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

Epistle Dedicatory:

To Sir
Charles Cavendish
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
, 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

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
. 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
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
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
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
, 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
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,

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
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
, 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


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
in; and of these nine Months, onely some Houres in the
Day, or rather in the Night. For my Rest being broke with discontented
, 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

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

Motion was first, who had a subtle wit,

And then came Life, and Forme, and Matter

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

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,
, 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
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

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

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

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
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
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.

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
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

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.

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

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
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.

Or when the Moone doth come betwixt that Light,

Then is the Earth shut up To that part
of the Earth
the Moone
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
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
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.

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
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

The Increasing, and Decreasing of visible

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

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

When Crowds of Atomes meet, not joyned close,

By Motion quicke do give The encounters
of Bodies
make all
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
, by reason
they are
more hollow:
and their hollowness
their Bulk bigger,
though not
their weight

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,
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

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

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

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
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
’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
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

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,
, 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

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,
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
, 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

I. Op.

Who knows, but that Mans Soule in Fame

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

I. Op.

To desire Fame, it is a Noble thought,

Which Nature in the best of Minds hath wrought.

2. Op.

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

If no Motion, no thought of Fame hath one.

What if the Motion of the Body dye?

I. Op.

The Motion of the Mind may live on high;

And in the Aiery Elements may lye,

Although H3v 54

Although we know it not, about may flye.

And thus by Nature may the Mind delight

To heare its Fame, and see its Pyramid;

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

Her Acts and Fame do to Oblivion go.

A simple naturall Opinion of the Mind.

Nature a Talent gives to every one,

As Heaven gives grace to work Salvation from.

The Talent Nature gives a Noble Mind,

Where Actions good are minted currant Coyne.

Where every Virtue stamps their Image so,

That all the World each severall Peice may know.

If Men be lazy, let this Talent lye,

Seek no occasion to improve it by:

Who knowes, but Natures punishment may be,

To make the Mind to grieve eternally?

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

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

If men have used their best Industry,

Yet cannot get a Fame to live thereby:

Then may the Minds of Men rest satisfied,

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

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

A Company of Poets strove to buy

Parnassus Hill, where Fame thereon doth lye:

And Helicon, a Well that runs below,

Which those that drink thereof, strait Poets grow.

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

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

Thinking H4r 55

Thinking which way this Purchase they should get,

They did agree in Councell all to sit:

Knowing that Fame was Honour to the Well,

And that She alwaies on the Hill did dwell:

They did conclude to tell her their desire,

And for to know what price she did require.

Then up the Hill they got, the Journey long,

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

Which made them get before, by going fast,

But all did meet upon the Hill at last.

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

She askt them where their Money was to pay.

They told her, Money they had none to give,

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

And though they knew, sometimes She Bribes would take,

Yet Wit, in Honours Court, doth greatnesse make.

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

But they that have most Wit shall with Mee live.

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

That will be bound, or plead for every man,

Strait every Poet was twixt hope, and Doubt,

And Envy strong to put each other out.

Homer, the first of Poets, did begin;

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

Virgill brought Æneas, hee all Rome,

For Horace all the Country-men came soon.

Juvenall, Catullus, all Satyrs joyn’d,

And in firme Bonds they all themselves did bind.

And for Tibullus, Venus, and her Sonne

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

Pythagoras his Transmigration brings

Ovid, who seales the Bond with severall things.

Lucan brought Pompey, Senate all in armes,

And sars Army with their hot Alarmes:

Mustring them all in the Emathian Feilds,

To Fames Bond to set their hands, and Seales.

Poets, which Epitaphes on the Dead had made,

Their Ghosts did rise, faire Fame for to perswade

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

To after Ages when, their Names were read.

The H4v 56

The Muses nine came all at Barre to plead,

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

At last all Poets were cast out, but three,

Where Fame disputed long, which should her Husband bee.

Pythagoras for Ovid first did speake,

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

Variety, said he, doth Ladies please,

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

As many severall Shapes, and Formes they take,

Some Goddesses, and some do Devils make.

Then let faire Fame sweet Ovids Lady be,

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

Then spoke Æneas on brave Virgils side,

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

Of all the Romanes, who from him did spring,

And in his Verse his praises high did sing.

Then let him speed, ever for faire Venus sake,

And for your Husband no other may you take.

Wise Ulisses in an Orators Stile

Began his Speech, whose Tongue was smooth as Oyle;

Bowing his head downe low, to Fame did speake,

I come to plead, although my Wit is weake:

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

The way is plaine, I shall not erre aside.

Homers lofty Verse doth reach the Heavens high,

And brings the Gods downe from the Aiery Skie:

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

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

So walkes he downe into Infernals deep,

And wakes the Furies out of their deep sleep:

With Fancy’s Candles seeks above all Hell,

Where every Place, and Corner he knowes well.

Opening the Gates where sleepy Dreames do lye,

Walking into the Elysium fields hard by:

There tells you, how Lovers their time imploy,

And that pure Soules in one another joy.

As Painters shadowes make, mixing Colours,

So Soules do mixe of Platonick Lovers:

Shewes how Heroick Spirits there do play

At the Olympick Games, to passe the time away.

As I1r 57

As Wrestling, Running, Leaping, Swimming, Ride,

And many other Exercises beside.

What Poet, before him, did ever tell

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

Their Mansions, and their Pleasures He describes,

Their Powers, and Authorities divides.

Their Chronologies, which were before all time,

And their Adulteries he puts in Rhime:

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

Of Brave Reports; which else an Empty Skull

It would appeare, and not like Heavens Throne,

Nor like the Firmament, with Stars thick strowne:

Makes Hell appeare with a Majestick Face,

Because there are so many in that Place.

Fame never could so great a Queen have bin,

If Wits Invention had not brought Arts in.

Your Court by Poets fire is made light:

Quencht out, you dwell as in perpetuall Night.

It heats the Spirits of Men, inflames their blood,

And makes them seek for Actions great, and good.

Then be you just, since you the ballance hold,

Let not the Leaden weights weigh downe the Gold.

It were Injustice, Fame, for you to make

A Servant Because al Poets
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
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

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 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

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


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
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 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

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

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: