rivers round this Garden run about,

The one is Confidence, the other Doubt.

Every Bank is set with Fancies Flowers,

Wit raines upon them fine refreshing Showers.

Truth was the Owner of this place,

But Ignorance this Garden out did raze.

Then from this Garden, to a Forrest goes,

Where many Cedars of high Knowledge growes;

Oakes of strong Judgement, Hasle Wits, which Tree

Beares Nuts full of Conceits, when crackt they bee.

And smooth-Tongu’d Beech, kind-hearted Willow bowes,

And yeilds to all that Honesty allowes.

He X1r 153

Here Birds of Eloquence do sit, and sing,

Build Nests, Logick to lay Reasons in.

Some Birds of Sophistry till hatch’d there lye,

Wing’d with false Principles away they flye.

Here doth the Poet hawk, hunt, run a Race,

Untill he weary growes, then leaves this Place.

Then goes a Fishing to a Rivers side,

Whose Water’s cleare, where Fancy flowes high Tide:

Angles with Wit, to catch the Fish of Fame,

To feed his Memory, and preserve his Name:

And of Ambition builds Ships swift, and strong,

Sailes of Imaginations drive her on.

With Windes of severall Praises fills them full,

Swimmes on the salt Sea Braine, round the Worlds Scull,

Marriners Thoughts labour both day, and night,

For to avoid a Ship-wrack of dislike.

These Ships are often cast upon the Sands of Spight,

And Rocks of Malice sometimes split them quite.

But Merchant Poets, and Ship-Master Mind,

Do compasse take some unknowne Land to finde.

Of the Head.

The Head of Man’s a Church, where Reason preaches,

Directs the Life, and every Thought it teaches.

Perswades the Mind to live in Peace, and quiet,

And not in fruitlesse Contemplation Riot.

For why, saies Reason, you shall damned be

From all Content, for your Curiosity.

To seek about for that you cannot finde,

Shall be a Torment to a restlesse Mind.

The Mine of Wit.

Tis strange Men think so vaine, and seem so sage,

And act so foolish in this latter Age.

Their Braines are alwaies working some designe;

Which Plots they dig, as Miners in the Mine.

Fancy the Minerall, the Mine’s the Head,

Some Gold are, Silver, Iron, Tin, and Lead.

X The X1v 154

The Furnace which ’tis melted in, is great,

Quick Motion ’tis, which gives a glowing Heat.

The Mouth’s the Gutter, where the Oare doth run:

The Hammer which the Bars do beat’s the Tongue.

The Eares’s the Forge to shape, and forme it out,

And severall Merchants send it all about.

And as the Mettle’s worth, the price is set,

And Schollers, which the Buyers are, do get.

On Gold, and Silver, which are Fancies fine,

Are Poets stamp’d, as Masters of that Coine.

Strong Judgments Iron hard is fit for use,

For Peace, or War to joyne up Errours loose.

Though Lead is dull, yet often use is made,

Like to Translators in every Language trade.

But Tin is weake, and of small strength we see,

Yet, joyn’d with Silver Wits, makes Alchymy.

Halfe-witted Men joyn’d with strong Wits, might grow

To be of use, and make a Glistring shew.

Give me that Wit, whose Fancy’s not confin’d,

That buildeth on it selfe, not two Braines joyn’d.

For that’s like Oxen yoak’d, and forc’d to draw,

Or like two Witnesses for one Deed in Law.

But like the Sun, that needs no help to rise,

Or like a Bird in Aire which freely flies.

Good Wits are Parallels, that run in length,

Need no Triangular Points to give it strength.

Or like the Sea, which runneth round without,

And graspes the Earth with twining Armes about.

Thus true Born Wits to others strength may give,

Yet by its owne, and not by others live.

The X2r 155

The Claspe.

Phantasmes Masque.

The Scene is Poetry.

The Stage is the Braine, whereon it is Acted.
First is presented a Dumb Shew, as a young
Lady in a Ship, swimming over the Scene in
various Weather. Afterwards this Ship came
back againe, having then a Commander of
War, as the Owner; in various Weather
this Ship being in great distresse, Jupiter releives
it.

Then appeared six Masquers in severall Dresses, as drest by Love,
Valour, Honour, Youth, Age, Vanity. Vanity signifies the
World, and Age Mortality.


Then there is presented in Shew the Nine Muses, who dance
a measure in foure and twenty Which are the 24. Letters of the Alphabet.
Figures, and nine Musicall Instruments,
made of Goose-quils, playing severall Tunes as they dance.

Then a Chorus speakes.

The Bride, and Bridegroome going to the Temple; Fancy
speaks the Prologue to Judgment as King. Vanity speaks an Epilogue
to the Thoughts, which are Spectators: Honour speaks
another.

Fancies Prologue to Judgement.

Great King, we here present a Masque to Night,

To Judgments view, and for the Mindes delight.

If it be good, set Lights of Praise about.

If it be bad then put those Torches out.

Similizing a young Lady to a Ship.

A Ship of youth in the Worlds Sea was sent,

Ballanc’d with Selfe-conceit, and Pride it went.

And large Sailes of Ambition set thereon,

Hung to a tall Mast of good Opinion.

And on the Waves of Plenty did it ride,

With Windes of Praise, and Beauties flowing Tide.

Unto the Land of Riches it was bound,

To see if Golden Fame might there be found;

And in a Calme of Peace she swims along,

No Stormes of War at that time thought upon.

But when that she had past nineteen Degrees,

The Land of Happinesse she no longer sees:

X2 For X2v 156

For then Rebellious Clouds foule black did grow,

And Showers of Blood into those Seas did throw.

And Vapours of sad Sighs, full thick did rise

From grieved Hearts, which in the bottome lyes.

Then Feares like to a Northern Winds blew high,

And Stars of Hopes were clouded in the Skie.

The Sun went downe of all Prosperity,

Reel’d in the troubl’d Seas of Misery.

On Sorrowes Billowes high this Ship was toss’d,

The Card of Mirth, and Mark of Joy was lost.

The Point of Comfort could not be found out,

Her sides did beat upon the Sands of Doubt.

Prudence was Pilot, she with much ado,

A Haven of great France she got into.

Glad was this Ship that she safe Harbour got,

Then on the River of Loire she strait swam up.

For on this River she no Tempest feares,

Directly to faire Paris this Barque steers.

And in that place she did some time remaine,

To mend her totter’d, and torne Barque againe.

New Sailes she made, and all her Tacklings fit,

Made her selfe Fine, and Gay, Respect to get.

Where there a Noble Lord this Ship did buy,

And with this Ship he meanes to live, and dye.

The Ship.

After this Ship another Voyage went,

Ballanc’d it was with Spice of sweet Content.

The Mast was Merit, where Sailes of Love tied on,

By virtuous Zephyrus those Sailes were blowne.

And on the Sea of Honour did it swim,

And to the Land of Fame did Traffick in.

At last a storm of Poverty did rise,

And Showers of Miseries fell from the Skies.

And Thundring Creditors a Noise did make,

With threatning Bills, as if the Ship would break.

This Ship was forc’d towards the Northern Pole;

There Icy Wants did on this Ship take hold.

At last the Sun of Charity did melt

Those Icy Wants, so Liberty she felt:

And X3r 157

And Oares of honest Industry did row,

Till gentle Gales of Friend-ship made it go.

But when the Stormes of Dangers all were past,

Upon the Coast of ―― it was cast.

Yet was this Ship so totter’d, torne, and rent;

That none but Gods the Ruine could prevent.

A Lady drest by Love.

1 Masquer.

Her Haire with Lovers Hopes curl’d in long Rings,

Her Braides plaited hard with his Protestings.

Yet often times those curled Haires went out,

With Lovers windy Feares, and Damps of Doubt.

Strings of threaded Teares about her Neck she wore,

Dropt from her Lovers Eyes, whose Image bore.

His Sighs as Pendants hung at either Eare,

Sometime were troublesome, if heavie were.

Of Admiration was her Gowne made on,

Where Praises high imbroyder’d were upon.

Ribbons of Verses Love hung here and there,

According as the severall Fancies were.

With some she tied her Looking-Glasse of Pride,

And Fan of good Opinion by her side.

Sometimes Love Pleasure took a Veile to place,

Of Glances, which did cover all her Face.

A Souldier arm’d by Mars.

2 Masquer.

A Head-peece made of Prudence, where ’s his Eye

Of Judgments Dangers, or Mistakes to ’spy.

His Breast-plate made of Courage, to keep out

Bullets of Feare, or Blowes of timorous Doubt.

And on his Hands Gauntlets of active Skill,

Wherewith he held a Pole-axe of good Will.

His Sword was a strong, and stiff-mettell’d Blade;

For it was all of pure bright Honour made.

A Scarfe, which Fortune gave, his Wast did tye,

Imbroyder’d thick with Stars of Purple dye.

A Plume of valiant Thoughts did on his Head-peece tosse,

A Leaguer Cloake of Merit about him was.

His Spurs rowell’d with Hope, which peirc’d the side

Of strong Ambition, whereon he did ride.

Thus X3v 158

Thus he was arm’d, and for great Fame did fight,

She was his Mistresse, he her Champion Knight.

A Lady drest by Youth.

3 Masquer.

Her Haire was curles of Pleasures, and Delight,

Which through her Skin did cast a glimmering Light.

As Lace, her bashfull Eye-lids downwards hung,

A Modest Countenance As a Veile. over her Face was flung.

Blushes, as Corall Beades she strung, to weare,

About her Neck, and Pendants for each Eare.

Her Gowne was by Proportion cut, and made,

With Veines Imbroydered, with Complexion laid.

Light words with Ribbons of Chast Thoughts up ties,

And loose Behaviour, which through Errours flies.

Rich Jewels of bright Honour she did weare,

By Noble Actions plac’d were every where.

Thus drest, to Fames great Court strait waies she went,

There danc’d a Brall with Youth, Love, Mirth, Content.

A Woman drest by Age.

A Milk-white Haire-lace wound up all her Haires,

And a deafe Coife did cover both her Eares.

A sober Countenance about her Face she ties,

And a dim Sight doth cover halfe her Eyes.

About her Neck a Kercher of course Skin,

Which Time had crumpl’d, and worne Creases in.

Her Gowne was turn’d to Melancholy black,

Which loose did hang upon her Sides, and Back.

Her Stockings Crampes had knit, Red Worsted Gout,

And Paines, as Garters, tied her Legs about.

A paire of Palsey Gloves her Hands draw on,

With Weaknesse stitch’d, and Numnesse trimm’d upon.

Her Shooes were Cornes, and hard Skin sow’d together,

Hard Skin were Soles, and Cornes the upper Leather.

A Mantle of Diseases laps her round,

And thus shee’s drest, till Death laies her in Ground.

The Chorus.

Thus Love, and War, and Age, and Youth did meet

In scenes of Poetry, and numbers sweet.

War took out Love, and Age did take out Youth,

And all did dance upon the Stage of Truth.

The Bride.

5 Masquer

Upon her Head a Crowne of Jewels put,

And every Jewell like a Planet cut.

The Diamond, Carbuncle, and Ruby Red,

The Saphir, Topas, and Green Emerald.

His Face was like the Sun that shined bright,

And all those Jewels from her Face took Light.

A Chaine X4r 159

A Chaine of Gold the Destinies had linckt,

And every Link a good Effect had in’t.

And as the Zodiack round the World doth bind,

So doth a Chaine about her Body wind.

A Cloath of Silver Gowne the Fates did spin,

Where every Thread was twisted hard therein.

Her Haire in curles hung loose, which Cupid blowes,

Betwixt those Curles, her Shoulders white he shewes.

Youth strew’d green Rushes to the Temple Gate,

In Beauties Charriot she rid on in State.

With great Applause her Charrioteer drove on,

Eyes of Delight, as Lackies, run along.

And to the Altar this faire Bride was led,

By Blushing Modesty in Crimson red.

And Innocence drest in Lilly white.

And Hymen beares the Torch that burned bright.

Her Traine was car ried up by Graces Three,

As lovely Hope, and Faith, and Charity.

The Bridegroome.

The Bridegroome all was drest by Honours fine,

And was attended by the Muses Nine.

Vertue Flowers strew’d of Dispositions sweet,

In honest waies to walk on gentle Feet.

A Crowne of Civility upon his Head,

And both by Fortitude, and Justice lead.

Over his Crowne a Lawrell Fame did set,

Which Fortune often striv’d away to get.

And many Bells of severall Censures rung,

And all the Streets was with Inquiry hung.

And in a Charriot of good Deeds did ride,

And many thankfull Hearts run by his side.

To the Temple.

Thus to the Temple the Bride, and Bridegroome went,

Though Envie strove the Marriage to prevent.

Hymen did joyne their Hands, their Hearts did tye,

Not to dissolve untill their Bodies dye.

The Gods did joyne their Soules in Wedlock-Bands,

In Heavens Record their Love for ever stands.

A Masquer drest by Vanity, spoke the Epilogue; his Dresse.

His Perfum’d powder in’s long curles of Haire,

He made Lime-twigs to catch a Maid that’s faire.

His Glistring Suit, which every seam Pride lac’d,

Is made a Bawde for to corrupt the Chast.

A Cut-work Band which Vanity had wrought,

A price by which his Mistresse Love was brought.

Silk Stockings, Garters, Roses, all of Gold,

Are Bribes by which his Mistresse Love doth hold.

His X4v 160

His severall colour’d Ribbons, which he weares,

As Pages to his Mistresse Letters beares.

Feathers like Sailes, which wave with every Wind,

Yet by those Sailes he findes his Mistresse kind.

His Flattering Tongue deludes a simple Maid,

Perswades her all is Truth, when all’s False he said.

Vanities Epilogue to the Thoughts.

Noblest, you see how finely I am drest,

Yet all is Counterfeit that ’s here exprest.

Vanity doth cheat you all, and doth take Pride,

For to allure you from faire Virtues Side.

A Masquer
drest with Honour,
& Time
.

To Silver Ribbons turn’d was every Haire,

Knots of Experience every one tied there

Cover’d his Head was all with Wisedomes Hat,

Good Managements as Hat-band about that.

His Garments loose, yet Manly did they fit,

Though Time had crumpl’d them, no spots did get.

His Cloake made of a free, and noble Mind,

And all with Generosity was lin’d.

And Gloves of Bounty his hands drew on,

Stitch’d with Love, free Hearts were trimm’d upon.

A Sword of Valour hung close by his side,

To cut of all base Feares, and haughty Pride.

His Boots were Honesty, to walk upon,

And Spurs of good Desires tied them on.

Thus he was drest by Honour, and by Time,

The one did give him Wit, the other made him Fine.

Honours Epilogue.

Noble Spectators, pray this learne by me,

That nothing without Honour, Time, can perfect be.

Honour doth dresse the Mind with Virtuous Weeds,

And is the Parent to all Noble Deeds.

Time doth the Body dresse with Youth, and Age,

And is great Natures Chamber-maid, and Page.

If in Times Cabinet Times Cabinet
is Oppertunity.
great Spoiles you find,

The Fault is Ignorance, who’s Stupid, blind.

Which Carelesse is, and tumbles all about,

Misplacing all, taking the wrong things out.

But Time’s a Huswife good, and takes much paine

To order all, as Nature did ordaine.

All severall Ages on severall Heapes she laies,

And what she takes from Life, to Death she paies.

But if Disorder’d Life doth run in Debt,

Then Death his Serjeants doth Diseases set.

Which causes Time to give a double Pay,

Because Life spent so much before Rent-day.

To Aa1r

To all Writing Ladies.

It is to be observed, that there is a secret
working by Nature, as to cast an
influence upon the mindes of men:
like as in Contagions, when as the
Aire is corrupted, it produced severall
Diseases; so severall distempers of
the minde, by the inflammations of the spirits. And as
in healthfull Ages, bodies are purified, so wits are refined;
yet it seemes to me as if there were severall invisible
spirits, that have severall, but visible powers,
to worke in severall Ages upon the mindes of men.
For in many Ages, men will be affected, and dis-affected
alike: as in some Ages so strongly, and superstitiously
devout, that they make many gods: and in another
Age so Atheisticall, as they beleeve in no God
at all, and live to those Principles. Some Ages againe
have such strong faiths, thet they will not only dye in
their severall Opinions, but they will Massacre, and
cut one anothers throats, because their opinions are
different. In some Ages all men seek absolute power,
and every man would be Emperour of the World;
which makes Civil Wars: for their ambition makes
them restlesse, and their restlesnesse makes them seek
change. Then in another Age all live peaceable, and so
obedient, that the very Governours rule with obedient
power. In some Ages againe, all run after Imitation,
like a company of Apes, as to imitate such a
Poet, to be of such a Philosophers opinion. Some Ages
mixt, as Moralists, Poets, Philosophers, and the
like: and in some Ages agen, all affect singularity;
and they are thought the wisest, that can have the most
extravagant opinions. In some Ages Learning flourisheth
in Arts, and Sciences; other Ages so dull, as Aa they Aa1v
they loose what former Ages had taught. And in some
Ages it seemes as if there were a Common-wealth of
those governing spirits, where most rule at one time.
Some Ages, as in Aristocracy, when some part did
rule; and other Ages a pure Monarchy, when but one
rules; and in some Ages, it seemes as if all those spirits
were at defiance, who should have most power,
which makes them in confusion, and War; so confused
are some Ages, and it seemes as if there were spirits
of the Fæminine Gender, as also the Masculine.
There will be many Heroick Women in some Ages, in
others very Propheticall; in some Ages very pious,
and devout: For our Sex is wonderfully addicted to
the spirits. But this Age hath produced many effeminate
Writers, as well as Preachers, and many effeminate
Rulers, as well as Actors. And if it be an Age
when the effeminate spirits rule, as most visible they
doe in every Kingdome, let us take the advantage, and
make the best of our time, for feare their reigne
should not last long; whether it be in the Amazonian
Government, or in the Politick Common-wealth,
or in flourishing Monarchy, or in Schooles of Divinity,
or in Lectures of Philosophy, or in witty Poetry,
or any thing that may bring honour to our Sex: for
they are poore, dejected spirits, that are not ambitious
of Fame. And though we be inferiour to Men, let us
shew our selves a degree above Beasts; and not eate,
and drink, and sleep away our time as they doe; and
live only to the sense, not to the reason; and so turne
into forgotten dust. But let us strive to build us Tombs
while we live, of Noble, Honourable, and good Actions,
at least harmlesse;

That though our Bodies dye,

Our Names may live to after memory.

I Aa2r

I Wonder any should laugh, or think
it ridiculous to heare of Fairies,
and yet verily beleeve there are
spirits: which spirits can have no
description, because no dimension:
And of Witches, which are said to
change themselves into severall formes, and
then to returne into their first forme againe ordinarily,
which is altogether against nature: yet
laught at the report of Fairies, as impossible;
which are onely small bodies, not subject to our
sense, although it be to our reason. For Nature
can as well make small bodies, as great, and thin
bodies as well as thicke. We may as well thinke
there is no Aire, because we doe not see it; or to
thinke there is no Aire in an empty Barrel, or
the like, because when we put our hands and
armes into the same, we doe not feele it. And why
should not they get through doores or walls, as
well as Aire doth, if their bodies were as thin?
And if we can grant there may be a substance, although
not subject to our sense, then wee must
grant, that substance must have some forme; And
why not of man, as of any thing else? and why Aa2 not Aa2v
not rational soules live in a small body, as well
as in a grosse, and in a thin, as in a thicke?

Shall we say Dwarfes have lesse soules, because
lesse, or thinner bodies? And if rational
souls, why not saving souls? So there is no reason
in Nature, but that there may not onely
be such things as Fairies, but these be as deare to
God as we.

Poems Aa3r 141

Poems.

Of the Theam of Love.

O Love, how thou art tired out with Rhime!

Thou art a Tree whereon all Poets climbe;

And from thy branches every one takes some

Of thy sweet fruit, which Fancy feeds upon.

But now thy Tree is left so bare, and poor,

That they can hardly gather one Plumb more.

The Elysium.

The Brain is the Elysian fields; and here

All Ghosts and Spirits in strong dreams appeare.

In gloomy shades sleepy Lovers doe walke,

Where soules do entertain themselves with talke.

And Heroes their great actions do relate,

Telling their Fortunes good, and their sad Fate;

What chanc’d to them when they awak’d did live,

Their World the light did great Apollo give;

And what in life they could a pleasure call,

Here in these Fields they passe their time withall.

Where Memory, the Ferriman, doth bring

New company, which through the Senses swim.

The Boat Imagination’s alwayes full,

Which Charon roweth in the Region scull;

And in that Region is that River Styx,

There some are dipt, then all things soon forgets.

But this Elysium Poets happy call,

Where Poets as great Gods do record all.

The souls of those that they will choose for blisse,

And their sweet number’d verse their pastport is.

But Aa3v 142

But those that strive this happy place to seek,

Is but to goe to bed, and fall asleep.

Yet what a stir doe Poets make, when they

By their wit Mercury those soules convey.

But what, cannot the God-head Wit create.

Whose Fancies are both Destiny, and Fate,

And Fame the thread which long and short they spin,

The World as Flax unto their Distaffe bring.

This Distaffe spins fine canvas of conceit,

Wherein the Sense is woven even, and strait.

But if in knots, and snarles intangled be,

The thread of Fame doth run unevenly:

Those that care not to live in Poets verse,

Let them lye dead upon Oblivions Hearse.

A Description of Shepherds, and Shepherdesses.

The Shepherdesses which great Flocks doe keep,

Are dabl’d high with dew, following their Sheep,

Milking their Ewes, their hands doe dirty make;

For being wet, dirt from their Duggs doe take.

The Sun doth scorch the skin, it yellow growes,

Their eyes are red, lips dry with wind that blowes.

Their Shepherds sit on mountains top, that’s high,

Yet on their feeding sheep doe cast an eye;

Which to the mounts steep sides they hanging feed,

On short moyst grasse, not suffer’d to beare seed;

Their feet though small, strong are their sinews string,

Which makes them fast to rocks & mountains cling:

The while the Shepherds leggs hang dangling down,

And sets his breech upon the hills high crown.

Like to a tanned Hide, so was his skin,

No melting heat, or numming cold gets in,

And with a voyce that’s harsh against his throat,

He straines to sing, yet knowes not any Note:

And yawning, lazie lyes upon his side,

Or strait upon his back, with armes spred wide;

Or snorting sleeps, and dreames of Joan their Maid,

Or Aa4r 143

Or of Hobgoblin wakes, as being afraid.

Motion in their dull braines doth plow, and sow,

Not Plant, and set, as skilfull Gardners doe.

Or takes his Knife new ground, that half was broke,

And whittles sticks to pin up his sheep-coat:

Or cuts some holes in straw, to Pipe thereon

Some tunes that pleaseth Joan his Love at home.

Thus rustick Clownes are pleas’d to spend their times,

And not as Poets faine, in Sonnets, Rhimes,

Making great Kings and Princes Pastures keep,

And beautious Ladies driving flocks of sheep:

Dancing ’bout May-poles in a rustick sort,

When Ladies scorne to dance without a Court.

For they their Loves would hate, if they should come

With leather Jerkins, breeches made of Thrum,

And Buskings made of Freeze that’s course, and strong,

With clouted Shooes, tyed with a leather thong.

Those that are nicely bred, fine cloaths still love,

A white hand sluttish seems in dirty Glove.

A Shepherds imployment is too meane an Allegory
for Noble Ladies.

To cover Noble Lovers in Shepherds weeds,

Of high descent, too humble thoughts it breeds:

Like Gods, when they to Men descend down low,

Take off the reverence, and respect we owe.

Then make such persons like faire Nymphs to be,

Who’re cloath’d with beauty, bred with modesty:

Their tresses long hang on their shoulders white,

Which when they move, doe give the Gods delight.

Their Quiver, Hearts of men, which fast are ty’d,

And Arrowes of quick flying eyes beside.

Buskings, that’s buckl’d close with plates of gold,

Which from base wayes their legs with strength doe hold.

Men, Champions, Knights, which Honour high doe prize,

Above the tempting of alluring eyes,

That seeke to kill, or at the least to binde,

All evil Passions a wandring minde.

To Aa4v 144

To take those Castles kept by scandals strong,

That have by errours been inchanted long,

Destroying monstrous Vice, which Vertues eate,

These Lovers worthy are of praises great.

So will high Fame aloud those praises sing,

Cupid those Lovers shall to Hymen bring,

At Honours Altar joyne both hearts and hands,

The Gods will seale those Matrimoniall bands.

Between Shame and Dishonour.

Dishonour in the house of Shame doth dwell,

The way is broad, and open is as Hell:

Yet Porter have, which Basenesse some doe call,

And Idlenesse, as Usher of the Hall.

The house with dark forgetfulnesse is hung,

And round about Ingratitude is flung:

Boldnesse for Windowes, which out-face the Light,

Dissembling as Curtaines drawne with spight:

With Covetousnesse all gilded are the roofes,

The Weather-cock Inconstancy still moves:

Pillars of Obstinacies as firmly stands,

Carved with Perjury by cunning hands.

And Lust on beds of Luxury doe lye,

Where Chamberlaines of Jealousies out-spy:

Gardens of riot, where the wanton walkes,

Lascivious Arbours where Obscenenesse talks:

Store-houses of Theft ill gotten goods lyes in,

A secret doore bolted with a false pin:

Bake-house ill Consciences mould, and make

False hearts as Oven hot, those hard do bake:

Brew-houses, where ill designes are tunned up,

With their light Graines, false Measures, and corrupt:

Cellars of Drunkennesse, barrels, stomacks made,

And mouthes for Taps, where spue for drink out-wades:

Kitchens of slander, where good names they burne,

Spits of revenge, on which ill deeds doe turne:

The Slaughter-roome of horrid Murder built,

A Knife of Cruelty, by which bloud is spilt:

In Bb1r 145

In Matrimonial bonds dishonour’s linkt

With Infamy, which is as black as inke.

The Temple of Honour.

Honours brave Temple is built both high and wide,

Whose walls are of clear glasse on every side;

Where actions of all sorts are perfect seen,

Where Truth as Priest approves, which worthy’st been;

And on the Altar of the world them layes,

And offers them with sacrificing praise.

The Offerings. Which offerings are so clean without a speck,

As Honours God-head cannot them reject.

As pious Tears, with thoughts most chaste and pure,

And patient minds afflictions to indure;

Wise-mens brains, which bring things to good effect,

A helping hand without a bribe suspect:

A tongue, which Truth in Eloquence doth dresse,

And Lippes, which worthy praises do expresse;

Eyes that pry out, and spie examples good,

Feet that in wayes of mischiefe never stood;

Haire from heads, that shav’d for holy vow,

Which as a witnesse, blessing gods allow.

Breasts, from whence proceed all good desires,

Which lock up secrets, if that need requires;

And hearts, from whence clear springs of love do rise,

Where loyall courage in the bottome lyes.

Besides here’s spleen’s, which never malice bore,

And shoulders, with distressed burthens wore.

An humble knee, that bows to ruling powers,

And hands of Bounty, which on misery showers.

Kings Crowns, which rul’d with Justice, Love, and Peace,

Whose power serv’d, from slavery to release.

Here speculations from much Musing grow,

Which Reasons proof, and Times experience shew.

Witty inventions, which men profit bring,

Inspiring verse, which Poets to gods sing;

White innocence, as Girdles Virgins wear,

That onely Hymen from their waste doth tear:

And Hymens Torches, which burn bright and clear,

Bb Shew Bb1v 146

Shew, jealousie and falshood nere came neere.

Garlands of Laurell, which keep ever green,

Which for the best of Poets Crownes have been:

The Olive branch, which embleame is of peace,

There offer’d is for the worlds good increase:

Mirtle for Lovers constant, which are true,

Then for Misfortunes lay the bitter Rue:

Sighs, which from deep compassion do flow out,

And faiths, which never knew to make a doubt.

Thus offer’d all, with gratefull Hearts in rankes,

Whereon was sprinckled the essence of thankes.

Brought was the fire of Love, which burnt all their

Holy-water, the penitentiall Tear:

The Priests, which were the Cardinall Vertues foure,

Those Ceremonies executed o’re

In grave procession honour high did raise,

And with their Anthems sweet did sing her praise.

Fame.

Then on her wings doth Fame those Actions bear

Which flye about, and carry ’hem every where.

Sometime she overloaded is with all,

And then some downe into Oblivion fall.

But those that would to Fames high Temple go,

Must first great Honours Temple quit passe through.

The Temple of Fame.

This Temple is divided in two parts,

Some open lye, others obscure as hearts.

Some light as day, others as darke as night,

By times obscurity worn out of sight.

The outward rooms all glorious to the eye,

In which Fames image placed is on high.

Where all the windows are Triangulars cut,

Where from one face a million of faces put:

And builded is in squares, just like a Cube,

Which way to double hard is in dispute.

Wherein the Ecchoes do like balls rebound,

From every corner, making a great sound.

The Bb2r 147

The walls are hung with chapiters all of gold,

In Letters great all actions there are told.

The Temple doore is of prospective Glasse,

Through which a small beame of our eye can passe.

That makes truth there so difficult to know,

As for the bright Moone, a new world to show.

The Steeple, or Pillars, of Goose-quils built,

And plastered over with white paper guilt:

The painting thereof with Inke black as jet,

In severall workes and figures like a Net.

This Steeple high is, and not very light,

As a faire Evening is ’twixt day, and night.

Five Tongues, the five Bells through the world do ring,

And to each severall eare much newes doe bring.

The Philosophers Tongue doth give a deep sound,

But the Historians is no better found:

The Oratours Tongue doth make a great noyse,

Grammarians found harsh, as if it had flawes:

The small Bell, a Poets tongue, changes oft,

Whose motion is quick, smooth, even, and soft.

The ropes they hung by, we could not well see,

For they were long small threads of Vain-glory.

But yet they did ring, made a sweet chime,

Especially when the Poet he did rhime.

The Belfrey man, a Printer by his skill,

That, if he pleases, may ring when he will.

When Priest to Mattens, or to Vespers goe,

To the High Altar they bow downe low.

This Altar, whereon they offer unto Fame,

Is made of braines, armes, and hearts without blame:

On which lyes Wisdome, Wit, Strength, Courage, Love,

Offer’d as sacrifices to Fame above:

Vertues, Arts, Sciences, as Priest here stands,

But Fortune Prioresse all these commands.

Incense of noble deeds to Fame she sends,

Nothing is offer’d, but what she recommends:

For Fortune brings more into Fames high Court,

Then all their vertues with their great resort.

Bb2 Fames Bb2v 148

Fames Library within the Temples.

Fames Library, where old Records are plac’d,

What acts not here unto oblivion cast.

There stands the shelves of Time, where books do lye,

Which books are tyed by chaines of destiny.

The Master of this place they Favour call,

Where Care the door-keeper, doth lock up all:

Yet not so fast, but Bribery in steals,

Partialities, cousenage truths not reveals.

But Bribery through all the world takes place,

And offerings as a bribe in heaven findes grace.

Then let not men disdaine a bribe to take,

Since gods doe blessing give for a bribes sake.

The Fairy Queen.

The Fairy Queens large Kingdome got by birth,

Is in the circled center of the Earth,

Where there are many springs, and running streams,

Whose waves do glister by the Queens bright beams.

Which makes them murmure as they passe away,

Because by running round they cannot stay.

For they do ever move, The waters
run in circulations.
just like the Sun,

As constantly in their long race they run:

And as the Sun gives heat to make things spring,

So water moysture gives to every thing.

Thus these two Elements give life to all,

Creating every thing on Earths round ball.

And all along this liquid source that flows,

Stand Mirtle trees, and banks where flowers grows.

’Tis true, there are no Birds to sing sweet notes,

But there are winds that whistle like birds throats;

Whose sounds, and notes by variation oft,

Make better Musicke then the Spheares aloft,

Nor any beasts are there of cruell nature,

But a slow, soft worm, a gentle creature,

Who feares no hungry birds to pick them out,

Safely they graspe the tender twigs about.

There Bb3r 149

There Mountains are of pure refined gold,

And Rocks of Diamonds perfect to behold;

Whose brightnesse is a Sun to all about,

Which glory makes Apollo’s beams keep out.

Quarries of Rubies, Saphirs there are store,

Christals, and Amathists many more.

There polisht pillars naturally appeare,

Where twining vines are clustred all the yeare.

The Axle-tree whereon the Earth turnes round,

Is one great Diamond, by opinion found.

And the two ends, which are called Poles,

Are pointed Diamonds, the Antartick holds,

And Artick; which about the world is rowl’d,

Are rings of pure refined, perfect gold.

Which makes the Sun so seldome there appear,

For fear those rings should melt, if he came near.

And as a wheele the Elements are found

In even Layes, and often turnings round

For first the fire in circle, as the spoake,

And then the water, for aire is the smoak

Begot of both; for fire doth water boyle,

That causes clouds, or smoak which is the oyle.

This smoaky childe sometimes is good, then bad,

According to the nourishment it had.

The outward Circle, as the Earth suppose,

Which is the surface where all plenty flows.

Yet the Earth is not the cause of turning,

But the fiery spoak; not fear of burning

The Axle-tree, for that grows hard with heat,

And by its quicknesse turns the wheel, though great;

Unlesse by outward weight it selfe presse down,

Raising the bottome, bowing down the Crown.

Yet why this while I am so long of proving,

But to shew how this Earth still is moving.

And the heavens, as wheels, do turn likewise,

As we do daily see before our eyes.

To make the Proverb good in its due turn,

That all the world on wheels doth yeerly run.

And by the turn such blasts of wind doe blow,

As Bb3v 150

As we may think like Windmils they do go.

But winds are made by Vulcans bellows sure,

Which makes the Earth such Collicks to endure.

For he, a Smith set at the forge below,

Ordained is the Center-fire to blow.

But Venus laughs to thinke what horns he wears,

Though on his shoulders halfe the Earth he bears,

Nature her mettal makes him hammer out,

All that she sends through Mines the world about.

For he’s th’ old man that doth i’th Center dwell,

She Proserpine, that’s thought the Queen of hell.

Yet Venus is a Tinkers wife, we see,

Not a goddesse, as she was thought to be;

When all the world to her did offerings bring,

And her high praise in prose, and verse did sing;

And Priests in orders, on her Altars tend,

And to her Image all the wise heads bend.

But to vain wayes that men did go,

To worship gods they do not know.

Tis true, her sonne’s a pretty Lad,

And is a Foot-boy to Queen Mab;

Which makes fires, and sets up lights,

And keeps the door for Carpet Knights.

For when the Queen is gone to sleep,

Then revel-rout the Court doth keep.

