Poems and Fancies A53061.headed.txt

POEMS, AND FANCIES:

WRITTEN By the Right HONOURABLE, the Lady MARGARET Countess of NEWCASTLE.

LONDON, Printed by T. R. for J. Martin, and J. Allestry at the Bell in Saint
Paul's Church Yard, 1653.

THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY: TO SIR CHARLES CAVENDISH, MY Noble Brother-in-Law.
SIR,
I Do here dedicate this my Work unto you, not that I think my Book is worthy
such a Patron, but that such a Patron may gain my Book a Respect, and Esteem
in the World, by the favour of your Protection. True it is, Spinning with the
Fingers is more proper to our Sex, then studying or writing Poetry, which is
the Spinning with the brain: 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 brains work
naturally, and incessantly, in some kind 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 cannot say the VVeb is strong, fine, or evenly Spun, for it is a Course
peace; yet I had rather my Name should go meanly clad, then dye with cold; but
if the Suit be trimmed with your Favour, she may make such a show, and appear
so lovely, as to wed to a Vulgar Fame. But certainly your Bounty hath been the
Distaff, from whence Fate hath Spun the thread of this part of my Life, which
Life I wish may be drawn forth in your Service. For your Noble mind is above
petty Interest, and such a Courage, as you dare not only look Misfortunes in
the (...), but grapple with them in the defence of your Friend; and your
kindness hath been such, as you have neglected your self, even in ordinary
Accoutrements, to maintain the distressed; which shows you to have such an
Affection, as St. Paul expresses for his Brethren in Christ, who could be
accursed for the sakes. And since your Charity is of that Length, and Generosity
of that Height, that no Times, nor Fortunes can cut shorter, or pull down
lower; I am very confident, the sweetness of your (...), which I have always
found in the delightful conversation of your Company, will never change, but
be so humble, as to accept of this Book, which is the Work of,

Your most Faithful Servant, M. N.

TO ALL NOBLE, AND WORTHY LADIES.
Noble, Worthy Ladies,
Condemn not as a dishonour of your Sex, for setting forth this Work; for it
is harmless and free from all dishonesty; I will not say from Vanity: for
that is so natural to our Sex, as it were unnatural, not to be so. Besides,
Poetry, which is built upon Fancy, Women may claim, as a work belonging most
properly to themselves: for I have observed, that their Brains work usually in
a Fantastical motion: (...) in their several, and various (...) in their many
and singular choices of Clothes, and Ribbons, and the like; in their curious
shadowing, and mixing of Colours, in their Wrought works, and divers sorts of
(...) they employ their Needle, and many Curious things they make, as Flowers,
Boxes, Baskets with Beads, Shells, Silk, (...), or any thing else; besides all
manner of Meats to (...): and thus their Thoughts are employed perpetually with
Fancies. For Fancy goes not so much by Rule, Method, as by Choice: and if I
have chosen my (...) with fresh colours, and (...) them in good shadows,
although the (...) be not very true, yet it will please the Eye; so if my
Writing please the Readers, though not the Learned, it will satisfy 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 (...); wherefore I wish my Book may set a work every Tongue. But I imagine I
shall be censured by my own Sex; and Men will cast a smile of scorn upon my
Book, because they think thereby, Women encroach too much upon their
Prerogatives; for they hold Books as their Crown, and the Sword as their
Sceptre, by which they rule, and govern. And very like they will say to me, as
to the Lady that wrote the Romance,

Work Lady, work, let writing Books alone,
For surely wiser Women ne'er wrote one.
But those that say so, shall give me leave to wish, that those of nearest
Relation, as Wives, Sisters, Daughters, may employ their time no worse then in
honest, Innocent, and harmless Fancies; which if they do, Men shall have no
cause to fear, that when they go abroad in their absence, they shall receive
an (...) by their loose Carriages. Neither will Women be desirous to Gossip
abroad, when their Thoughts are well employed at home. But if they do throw
scorn, I shall entreat 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 Privileges, making it their own Case. Therefore pray strengthen my
Side, in defending my Book; for I know Women's Tougns are as sharp, as two-edged
Swords, and wound as much, when they are angered. And in this Battle may your
Wit be quick, and your Speech ready, and your Arguments so strong, as to beat
them out of the Field 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.

AN EPISTLE TO MISTRESS TOP.
SOME may think an Imperfection of wit may be a blemish to the Family from
whence I sprung: But Solomon says, A wise man may get a Fool. Yet there are as
few mere Fools, as wise men: for Understanding runs in a levell course, that
is, to know in general, as of the Effects but to know the Cause of any one
thing of Natures works, Nature never gave us a Capacity thereto. She 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 among it many Errors, there are huge
Mountains of Follies; and though I add to the Bulk of one of them yet I make
not a Mountain alone, and am the more excusable, because I have an Opinion,
which troubles me like a conscience, that (...) 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 Chains
of Modesty, or behaved my self in dishonourable and loose carriage, or had run
the ways of Vice, as to Periure my self, or (...) my Friends, or denied a
Truth, or had loved deceit: Then I might have proved a Grief to the Family I
came from, and a dishonour to the Family I am linked to, raised Blushes in
their cheeks being mentioned, or to turn Pale when I were published. But I
hope, I shall neither greive, nor shame them, or give them cause to wish I were
not a Branch thereof. For though my Ambition's great, my designs are
harmless, and my ways are plain 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 afraid, where no (...) is, and not please my self in the
satisfaction of innocent desires? For a smile of neglect cannot dishearten me,
no more can a Frown of dislike affright me; not but I should be well pleased,
and delight to have my Book 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 (...),
for Nature tempers not every Brain alike; but tis a shame to deny the
Principles of their Religion, to break the (...) of a well-governed Kingdom,
to disturb Peace, to be unnatural, to break the Union and Amity of honest
Friends, for a Man to be a Coward, for a Woman to be a Whore, and by these
Actions, they are not only to be cast out of all Civil society, but to be
blotted out of the Roll of Mankind. And the reason why I summon up these
Vices, is, to let my Friends know, or rather to remember them, that my Book is
none of them: yet in this Action of setting out of a Book, I am not clear
without (...), because I have not asked leave of any Friend thereto; for the
fear of being denied, made me silent: and there is an Old saying; That it is
casier to ask 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 fearful and quick-sighted in spying the
Vices of those they love; and they do with as much kindness pardon the One,
as with grief reprove the Other. But I thought it an Honour to aim at
Excellencies, and though I cannot attain thereto, yet an Endeavour shows a
good will, and a good will ought not to be turned out of Noble minds, nor be
whipped with dispraises, but to be cherished with Commendations. Besides, I Print
this Book, to give an Account to my Friends, how I spend the idle Time of my
life, and how I busy my Thoughts, when I think upon the Objects of the World.
For the truth is, our Sex hath so much waste Time, having but little
employments, which makes our Thoughts run wildly about, having nothing to fix
them upon, which wild thoughts do not only 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 lure this Work is better then
to sit still, and censure my Neighbours actions, which nothing concerns (...);
or to condemn their Humours, because they do (...) sympathize with mine, or
their lawful Recreations, because they are not agreeable to my delight; or
ridiculously to laugh at my Neighbours Clothes, if they are not of the Mode,
Colour, or Cut, or the Ribbon tied with a Mode Knot, or to busy my self out
(...) the Sphere of our Sex, as in Politics of State, or to Preach false
Doctrine in a Tub, or to entertain my self in (...) to vain Flatteries, or
to the incitements of evil persuasions; where all these Follies, and many more
may be cut off by such innocent work as this. I write not this only to
satisfy you, which my Love makes me desire so to do; but to defend my Book
from spiteful Invaders, knowing Truth and Innocence are two good Champions
against Malice and (...): 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 unkind Action of Mine, but will
always remain

