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.



By the Right Honourable, the Lady
Counteſſe ofMarchiones

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

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.


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


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

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


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.


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.


To the 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


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


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 Cæſars 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.


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.


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.


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:


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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?


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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 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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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,


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 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.


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.


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

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


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.


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.


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.


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


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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 War N2r 91


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.


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.


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.


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


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


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