Yet heretofore men striv’d to prove,

That Cupid was the god of love.

But if that men could to the Center go,

They soon would see that it were nothing so.

Here Nature nurses, and sends them season,

All things abroad, as she seeth reason.

When she commands, all things do her obey,

Unlesse her countermand some things do stay.

For she stayes life, when drugs are well apply’d,

And healing balmes to deadly wounds beside.

There Mab is Queen of all, by Natures will,

And by her favour she doth governe still.

Happy Mab, that is in Natures grace;

For young she’s alwayes, being in this place.

But Bb4r 151

But leaving here, let’s see the sport,

That’s acted in the Fairy Court.

The Pastime, and Recreation of the Queen of
Fairies
in Fairy-land, the Center of the
Earth.

Where this Queen Mab, and all her Fairy fry,

Are dancing on a pleasant mole-hill high;

With fine small straw-pipes sweet Musicks pleasure,

By which they do keep just time and measure.

All hand in hand, a round, a round,

They dance upon this Fairy ground.

And when the Queen leaves off to dance,

She calls for all her Attendants,

Her to wait on unto a Bower,

Where she doth sit under a flower,

To shade her from the Moon-shine bright,

Where Gnats do sing for her delight.

Some high, some low, some Tenour strain,

Making a Consort very plain.

The whilst the Bat doth flye about,

To keep in order all the rout;

And with her wings she strikes them hard,

Because no noise there should be heard.

She on a dewy leafe doth bathe,

And as she sits, the leafe doth wave.

There, like a new-fallen flake of snow,

Doth her white limbes in beauty shew.

Her garments faire her maids put on,

Made of the pure light from the Sun;

From whence such colours she inshades,

In every object she invades.

Then to her dinner she goes streight,

Where every one in order wait;

And on a Mushroom there is spread

A cover fine of Spiders web.

And for her stool a Thistle-down,

And for her cup an Acorns crown;

Wherein strong Nectar there is fill’d,

That Bb4v 152

That from sweet flowers is distill’d.

Flyes of all sorts both fat, and good,

Partridge, Snipes, Quailes, and Poult, her food.

Pheasants, Larks, Cocks, or any kinde,

Both wilde, and tame, you may there find.

Amelets made of Ant-egs new,

Of these high meats she eats but few.

Her milk comes from the Dormouse udder,

Making fresh Cheese, Creame, and Butter;

This milk doth make many a fine knack,

When they fresh Ant-egs therein crack.

Both Pudding, Custards, and Seed-cake,

As her skill’d Cook knows how to make.

To sweeten them, the Bee doth bring

Pure honey, gathered by her sting:

But for her guard serves grosser meat,

On stall-fed Dormouse they do eat.

When din’d, she calls to take the aire,

In Coach, which is a Nutshel faire;

Lin’d soft it is, and rich within,

Made of a glistering Adders skin.

And there six Crickets draw her fast,

And she a journey takes in haste;

Or else two serves a pase a round,

And trample on a Fairy ground.

To hawke sometimes she takes delight,

Which is a Hornet swift for flight;

Whose horns do serve for Talons strong,

To gripe the Partridge Flye among.

But if she will a hunting go,

Then she the Lizzard makes the Doe.

They are so swift, and fleet in chase,

As her slow Coach can never pase.

Then on Grashopper doth she ride;

Who gallops far in forrest wide.

Her Bow is of a willow branch,

To shoot the Lizzard on the haunch.

Her arrow sharp, much like a blade

Of a Rosemary leafe is made.

Then Cc1r 153

Then home shee’s called by the Cock,

Who gives her warning what’s a Clock.

And when the Moon doth hide her head,

Their day is done, so goeth to bed.

Meteors do serve, when they are bright.

As Torches do, to give her light.

Glow-worms for candles are light up,

Set on her table, while she sup.

And in her chamber they are plac’d,

Not fearing how the Tallow wast.

But women, that inconstant are by kind,

Can never in one place content their mind.

For she her Charriot cals, and will away,

To upper Earth, impatient is of stay.

The Pastime of the Queen of Fairies, when she comes upon the Earth out of the Center.

This lovely sweet, and beauteous Fairy Queen,

Begins to rise, when Vespers star is seen.

For she is kin unto the god of Night,

So to Diana, and the stars so bright.

And so to all the rest in some degrees,

Yet not so neer relation as to these.

As for Apollo, she disclaims him quite,

And swears she nere will come within his light.

For they fell out about some foolish toy,

Where ever since in him she takes no joy.

She saith, he alwayes doth more harm then good,

If that his malice were true understood.

For he brings dearths by parching up the ground,

And sucks up waters, that none can be found.

He makes poor man in feav’rish plagues to lye,

His arrowes hot, both man and beast do dye.

So that to him she never wil come neare,

But hates to see, when that his beams appear.

This makes the Cock her notice give, they say,

That when he rises, she may goe her way.

And makes the Owle her favorite to be,

Cc Because Cc1v 154

Because Apollo’s face she hates to see.

Owles sleep all day, yet hollow in the night,

Make acclamations that they’r out of sight.

So doth the Glow-worm all day hide her head,

But lights her taper-taile, when hee’s a bed,

To wait upon the fairest Fairy Queen,

Whilst she is sporting on the meady green.

Her pastime onely is when she’s on earth,

To pinch the Sluts, which make Hobgoblin mirth:

Or changes children while the nurses sleep,

Making the father rich, whose child they keep.

This Hobgoblin is the Queen of Fairies fool,

Turning himselfe to Horse, Cow, Tree, or Stool;

Or any thing to crosse by harmlesse play,

As leading Travellers out of their way,

Or kick downe Payls of Milk, cause Cheese not turn,

Or hinder Butter’s coming in the Churne:

Which makes the Farmers wife to scold, and fret,

That she the Cheese, and Butter cannot get.

Then holds he up the Hens Rumps, as they say,

Because their Eggs too soon they should not lay.

The good Wife sad, squats downe upon a chaire,

Not at all thinking it was Hob the Faire:

Where frowning sits; then Hob gives her the slip,

And downe she falls, whereby she hurts her hip.

And many prankes, which Hob playes on our stage,

With his companion Tom Thumb, the Queenes Page;

Who doth like peice of fat in pudding lye,

There almost chokes the Eater, going awry.

And when’s he’s down, the Guts, their wind blowes out,

Putting the standers by into a rout.

Thus shames the Eater with a foule disgrace,

That never after dare he shew his face.

Besides, in many places puts himselfe,

As Baggs, Budgets, being a little Elfe,

To make his bearers start away with feare,

To thinke that any thing alive is there.

In this, the Queen of Fairies takes delight,

In summers even, and in winters night;

And Cc2r 155

And when that She is weary of these playes,

She takes her Coach, and goeth on her wayes,

Unto her Paradise, the Center deep,

Which is the Store-house rich of Nature sweet.

Her descending downe.

The stately Pallace in which the Queen dwels,

Whose fabrick is build of Hodmandod shels,

The hangings thereof a Rain-bow that’s thin,

Which seemes wondrous fine, if one enter in;

The Chambers are made of Amber that’s cleare,

Which gives a sweet smell, if fire be neare:

Her Bed a Cherry-stone, carved throughout,

And with a Butter-flyes wings hung about:

Her Sheets are made of a Doves eyes skin,

Her Pillow a Violet bud laid therein:

The large doores are cut of transparent Glasse,

Where the Queen may be seen, as she doth passe.

The doores are locked fast with silver pins,

The Queen’s asleep, and now our day begins.

Her time in pleasure passes thus away,

And shall doe so, untill the worlds last day.

The Windy Gyants.

The foure chiefe Winds are Gyants, long in length,

As broad are set, and wondrous great in strength.

These Gyants have Heads (as it doth appeare)

More then the Months, or Seasons of the yeare.

And some say more then days, and all the nights,

That they are numberlesse, and infinites.

The first foure Heads are largest of them all,

The twelve are next, the thirty two but smal;

The rest so little, and their breath so weake,

Their mouthes so narrow, cannot heare them speake.

These Gyants are so lustfull, and so wilde,

As they doe force to get the Earth with childe;

And big she swels untill the time of birth,

Cc2 Her Cc2v 156

Her bowels stretcht, high belly’d is the earth;

Then doth she groane with grievous paines, and shake,

Untill she’s brought a bed with her Earth-quake.

This Child of Wind doth ruine all it meets,

Rends Rocks and Mountains, like to Paper sheets:

It swallows Cities, and the Heavens doth teare,

It threatens Jove, and makes the gods to feare.

And the cold North wind, his Nerves dry, and strong,

Pulling up Oakes, then layes them all along.

In fetters of hard Ice bindes Rivers fast,

Imprisons Fishes in the Ocean vast:

Plowes up the Seas, and Haile for seed in flings,

Where crops of over-flowes the Tide in brings.

He drives the Clouds in troops, which makes them run,

And blowes, to put the light out of the Sun.

The Southern Wind, who is as fierce as he,

And to the Sun as great an enemy;

Raising an Army of thick Clouds, and Mists,

Which with them thinks to doe just as he lists,

Throwing up waters to quench out his Light,

Flings in his face black Clouds, to hide his sight.

But the hot Sun cannot endure this scorne,

And back in showres of raine doth them returne.

The Westerne wind, without ambitious ends,

Doth what he can to joyne, and make them friends;

For he is of a nature sweet, and milde,

And not so head-strong, rough, nor rude, nor wilde.

He’s soft to touch, and pleasant to each eare,

His voyce sounds sweet, and small, and very cleare;

And makes hot love to young fresh buds that springs;

They give him sweets, which he through Aire them flings;

Not from dislike, but to divulge them farre,

As Pictures doe, for faces that are faire.

But O, the Easterne Wind is full of spight,

Diseases brings, which cruelly doe bite;

He blasts young buds, and Corn within the blade,

He Cc3r 157

He rots the Sheep, to men he brings the Plague:

He is an enemy, and of Nature ill,

The world would poyson, if he had his will.

Witches of Lapland.

Lapland is the place from whence all Wind come,

From Witches, not from Caves, as doe think some.

For they the Aire doe draw into high Hills,

And beat them out againe by certaine Mills:

Then sack it up, and sell it out for gaine

To Mariners, which traffick on the maine.

Of the Sunne, and the Earth.

Through Earth’s porous holes her sweat doth passe,

Which is the Dew that lyes upon the Grasse:

Where (like a Lover kinde) the Sun wipes clean,

That her faire face may to the Light be seen;

And for her sake that water he esteemes,

Threading those drops upon his silver beames,

Like ropes of Pearle; he drawes them to his sphere,

Turning those drops to Chrystall when they’re there.

Yet, what he gathers, cannot he keep all,

But downe againe some of those drops doe fall:

When turning back upon her head they run,

He clouds his browes, as if he had ill done.

But Lovers thinke they alwayes doe amisse,

Although those showres her refreshment is.

When she by sweat exhausted growes, and dry,

The Sun the moystest Clouds doth squeeze in sky;

Or else he takes some of his sharpest beames,

To break the Clouds, from whence poure Chrystall streams.

Then Earth doth drink too much, yet doth not reele;

She cannot dizzy be, though sicknesse feele.

Of a Garden.

A Garden is, some Paradise doe call,

The place is alwayes th’ Equinoctiall:

Ecchoes there are most artificiall made,

And Cc3v 158

And cooling Grottoes, from the heat to shade.

The azure sky is alwaies bright, and cleare;

No grosse thick vapours in the Clouds appeare.

There many Stars doe comfort the sad night,

The fixt with twinckling, with the rest give light.

No noyse is heard, but what the eare delights;

No fruites are there, but what the taste invites,

Up through the Nose bruis’d Flowers fume the braine,

As Honey-dew in balmy showers raine.

Various colours, by Nature intermixt,

Direct the eyes, as no one thing can fix.

Here Atomes small on Sun-beames dance all day,

While Zephyrus sweet doth on the aire play:

Which Musick from Apollo beares the praise,

And Orpheus at the sound his Harp downe layes.

Apollo yeelds, and not contends with spight,

Presenting Zephyrus with twelve houres of light:

And night, though sad, in quiet pleasure takes,

With silence listens when he Musick makes.

And when day comes, with greife descends down low,

That she no longer must heare Zephyrus blow:

And with her Mantle black her selfe inshrouds,

Which is imbroyder’d all of Stars in clouds,

Here are intermixing walkes of pleasure,

Grasse, Sand, short, broad, and all sorts of measure.

Some shaded, fit for Lovers musing thought

Of Loves Idea, when the mind’s full fraught.

The walkes are firme, and hard, as Marble are,

Yet soft as Downe, by Grasse that groweth there.

Where Daisies grow as Mushrooms, in a night,

Mix’d white, and yellow, green, to please the sight.

At Dawning day the dew all over-spreads,

In little drops upon those Daisies heads:

As thick as Stars are set in heaven high,

So Daisies on the earth as close doe lye.

Here Emerauld bankes, from whence fine flowers spring,

Whose sents and colours various pleasure bring.

Primroses, Couslips, Violets, Daffadils,

Roses, Honey-suckles, and white Lillies,

Wall-flowers, Pinks, and Marigolds besides,

Sit Cc4r 159

Sit on the bank, inrich’d with Natures pride.

On other bankes grow Simples, which are good

For Medicines, well applyed, and understood.

There Trees doe grow, that proper are, and tall,

Their bark is smooth, and bodies sound withall;

Whose spreading tops are full, and ever green,

As Nazarites heads, where Rasor hath not been:

And curled leaves, which bowing branches beare,

By warmth are fed; for winter nere comes there.

There Fruits delicious to the taste doe grow,

Where with delight the sense doth over-flow:

And Arched Arbours, where sweet Birds doe sing,

Whose hollow roofes doe make each Eccho ring.

Prospects, which Trees, and Clouds by mixing shewes,

Joyn’d by the eye, one perfect peece it grows.

Here Fountaines are, where trilling drops down run,

Which sparkes do twinckle like fixt Stars, or Sun:

And through each severall spout such noyse it makes,

As Bird in spring, when he his pleasure takes.

Some chirping Sparrow, and the singing Lark,

Or quavering Nightingale in evening dark;

And whistling Black-bird, with the pleasant Thrush,

Linnet, Bul-finch, which sing in every bush.

No weeds are here, nor wither’d leaves, and dry,

But ever green, and pleasant to the eye.

No Frost, to nip the tender buds in birth,

Nor winter snow to fall on this sweet earth.

For here the Spring is alwayes in her prime,

Because this place is underneath the Line:

The Day, and Night, equall, by turnes keep watch,

That theevish time should nothing from them catch.

And every Muse a severall walke injoyes,

The sad in shades, the light with sports imployes.

Censuring Satyrs, they in corners lurke;

Yet, as their Gard’ners, they with Art do work,

To cut and prune, to sow, ingraft, and set,

Gather fruits, flowers, what each Muse thinkes fit:

And Nymphes, as Hand-maids, their attendance give;

Which, for reward, their fames by Muses live.

Of Cc4v 160

Of an Oake in a Grove.

A Shady Grove, trees grew in equall space,

Which seem’d to be a consecrated place.

Through spreading boughs, their quivering light broke in,

Much like to Glasse, or Christall shiver’d thin:

Those peices small on a green Carpet strew’d,

So in this wood, the light all broken shew’d.

But this disturbed light the Grove did grace,

As sadnesse doth a faire and beauteous face.

It was a custome
in ancient
time to hang
their offerings
on trees.
And in the midst an ancient Oake stood there,

Which heretofore did many Offerings beare;

Where all the branches round with reliques hung,

To shew what cares the Gods for men had done:

And for rewards, long life the Gods did give

Unto this Oake, that aged he muste live.

His younger yeares, when Acornes he did beare,

No Dandriffe, Mosse, but fresh green leaves grew there.

There curled hung his shoulders, broad they spread,

His crown was thick, and bushy was his head,

His stature tall, full breasted, broad, and big,

His body round, and strait was every twig.

But youth, and beauty, which are shadowes thin,

Doe fade away, as if they ne’re had been.

For all his fresh green leaves, and smooth moyst rine,

Are quite worne off, and now grown bald with time.

His armes so strong, which grappl’d with the winds,

His barke so thick, as skin, his body binds;

Where he all times and seasons firme could stand,

And many a blustring storme he over-came.

Yet now so weake and feeble he doth grow,

That every blast is apt him downe to throw.

His branches all are sear’d, his bark grown gray,

Most of his rine with time is peel’d away.

The liquid sap, which from the root did rise,

(Where every thirsty bough it did suffice)

Is all drunken up, there is no moysture left,

The root is rotten, and his body’s cleft.

Thus Dd1r 161

Thus Time doth ruine, brings all to decay,

Though to the Gods doth still devoutly pray:

For this old Oake was sacred to high Jove,

Which was the King of all the Gods above.

But Gods, when they created all at first,

They did ordaine all should returne to dust.

Of a wrought Carpet, presented to the view of
working Ladies.

The Spring doth spin fine grasse-green silk, of which

To weave a Carpet (like the Persian rich)

And all about the borders there are spread

Clusters of Grapes mix’d green, blew, white, and red;

And in the midst the Gods in sundry shapes,

Are curious wrought, divulging all their Rapes,

And all the ground with Flowers there are strow’d,

As if by Nature they were set, so grow’d.

Those Figures all like Sculpture doe beare out,

To lye on Flats many will make a doubt.

The Dark and Light so intermix’d are laid,

For shady Groves that Priest devoutly pray’d.