Your loving Friend, M. N.

Madam,
YOu are not only the first English (...) 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 asterwards, it
will be bur a Copy of your Original, which can be no more Honour to them, then
to Labouring Men, that draw Water from another mans Spring, for their own use:
neither can there be anything writ, that your Honour have not employed your Pen
in: As there is Poetical Fictions, Moral instructions, Philosophical
Opinions, Dialogues, Discourses, Poetical Romances. But truly, Madam, this
Book is not the only occasion to Admire you; for having been brought up from
my Childhood in your Honourable Family, and always in your Ladyships company;
seeing the course of your life, and honouring your Ladyships disposition, I
have admired Nature more, in your Ladyship, then in any other Works besides.
First, in the course of your Life, you were always Circumspect, by Nature, not
by Art; for naturally your Honour did hate to do any thing that was mean and
unworthy, or anything that your Honour might not own to all the World with
confidence; yet your Ladyship is naturally bashful, apt to be out of
Countenance, that your Ladyship could not oblige all the World But truly,
Madam, Fortune (...) not so much in her power to give, as your Honour (...) to
bestow; which apparently shines in all Places, especially where your Ladyship
(...) been, as France, Flanders, Holland, c. to your everlasting Honour and
Fame; which will manifest this Relation to be the Truth, as well as I, who am,

Madam, Your Honours most humble and obedient Servant, E. Top.

To Natural Philosophers.
IF any Philosophers have written of these Subjects, as I make no question, or
doubt, but they have, of all that Nature hath discovered, either in mere
Thought, and Speculation, or other ways in Observation; yet it is more then I
know of: for I never read, nor heard of any English Book to Instruct me: and
truly I understand no other Language; not French, although I was in France five
years: Neither do I understand my own Native Language very well; for there
are many words, I know not what they signify; so as I have only the Vulgar
part, I mean, that which is most usually spoke. I do not mean that which is
used to be spoke by Clowns in every Shire, where in some Parts their Language
is known to none, but those that are bred there. And not only every Shire
hath a several Language, but every Family, giving Marks for things according
to their Fancy. But my Ignorance of the Mother Tongues makes me ignorant of the
Opinions, and Discourses in former times; wherefore I may be absurd, and crre
grossely. I cannot say, I have not heard of Atoms, and Figures, and Motion,
and Matter; but not thoroughly reasoned on: but if I do err, it is no great
matter; for my Discourse of them is not to be accounted Authentic: so if there
be 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 wrote 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 Errors might better pass there, then
in Prose; since Poets write most Fiction, and Fiction is not given for Truth,
but Pastime; and I fear my Atoms will be as small Pastime, as themselves: for
nothing can be less then an Atom. But my desire that they should please the
Readers, is as big as the World they make; and my Fears are of the same bulk;
yet my Hopes fall to a single Atom again: and so shall I remain an unsettled
Atom, or a confused heap, till I hear my Censure. If I be praised, it fixes
them; but if I am condemned, I shall be Annihilated to nothing: but my Ambition
is such, as I would either be a World, or nothing.

I desire all that are not quick in apprehending, or will not trouble
themselves with such small things as Atoms, to skip this part of my Book, and
view the other, for fear 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 sifth: 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 fear a Surfeit; but the better pleased you are, the better
Welcome. I wish heartily my Brain had been Richer, to make you a fine
Entertainment: truly I should have spared no Cost, neither have I spared any
Pains: for my Thoughts have been very busily employed, these eight, or nine
Months, when they have not been taken away by Wordly Cares, and Trouble, which
I confess hath been a great hinderance to this Work. Yet have they lat up
late, and risen early, running about until they have been in a fiery heat, so
as their Service hath not been wanton, nor their Industry slack. What is
amiss, excuse it as a Fault of too much Care; for there may be (...) committed
with being over-busie, as soon as for want of Diligence. But those that are
poor, have nothing but their labour to bestow; and though I cannot serve you
on Agget Tables, and Persian Carpets, with Golden Dishes, and Crystal
Glasses, nor feast you with Ambrosia, and Nectar, yet perchance my Rye Loaf,
and new Butter may taste 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 Atoms 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 setch you Wit from Natures Store.
TO THE READER.
READER,
IF any do read this Book of mine, pray be not too severe in your Censures. For
first, I have no Children to employ my Care, and Attendance on; And my Lords
Estate being taken away, had nothing for Huswifery, or thristy Industry to
employ my self in; having no Stock to work on. For Housewifery is a discreet
Management, and ordering all in Private, and Household Affairs, seeing nothing
spoiled, or Prosusely 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 Expense. It is
just as in Poetry: for good Husbandry in Poetry, is, when there is great store
of Fancy well ordered, not only in fine Language, but proper Phrases, and
significant Words. And Thrift in Poetry, is, when there is but little Fancy,
which is not only spun to the last Thread, but the Thread is drawn so (...),
as it is scarce perceived. But I have nothing to spin, or order, so as I become
Idle; I cannot say, in mine own House, because I have none, but what my Mind
is lodged in. Thirdly, you are to spare your severe Censures, I having not so
many years of Experience, as will make me a Garland to Crown my Head; only I
have had so much time, as to gather a little Posy to stick upon my Breast.
Lastly, the time I have been writing them, hathnot been very long, but since I
came into England, being eight Years out, and nine Months in; and of these
nine Months, only some Hours in the Day, or rather in the Night. For my Rest
being broke with discontented Thoughts, because I was from my Lord, and
Husband, knowing him to be in great Wants, and my self in the same Condition;
to divert them, I strove to turn the Stream, yet shunning the muddy, and foul
ways of Vice, I went to the Well of Helicon, and by the Wells side, I have
sat, and wrote this Work. It is not Excellent, nor Rare, but plain; yet it is
harmless, modest, and honest. True, it may tax my (...), being so fond of my
Book, as to make it as if it were my Child, and striving to show 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 bashful Nature, and
as ready to shed Repentant Tears, if she think she hath committed a Fault:
wherefore pity her Youth, and tender Growth, and rather tax the Parents
Indiscretion, then the Child's Innocence. But my Book coming out in this Iron
age, I fear I shall sind hard Hearts; yet I had rather she should find
Cruelty, then Scorn, and that my book should be torn, rather then laughed at;
for there is no such regret in Nature as Contempt: but I am resolved to set it
at all Hazards. If Fortune plays 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 Gain will be more then the Loss, who would not (...): when there
are many in the World, (which are accounted Wise) that will venture Life, and
Honour, for a petty Interest, or out of Envy, 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 Gain,
which may build me a Pyramid, a Praise to my Memory. I shall have no cause to
sear 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, Fear, 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, wondered, and astonished at, and not
disputed on.