The fruits so hung, as did invite the taste,

And small Birds picking seen to make a waste.

The ground was wrought like threads drawne from the Sun,

Which shin’d so blasing like to a fir’d Gun.

This peice the patterne is of Artfull skil,

Art, Imitator is of Nature still.

A Man to his Mistresse.

O Doe not grieve, Deare Heart, nor shed a teare,

Since in your eyes my life doth stil keep there;

And in your countenance my death I finde,

And buried in your melancholly mind.

But in your smiles I’me glorifi’d to rise,

And in your love you me eternalize:

Thus by your favour I a God become,

And by your hate I doe a Devil turne.

Dd The Dd1v 162

The Claspe.

Of small Creatures, such as we call Fairies.

Who knowes, but in the Braine may dwel

Little small Fairies; who can tell?

And by their severall actions they may make

Those formes and figures, we for fancy take.

And when we sleep, those Visions, dreames we call,

By their industry may be raised all;

And all the objects, which through senses get,

All objects
that the Senses
bring in, are as
Merchandises
brought from
forreign parts.
Within the Braine they may in order set.

And some pack up, as Merchants do each thing,

Which out sometimes may to the Memory bring.

Thus, besides our owne imaginations,

Fairies in our braine beget inventions.

If so, the eye’s the sea they traffick in,

And on salt watry teares their ship doth swim.

But if a teare doth breake, as it doth fall,

Or wip’d away, they may a shipwrach call.

When from the stomach vapours doe arise,

Fly up into the Head, (as to the skies)

And as stormes use, their houses down may blow,

Which, by their fall, the Head may dizzy grow.

And when those houses they build up againe,

With knocking hard they put the Head to paine.

When they dig deep, perchance the Tooth may ake,

And from a Tooth a Quarry-bone may take;

Which like to stone, may build their house withall:

If much took out, the tooth may rotten fall.

Those that dwell neere the eares, are very cool,

For they are both the South, and Northern Pole.

The eyes are Sun and Moon, which give them light,

When open, day, when shut, it is dark night.

The Dd2r 163

The City of the Fairies.

The City is the Braine, incompast in

Double walls (Dura Mater, Pia Mater thin)

It’s trenched round about with a thick scull,

And fac’d without with wondrous Art, and skill.

The Fore-head is the fort, that ’s builded high,

And for the Sentinels is either Eye.

And the place where Memory doth lye in,

Is the great Magazine of Oberon King.

The Market-place the Mouth, when full, begun

Is Market-day, when empty, Markets done.

The City Conduit where the water flowes.

Is throught two spouts, the nostrils of the Nose.

But when those watry spouts close stopt are not,

Then we say strait a Cold, or Pose have got.

The Gates are the two Eares, when deaf they are,

It is when they those City Gates doe bar.

This City’s govern’d as most Cities be,

By Aldermen, and so by Mayoralty.

And Oberon King dwels never any where,

But in a Royall Head, whose Court is there:

Which is the kernell of the Braine, if seen,

We there might view him, and his beauteous Queen;

Sure that’s their Court, and there they sit in state

And Noble Lords, and Ladies on them wait.

The Fairies in the Braine, may be the causes of
many thoughts.

When we have pious thoughts, and thinke of heaven,

Yet goe about, not ask to be forgiven,

Perchance their preaching, or a Chapter saying,

Or on their knees devoutly they are praying.

When we are sad, and know no reason why,

Perchance it is, because some there doe dye.

And some place in the Head is hung with blacke,

Which makes us dull, yet know not what we lack.

Dd2 Our Dd2v 164

Our fancies, which in verse, or prose we put,

Are Pictures which they draw, or Figures cut,

And when those fancies are both fine, and thin,

Then they ingraven are in seale, or ring.

When we have crosse opinions in the minde,

They in the Schooles disputing we shall finde.

When we of childish toyes doe thinke upon,

A Fayre may be whereto those people throng,

And in those stalles may all such knacks be sold;

As Bels, and Rattles, or bracelets of Gold.

Or Pins, Pipes, Whistles are to be bought there,

And thus within the Head may be a Fayre.

When that our braine with amorous thoughts doth run,

Are marrying there a Bride with her Bride-groom.

And when our thoughts are merry, humours gay,

Then they are dancing on their Wedding day.

Of the Animal Spirits.

Those Spirits which we Animal doe call,

May Men, and Women be, and Creatures small;

And in the body Kingdoms may divide,

As Nerves, Muscles, Veines, and Arteries wide.

The head, and heart, East and West Indies be,

Which through the veines may traffick, as the sea:

In feavers great by shipwrack many dyes;

For when the bloud is hot, and vapours rise

On boyling pulse, as waves they tosse, if hit

Against hard rock of great obstructions, split.

Head the East Indies, where spicy Fancie growes,

From Oranges and Lemons sharp Satyr flowes;

The Heart the West, where heat the bloud refines,

Which bloud is gold, and silver heart the mines.

Those from the head in ships their Spice they fetch,

And from the heart the gold and silver rich.

The War of those Spirits.

Sometimes these Animal Creatures they doe jarre,

And then those Kingdomes all are up in War,

And Dd3r 165

And when they fight we Cramps, Convulsions feele,

Gouts in our toes, and Chilblaines in our heele.

Peace.

When there is peace, and all do well agree,

Then is Commerce in every Kingdome free,

And through the Nerves they travell without feare,

There are no Theeves to rob them of their ware.

Their wares are severall touches which they bring

Unto the Senses, they buy every thing.

But to the Muscles they doe much recourse,

For in those Kingdomes treading hath great force.

Those Kingdomes joyne by two, and two,

So they with ease doe passe, and re-passe through.

The description of their world, which is the
Body.

The Arteries are the Ocean deep, and wide,

The Bloud the Sea which ebbs, and flows in Tide;

The Nerves great continent they travell through,

Muscles are Cities, which they traffick to.

Similizing the Body to many Countries.

The Nerves are France, and Italy, and Spaine,

The Liver Brittany, the Narrow Seas, the veines,

The Spleen is Æthiopia, which breeds in

A People that are black, and tawny skin.

The Stomack Ægypt, the Chylus Nyle, that flowes

Quite through the Body, by which it fruitfull growes,

The Heart, and Head, East, and West Indies are,

The South, and Northern Pole is either Eare.

The Lungs are Rocks, and Cavernes, whence rise winds,

And Life which passes through great danger findes.

Finis.

Dd3v Dd4r 167

An Epistle to Souldiers.


Great Heroicks, you may justly
laugh at me, if I went about to
censure, instruct, or advise in
the valiant Art, and Discipline
of Warre. But I doe but only
take the name, having no knowledge in the Art,
nor practise in the use; for I never saw an
Army together, nor any Incounters in my life.
I have seen a Troop, or a Regiment march on
the High way by chance, or so; neither have I the
courage to looke on the cruell assaults, that
Mankind (as I have heard) will make at each
other; but according to the constitution of my
Sex, I am as fearefull as a Hare: for I shall
start at the noyse of a Potgun, and shut my eyes
at the sight of a bloudy Sword, and run away at
the least Alarum. Only My courage is, I can
heare a sad relation, but not without griefe, and
chilnesse of spirits: but these Armies I mention,
were rais’d in my braine, fought in my fancy,
and registred in my closet.

Dd4v Ee1r 169

Poems.

The Fort, or Castle of Hope.

Hope hearing Doubt an Army great did bring,

For to assault the Castle she was in;

For her defence, her Castle she made strong,

Placing great Ordnance on the wall along.

Bulwarks she built at every corners end,

When bullets
are shot from
each corner,
they make a
triangular
point upon the
enemy.
A Curtaine of twelve score was drawn between.

Two faces make a point, from whence the Cannons play,

Two points do make a third, to stop the enemi’s way.

The wings were not too short, nor curtains were too long,

The points were not too sharp, but blunt to make them strong.

Round the Castle, enemy’s out to keep,

A ditch was digg’d, which was both wide and deep;

And bridges made to draw, or let at length,

The gates had iron bars of wondrous strength:

Souldiers upon the Curtains-line did stand,

And every one a Musket in his hand.

When Hope had ordered all about her Fort,

Then she did call a councel to her Court.

I hear sayes Hope, that Doubt a war will make,

And bring great force this Castle for to take;

Wherefore my friends, provisions must be sought,

And first of all good store of victuals bought;

Hunger doth lose more Forts, then force doth win,

Then must we with the stomach first begin.

The next is arms, the body for to guard,

Those that unarm’d are, are soon’st afear’d.

But to small use, we make a ditch, or wall,

If not men arm’d to keep this wall withall.

Ee Shall Ee1v 170

Shall we neglect the lives, and strength of men,

More then a wall, that may be broken in?

For Ammunitions, that mighty power,

Engines of death, which Armies, Towns devoure,

Yet are they of no use, unlesse mankind

Hath strength, skill, will, to use them, as design’d;

The last for to advise, what wayes are best,

For to defend our selves from being opprest.

Then Expectation being gray with age,

Advises Hope by no means to engage

Too neer her Castle, but let that be free,

Draw out a Line about the Towne, said shee:

There make some works, Souldiers intrench therein,

Let not the wars close at your gates begin.

With that, Desire, although young, did speak,

Alas, said she, Doubt will that small line take.

So great a compasse with your strength divide,

A body weak may break through any side.

Besides, the souldiers will more carelesse be,

When they a rescue strong behinde them see.

But in the Castle, where lyes all their good,

There they will fight to the last drop of blood.

Doubts Assault, and Hopes Defence.

About the Fort of Hope, Doubt intrenched lay,

Stopt all provisions that should passe that way;

They dig forth earth, to raise up rampiers high,

Against Hopes Curtains did their Cannon lye.

The Line being long, it seem’d the weakest place,

Or else to batter down the frontiers face.

There Pioniers did dig a Mine to spring,

Balls and Granadoes in the Fort did fling;

Rams they did place, to beat their walls down flat,

And many other Engines, as good as that.

But as Doubt breaches made in any part,

Streight Hopes industry soon clos’d with art;

Yet Doubt did resolve fierce assaults to make,

And setting Ladders up, the Fort to take.

When Hope perceiv’d great stones and weights down flung,

Which Ee2r 171

Which many kill’d, as they on Ladders hung:

Many did fall, and in the ditch did lye,

But then fresh men did streight their place supply.

Upon the walls of Hope many lay dead,

And those that fought, did on their bodies tread.

Thus various Fortune on each side did fall,

And Death was onely Conqueror of all.

A Battle between Courage, and Prudence.

Courage against Prudence a War did make,

For Rashnesse, her foe, his favourites sake.

Rashnesse against Queen Prudence had a spight,

And did perswade great Courage for to fight.

Courage did raise an army vast and great,

Vanity. That for the numbers Tamberlaine might beat;

Cloath’d all in glistering coats, which made a shew.

Pride. And tossing Feathers which their pride did blow;

Ambition. Such fiery horses men could hardly weild,

Fame. And in this Equipage they took the field.

Loud noise of this great Army every where,

Untill at last it came to Prudence ear.

Prudence a Councel call’d of all the wise,

Aged Experience for her to advise;

Industry was call’d, which close did wait,

And orders had to raise an Army streight.

But out alas, her Kingdome was so small,

That scarce an Army could be rais’d of all.

At last they did about ten thousand get,

Then Care imployed was, them arms to fit;

Discipline trayn’d, and taught each severall man,

How they should move, and in what posture stand.

Great store of victualls Prudence did provide,

And Ammunition of all sorts beside.

The Foot were cloth’d, though course, in warm array,

Their wages small, yet had they constant pay.

Well armed they were all Breast, Back, and Pot,

Not for to tire them, but to keep out shot.

Each had their Muskets, Pikes, and Banners right,

That nothing might be wanting when they fight.

The Cavalry all arm’d as in a Frock,

Ee2 Gauntlet Ee2v 172

Gauntlet and Pistols, and some Fire-locks,

Swords by their sides, and at their Saddle bow

Hung Pole-axes to strike, and give a blow.

Horses, e’ne such, as pamper’d in a Stable,

But from the Plow, which were both strong and able

To make a long March, or endure a shock,

That quietly will stand firme, as a rock;

Nor start, although the Guns shoot in their face,

But as they’re guided, goe from place to place.

Prudence for man, and Horse she did provide,

Physitians, Surgeons, Farriers, Smiths beside,

Wagons, and Carts, all Luggages to beare,

That none might want, when in the Field they were.

Strict order she did give to every one,

For feare that by mistake they should doe wrong.

And as they marcht, Scouts every way did goe,

To bring Intelligence where lay the Foe.

And when the Army staid some rest to take,

Prudence had care what Sentinels to make,

Men that were watchfull, full of industry,

Not such as are debaucht, or lazie, lye.

For Armies oft by negligence are lost,

Which had they fought, might of their valour boast.

But Prudence, she with care still had an eye,

That every one had Match, and Powder by.

Besides through a wise care, though not afraid,

She alwayes lay intrenched where she stay’d.

At last the Armies both drew neare in sight,

Then both began to order for the fight.

Courage his Army was so vast, and great,

As they did scorne the others when they met.

Courage did many a scornfull message send,

But Prudence still made Patience by her stand.

Prudence call’d to Doubt, to aske his advise,

But in his answers he was very nice;

Hope, of that Army great, she made but light,

Perswaded Prudence by any meanes to fight;

For why, said Hope, they doe us so despise,

That they grow carelesse, error blindes their eyes.

Whereby we may such great advantage make,

As Ee3r 173

As we may win, and many prisoners take.

Then Prudence set her Army in array,

Chusing their Roman custome, and their way.

In bodies small her Army she did part,

In Mollops, which was done with care and Art:

Ten on a rank, and seven file deep they were,

Between each part, a lane of ground lay bare,

For single, and loose men, about to run,

To skirmish first, before the fight begun.

The Battle order’d, in three parts was set,

The next supplyes, when the first part is beat.

Then Prudence rode about, from rank to rank,

Taking great care to strengthen well the flanke.

Prudence the Van did lead, Hope the right wing,

Patience the left, and Doubt the reare did bring.

The other Army fiercely up did ride,

As thinking presently them to divide.

But they were much deceiv’d, for when they met,

They saw an Army small, whose force was great;

Then did they fight, where Courage bore up high,

For though the worst he had, he scorn’d to fly.

A Description of the Battle in Fight.

Some with sharp Swords, to tell, O most accurst,

Were above halfe into the bodies thrust:

From whence fresh streams of bloud run all along

Unto the Hilts, and there lay clodded on.

Some, their Leggs hang dangling by the Nervouse strings,

And shoulders cut, hung loose, like flying wings.

Here heads are cleft in two parts, braines lye masht,

And all their faces into slices hasht.

Braines only in the Pia Mater thin,

Which quivering lyes within that little skin:

Their Sculls all broke, and into peeces burst,

By Horses hoofes, and Chariot wheeles, to dust.

Others, their owne heads lyes on their owne laps,

And some againe, halfe cut, lyes on their Paps;

Whose Tongues out of their mouthes are thrust at length;

For Ee3v 174

For why, the strings are cut that gave them strength.

Their eyes do stare, the lids wide open set,

The little Nerves being shrunk, they cannot shut.

And some again, those glassie bals hangs by,

Small slender strings, as Chains to tye the Eye.

Those strings, when broke, Eyes fall, which trundling round,

Untill the filme is broke upon the ground.

In death, their teeth strong set, their lips left bare,

Which grinning seems, as if they angry were.

Their Hairs upon their Eyes in clodded gore,

Or wildly spreads, as not in life they wore;

With frowns their Fore-heads in deep furrows lye,

As Graves their Foes to bury when they dye;

Heaving up spongy lungs through pangs of death,

With pain and difficulty fetcht short breath.

Some grasping hard, their hands through pain provok’d,

For why, the ratling flegme their throats do choak.

Their bodies bowing up, then downe they fall,

For want of strength to make them stand withall.

Some staggering on their legs do feebly stand,

Or leaning on their Sword with either hand,

Where on the Pummel doth their breast rely,

More griev’d they cannot fight, then for to dye.

Their hollow eyes sunke deep into their brains,

And hard fetcht groans from every heart-string strains.

Their knees pull’d up, to keep their bowels in;

But all too little through their blood doth swim:

And Guts like Sausages their bodies twine,

Or like the spreading plant, or wreathing vine.

Their restlesse heads, not knowing how to lye,

Through grievous paines do quickly wish to dye.

Rowling from off their back upon their belly,

Tumbling in their blood as thick as gelly.

And gasping lye with short breaths, and constraint,

With cold sweat drops upon their faces faint.

Then heaving up their dull, pale eye-balls, looke,

As if through paine, not hate the world forsook.

Some chilly cold, as shivering Agues are;

Some burning hot, as in high Feavers were.

Spewing of blood from stomacks that are sick,

Through Ee4r 175

Through parching heats their tongues to’ th’ roofs do stick.

With loud groans, bodies call’d their soules back,

While smarting wounds did set them on the wrack;

And on their Arms their faces lay a-crosse,

As if in death they were ashamed of losse.

Some, dying like a flame, whose oyle is spent,

Or fire smother’d out which wanteth vent.

And some do fall like strong, and hardy Oaks,

Which hewn down are with fierce and cruell stroaks;

Their limbs chop’d small, as wood for fire to burn,

Or carved, or chipt out for Joyners turne.

Some underneath their horses bellies flung,

Some by the heels in their own stirrups hung;

Others their heads, and neck lay all awry,

And on their horses manes, as pillows, lye.

Some in a carelesse garb lye on the ground,

As life despis’d, since Honour in death’s found.

Some for death do call, some life desire,

Some care not, others burial require.

Some beat their breasts, as evill they had done,

Others in fiery hot revenge do burn.

Some lay, as if to hear the Trumpet sound,

And others lay, as sprawling on the ground.

Some wish’d their deaths revenge upon their foe,

Others with dying eyes their friends not know.

Some their parents, children cry’d, to see,

Others wish’d life, some difference to agree.

But Lovers with a soft and panting heart,

Did wish their Mistris at their last depart,

To shut their eyes, and wounds to close,

Whose dying spirits to their Mistris goes.

Foes Hands into each others wounds thrust wide,

As if their hearts would pull out from each side;

Where friends in dear imbracements are close twin’d

By their affection strong, in death they are joyn’d.

Some wish’d to live, yet long for death through paine,

Others dye grieving that their foe’s not slain.

Or else repent, what they so rash have done,

And wish the Battle were to be begun.

Some gently sinking, so by fainting fall,

And Ee4v 176

And quietly do yeeld, when Death them call.

Some drunk with death, not able are to stand,

And reeling fall, struck down by deaths cold hand.

Some lingring long, as lovers when part must,

Others, as willing yeeld to Fate, their dust,

And sweetly lies, as if asleep in night;

Some sterne, as if new battles were to fight.

Some softly murmuring like a bubling stream,

Yet sweetly smile in death, as in a dream,

Whose soules with soft-breath’d sighs to heaven flye,

To live with gods above the starry skie.

Thus severall noyses through the aire do ring,

And severall postures Death to men doth bring.

Where some do dye out-ragious in despaire,

Others so gentle, as appears no fear.

With heaps of bodies, hills up high are growne,

Where haire as grasse, and teeth, as seed are sown:

Their head, and heels, horsemen together lay,

Smother’d to death which could not get away.

Their arms lay hack’d, and all were thrown about,

And Targets full of holes, that kept death out;

Their Flags flying, like moving woods did show,

Various colours seem’d on their tops to grow,

As if flowers had sprouted from trees high,

Or strew’d about, did in clouds so lye.

Now all are fallen, and into peeces torn,

Their mottoes raz’d that did their sides adorn.

Yet some as winding sheets their bearers shrou’d,

Which was an Honour fit to make Death proud.

Some like Virgins, that cast their eyes down low

Through shamefastnesse, although no fault they know,

Nor guilty are, but overcome with strength,

Though not consenting, yet is forc’d at length;

As Chastity, so courage forc’d we finde,

To lay down Arms though sore against their minde.

Here Gauntlets, Corselets, Gorgets, Saddles thrown,

Flags, Pikes, Drums, Guns, Bullets, all o’re strown;

Plumes of Feathers, which waved with the wind,

And proudly tost, like to some haughty mind.

Like to prosperity when over-born,

Now Ff1r 177

Now humbly lyes, where they are trodden on.

Horses praunce proudly, when they backed were,

By men of courage, never knowing fear;

If they are over-powred by strong assault,

And lost by strength, was not their courage fault;

For they on deaths dull face could boldly stare,

Since life should hate, if not victorious were.

Dead horses lye on backs, their heels up flung,

Eyes sunke, their heads lye turn’d, their jaws down hung.

Their thick curl’d Manes, which grew down to the ground,

Or by their Master in fine Ribbans bound.

Was torne halfe off, or sing’d by fire from Guns,

Or snarl’d in knots, or clods that backward runs;

Their nostrils wide, from whence thick smoak out-went

Which from their hot stout hearts that vapour sent;

Their sleek bright hair, on skin like coats of Mayle,

Their courage fierce, that nothing could them quaile;

All in death lay, by Fortune they were cast,

And Nature to new formes goes on in hast;

For neither beauty, strength, or nimble feet,

Could serve in death, all beasts alike there meet,

In severall postures, horse and men thus lyes,

With severall pains, in severall places dyes.

When horses dye, they know no reason why,

Where men do venture life, for vain-glory.

Smoak from their bloods into red clouds did rise,

Which flasht like lightning in the living eyes,

Their groans into the middle region went,

Ecchoes in the Aire like Thunder rent;

Winds rarified, sighs such gusts did blow,

As if ascended from the shades below.

Men strives to dye, to make their names to live,

When gods, no certainty to Fame will give.

Ff A Ff1v 178

A Battle between Honour and Dishonour.

With grief and sorrow Honour did complain,

How that her sons and servants all are slaine:

Now none are left, but those that do her sleight,

Open rebellion doth against her fight.

Besides, this Age doth dirt upon her throw,

For fear the next, she should her basenesse show.

Thus mourneth Honour, veyl’d in clouds of night,

When heretofore her garments were of Light.

Her Crown was Laurel wreath’d with Fancies tire,

Her Scepter Mars’s sword made Foes retire.

Pallas her head-peece as her footstool stands,

By which support she rises, and commands;

And thus did Honour live, with great applause,

All did obey her, none did break her laws.

But now Dishonour arm’d ’gainst her doth rise,

And all her laws she utterly denies.

Then Honour fearing she should be surpris’d,

And by her counsel being well advis’d;

Did raise an Army to maintain her right,

Resolv’d she was, Dishonour for to fight.

Courage the Van did lead, Fidelity the Rear,

The Left-wing, and the Right, Wisdom, and Wit they were,

The Artillery, Invention doth command,

Constancy and Patience, Sentinels stand.

Sciences, are Pioniers of great skill,

Which undermine Towns, Castles when they will;

And Trenches make, Souldiers t’in safety sleep,

There for a guard a watchfull eye do keep.

Arts, Dragoons, which serve on Foot, and Horse,

To skirmish, or an Enemy inforce.

Resolution, the Colours high doth bear,

And with the Bag and Baggage standeth Care.

Prudence, Quarter-master, allots them place,

Who disobeys, is punish’d with disgrace.

Industry, Purveyer which provides the meat,

And Temperance, proportions what they eat.

Truth, Scout-master intelligence to give,

By Ff2r 179

By which the Army doth in safety live.

The Drum is faith, with reasons braced are,

The sticks that beat thereon, are Hope, and Feare.

Trumpeters, Oratours sound loud, and cleare,

Doe call to Horse, when th’ enemy is neare.

Gratitude, Treasurer, the Army to pay,

Generosity, Generall, leads the way.

When this Army was in Battalia set,

Dishonour, with her Army neare did get,

Partiality did lead the Van awry,

And Treachery the Rear, which came not nigh.

Perjury the left wing ordered that day,

Unthankfulnesse the right, did beare the sway.

Suspition was the Scout, to search the way,

And Envie close in Ambuscado lay.

Revenge as Canoneer, which took the Aime,

But mist the Mark, which made him high exclaime;

Envie, and Malice, were two Engineers,

Subtilty, had Practised many yeares.

Their Drum is Ignorance, where they beat,

Obstinacy, stupidity thereupon treat,

And brac’d it is with Rudenesse which is harsh,

On strings of Wilfulnesse, which is ever rash.

A Battle between King Oberon, and the
Pygmees.

King Oberon, and the Pigmees tall, and stout,

Did goe to War, the cause was just no doubt;

For Pigmee King, out of his Kingdome brought

His people all, another Kingdome sought.

Like Goths and Vandals, they did range about,

With force full strong, to finde another out;

At last into the Fairy Land they went,

For to that fertile place their hearts were bent.

This is the place, said they, where pleasure flowes,

And like to flowers on banks, where delight growes;

Here let us pitch, and try if Fortune will

Joyne with our Courage, that our Foes may kill.

Ff2 Then Ff2v 180

Then on they went, and plundered every where,

The Fairies all ran crying in great feare;

And fire on all their Beacons placed high,

Which warning is to give, when dangers nigh.

Whereat King Oberon then a war prepar’d,

Which made his Queen, and all his Court afraid;

His Counsell grave and wise, did to him call,

Which came with formall busie faces all:

Where every one did speak their minde full free,

Disputiung this, and that, at last agree.

In War, said they, ’tis better that we dye,

Then to be slaves unto our enemy.

Then said the King, an Army we must raise,

In which Ile dye, said he, or win the Bayes:

Straight Officers of all degrees were made,

To lead, and rule, incourage, and perswade.

Thus did they muster, and arme all their stout,

To meet their Enemy, and beat them out.

Well arm’d they were, and put in good array,

Which made them fight with courage all that day.

Their Trumpets were made of small silver wyre,

Calling the Horse to charge, or to retire:

These Horses for War, were Grashoppers large,

On which they did ride, and bravely discharge,

And Saddles were of a velvet Peach-skin,

Their Bridles small strings, that Spiders doe spin,

And Stirrops, in which they put their feet in,

Was made of a Rush, just round like a Ring.

Of small Cockle-shels their Targets were made,

And for their long Swords a Rosemary blade.

Their Flags colour’d flowers, glorious to see,

Give severall sweet smels, when flying they be.

And how they were arm’d, it well did appear,

In a Beanes hull, just like a Curaseer.

Their Guns were slender small Pipes of Glasse,

And Bullets round, of Seeds to shout, there was.

Their Drums of Filbeard’s skins were very strong,

And wheaten strawes, for sticks to beat thereon.

Their Vans, their Rears, their left Wing, and their Right,

Were placed so, as they saw good to fight.

Their Ff3r 181

Their Colours flying, and their Drums did beat,

Their Trumpets sounding, none sought a retreat.

The files, and formes, the Pygmees plac’d themselves

Was like in figure, unto Muscle-shels,

To peirce through enemies, give way to friends,

The midst being broad, and sharp at the two ends.

But Fairies like a halfe Moon fought, which know,

When each end meet, incircle all their foe:

Where in the midst King Oberon rid full brave,

And he the honour of this day shall have.

Thus this Warrior in armour bright and strong,

As for-most man, did lead his men along.

Then spake He to them in a temper meek,

These enemies, said he, our ruine seek;

Goe on all you brave borne, and valiant bred,

And fight your enemy, till they be dead;

Let not your foes with scorne upbraid your flight,

But let them see, with courage you can fight,

And teach them what their folly rash hath brought

Upon themselves, when they this Kingdome sought.

But O vaine Princes, that for glory seek,

Which will not let poore subjects in peace keep:

Foolish Ambition sets the world on fire,

Which ruines all to compasse its desire:

I only fight to keep what is my owne,

And not to rob another Kingly throne.

But if this quarrel ill, decide I can’t,

I’le fight my enemy then hand to hand.

With that he sent a Herauld stout and bold,

Which to King Pygmee he this message told:

Who said, King Oberon him a challenge sent,

To save their Men, and much bloud to prevent;

That only their two persons fight alone,

And let the Armies both the while look on.

Then laughes the Pygmee, what’s your King, said he,

That in a Duel hopes to conquer me?

I came not here a single strength to try,

A Kingdome for to win, or else to dye:

I prouder am, my Subjects strength to show,

Where by direction they my skill may know.

Herauld, Ff3v 182

Herauld, goe back, and tell your King from me,

He’l know my strength, when Prisoner he shall be.

Then spake he to his Men in voyce full high,

Here’s none said he, I hope, this day will fly;

You know, my Souldiers, we came here to fight,

Not from ambition, or of envies spight;

For we by famine were with meagre face,

Here sent about to seek a fertile place.

Then here’s a faud, which needs not be manur’d,

And we a people, not to work inur’d:

For we by Nature can no great paines take,

Nor by our sweat a liveli-hood out make:

For who would live in paine, or griefe, or care,

And alwayes of their goods to stand in feare?

Who lives in trouble are not very wise,

Since in the Grave no troubles there doe rise.

Then let us fight, even for sweet pleasures sake,

Or let us dye, that we no care may take.

Thus did the Kings their Souldiers courage raise,

And in Orations did their valour praise.

Then did they both in order, rank, and file,

Prepare themselves, each other for to spoyle.

Their Horses stout, wheron they ride in field,

Will dye under their burthen, but not yeeld.

In Caprioles those Grashoppers do move,

By which his Riders skill he soone will prove.

Some think for War, it is an Aire unfit,

With whose swift motion his Rider cannot fight,

Or take his turnes, and vantages to have,

Unlesse by leaping high themselves can save.

Erroneous this, in some case it is good,

Though not in all, if truly understood:

What’s in the world that’s to all use imployed,

But at some times and seasons is denied?

Fire, and Water, the life of all which are,

Can only serve in their due time and call.

Some may say in this Aire of Horsemanship

’Tis good, hils of dead men to over-leap:

For if that they goe low upon the ground,

Where dead men, horse, and armes are strewed round:

Or Ff4r 183

Or else in heaps they lye, like to a wall,

Whereat the Horse will stumble, Man downe fall.

Thus Horses of manage, taught in measure,

Many doe think are only fit for pleasure,

And not for war; but no use of them is,

As though their Rules did make them goe amisse.

They are mistaken, for like men they’re taught,

For to obey their Guider as they ought.

To stop, to goe, to leap, to run, and yet

Obey the heele, the hand, the wand, the bit.

Beside, they’re taught their passion to abate,

Not resty be, with feare, anger, or hate;

And by applause, great courage they have got,

That they dare goe upon a Canon shot,

Not that they senslesse be, or dangers on run,

For Horses cowardly, danger doe shun,

And are so full of feares as they will shake,

And will not goe, which proves their hearts do quake.

Besides, all Aires in Warre are very fit,

As Curvets, Dimivoltoes, and Perwieet:

In going back, and forward, turning round,

Side-wayes, both high and low upon the ground.

Sometimes in a large circle, compasse take,

And then with Art, a lesser circle make.

But Horses that unlearn’d are in this way,

May march strait forth, or in one place may stay.

So men, when they doe fight, having no skill,

May venture life, but few that they shall kill.

For ’tis not blowes, and thrusts shall doe the feat,

Or going forward, or by a retreat:

He must the center be, his sword the line,

His feet his compasse, with his strength to joyne.

These are the Arts for Horse, and Men of War,

Unlesse with stratagems they think to fear:

Which shewes more wit then courage in the field,

So ’tis to run away, or else to yeeld.

But here the Bodies of each Army’s knit

So close, as skin unto the flesh doe fit:

No stratagems us’d to have men slaine,

But they did fight upon an open Plaine.

For Ff4v 184

For those that use slight stratagems in warres,

No fighters are, but cruell Murtherers.

Nor is it bravely done, as some think ’tis,

For every petty Thiefe, has skill in this.

Poore Theeves, more courage in their acts doe show,

For if their plots doe faile, must dye they know.

Warriors designes found out, they doe not care,

Because no hanging for that act they feare;

They’l say, ’tis different thus enemies to use,

For Theeves by their deceit their friends abuse.

But ’tis not so, for cousenage is the theif,

And of that Order, Generals are the chief:

Fighting’s the Souldiers trade, not to intrap,

Nor foxing with craft, a prey for to inwrap,

But kill, or pursue, with Swords in their hands,

Without any fraud, or treacherous bands.

Just so fought these brave valiant Cavaliers,

By the unhappy end, as it appears:

For they did joyne, and fierce together fight,

Which was to all, a lamentable sight.

Some lay upon the ground, without a Head,

Others that gasping lay, but not quite dead:

Their groans were heard, and cryes of severall Notes,

Some rutling lay, with thick bloud in their throates:

Here a Head-peice lay, there a Corslet throwne,

Bodies so mangled, that none could be known.

Rivers of bloud like to a full high tide,

Or like a Sea, where shipwrack’d bodies dy’d:

And their laborious breath such mists did raise,

Which made a cloud, as darkned the Suns raies.

With severall noyses that rebounded far,

Armies of Ecchoes in the aire were.

Here bodies hid with smoake, smother’d, lay dead,

While formlesse sounds, were in the aire spread.

Thus were they active, and earnest in their fight,

As if to kill, or dye, were a delight.

Here beasts and men, both in their bloud lay masht,

As if that a French Cook had them minc’d, so hasht,

Or with their bloud a Gelly boyle,

To make a Boullion of the spoyle,

For Gg1r 185

For Natures table severall dishes brings,

By her directions in transforming things.

At last the Pigmees found themselves quite spent,

And of their war begun now to repent,

Which made their King, though little, yet at length,

Did call to Oberon King to try his strength,

Let’s here, said he, our skill and fortunes try,

In conquering one, or both in graves to lye.

Content, said Oberon King, though most unjust

You have your selfe into my Kingdome thrust.

Yet will I not refuse this offer bold,

And if I live this day will sacred hold.

Then like two Lions fallen out for prey,

Encounter did, not yeelding any way.

Their bright sharp swords, so quick with motion flyes,

Like subtle lightning in each other eyes.

Pigmee King was strong, he two handfuls tall,

But Oberon King was low, and very small.

Yet was he dextrous in his skilful Art,

And by that means struck Pigmee neer the heart,

Whose blood run warm, and trickling down his side,

That where he stood, the grasse was purple dy’d.

Then leaning on his sword, as out of breath,

Said he to Oberon, I have got my death,

Grew faint, then sinking on the ground did lye,

Finding his soul from’s body soon would flye,

Saying to Oberon, do you mercy shew,

And let my Army freely from you go.

And those that here lye slain, O let them have

Just rights in burial, and their bones in grave;

That their free souls in quiet peace may sleep,

And for this Act the gods your Fame will keep.

I care, nor grieve not for my own sad Fall,

But for my subjects that are ruin’d all.