But at all other things let Fancy fiye,
And, like a Towering Eagle, mount the Sky.
Or lik the Sun swiftly the World to round,
Or like pure Gold, which in the Earth is found.
But if a drossy Wit, let it buried be,
Under the Ruins of all Memory.
The Poetresses hasty Resolution.
REading my Verses, I like't them so well,
Selfe-love did make my Judgment to rebel.
Thinking them so good, I thought more to write;
Considering not how others would them like.
I writ so fast, I thought, if I lived long,
A Pyramid of Fame to build thereon.
Reason observing which way I was bent,
Did stay my hand, and asked me what I meant;
Will you, said she, thus waste your time in vain,
On that which in the World small praise shall gain?
For shame leave off, said she, the Printer spare,
Hee'le loose by your ill Poetry, I fear
Besides the Worldhath already such a weight
Of useless Books, as it is over fraught.
Then pity take, do the World a good turn,
And all you write cast in the fire, and burn.
Angry I was, and Reason struck away,
When I did he are, what she to me did say.
Then all in haste I to the Presle it sent,
Fearing Persuasion might my Book prevent:
But now 'tis done, with grief repent do I,
Hang down my head (...) shame, blush sigh, and cry.
Take pity, and my drooping Spirits raise,
Wipe off my tears with Handkerchiefes of Praise.
The Poetresses Petition.
LIke to a Fevers pulse my heart doth beat,
For fear my Book some great repulse should meet.
If it be nought, let her in silence lye,
Disturb her not, let her in quiet dye;
Let not the Bells of your dispraise ring loud,
But wrap her up in silence as a Shroud;
Cause black oblivion on her Hearse to hang,
Instead of Tapers, let dark night there stand;
In stead of Flowers to the grave her strew
Before her Hearse, sleepy, dull Poppy throw;
In stead of Scutcheons, let my Tears be (...),
Which grief and sorrow from my eyes out wrung:
Let those that bear her Corps, no lesters be,
But sad, and sober, grave Mortality:
No Satyr Poets to her Funeral come;
No Altars raised to write Inscriptions on:
Let dust of all forgetfulness be cast
Upon her Corps, there let them lye and waste:
Nor let her rise again; unless some know,
At Judgements, some good Merits she can show;
Then she shall live in Heavens of high praise;
And for her glory, Garlands of fresh Baize,
An excuse for so much writ upon my Verses.
Condemn me not for making such a coil
About my Book, alas it is my Child.
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 fledged, their heads out peep,
Lord what a chirping does the Old one keep.
So I, for fear my Strengthless Child should fall
Against a door, or stool, aloud I call,
Bid have a care of such a dangerous place:
Thus write I much, to hinder all disgrace.
POEMS.
Nature calls a Council, which was Motion, Figure, matter, and Life, to advise
about making the World.
WHen Nature first this World she did create,
She called a Counsel how the same might make;
Motion was first, who had a subtle wit,
And then came Life, and Form, and Matter fit.
First Nature spake, my Friends if we agree,
We can, and may do a sine work, said she,
Make some things to adore us, worship give,
Which now we only to our selves do live.
Besides it is my nature things to make,
To give out work, and you directions take.
And by this work, a pleasure take therein,
And breed the Fates in huswifery to spin,
And make strong Destiny to take some pains,
Least she grow idle, let her Link some Chains:
Inconstancy, and Fortune turn a Wheel,
Both' are so wanton, cannot stand, but reel.
And Moisture let her pour 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 keep the water out.
(...), and Darkness they will domineer,
If Motions power make not Light appear;
Produce a Light, that all the World may see,
My only Child from all Eternity:
Beauty my Love, my Joy, and dear delight,
Else Darkness rude will cover her with spite.
Alas, said Motion, all pains I can take,
Will do no good, Matter a Brain 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 pass, and repast 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 devour:
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 Laws, but doth what likes him still;
He knows his power far exceeds ours;
For whatso'ere we make, he soon devours.
Let me advise you never take such pains
A World to make, since Death hath all the gains.
Figures opinion did agree with Life,
For Death, said she, will fill the World with strife;
What Form soever I do turn into,
Death finds me out, that Form he doth undo.
Then Motion spake, none hath such cause as I,
For to complain, for Death makes Motion dye.
'Tis best to let alone this work, I think.
Says Matter, Death corrupts, and makes me stink.
Says Nature, I am of another mind,
If we let Death alone, we soon shall find,
He wars will make, and raise a mighty power,
If we divert him not, may us devour.
He is ambitious, will in triumph sit,
Envies my works, and seeks my State to get.
And Fates, though they upon great Life attend,
Yet fear they Death, and dare not him offend.
Though Two be true, and spin as Life them bids,
The Third is false, and cuts short the long threads.
Let us agree, for fear we should do worse,
And make some work, 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 Materials in,
And Motion cut, and carved out every thing.
And Figure she did draw the Forms and Plots,
And Life divided all out into Lots.
And Nature she surveyed, directed all,
With the four Elements built the Worlds Ball.
The solid Earth, as the Foundation laid,
The Waters round about as Walls were raised,
Where every drop lies close, like Stone, or Brick,
Whose moisture like as Mortar made them stick.
Air, as the Seeling, keeps all close within,
Least some Materials out of place might spring.
Air presses down the Seas, if they should rise,
Would overflow the Earth, and drown the Skies.
For as a Roof that's laid upon a Wall,
To keep it steady, that no side might fall,
So Nature Air makes that place to take,
And Fire highest lays, like Tyle, or Slat,
To keep out rain, or wet, else it would rot:
So would the World corrupt, if Fire were not.
The Planets, like as Weather-fans, turn round,
The Sun a Dial 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 Minerals down 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.
There she was sure that Death she could keep out,
Although he is a Warrior strong, and stout.
Man she would make not like to other kind,
Though not in Body, like a God in mind.
Then she did call her Council once again,
Told them the greatest work edid yet remain.
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 work belongs both skill, and care;
But I a Mind will mix, as I think sit,
With Knowledge, Understanding, and with Wit,
And, Motion, you your Sergeants must employ:
Which Passions are, to wait still in the Eye,
To dress, and cloth this Mind in fashions new,
Which none knows better how to do it then you.
What though this Body dye, this Mind shall live,
And a free-will we must unto it give.
But, Matter, you from Figure Form must take,
Different from other Creatures, Man must make.
For he shall go upright, the rest shall not,
And, Motion, you in him must tie a knot
Of several Motions there to meet in one:
Thus Man like to himself 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 twain,
The Body shall in Motion still remain.
But when the thread is broke, then down shall fall,
And for a time no Motion have at all.
But yet the Mind shall live, and never dye;
We will raise the Body too for company.
Thus, like our selves, we can make things to live
Eternally, but no past times can give.
Deaths endeavour to hinder, and obstruct Nature.
WHen Death did hear what Nature did intend,
To hinder her he all his force did bend.
But finding all his forces were too weak,
He always strives the Thread of life to break:
And strives to fill the Mind with black despair,
Let's it not rest in peace, nor free from care;
And since he cannot make it dye, he will
Send grief, and sorrow to torment it still.
With grievous pains the Body he displeases,
And binds it hard with chains of strong diseases.
His Servants, Sloth, and Sleep, he doth employ,
To get half of the time before they dye:
But Sleep, a friend to Life, oft disobeys
His Masters will, and softly down her lay's
Upon their weary limbs, like Birds in nest
And gently locks their senses up in rest.
A World made by Atoms.
SMall Atoms of themselves a World may make,
As being subtle, and of every shape:
And as they dance about, fit places find,
Such Forms as best agree, make every kind.
For when we build a house of Brick, and Stone,
We lay them even, every one by one:
And when we find a gap that's big, or small,
We seek out Stones, to fit that place withal.
For when not fit, too big, or little be,
They fall away, and cannot stay we see.
So Atoms, as they dance, find places fit,
They there remain, lye close, and fast will stick.
Those that unfit, the rest that rove about,
Do never leave, until they thrust them out.
Thus by their several Motions, and their Forms,
As several work-men serve each others turns.
And thus, by chance, may a New World create:
Or else predestined to work my Fate.
The four principal Figured Atoms make the four Elements. as Square, Round,
Long, and Sharpe.
THE Square stat Atoms, as dull Earth appear,
The Atoms Round do make the Water clear.
The Long straight Atoms like to Arrows fly,
Mount next the points, and make the Aerie Sky;
The Sharpest Atoms do into Fire turn,
Which by their piercing quality they burn:
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 Atoms which are Round and Raw:
As Waters are round drops, though ne'er so small,
Which show that water is all spherical.
That Figure makes it spungy, spungy, wet,
For being hollow, softness doth (...).
And being soft, that makes it run about;
More solid Atoms thrast it in, or out;
But sharpest Atoms have most power thereon,
To nip it up with Cold, or Heate to run.
But Atoms Flat, are heavy, dull, and slow,
And sinking downward to the bottom go:
Those Figured Atoms are not active, Light,
Whereas the Lunge are like the Sharp in flight.
For as the Sharpe do pierce, and get on high,
So do the long shoot straight, and evenly.
The Round are next the Flat, the Long next Round,
Those which are sharp, are still the highest found:
The Flat turn all to Earth, which lye most low,
The Round, to Water clear, which liquid flow.
The Long to Air turn, from whence Clouds grow,
The Sharp to Fire turn, which hot doth glow.
These Four Figures four Elements do make,
And as their Figures do incline, they take.
For those are perfect in themselves alone,
Not taking any shape, but what's their own.
What Form 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 Form is put.
And those that bow and bend like to a Bow;
Like to the Round, and jointed Atoms show.
Those that are Branched, or those which crooked be,
You may both the Long, and sharp Figures see.
Thus several Figures, several tempers make,
But what is mixed, doth of the Four partake.
Of Aerie Atoms.
THE Atoms long, which streaming Air makes,
Are hollow, from which Form Air softness takes.
This makes that Air, and water near agree,
Because in hollowness alike they be.
For Aerie Atoms made are like a Pipe,
And watery Atoms, Round, and Cimball like.
Although the one is Long, the other Round;
Yet in the midst, a hollowness is found.
This makes us think, water turns into Air,
And Air often runs into water fair.
And like two Twins, mistaken they are oft;
Because their hollowness makes both them soft.
Of Air.
THE reason, why Air doth so equal spread,
Is Atoms long, at each end balanced.
For being long, and each end both alike,
Are like to Weights, which keep it steady, right:
For howsoever it moves, to what Form join,
Yet still that Figure lies in every line.
For Atoms long, their (...) are like a Thread,
Which interweaves like to a Spiders Web:
And thus being thin, it so subtle grows,
That into every empty place it goes.
Of Earth.
WHY Earth's not apt to move, but slow and dull,
Is, Atoms flat no Vacuum hath' butfull.
That Form admits no empty place to bide,
All parts are filled, having no hollow side. As Round, and Long have.