And in a deep-fetcht sigh, and hollow groan,

His Soul went forth unto a place unknown.

When that his souldiers heard their King was dead,

Their hearts did fail, yet none of them there fled;

But to him run like shuttles in a loom,

And with their bodies did his Corps intomb.

Gg For Gg1v 186

For through their loyall breast did dig their grave,

Because their King a Monument should have;

So all did dye, no story yet hath shown,

Was every any Pygmees after known;

Then did their wives with sighs lament their falls,

And with their tears did strew their Funerals;

Those Tears did mix with blood upon the ground,

Where Rubies since hath in the Earth been found.

Their Bodies moist to Vapour rarified,

And now in Clouds do neer the Sun reside.

When they their grief unto remembrance call,

Those sullen clouds in shouring tears do fall.

Their sighs are winds that blow here and there,

And all their bodies transmigrated are.

Unhappy battle to destroy a Race,

That on the earth deserv’d the chiefest place;

For they were valiant, and did love their King,

Without dispute obey’d in every thing.

Nature pittying to see their Fortune sad,

Who by her favour a remembrance had;

For she their bones did turn to Marble white,

Of which are Statues carv’d for Mans delight;

And in some places are as gods set up,

Idols that superstition doth worship.

There Oberon King a Temple builded high,

In which great Fortunes name did magnifie.

The Temple of Fortune.

The Temple was built of Carnelian red,

To signifie that much blood there was shed.

Her Altars were carv’d from an Agget stone,

Where there were musk Flyes sacrificed on:

And Priest there is that sings her praises loud,

Whereat the people kneels all in a croud.

For though she be blind, and cannot well see,

Yet she her hearing hath perfectly.

The Steeple was built of black mourning jet,

And carved finely with many a Fret.

The Bels of Nightingales tongues which did ring.

As Gg2r 187

As sweetly as in the Spring they do sing.

Their Holy fire is made of Sweet Spice,

And kept by Virgins young, that know no Vice.

Their gods sometimes they place in a Bower,

Which made is of a Gesamin Flower;

And all her sacred Groves, in which she walks,

Are set with Roses that grow’s by the stalks.

Thus in Procession her about they bear,

Where none, but in Devotion, cometh there.

The King and Queen, do wait where e’re she go;

And all about sweet incense they do strew.

Nature frown’d to see her so respected,

And by these Honours done, she thought her self rejected.

Wherefore saith Nature, let me take the place,

And let not Fortune proud, me thus out-face;

When all that’s good you do receive from me,

For she my Vassal low, you soon shall see.

For I with Vertues, do the Mind inspire,

And cloathes the Soul in beautifull attire.

The body equall makes, and very strong,

The Heart with Courage, to revenge a wrong.

In brains, Invention, Wit, and Judgement lyes,

Creating like a god, orders as wise.

The Senses all, as perfectly are made,

To hear, to see, to taste, to touch, perswade.

And in the Soule, Affections, Passions live,

There’s, nothing done, but what my powers give.

All which to mutability I throw.

Who in perpetuall motion alwayes goe.

Thus all Invention from my power comes,

For Arts in men, are but by scraps and crumbs,

So Fate and Fortune, are my Handmaids sure,

For what they do, shall never long endure.

For I throughout the World do make things range,

And constant am in nothing, but in change.

Then let your worship to blind Fortune fall,

Or else shall my displeasure bury all.

But false devotion unto men is sweet,

Whilst Truth’s kickt out, and trodden under feet.

Their minds do ebbe and flow, just like the Tide,

Gg2 And Gg2v 188

And what is to be done, is cast aside.

This makes that men are never in the way,

But wander up and down like sheep astray;

Oh wretched man that cannot in peace be,

For with himselfe he cannot well agree.

Sometimes he hates, what he before approves,

But in a constant course he never moves.

Nor to himself, nor God that’s good, can stay,

He ever seeking is some unknown way.

No sad example he by warning takes,

If none will do him hurt, some mischief makes;

As if he fear’d in happinesse to live;

And to himself a deadly wound will give.

But why do I compain, that Man is bad,

Since what he hath, or is, from me he had?

Not onely Man, the World, but Gods also,

And nothing greater then my self I know.

Which made them take high Fortune down,

And in her room, great Nature crown.

A Battle between Life and Death.

A Cruel Battle is betwixt two Foes,

When Nature will decide it, none yet knows;

These two are Life and Death, the world divide,

And whilst it lasts, the Cause will n’ere decide.

First, Life is active, seeking to enjoy,

And Death is envious, striving to destroy.

When Life a curious peece of Work doth make,

And thinks therein some pleasure for to take,

Then in comes Death, with Rancour, and with spleen,

Destroyes it so, that nothing can be seen;

For fear her ruines, Beauty might present,

Leaves not so much, to makes Life’s Monument.

This makes Life mourn, to see her pains, and cost

Destroy’d, for what she doth, in Death is lost.

Weeping, complains at Natures crueltie,

That onely made her, for Deaths slave to be.

I am his food, his sharp teeth doth me tear,

And when I cry, no pity hath, nor care.

The Gg3r 189

The pain he puts me in, doth make me rore,

And his pale face that’s grim, affrights me sore.

And when I think away from him to run,

Falls streight into his jaws, no wayes can shun.

But why do I thus sigh, lament, and mourn?

And try not means for to revenge my wrong.

I will call all my friends their strength to trye,

Either Ile perish quite, or Death shall dye.

Then brings she motion, nimble at each turn,

And Courages, that doth like Fire burn.

Preventing, and inventing wits, to make

Sconses and Forts, too strong for death to take.

A Regiment of Arts, defending with their skill,

And do assault her foes, and sometimes kill.

A Brigade of clear strengths, stand firm and sure,

Which can the assaults of Death endure.

A Party of perfect healths, arm’d so well,

As Death how to destroy them, cannot tell.

A Troop of Growths, at first, small, weak, and low,

Increasing every minute, numbers grow.

And many more Companies hath Life there,

As all the Passions, chiefly Hope and Fear.

Love leads this Army, his motto a Heart,

Their Arms are their Free Wils, all bear a part.

Deaths Army are all to destruction bent,

As Wars, and Famine, both these, Pestilent.

Fury, and Rage, Despair, that run about,

Seeking which way, that they may Life put out.

Troops, Regiments, Brigades, in numbers are,

As Sicknesse, Dulnesse, Griefe, and Care;

And feeble Age, but few, nor scarce can stand,

Yet in Deaths battle, fight will hand to hand.

Hate leads the Army, in a dull slow pace,

And for his Motto, has, a lean, pale face.

With severall weapons, Death poor Life doth take

Her as a prisoner, and his slave doth make.

And on her Ashes doth in triumph ride,

And by his Conquest, swels he big with pride.

Lifes force was strong enough, to keep her state,

If Gg3v 190

If Death, befriended had not been by Fate.

She against Death could make her party good,

Had not the Fates her happinesse withstood.

Who spins the thread of life, so small and weak,

That of necessity it needs must break.

If not, they cut it into peeces small,

And give it Death, to make him nets withall;

To catch in Life, when closely she would hide

Her selfe from Death, but in this net is ty’d.

Or in the Chains of Destiny is hung,

The world from side, to side, about is flung;

Having no rest, nor settlement, but flyes

About from Death, and yet it never dyes;

Runs into severall forms, Death for to shun,

But he destroyes these Forms, that Life in comes.

Death like a Snake, in Natures bosome lyes,

Like flattering friends, but yet in heart envies.

And Nature seems to Life an enemie,

Because she still lets Death a Conqueror be.

Of a Travelling Thought.

A Thought, for breeding, would a Travellour be,

The severall Countries in the brain to see.

Spurr’d with Desires, and booted with Hope,

Cap’t with curiosity, a patient cloake.

Thus suited, then a horse he did provide,

Strong imagination he got to ride,

Sadl’d with Ambition, and girted with pride.

Bridled with doubt, resolving stirrups on each side,

When he was mounted, fast away they went,

In a full gallop of a good intent.

Some wayes in the brain, very ill, there were,

Into deep errours, often tumbled th’are.

High mountains of great fear, was forc’d to hide,

Steep Precipices of Despair down slide.

Woods of forgetfulnesse, they oft past through,

To find the right way out, had much ado.

In troubles, he had travell’d a long way,

At last he came where Theeves of spight close lay.

Who Gg4r 191

Who coming forth, drew out reproachfull words,

Which wounded Reputation, as sharp swords;

When he did feel the wound to smart, drew out

From Time’s Scabbard, Truth which fought full stout,

With an innocent thrust he left spight dead,

Wip’d off the bloud of slander purple red;

Coming to a river of Temptation,

Deep and dangerous of Tribulation.

With Temperance he swum, got out at last,

And with security all dangers past;

At last got to the City of power,

Whereon stood Tyranny, a great Tower.

With discords populous, there Riot rules,

Great Colledges there was to breed up fools.

Large houses of Extortions high were built,

And all with prodigality were gilt;

Their streets were pitcht with dull and lazy stone,

Which never hurts the feet when trodden on.

Markets of plentiful circuits were there,

Where all sorts did come, and buy without care,

Herbs of repentance there were in great store;

But roots of ignorance were many more.

Carts of knowledge brought much provisions in,

Some understanding bought, which truth did bring:

Yet what is bought proves good, or bad by chance,

For some were couzen’d by false Ignorance.

Then forthwith into shamble-row he went,

Where store of meat hung up, for ’twas not Lent;

There lay head with wit, and Fancies fil’d,

And hearts were there, which griefe and sorrow kill’d;

Tongues of Eloquence hung upon an Ear,

Bladders blown with windy opinions there:

Weak Livers of great fear, lay there to sell,

And malice, spleens, which very big did swell.

Tough lungs of wilfulnesse, hard and dry,

Whole guts of self-conceit did hang thereby.

Into a Poulterers shop he went to see

What fowl there were, if any good there be.

There lay wild Geese, though black and heavy meat,

Yet some grosse appetite lik’d them to eat.

The Gg4v 192

The cholerick Turkey, and the Peacocks pride,

The foolish dotterels lay there close beside.

Capons of Expectation, cram’d with hope,

Swans of large desires, lay in the shop.

Reproachfull words were sold by dozens there,

And ignorant Guls lay every where.

Poetical Birds were many to sell,

More Fowl, which he remembred not to tell;

But being a Travellour, would see all there,

So straight he went to Churches of great fear;

Where every one kneel’d upon the knee of pain,

And prayers said with tongues that were prophane.

Petitioning tears drop’d from coveting eyes,

Deceitfull hearts on Altars of disguise.

Earnest they were to gods, that they would give

Worldly request, not grace for souls to live;

But travailes of Experience he would see,

Which made him go to the Court of Vanity.

The Porter, Flattery sate at the Gate,

Who civill was, and carried him in strait.

First to the Presence-chamber of Beauty went,

There staid some time, with great, and sweet content.

Next to the Privy-Chamber of Discourse,

Where Ignorance, and Non-sense had great force.

Then to the Bed-chamber of Loves delights,

The Grooms which served there, were Carpet Knights.

From thence to Counsel of Direction went,

Where great Disorder sate as President.

No sooner that poor stranger he did view,

Reproachful words out of his mouth he threw;

Commanding Poverty, a Serjeant poor,

To take that stranger, cast him out of door.

Strait Flattery for him intreated much,

But he Disorders ear doth seldome touch.

For cast he was into necessity,

Which is a prison of great misery.

But Patience got him an expedient Passe,

So home he went, but rid upon an Asse.

A Hh1r 191

A Register
of
Mournfull Verses.

On a Melting Beauty.

Going into a Church my prayers to say,

Close by a Tombe a mourning Beauty lay.

Her knees on Marble cold were bow’d down low,

So firme were fix’d, as if she there did grow.

Her Elbow on the Tombe did steady stand,

Her Head hung back, the hind-part in her hand,

Turning her Eyes up to the Heavens high,

Left nothing but the white of either eye,

Upon the lower shut The under
lid.
did hang a teare,

Like to a Diamond pendent in an eare.

Her Breast did pant, as if Life meant

To seek her Heart, which way it went.

I standing there, observing what she did,

At last she from her hand did raise her head:

And casting down her eyes, ne’re look’d about,

Teares pull her eye-lids down, as they gush’d out,

And with a gentle Groane at last did speake,

Her words were soft, her voyce sound low, and weak.

O Heavens (said she) what doe you meane,

I dare not think you Gods can have a spleen,

And yet I finde great torments you doe give,

Creatures to make in misery to live.

You shew us Joyes, but we possesse not one,

You give us Life, for Death to feed upon.

O cruell Death, thy Dart hath made me poore,

You struck that Heart my Life did most adore.

You Gods, delight not thus me to torment,

But strike me dead by this deare Monument:

Hh And Hh1v 192

And let our Ashes mixe both in this Urne;

So as one Phœnix shall we both become.

Hearing her mourne, I went to give reliefe;

But, Oh alas, her eares were stopt with griefe.

When I came neere, her bloud congeal’d to Ice,

And all her Body changed in a trice;

That Ice strait melted into tears, down run

Through porous earth: so got into that Urne.

On a Furious Sorrow.

Upon a Grave out-ragious Sorrow set,

Digging the Earth, as if she through would get.

Her hair unty’d, loose on her shoulders hung,

And every haire with teares, like Beads, was strung.

And when those tears did fall with their owne weight,

With new-borne tears supplyed their places strait.

She held a Dagger, seem’d with courage bold,

Griefe bid her strike, but Feare did bid her hold;

Impatience rays’d her voyce, and shrieking shrill,

Which sounded like a Trumpet on a hill.

Her face was flickt, like Marble streak’d with red,

Caus’d by Griefes vapours flying to her head.

Her bosome bare, her garments loose, and wide,

And in this posture lay by Deaths cold side.

By chance a man, who had a fluent tongue,

Came walking by, seeing her lye along,

Pittying her sad condition, and her griefe,

Did straine by Rhethoricks help to give reliefe.

Why doe you mourne, said he, and thus complaine,

Since grief wil neither Death, nor Gods restraine?

When they at first all Creatures did create,

And gave them life, to death predestinate.

Your sorrow cannot alter their Decree,

Nor call back life by your impatiency.

Nor can the dead from Love receive a beat,

Nor heares the sound of lamentations great.

For Death is stupid, being numb’d and cold,

No eares to heare, nor eyes for to behold.

Then mourn no more, since you no help can give,

Take Hh2r 193

Take pleasure in your Beauty, whiles you live,

For, in the fairest, Nature pleasure takes,

But if you dye, then Death his triumph makes.

At last his words like Keyes unlock’d her eares,

And then she strait considers what she heares.

Pardon, you Gods, (said she) my murmuring crime,

My griefe shall ne’re dispute your Will Divine:

And in sweet life will I take most delight:

And so went home with that fond Carpet-Knight.

On a Mourning Beauty.

Upon the Hill of Melancholy sate

A Mourning Beauty; but no words she spake.

Silent as Night, where no Articulate noyse

Did once rise up, shut close from light of joyes;

Only a wind of Sighs, which doth arise

From the deep Cave, the Heart, wherein those lyes.

Sadnesse, as a Vaile, over her face was flung;

Sorrow a Mantle black about her hung.

Her leaning Head upon her hand did rest,

The other hand was laid upon the Breast.

Her Eyes did humble bow towards the ground,

The Earth the object in her Eyes quite drown’d.

From her soft Heart a spring of tears did rise,

Which run from the two fountaines of her Eyes:

And where those Showers fell, Flowers up sprung,

No comfort give, their Heads, for griefe down hung.

Yet did the Stars shine bright, as Tapers by,

Shadows of light did sit as Mourners nigh.

At last the Gods did pitty her sad Fate,

Her to a shining Comet did translate.

Of Sorrowes Teares.

Into the Cup of Love poure Sorrowes teares,

Where every drop a perfect Image beares:

And trickling down the Hill of Beauties cheek,

Falls on the Breast, dives through, the Heart to meet.

Which Heart, burnt up would be with fire of grief,

Did not those tears with moysture give reliefe.

Hh2 An Hh2v 194

An Elegy on a Widow.

Widow, which honour to her Husband gave!

By vertuous life, and faithful to her Grave,

Set Altars on this Hearse for memory,

And let her Fame live here eternally.

Here celebrate her Name, and bring

Your Offerings, and all her praises sing.

For she was one whom Nature strove to make

A Pattern fit, Ensamples out to take.

On a Mother, that dyed for griefe of her only
Daughter
, which dyed.

Unto this Grave let unkind Parents come,

And touch these loving Ashes in this Urne.

All the dislike, Parents in Children find,

Shall vanish quite, and be of Nature kind.

For in this Tombe such pure Love buried lyes,

None perfect is, but what from hence doth rise.

On a beautifull young Maid, that dyed
Daughter to the grieved Mother.

You Lovers all come mourne here, and lament

Over this Grave, and build a Monument,

For Beauties everlasting memory:

The world shall never such another see.

Her face did seem like to a Glory bright,

And when the Sun did rise, from her took light:

The Sun and Moon could ne’re eclips’d have been,

If ere those Planets had her beauty seen.

Nor had this Isle been subject to dark nights,

Had not sleep shut her eyes, so stop’d those lights.

No Bodies could infection take, her breath

Did cleanse the Aire, restoring life from death.

But Nature finding she had been too free,

In making such a mighty power as She,

Used all Industry’s powerfull Art, and skil,

Gave Hh3r 195

Gave Death a greater power this body to kill.

For if that Nature let this body live,

She had no work for Death, nor Fates to give.

The Funerall of Calamity.

Calamity was laid on Sorrows Hearse,

And coverings had of Melancholy verse.

Compassion, as kind friends, doth mourning goe,

And tears about the Corps as flowers strow.

A Garland of deep sighs by pitty made,

On the sad Corps of Calamity laid.

Bels of complaints did ring it to the Grave,

And History a monument of fame it gave.

Of a Funerall.

Alas, who shall condole my Funerall,

Since none is neere that doth my life concern?

Or who shall drop a sacrificing tear,

If none but enemies my hearse shall bear?

For here’s no mourner to lament my fall,

But all rejoyced in my fate, though sad;

And think my heavie ruine far too light,

So cruell is their malice, and their spight.

For men no pitty, nor compassion have,

But all in savage wildernesse doe delight,

To wash, and bathe themselves in my pure bloud,

As if they health receiv’d from that red floud.

Yet will the Winds ring out my knell,

And shouring raine fall on my hearse,

And Birds as Mourners sit thereon,

And Grasse a covering grow upon.

Rough stones, as Scutchions, shall adorne my Tombe,

And Glow-worm burning Tapers stand thereby;

Night sable covering shall me over-spread,

Elegies of Man-drakes groans shall write me dead.

Then Hh3v 196

Then let no Spade, nor Pick-axe dig me up,

But let my bones lye quietly in peace.

For who the dead dislodges from their grave,

Shall neither blessednesse, nor honour have.

An Elegy on my Brother, kill’d in these unhappy
Warres.

Deare Brother, thy Idea in my minde doth lye,

And is intomb’d in my sad memory;

Where every day I to thy Shrine do goe,

And offer tears, which from my eyes doe flow.

My heart the fire, whose flames are ever pure,

Laid on Loves Altar last, till life endure.

My sorrows incense strew, of sighs fetch’d deep,

My thoughts doe watch while they sweet spirit sleeps.

Dear blessed soul, though thou art gone, yet lives

Thy fame on earth, and man thee praises give.

But all’s too smal, for thy Heroick minde

Was above all the praises of Man-kinde.

Of the death and buriall of Truth.

Truth in the Golden Age was healthy, strong,

But in the Silver Age grew leane, and wan;

Ith’ Brazen Age sore sick abed did lye,

And in the last hard Iron Age did dye.

Measuring, and Reckoning, both being just,

She as her two Executors did trust,

Her goods for to distribute all about

To her dear friends, as Legacies gave out.

First, usefull Arts, the life of men to ease;

Then those of pleasure, which the mind doe please.

Distinguishments from that to this, to shew

What’s best to take, or leave, which way to goe;

Experiments to shun, or to apply,

Either for health, or peace, or what to fly:

And Sympathies, which keep the world unite,

Aversions otherwise would ruine quite.

This Will and Testament she left behind,

And Hh4r 197

And as her Deed of Gift, left to Mankinde.

Mourning she gave to all her friends to weare,

And did appoint that foure her Hearse should beare;

Love at the head did hold the Winding-sheet;

On each side, Care and Feare, Sorrow the feet.

This sheet at every corner fast was ty’d,

Made of Oblivion strong, and very wide.

Naturall affections in mourning clad,

Went next the Hearse, with griefe distracted mad:

Did tear their hair, scratcht face, and hands did wring,

And from their eyes fountaines of tears did spring.

For Truth, said they, did alwayes with us live.

But now she’s dead, no Truth that we can give.

After came Kings, which all good Lawes did make,

And power us’d for Truth, and Vertues sake.

Next them came Honour, in Garments black, and long,

With blubber’d face, and her head down hung:

Who wisht to dye, for life was now a paine,

Since Truth was dead, honour no more could gaine.

Next these, Lovers with faces pale as Death,

With shame-fast eyes, quick Pulse, and shortned breath,

And in each hand, a bleeding heart did bring,

Which hearts within the grave of truth did fling.

And ever since, Lovers inconstant prove.

They more profession give, then reall love.

Next them came Counsellors of all degrees,

From Courts, and Countries, and chiefe Cities.

Their wise heads were a guard, and a strong wall,

So long as Truth did live amongst them all.

All sorts of Trades-men, using not to swear,

So long as Truth, not Oaths, sold off their ware.

Physitians came, who try new wayes for skil,

And for Experience sake doe many kil.

But doe use Simples good, which Nature sent,

To strengthen man, and sicknesse to prevent.

Some Judges were, no wrangling Lawyers base:

For Truth alive did plead, decide each case.

Widowes, that to their Husbands kind had swore,

That when they dyed, would never marry more.

At last the Clergy came, who taught Truths way,

And Hh4v 198

And how men in devotion ought to pray:

By Morall Lawes the lives of men direct,

Perswade to peace, and Governours respect;

They wept for grief, as Prophets did fore-tell,

That all the world with fals-hood would rebell.

Faction will come, say they, and beare great sway,

And bribes the Innocent shall all betray.

Controversies within the Church shall rise,

And Heresies shall beare away the prize.

Instead of Peace, the Priests shall discords preach,

And high Rebellion in their doctrines teach.

Then shall men learn the Laws for to explain,

Which learning only serves for Lawyers gain.

For they doe make, and spread them in a Net,

To catch in Clients, and their money get.

The Laws, which Wise-men made to keep the peace,

Serve only now for quarrels to increase.

All those that sit in Honours stately throne,

Are counterfeits, not any perfect known.

They put on vizards of an honest face,

But all their Acts unworthy are, and base.

Friendship in words, and complements will live,

Not one nights lodgiung in the heart shall give.

Lovers shall dye for Lust, yet love not one;

And Vertue unregarded sit alone.

Now Truth is dead, no goodnesse here shal dwell,

But with disorder make each place a Hell.

With that they all shriekt out, lament, and cry

To Nature, for to end their misery.

And now this Iron Age’s so rusty grown,

That all the Hearts are turn’d to hard flint-stone.

Finis.

Ii1r 199

The
Animall
Parliament:

The Soul called a Parliament in his Animal Kingdom,
which Parliament consisteth of three parts,
the Soul, the Body, and the Thoughts; which are
Will, Imaginations, and Passions. The Soul is the
King, the Nobility are the Spirits, the Commonalty
are the Humours and Appetites. The Head is the upper House of
Parliament, where at the upper end of the said House sits the
Soul King, in a Kernel of the Braine, like to a Chaire of State by
himselfe alone, and his Noblility round about him. The two
Arch-bishops, Admiration, and Adoration; the rest are, Apprehension,
Resentment
, and Astonishment. The Judges are the Five
Senses
, and the Wooll-sacks they sit on, are Sight, Sound, Sent,
Tast, Touch
. The Master of the Black Rod is Ignorance: Understanding,
the Lord Keeper, is alwayes Speaker. The Clerke that
writes downe all, is Memory.

The lower House of Parliament is the Heart, the Knights and
Burgesses are Passions, and Affections. The Speaker is Love. The
Clerke that writes downe all, is Fear. The Serjeant is Dislike. The
severall Writs that are sent out by this Parliament, are sent out by
the Nerves into every part of this Animall Kingdom, and the
Muscles execute the power and Authority of those Writs upon
the Members of the Common-wealth. The lower House presents
their Grievances, or their desires, to the upper House the
Braine, by the Arteries.

When they were all set in order, and a dead silence through
all the House, the King made a Speech to the Assembly after this
manner following.

Ii The Ii1v 200

The Kings Speech.

The reason why I called this Parliament is, not only to rectifie
the riotous disorders made by Vanity, and to repeale
the Lawes of erroneous opinions made in the minde, and
to cut off the entayles of evil Consciences; but to raise Foure
Subsidies
of Justice, Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance,
whereby I may be able to defend you from the allurements of
the World, as Riches, Honour, and Beauty, and to beat out
incroaching falshoods, which make inrodes, and doe carry away
the innocency of Truth, and to quench the rebellion of superfluous
words; but also to make and enact strict Lawes to a
good Life, in which I make no question, but every one which
are in my Parliament will be willing to consent, and be industrious
thereunto; the rest I leave to my Keeper Understanding, to informe
you further of.

After the King had thus spoken, the Keeper made another
Speech, as followeth.

The Lord Keepers Speech, who is Speaker.

My Noble Lords:

You may know by the calling of this Parliament, not only
the wisdome of our gracious King, in desiring your aide and
assistance, in the beginning of danger, before the fire growes too
violent for your help to quench out; but his love, and tender
regard of your safety. Besides, he hath shewed the unwillingnesse
he hath to oppresse, and burthen his good Subjects with heavie
Taxes
, before palpable necessity requires them: for he hath
not called you upon suppositions and feares, but upon visible truths;
neither was it Imprudence in staying so long, for it is as imprudent
to disturbe a peaceable Common-wealth with doubts of what may
come, as to be so negligent to let a threatning ruine run without
opposition. Thus is our gracious Soveraigne wise in chusing his
time, valiant in not fearing his enemies, carefull in calling the
help and advice of his Parliament, and most bountifull, in that he
requires not these Subsidies to spend in his particular delights, but
for the good and benefit of the Common-wealth, and safety of his
Subjects. Wherefore if any be obstinate in opposing, or seemes to Ii2r 201
to murmure thereat, he is not worthy to be a Citizen thereof, and
ought to be cast out as a corrupt member therein.

After he had ended his speech, he sits down in his place, and
then rose up the Lord of Objection, and thus spake.

The Lord of Objection’s Speech.

My Lord:

All that your Lordship spoke is true, and therein you have
shewed your selfe a Loyall Subject, and a faithfull Servant;
and I make no question, but every Member in the House will not
only give their Estates, but spend their Lives for their King, and
Country. Yet let me tell your Lordship, that I do beleeve the Parliament
will never be able to raise a Subsidy of Justice from the
Commonalty: it is too strict a demand; as it is impossible for us to
satisfie the Kings desire, unlesse the Commons were richer in Equity.
But if our gracious Soveraigne will take a Subsidy of Faith in lieu
of it, I dare say it may be easily got, raising it upon the Clergy, who
are rich therein.

After he had spoke, rose up the Bishop of Resentment, and
said.

The Bishop’s Speech.

My Lord:

It may be easily perceived, that this Lords desire is, that the
King should lay the heaviest Subsidy upon the Church: not but
that I dare say so much for the Ecclesiasticall Body, as they would
be as willing to assist the King in his Warres, as any of his Lay
Subjects
; yet what the Clergy have, belongs to the Gods, and what
they take from us, they take from them.

After him, spoke the Bishop of Adoration.

The Bishop of Adoration’s Speech.

My Lord:

Our Brother hath told you the truth, that Faith is not to
be given from the Gods; but, my Lord, to shew our willingnesse
and readinesse to the Kings service, we will give his Majesty
a Subsidy of Prayers, which are the effects of Faith. The King, and
the rest of the Lords approved of it, and sent a Writ of it, through Ii2 the Ii2v 202
the Arteries to the lower House the Heart for her approbation,
which one of the Judges delivered to Master Speaker; then the
Speaker taking the report said:

Gentlemen,

This Message is to let you know, That the Episcopall Body
hath offered the King a Subsidy of Prayer, to helpe him in his
Warres, if you agree to it.

With that rose up a Gentleman, and said.

The Gentlemans Speech.

Master Speaker:

The Clergy are able to give the King more then one Subsidy,
if they will, being so rich as they have ingrossed all the
Consciences in the Kingdome, building great Colledges of Factions
there-with: and these Colledges doe not only disturbe the Common-
wealth
, but impoverish it very much: for all that are bred therein,
imploy all their time so in Speculations, as there is no time left
for honest and industrious practise; besides, their Tythes are so great,
which they have out of Ten, as their poor Parishioners have almost
none left (after their proportions are taken out) to serve their
owne use, and maintenance.

Upon this Speech a Gentleman, one Master Zeale rose up, and
thus spake.

Master Speaker:

Although the Clergy are Masters, and Rulers of Consciences,
or should be so, yet they are to imploy them to no other
use, but to the service of the Gods; But I feare, we of the Layety
strive to usurpe that authority to our owne worldly ends, or else
we should never have those large Consciences, as to lay the Burthen
(from our owne shoulders) on theirs, but to doe as wee
should be done unto: let us take their charitable assistance with
thankes.

Most of the House were of this Gentlemans opinion, and voted
an acceptance, and sending up to the upper House, that Subsidy was
passed. After that was agreed, there was a Rationall Lord, that
thus spake.

My Lord:


There were some Opinions which were passed in
former times, when the Parliament of Errours
sate, in the yeare of Ignorance one thousand eight hundred and Ii3r 203
and two; That none must be thought States-men, but those
which were formall. That all that are bold must be thought
wise. That those which have new and strange Fantasmes,
must be thought the only men of knowledge. That none must
be thought Wits, but Buffoones. That none must be thought
learned, but Sophisterian Disputants. That all that are not
debauch’d, must be thought unsociable. That all that doe not
flatter, must be thought uncivil. That all which tell severe
truths, must be thought rude, and ill-natur’d. That all that
are not Fantasticall, must be thought Clownish, and ill-bred.
That all must be thought Cowards, that are not quarrelsome.
That none must be thought valiant, but those that kill, or be
killed. That none must be thought bountifull, but those that
are prodigall. That none must be thought good Masters, but
those that let their servants cousen them. That none must
be esteemed, but those that are rich. That none must be beloved,
but those that are powerfull. That none must be respected,
but those that have outward honour. That none
must be thought religious, but those that are superstitious.
That none must be thought constant, but those that are stubborne.
That none are patient, but those that suffer affronts
of scorne. That none are thrifty, but those that are sluttish.
That none are chast, but those that are not beautifull. That
no man must be seene abroad with his owne Wife, lest he bee
thought jealous. That Blushing must be thought a Crime,
proceeding form guiltinesse. That none must be thought merry,
but those that laugh. That none must be thought sad, but
those that cry. That all poore men must be thought fooles.
That all Citizens must be thought Cuckolds. That none must
be thought good Lawyers, and Doctors, but those which will
take great Fees. That all duty and submission belongs to power,
not to vertue. That all must have ill luck, after much mirth.
That all those that marry on Tuesdays and Thursdayes, shal
be happy. That a mans Fortune can be told in the palme of his
hand. That the falling of Salt portends misfortune. Those
that begin journies upon a Wednesday, shall run through
much danger. That all women that are poore, old, and illfavoured,
must be thought Witches, and be burnt for the
same. That the houling of a Dog, or the croaking of Ravens,
fore-tell a friends death.

These Ii3v 204

These ought to be repealed, and new ones enacted
in their roome
; That all those that have got the power,
though unjustly, ought to be obeyed, without reluctancy. T hat
all light is in the Eye, not in the Sun. That all Colours are
a Perturb’d Light; and so are reflections, rather an inherent
quality or substance. That all Sound, Sent, Sight, is created
in the Braine. That no Beast hath remembrance, numeration,
or curiosity. That all passions are made in the Head, not
in the Heart. That the Soul is a Kernel in the Braine. That
all the old Philosophers were fooles, and knew little. That
the Moderne Philosophers have committed no Errours. That
there are six primitive Passions. That the bloud goeth in a
Circulation. That all the fixt Stars are Suns. That all the
Planets are other worlds. That Motion is the Creator of all
things, at least of all formes. That Death is only a privation
of Motion, as Darknesse is a privation of Light. That
the Soule is a thing, and nothing.

This motion which this Noble Lord made, was enacted by the
whole Parliament with much applause. When he was set down,
my Lord Reason rose, and thus spake.

My Lord:

I should thinke in my judgement, that it would be beneficiall
to the Common-wealth, that there should be a Statute made against
all false Coyne, as dissembling tears, and hollow sighs, flattering
words
, and feigning smiles. But upon this Speech rose up one of
the Lords, and thus spake.

My Lord:

The Propositions of this Lord are very dangerous: for if this
great Councell of Parliament should goe about to call in all
false Coyne which is minted, they must call in all which is in the
Kingdome, to make a triall of the currantnesse; which would discontent
most therein. For why, the stamp is so lively, and artificially
imprinted therein, as it is impossible for the right to bee
knowne from the false. Further, my Lord, these Coynes are so
cunningly mixt with Alchemy, as the difference would hardly be
knowne, if they were now melted.

With that rose up one of the Judges, and said thus.

My Lord:

It is an ancient Law belonging to this Kingdome, to make it
death for any to clip currant Coyne with Hypocrisie, or to mixe false Ii4r 205
falshood with slander: and if this abuse should be winckt at, there
would be no commerce with this Kingdome and Truth.

The Lord Reason rose up againe, and said thus.

My Lord:

There is another abuse in this Kingdom, which is, there are
many Luxurious Palats, as they doe destroy the strength of
the Stomack, and quench out the naturall heate therein, making
it so weake by reason of ill digestion, never giving so much time
as to make a good concoction, to breed new bloud, as there is
like (if speedy order be not taken to prevent it) may come a
Dearth of Flesh over all the Kingdom of the Body.

Upon this, Judge Taste rose up, and thus spake.

My Lord:

There was never any Lawes made in all the former Kings
reigne
, that there should be a perpetuall abstinency, but
only in time of Lent, when the pennance of Physick was taken.
For if the stomack should eat sparingly, and not such things as the
Appetite doth desire, the Body of the Kingdom would grow weak
and faint; and all Industry would cease: for the Legs would never
be able to goe, nor the Hands to worke, nor the Armes to lift; the
Complexion would grow pale, the Skin rough, the Liver dry, and
all the parts of the Kingdom would grow unfit for use; that if a
warre of sicknesse should come, they would never be able to defend
themselves.