And where no Vacuum is, Motion is slow,
Having no empty places for to go.
Though Atoms all are small, as small may be, As the numbers of Sharpe Atoms
do pierce and make way through greater numbers, as a Spark of fire will
kindle, and burn up a house.

Yet by their Forms, Motion doth disagree.
For Atoms sharp do make themselves a Way,
Cutting through other Atoms as they stray.
But Atoms flat will dull, and lazy lay,
Having no Edge, or point to make a Way.
The weight of Atoms.
IF Atoms are as small, as small can be,
They must in quantity of Matter all agree:
And if consisting Matter of the same (be right,)
Then every Atom must weigh just alike.
Thus Quantity, Quality and Weight, all
Together meets in every Atom small.
The bigness of Atoms:
MHEN I say Atoms small, as small can be;
I mean Quantity, quality, and Weight agree
Not in the Figure, for some may show
Much bigger, and some lesser: so
Take Water fluid, and Ice that's firm,
Though the Weight be just, the Bulk is not the same.
So Atoms are some soft, others more knit,
According as each Atome's Figured;
Round and Long Atoms hollow are, more slack
Then Flat, or Sharpe, for they are more compact:
And being hollow they are spread more thin,
Then other Atoms which are close within:
And Atoms which are thin more tender far,
For those that are more close, they harder are.
The joining of several Figured Atoms make other Figures.
Several Figured Atoms well agreeing,
When joined, do give another Figure being.
For as those Figures joined, several ways,
The Fabric of each several Creature raise.
What Atoms make Change.
TIS several Figured Atoms that make Change,
When several Bodies meet as they do range.
For if they sympathise, and do agree,
They join (...), as one Body be.
But if they join 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 Atoms.
THose Atoms loosely joined, do not remain
So long as those, which Closeness do maintain.
Those make all things in the (...) ebb, and flow;
According as the moving Atoms go.
Others in Bodies, they do join so close,
As in long time, they never stir, nor loose:
And some will join so close, and knit so fast,
As if unstir'd, they would for ever last.
In smallest Vegetables, loosest Atoms 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 join
In equal strength, if Atoms so combine.
But Animals, where Atoms close lay in,
Are stronger, then some Vegetables thin.
But in Vegetables, where Atoms do stick fast,
As in strong Trees, the longer they do last.
In Minerals, they are so hard wedged 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 Atoms most move in,
Are Soft, and Porous, and many times thin.
Those (...) Bodies never do live long,
For why, loose Atoms never can be strong.
There Motion having power, tosses them about,
Keeps them from their right places, so Life goes out.
Of Loose Atoms.
IN every Brain loose Atoms there do lye,
Those which are Sharpe, from them do Fancies fly.
Those that are long, and Aerie, nimble be.
But Atoms Round, and Square, are dull, and sleepy.
Change is made by several-figur'd Atoms, and Motion.
IF Atoms all are of the self same Matter;
As Fire, Air, Earth, and Water:
Then must their several Figures make all Change
By Motions help, which orders, as they range.
Of Sharpe Atoms.
THen Atoms Sharpe Motion doth mount up high;
Like Arrows sharpe, Motion doth make them fly.
And being sharpe and swift, they pierce so deep,
As they pass through all Atoms, as they meet:
By their swift motion, they to bright Fire turn;
And being Sharpe, they pierce, which we call Burn.
What Atoms make Flame.
THose Atoms, which are Long, These Atoms are (...) (...) Atoms, and half
Fiery.
sharp at each end,
Stream forth like Air, in Flame, which Light doth seem:
For Flame doth flow, as if it fluid were,
Which shows, part of that Figure is like Air.
Thus Flame is joined, 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 Atoms we do not perceive;
How they fly out, nor how to us (...) cleave.
Nor do they flame, nor shine they clear and bright,
When they (...) out, and on our Bodies strike.
The reason is, they loose, and scattered fly;
And not in Troupes, nor do they on (...)
Like small dust (...), which scattered all about;
We see it not, nor doth it keep Light out:
When gathered thick up to a Mountain high,
We see them then in solid Earth to lye.
Just so do Atoms sharpe look, clear, and bright,
When in heaps lye, or in a streaming flight.
Of Fire in the Flint.
THE reason, Fire lies in Flint unseen;
Is, other Figured Atoms lye between:
For being bound, and overpowered by
A Multitude, they do in Prison lye.
Unless that Motion doth release them out,
With as strong power, which make them fly about
But if that Flint be beat to powder small;
To sep'rate the grossest, released are all.
But when they once are out, do not return,
But seek about to make another Form.
Of the Sympathy of Atoms.
BY Sympathy, Atoms are fixed so,
As past some Principles they do not go.
For count the Principles of all their works,
You'll find, there are not many several sorts.
For when they do dissolve, and new Forms make,
They still to their first Principles do take.
As Animals, Vegetables, Minerals;
So Air, Fire, Earth, Water falls.
Of the Sympathy of their Figures.
SUch Sympathy there is in every Figure, Long, Round, Sharpe, Flat.

That every several sort do flock together.
As Air, Water, Earth and Fine;
Which make each Element to be entire:
Not but loose (...), like Sheep stray about,
And int o several places go in, andout:
And some as Sheep and Kine do mix together;
Which when they mix, tis several change of weather.
But Motion, as their (...) drives them so,
As not to let them out of order go.
What Atoms make Vegetables, Minerals, and Animals.
THE Eranched Atoms Forms each (...) thing,
The hooked points pull out, and m aches them spring,
The Atoms Round give Juice, the Sharpe give heate;
And those grow Herbs, and Fruits, and Flowers sweet.
Those that are Square, and Flat, not rough withal,
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 several Atoms go.
In Animals, all Figures do agree;
But in Mankind, the best of Atoms be.
And thus, in Nature the whole World may be,
For all we know, unto Eternity.
What Atoms make Heate and Cold.
SSuch kind of Atoms, which make Heat, make Cold:
Like Pincers sharpe, which nip, and do take hold.
But Atoms that are pointed sharpe, pierce through:
And Atoms which are sharpe, but Hookt, pull to.
Yet, all must into pointed Figures turn;
For Atoms blunt will never freeze, nor burn.
Cause (...) Figures do to a soft Form bend;
And Soft do unto (...), or Liquid tend.
What Atoms make Fire to burn, and what Flame.
WHat makes a Sparks of Fire to burn more quick,
Then a great Flame? because 'tis small to stick.
For Fire of it self, it is so dry,
Falls into parts, as crowds of Atoms lye.
The Sharpest Atoms keep the Body hot,
To give out Heat, some Atoms forth are shot.
Sometimes for anger, the Sparks do fly about;
Or want of room, the weakest are thrust out.
They are so sharpe, that whatsoere they meet,
If not orepowr'd, by other Atoms, This is, when some Atoms overpower others
by their Numbers, for they cannot change their Forms.
eat:
As Ants, which small, will eat up a dead Horse:
So Atoms sharpe, on Bodies of less force.
Thus Atoms sharpe, yet sharper by degrees;
As Stings in Flies, are not so sharpe as Bees.
And when they meet a Body, solid, stat,
The weakest Fly, the Sharpest work on that.
Those that are not so sharpe, do fly about,
To seek some lighter matter, to eat out.
So lighter Atoms do turn Air to Flame,
Because more Thin, and (...) is the same
Thus Flame is not so hot as Burning Coal;
The Atoms are too weak, to take fast hold.
The sharpest into firmest Bodies fly,
But if their strength be small, they quickly dye.
Or if their Number be not great, but small;
The (...) Atoms beat and quench out all.
What Atoms make the Sun, and the Sea, go round.
ALL pointed Atoms, they to Fire turn;
Which by their dryness, they so light become:
Above the rest do fly, and make a Sun.
Which by consent of parts, a Wheel of Fire grows,
Which being Sphaericall, in a round motion goes:
And as it turns round, Atoms turn about;
Which Atoms round, are Water, without doubt.
This makes the Sea go round, like Water-Mill;
For as the Sun turns round, so doth the water still.
What Atoms make Life.
ALL pointed Atoms to Life do tend,
Whether pointed all, or at one end.
Or whether Round, are set like to a Ring;
Or whether Long, are rolled as on a String.
Those which are pointed, straight, quick Motion give;
But those that bow and bend, more dull do live.
For Life lives dull, or merrily,
According as Sharpe Atoms be.
The Cause why things do live and dye,
Is, as the mixed Atoms lye.
What Atoms make Death.
LIfe is a Fire, and burns full hot,
But when Round watery Atoms power have got:
Then do they quench Lifes Atoms out,
Blunting their Points, and kill their courage stout.
Thus they sometimes do quite thrust out each other, Over powered.