The same Lord Reason rose up, and said thus.

My Lord:

There is another great abuse, which is in Articulate, and Vocall
sounds
, or tone of the Voyces: for most when they read, do
so whine, raising their Notes upon the Peg of the Tongue so high,
as they crack the strings of Sense; or else the fingers of words play
so fast, as they keep no stops, or else so slow, as they make
more stops then they should: which make it preposterous. Truly
my Lord, if these be not rectified, all the Nobles of Understanding
will be ruinated, and affronted with a seeming Non-sense. This was
disputed hard on, before it would be pass’d, but at last it was.

After this Dispute, there was a Lord rose up, and said thus.

My Lord:

Wee spend here our time to rectifie the Errours that are
committed in the Kingdome amongst our selves, and
not considering the danger we live in from forraigne enemies abroad,
which are Rhyming Pirates, who make continuall inrodes,rodes Ii4v 206
stealing all our Cattle of Fancies, and plunder us of our best,
and richest conceipts: which if we doe not provide Armes of Rhethoricke
to exclaime against them, they may chance to usurp the
Crowne of Wit, and make themselves Heires to that they were never
borne to. Wherefore, my Lord, let us joyne, to set up Forts
of Satyrs
, and there plant Cannons of Scorne, from thence to shoot
Bullets of Scoffes, to strike them dead with shame. To this all the
House assented.

In the meane time, the lower House were busily imployed with
affaires too, about Naturalizing a Gentleman. For one of the
Members said:

Master Speaker:

There is a Gentleman, one Mr. Friendship, desires to be Naturaliz’d
by the Parliament.

Another Member rose, and said thus.

Master Speaker:

In my sense it is very prejudiciall to Naturalize Strangers: for
why should Strangers receive the same Priviledges with the
Natives, and to be made capable to inherit our Lands, unlesse we
could cut off the Entayles of Affection, which are tyed to their
Native Country, the Kingdome of Parents, or the Islands of Children,
or the Provinces of Brethren, and Kindred; otherwise it is
likely they will turne Rebels, if a warre chance to be with this
Kingdome
, and that, where they were borne.

With that the former Gentleman rose up, and said.

Master Speaker:

I Would not preferre this Gentlemans suite, had he been borne
in the Land of Obligation, Civilities, or Courtesies; but he was
borne in the Land of Sympathy, whereunto this Kingdome hath a
relation, by reason our King hath a right therein, and ought to
have the power thereof, by the Lawes of Justice; for his Mother,
Queen Resemblance, was Daughter to the Sympathian King: so
that this Gentleman, Master Friendship, in Justice is a naturall Subject
to our King, although not a Citizen in the Common-wealth.
Hereupon the House was divided, some gave their Voyces for Him,
others against Him: but when they came to be numbred, he had
most Voices on his side; for he had been so industious in
Petitioning every particular Member before hand; that he made
himselfe many friends, some out of favour to himselfe, others
for the good will to those that favoured him: so that one way, or Kk1r 207
or other, it was sent up to the upper House, where my Lord
Reason
spoke so well in his behalfe, as the Act passed for him.

After this, there was a Member rose, and said.

Master Speaker:

There are in the Kingdome some grievances, which ought to
be reform’d: which is, to make an Act, That all the High
Wayes
, and common Rodes should be mended, and kept in repaire.
For in some Mouths the Teeth are so foule, and rotten, and such
deep holes, as great peeces of meat tumble downe into the Saw-
pits
of the Maw without chewing.

The next is, that many Nose-bridges are ready to fall downe,
by reason the great French Pox doth travell so often over them,
as they crack the very foundation thereof.

The third is, That the Stomack is so often over-flowed with
Drink, by reason the Throat sluces are so wide, as the Kingdome
is not only much impaired thereby, making obstructions, by
reason there passes oft-times much mud of Meat, with liquid
Drinke
, but indangers the Kingdome of drowning; the more, for
that slug which makes the liquor rise higher; besides, it breeds
many thick vapours, which cause much Raine, and strong Winds,
and unwholsome Aires, which breed dizzie Diseases, and bring
Appoplexies of sleep.

The fourth grievance is, that the Puritans, and Roman Priests
cut downe all the stately and thick woods of Haire, as there is almost
none left grown to build ships of ornament with: this in time will
decay the Navigation of Becomming, and leave the Islands of the
Eares bare, to the ruine of Cold; besides the prodigall effeminate Sex
burnes it up with Iron workes, or breakes it off at the rootes, in
making traps for Lovers.

This grievance was resented much in the House, and a Committee
ordained to make a strict inquiry, and to report back to the
House; which was done with all speed.


The Chair-mans Report back.

Master Speaker:

The Committee hath found, that many of the High-wayes, and
Common Rodes are much impaired by negligence: for some are
so bad, as nothing wil mend them; others the Committee hath examin’d,
& found out some helps: for the deep holes might be fill’d up Kk with Kk1v 208
with white Wax, and those that are broken and ragged, may be
fil’d smooth, and even; and those that are black, and scal’d, may be
scrap’d with a steele instrument, and those that are dirty, and foule,
may be rubb’d with China, or Brick, or the like; those that are
loose, may be washed with Allum-water, or Myrrhe-water, which
will fasten them againe. As for the Bridges, there are not many
fallen downe, but only sagg’d, and loose: which, if the Common-
wealth
will be at the charges, may keep them from falling with
Silver pinnes, which will prop them up. But truly, Mr. Speaker,
there are great spoyls of the Woods of Haire; but in youth, Time wil
repaire them againe, but in Age, they wil never grow againe: for
the ground is alwayes dry, and barren, as it will alwayes be bare,
and bald. As for the great Over-flowes, there is no way to himder,
or stop that torrent, but by shutting the Water-gates, the
Lips.

After this relation, the lower House sent the reports to the upper
House
, after which they make an Act of prevention; Their Statutes
running thus.

Be it knowne to all, and some in this Kingdom; That henceforth
from this present of January, one thousand eight hundred
and two
, that no Sweet-meats shall travell through the mouth,
nor no Nuts be crackt, nor no Pins lye in the high-wayes of the
mouth, to canker-fret the Teeth; as also be it enacted, that all hands
labourers shall be imployed with Pick-tooths after meat had passed
those wayes, and let every particular Shire be at the charge
thereof.

Be it also enacted, to keep the bridges strong, lest they fall to
ruine, that the flud-flush be given to all the amorous sort, with
bathes, and dry dyets every spring and fall, for feare the foundation
of the Nose should be rotted, by reason of much corruption
which passes through; also let there be cut a passage upon each
shoulder
, making gutters of issues, that the Humour may be diverted
by running those wayes, that the Kingdome may be drain’d from
superfluous moysture. Also be it enacted, that no conserving
of the woods of Haire, that no haires be pull’d up by the roots, but
only prun’d by the Husbandmen Barbers; also we forewarn the use
of Curling-Irons, Crisping-Irons, or the like; but let the loose woods
of haire be bound up with strings.

Be it also enacted, That no great Draughts be drunk, unlessse great drought Kk2r 209
drought require it: also no Healths to be dranke but upon Festivall
dayes
. But upon going out of this Act, all the young women and
men in the Kingdome made such a mutiny, as the Parliament had
much adoe to pacifie them; nor could not, untill they had alter’d
that clause of Sweet-meats, and Healths. After this there was a
Member rose up, and said.

Master Speaker:

There is in this Kingdom some foolish and unnecessary Customs,
which have been brought from forraigne parts, which
ought to be abolished. One is, to digge holes in the Eares, to set
Pendants in, which puts the Kingdom to a charge of paine, and also
is a heavie burthen therein. The second is, to pull up the Hedges
of the Eye-brows
by the roots, leaving none but a narrow and thin
row, that the Eyes can receive no shade there-from. The third is,
to peele the first skin off the face with Oyle of Vitriol, that a new skin
may come in the place, which is apt to shrivell the skin underneath.
But for the abolishing of these customs few agreed to, fearing
such another Mutiny as the former, amongst the effeminate sex.

Whiles they were demurring upon this, there came Petitioners
with a Petition to offer to the House, which when that was heard,
they sent for their Petition in, and made the Clerk read it.

The Petition of the Veines.

Wee, your Honours humble and poore Petitioners, desire a
redresse from all ill Livers, or else we cannot furnish
your Honours with such bloud, as your Honours require from us. For
by reason of dry, hot, corrupted, or obstructed Livers, we, your Honours
Pipe-veines
, want filling, or else we are fill’d with such waterish,
or else with such black and melancholy bloud, as the Kingdom is
either parcht for want of moysture, or over-flowed with too
much; being alwayes in extreames: so as we are all undone, and
our Trading utterly decayed thereby. Wherefore we beseech
your Honours to take it into your Honours considerations, and give
us a reparation from the Liver, for which we shall be bound to
pray for your Honours.

Upon this Petition, the House ordained a Writ, to warne the Liver
to appeare before a Committee to be examined, where strait
the Liver appear’d; who excus’d himselfe, saying, the Appetite
flung into the Stomack a great quantity of rubbish, and the Stomack
being an il Neighbour, to disburthen himself from that filth, flung it
upon him, stopping up all crosse passages; insomuch that he had
not roome to discharge himself freely: but as for his own part, he Kk2 was Kk2v 210
was much poorer, and weaker then they, and had more reason to
complaine.

Whereupon the House made an Act, that the Stomack should
be cleansed every spring, and fall with Purges.

Then rose up a Member, and said. Mr. Speaker, There are a
people in this Kingdom ought to be banished, which are Juglers,
Mountebanks, and Gypsies; as jugling Lovers, which deceive all
the effeminate Sex with false and deluding praises. The next are
Mountebank Buffoones, who have gotten Priviledges of freedome,
to put off their bald Jeasts at an easie rate, selling upon the Stage of
Mirth
, taking laughter for pay from the poore ignorant vulgar.
These Fellows take upon themselves the name of Doctors of Wit,
professing their skill, whereby they doe much harme, by reason
their Drugs are naught, and their skil little, by which many times
they kill, instead of curing; for they doe apply their poysonous jests
on unprepared Bodies, and give their Medicines in unseasonable time;
besides their Medicines, being most commonly bitter, gives a dislike
to the Tast; and being not taken in fit time, bring the disease of
Suspicions, and being wrong applyed, cause death to a good fame. The
next are Gypsies, which delude many; as Sympathy Powder, Viper Wine,
Love Powder, Cramp Rings, crosse Knots, raking up the ashes on St.
Agnes Eve, laying a Bride-cake under their heads, and many the like.

Another Member said; Mr. Speaker, There are light Wenches of
vanity, and crafty Bawds, ought to be whipt, Black patches, Sweet Powders,
Periwigs
, Bracelets made of their Lovers Haire, fancy-colour’d
Ribbons
, to resemble the several Passions, Looking-glasses to hang by
their sides; Love-Posies in Rings, Love-Letters wrought in Handkerchiefs,
Valentines
worne on sleeves, and to discourse by signes.

Another Member said, next is Bawds, as Romancies, Bals, Collations,
Questions
and Commands, Riddles, Purposes, &c.

There was another Member rose up, and said thus. Mr. Speaker,
there are worse Creatures in the Kingdom, and more dangerous, which
ought to be burnt; as Lovely Feature, exact Proportion, clear Complexion:
when these spirits are raised in the circle of the face, who so
comes neere that Face, although it be the Soul it selfe, is bewitched
with a looke; and such power is in that Magick, that nothing
can undoe it, but Sicknesse, and old Age.

The other Witch, is elegant Eloquence: this Witch hath much
power, raising up Sense, Fancy, Phrase, Number, in the circle of the
Eare, and whosoever comes neer them, although the Soul it selfe,
that spirit the Tongue bewitches them, and this is so strong a Magick,gick, Kk3r 211
as nothing can undoe, but forgetfulnesse. ’Tis true, there is a
Law against them, which belongs to the Judges care, as, Hearing
and Sight; but when they come before them to be examin’d, and
to be condemn’d, if they be found guilty; they are so farre
from punishing them, as they set them at liberty, and those bonds
that should bind them, they bind themselves with, and so become
voluntary slaves to those Witches.

Then did the King call both Houses together into a great Hall,
and thus spake.

My good and loving Subjects, I give you thankes for your
care and industry, in rectifying the Errours of this Kingdome,
and for your love to me, in giving me those Subsidies
I requir’d, although I call’d for them as well for your
safety, as my owne: such is my tender regard to my people, as
their safety is my care, and their prosperity my happinesse.
For I desire to be King of Affection, ruling them with Clemency,
rather then to be only King of Power, ruling them
with Tyranny, binding my Subjects to slavery. The power I
desire, is, to beat my enemies abroad, not to fright my Subjects
at home; to defend them, not to ruine them; I covet not
the riches of my Subjects, I hold not the Sword to cut their
Purse-strings, but to decide truth from falshood, to give Equity,
and to doe Justice. Yet let me tell them, my Sword is
as ready to punish Offenders, as my Clemency is to reward the
vertuous. But I have found, and I make no question I
shall finde them alwayes as ready to obey, as I to command;
and because every one may returne to his owne private affaires,
since in publique businesse there is little left now to
doe, but what I can order my selfe, I dissolve my Parliament
for this time, untill there be an occasion to call them together
againe.

Whereupon the Parliament all cryed;


“God save the King,
God save the King.”
I Kk3v 212

I Know, those that are strict and nice about Phrase, and the placing
of words, will carp at my Booke: for I have not set my
words in such order, as those which write elegant Prose. But I must
confesse ingenuously, my shallow wit could not tell how to order
it to the best advantage; besides, I found it difficult, to get so many
Rhythmes, as to joyn the sense of the Subject: and by reason I could
not attaine to both, I rather chose to leave the Elegance of words,
then to obstruct the sense of the matter. For my desire was to
make my conceit easie to the understanding, though my words
were not so fluent to the eare. Againe, they will finde fault with
the Numbers; for I was forc’d to fewer or more, to bring in the sense
of my Fancies. All I can say for my selfe is, that Poetry consists
not so much in Number, Words, and Phrase, as in Fancy. Thirdly,
they will finde fault at the Subject; saying, it is neither materiall,
nor usefull for the Soule, or Body. To this I answer, My intention
was, not to teach Arts, nor Sciences, nor to instruct in Divinity,
but to passe away idle Time; and thought Time might be better
spent: yet ’tis oft spent worse amongst many in the world.

I Language want, to dresse my Fancies in,

The Haire’s uncurl’d, the Garments loose, and thin;

Had they but Silver Lace to make them gay,

Would be more courted then in poore array.

Or had they Art, might make a better show;

But they are plaine, yet cleanly doe they goe.

The world in Bravery doth take delight,

And glistering Shews doe more attract the sight;

And every one doth honour a rich Hood,

As if the outside made the inside good.

And every one doth bow, and give the place,

Not for the Mans sake, but the Silver Lace.

Let me intreat in my poore Bookes behalfe,

That all may not adore the Golden Calf.

Consider pray, Gold hath no life therein,

And Life in Nature is the richest thing.

So Fancy is the Soul in Poetrie,

And if not good, a Poem ill must be.

Be Kk4r 213

Be just, let Fancy have the upper place,

And then my Verses may perchance finde grace.

If flattering Language all the Passions rule,

Then Sense, I feare, will be a meere dull Foole.

The worst Fate Bookes have, when they are once read,

They’re laid aside, forgotten like the Dead:

Under a heap of dust they buried lye,

Within a vault of some small Library.

But Spiders they, for honour of that Art

Of Spinning, which by Nature they were taught;

Since Men doe spin their Writings from the Braine,

Striving to make a lasting Web of Fame,

Of Cobwebs thin, high Altars doe they raise,

There offer Flyes, as sacrifice of praise.

When that a Book doth from the Presse come new,

All buyes, or borrows it, this Book to view;

Not out of love of Learning, or of wit,

But to finde Faults, that they may censure it.

Were there no Faults for to be found therein,

As few there are, but doe erre in some thing;

Yet Malice with her ranckled Spleen, and spight,

Will at the Time, or Print, or Binding bite.

Like Devils, when they cannot good soules get,

Then on their Bodies they their Witches set.

Sir Charles into my chamber coming in,

When I was writing of my Fairy Queen;

I pray, said he, when Queen Mab you doe see,

Present my service to her Majesty:

And tell her, I have heard Fames loud report,

Both of her Beauty, and her stately Court.

When I Queen Mab within my Fancy view’d,

My Thoughts bow’d low, fearing I should be rude;

Kissing her Garment thin, which Fancy made,

Kneeling upon a Thought, like one that pray’d;

In Kk4v 214

In whispers soft I did present

His humble service, which in mirth was sent.

Thus by imagination I have been

In Fairy Court, and seen the Fairy Queen.

For why, imagination runs about

In every place, yet none can trace it out.

A Poet I am neither borne, nor bred,

But to a witty Poet married:

Whose Braine is Fresh, and Pleasant, as the Spring,

Where Fancies grow, and where the Muses sing.

There oft I leane my Head, and list’ning harke,

To heare his words, and all his Fancies mark;

And from that Garden Flowers of Fancies take,

Whereof a Posie up in Verse I make.

Thus I, that have no Garden of mine owne,

There gather Flowers that are newly blowne.

Reader, I have a little Tract of Philosophicall Fancies in Prose
which will not be long before it appear in the world.

Finis.