When equal mixed, live quietly together.
The cause why things do live and dye,
Is as the mixed Atoms lye.
What Atoms cause Sickness.
WHen sick the Body is, and well by fits,
Atoms are fighting, but none (...) better gets.
If they agree, then Health returns again,
And so shall live as long as Peace remain
What Atoms make a Dropsy.
WHen Atoms round do meet, join in one Ball,
Then they swell high, and grow Hydropicall.
Thus joining they 'come strong, so powerful grow,
All other Atoms they do overflow.
What Atoms make a Consumption.
THE Atoms sharpe, when they together meet,
They grow so hot, all other Atoms beat.
And being hot, becomes so very dry,
They drink Lifes moisture up, make motion dye.
What Atoms make the wind Colic.
LOng aerie Atoms, when they are combined,
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 forced, not in right places lye;
Thus pressed too hard, Man in great pain doth lye.
What Atoms make a Palsy, or Apoplexy.
DUll Atoms flat, when they together join,
And with each other in a heap combine;
This Body thick doth stop all passage so,
Keeps Motion out, so num'd the Body grow.
Atoms that are sharpe, in which Heate doth live,
Being smothered close, no heate can give:
But if those Atoms flat meet in the Brain,
They choke the Spirits, can no hey te obtain.
In all other Diseases they are mixed, taking parts, and factions.
BUT in all other Diseases they are mixed,
And not in one consisting Body fixed.
But do in factions part, then up do rise;
Striving to beat each other out, Man dies.
All things are governed by Atoms.
THus Life and Death, and young and old,
Are, as the several Atoms hold.
So Wit, and Understanding in the Brain,
Are as the several Atoms reign:
And Dispositions good, or ill,
Are as the several Atoms still.
And every Passion which doth rise,
Is as the several Atoms lies.
Thus Sickness, Health, and Peace, and War;
Are always as the several Atoms are.
A war with Atoms:
SOme factious Atoms will agree, combine,
They strive some formed Body to unjoyne.
The Round beat out the Sharpe: the Long
The Flat do fight withal, thus all go wrong.
Those which make Motion General in their war,
By his direction they much stronger are.
Atoms and Motion fall out.
WHen Motion, and all Atoms disagree,
Thunder in Skies, and sickness in Men be.
Earthquakes, and Winds which make disorder great,
Tis when that Motion all the Atoms beat.
In this confusion a horrid noise they make,
For Motion will not let them their right places take.
Like frighted Flocks of Sheep together run,
Thus Motion like a Wolf doth worry them.
The agreement of some kind of Motion, with some kind of Atoms.
SOme Motion with some Atoms well agree;
Fits them to places right, as just may be.
By Motions help, they so strong join each to,
That hardly Motion shall again undo.
Motions inconstancy oft gives such power
To Atoms, as they can Motion devour.
Motion directs, while Atoms dance.
Atoms 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 keep just time and way:
While Motion, as Music directs the Time:
Thus by consent, they altogether join.
This Harmony is Health, makes Life live long;
But when they're out, 'tis death, so dancing's done.
The difference of Atoms and Motion, in youth and age.
IN all things which are young, Motion is swift:
But moving long, is tired, and grows stiff.
So Atoms 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 Atoms, and Motion, weary down do lye.
Motions Ease is Change, weary soon doth grow,
If in one Figure she doth often go.
Motion makes Atoms a Bawd for Figure.
DID not wild Motion with his subtle wit,
Make Atoms as his Bawd, new Forms to get.
They still would constant be in one Figure,
And as they place themselves, would last for ever.
But Motion she persuades new Forms to make,
(...) Motion doth in Change great pleasure take.
And makes all Atoms run from place to place;
That Figures young he might have to embrace.
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 room.
But 'tis butt like unto a Batch of Bread,
The Flower is the same of such a Seed.
But Motion she a Figure new mould, baked,
Because that She might have a new hot Cake.
Motion and Figure.
A Figure Sphoeericall, the Motion's so,
Straight Figures in a darting Motion go:
As several Figures in small Atoms be,
So several Motions are, if we could see.
If Atoms join, meet in another Form,
Then Motion alters as the Figures turn.
For if the Bodies weighty are, and great,
Then Motion's slow, and goes upon less 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 Substantial Figures turn and wind.
Thus several Figures, several Motions take,
And several Motions, several Figures make.
But Figure, Matter, Motion, all is one,
Can never separate, nor be alone.
Of the Subtlety of Motion.
COuld we the several Motions of Life know,
The Subtle windings, and the ways they go:
We should adore God more, and not dispute,
How they are done, but that great God can do it.
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 fruitless, vain, impossible pursuites,
In Schools, Lectures, and quarrelling Disputes.
But never give him thanks that did us make,
Proudly, as petty Gods, ourselves do take.
Motion is the Life of all things.
AS Darkness a privation is (...) Light;
That's when the Optic Nerve is stopped from Light:
So Death is even a cessation in
Those Forms, 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 be,
Like to an Eye that's shut, no Light can see.
Of Vacuum.
SOme think the World would fall, and not hang so,
If it had any empty place to go.
One cannot think that Vacuum is so vast,
That the great World might in that Gulf be cast.
But Vacuum like is to the Porous Skyn,
Where Vapour * (...) do so.
goes out, and Air takes in:
And though that Vapour fills those places small,
We cannot think, but first were empty all:
For were they all first full, they could not make
Room for succession, their places for to take.
But as those Atoms pass, and repast 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 compass.
Land,
The Water would not stir, but still would stand.
Which shows, that though the Water still goes round,
Yet is the Land more then the Water In compass.
found.
But say, the (...) In compass.
that's moveable without,
Which being thin, gives leave to run about.
Or like a Wheel, which Water As water will make a wheel to go, so (...)
makes water go.
makes to go,
So Air may the Water make to flow.
But if that Air hath not room to move,
It cannot any other Body (...).
Besides what drives, must needs be stronger far,
Then what it drives, or (...) it would not stir.
If so, then (...) of strengths must be
In Motions power, to move Eternally.
But say, all things do run in Circles line,
And every part doth altogether join.
They cannot in each others places stir,
Unless some places were (...) empty bare.
For take a Wheel, circumference (...) without,
And Center too, it cannot (...) about.
If Breadth and Depth were full, leaving no A cross Motion (...) the Circular,
if there be (...) space between. The world turns (...) two imaginary Poles, the
Earth, upon one, the Heavens upon another; yet the Earth, nor the Heavens could
not stir, (...) no (...). (...) example, A wheel could not (...) round, if the
(...) were pressed (...) close, and the center on either side.
space,
Nothing can stir out of the self same place.
Ebbing and Flowing of the Sea.
THE Reason the Sea so constant Ebbs and Flows,
Is like the (...) of a Clock, which goes.
For when it comes just to the Notch, doth strike,
So water to that empty place doth like.
For when it Flows, Water is cast out still,
And when it Ebbs, runs back that place to fill.
Vacuum in Atoms.
IF all the (...), Long, Sharpe, Flat, and (...),
Be only of one fort of Matter (...):
The Hollow Atoms must all empty be.
For there is nought to fill Vacuitie.
Besides being several (...), 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 (...).
How should they move, having no space between?
For joining close, they would as one Lump seem.
Nor could they move into each others place,
Unless there were somewhere an Empty space.
For though their Matter's infinite, as Time,
They must be fixed, if altogether join.
And were all Matter fluid, as some say,
It could not move, having no empty way.
Like Water that is stopped close in a (...),
It cannot stir, having no way to pass.
Nor could the (...) swim in Water thin,
Were there no (...) to crowd those waters in.
For as they Crowd, those waters on heaps high
Must some ways 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 work of Motions Art.
Yet Motion can't dilate, nor yet contract
A Body, which at first is close compact:
Unless at first an empty place was found,
To spread those Compact Bodies round.
Nor (...) 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, Atoms sharpe out from the Earth do come:
From the Circumference, those like Bees arise,
As from a Swarm, dispersed, sevr'ally flies.
And as they wander, meet with duller Forms,
Wherein they stick their point, then back returns.
Yet like a Be, which loaded is each Thigh,
Their weight is great, they cannot nimbly fly.
So when their points are loaded, heavy grow,
Can pierce no further, backward must they go.
And, as their Hives, to Earth return again:
Thus by their travel they the Earth maintain.
The Attraction of the Sun.
WHen all those Atoms which in Rays do spread,
And ranged long, like to a slender I mean all Rays in general, of all sorts
(...) Atoms which move.
thread:
They do not seatter'd fly, but join in length,
And being joined, though small, add to their strength.
The further forth they stream, more weak (...),
Although those Beams The Suns Rays.
are fastened to the (...).
For all those Rays which Motion sends down low,
Are, loose, sharp Atoms, from the Sun do flow.
And as they flow in several Streams, and Rays,
They stick their points in all that stop their ways.
Like Needle points, whereon doth something stick,
No passage make, having no points to prick.
Thus being stopped, strait-waies they back do run,
Drawing those Bodies with them to the Sun.
The cause of the breaking of the Suns Beams.
IF Porous Atoms by the Sharpe are found,
They're borne on points away, as Prisoners bound:
But as they mount, Atoms of their own kind,
If chance to meet, strait help them to unbinde.
For Porous Atoms being soft and wet,
When Numbers meet, they close together get:
And being glut, they join together all,
By one consent they pull, so back do fall.
If they be round, in showering Drops return,
Like Beads that are upon a long thread strunge.
But if their Figures different be from those,
Then like a thick and foggy mist it shows.
Of the Rays of the Sun.
THE Rays are not so hot, as is the Sun,
Because they are united strong to (...).
But with a Glass those scattered Beams draw in,
When they're united, pierce through every Concaves draw to a center.
thing.
But being separate, they weak become,
And then like Cowards sev'rall ways they run.
Of the Beams of the Sun.
THose Splendent Beams which forth the Sun doth spread
Are loose sharpe Atoms, ranged long like Thread.
And as they stream, if Porous bodies meet,
Stick in their Points; to us that (...) is heat.
The Sun doth set the Air on a light, as some Opinions hold.
IF that the Sun so like a Candle is,
That all the Air doth take a Light from his;
Not from Reflection, but by kindling all
That part, which we our Hemisphere do call:
Then should that Air whereon his Light takes place,
Be never out, unless that Substance waste:
Unless the Sun Extinguishers should throw,
Upon the Air, so out the Light doth go.
But sure the Suns reflection gives the Light, (...) Atoms shine but sharp
Atoms.

For when he's gone, to us it is dark Night.
For why, the Sun is Atoms sharpe entire,
Being close wedged round, It seems like a burning coal.
is like a wheel of Fire.
And round that Wheel continually do flow
Sharpe streaming Atoms, which like Flame do show.
And in this Flame Long Atoms sharp at each end.
the Earth its face doth see,
As in a Glass, as clear, as clear may be.
And when the Earth doth turn aside his face,
It is not seen, but Darkness in that That part of the Earth is dark which
is from the Sun.
place.
Or when the Moon doth come betwixt that Light,
Then is the Earth shut up To that part of the Earth the Moon hides.
as in dark Night.
What Atoms the Sun is made of.
THE Sun is of the sharpest Atoms made,
Close knit together, and exactly laid.
The Fabric like a Wheel 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 Atoms run.
Of Vapour.
LOose Atoms sharpe, which Motion shoots about,
Stick on loose Porous Atoms, those draw out.
From those more close, for these do highest lye,
Thus Vapour's drawn toward the Region high.
But being their weight is equal with their own,
They let them fall to Earth, so back return.
Of Dews, and Mists from the Earth.
SOme Atoms sharpe thrust from the Earth some Round,
And then a Pearled dew lies on the ground.
But if they bear them on their sharpe points high,
Those being raised, a Mist seems to the Eye.
On the Circumference of the Earth there lies
The loosest Atoms, which are apt to rise;
Yet not to mount so high as to the Sun,
For being dull, they beck to Earth return:
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 burn.
For Atoms there are like to Pincers small,
By which they At the Poles.
draw, and others pull withal.
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;
Unless that fiery Atoms sharpe do pierce
Betwixt those Pincers small, so do release.
Those Porous Atoms, 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.
THE Atoms round, tis not their Numbers great Round Atoms are water. Sharp
Atoms.

That put out Fire, quenching both Light and Heate.
But being wet, they loosen, and unbinde,
Those sharpe dry Atoms, which together joined.
For when they are dispersed, their power's but small,
Nor give they Light, nor Heate, if single all.
Besides those Atoms sharpe will smothered be,
Having no vent, nor yet Vacuity.
For if that Fire in a place lies close,
Having no vent, but stopped, it strait out goes. By Gone, (...) (...) Motion
ceases.

There is no better Argument, to prove
That Vacuum is, then to see Fire move. Their Form doth not dissolve (...) at
their Death.

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 Atoms.
TIS not, that Atoms sharpe do change their Form,
When Heat and Flame is out, but Motion's gone:
When Motion's gone, sharpe Atoms cannot prick,
Having no force Life is such kind of Motion as sharp Atoms.
in any thing to stick.
For if the Sun quick Motion moved it not,
'twould neither shine, nor be to us so hot.
Just so, when Creatures dye, change not their Form,
That kind of Motion, which made Life, is gone. That is, when they are
separated, or their Motion (...), and though every Figure hath (...) Motions
(...) to their Shape, yet they do not move always alike, (...) they have one
kind of Motion singly, and another kind when they are united, but when they
are mixed with other Figures, their Motion (...) according to their several
mixtures.

For Animal Spirits, which we Life do call,
Are only of the sharpest Atoms small.
Thus Life is Atoms sharpe, which we call Fire,
When those are stopped, or quenched, Life doth expire.
Of a Spark of Fire.
A Spark of Fire, is like a Mouse, The sharpe Atoms are like the Teeth of
Mice.
doth eat
Into a Cheese, although both hard, and great.
Just so a Spark, although it be but small,
If once those Points can fasten, pierce through all.
Of a Coal.
WHY that a Coal should set an house on Fire,
Is, Atoms sharpe are in that Coal entire.
Being strong armed with Points, do quite pierce through;
Those flat dull Atoms, and their Forms Not the form of the Atoms, but the
form of their Settlement.
undo.
And Atoms sharpe, whose Form is made for (...),
If loose, do run to help the rest in fight.
For like as Soldiers, (...), loose Atoms, which we perceive not, do run to
those which are united in the Coal.
which are of one side,
When they (...) Friends engaged, to rescue ride.
But Atoms 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 Atoms.

Their Forms undone, (...) (...) all about.
When Atoms sharpe, fat Atoms unbinde all,
Those loose flat Atoms, we strait Ashes call. For several Forms are
according to the (...) of Atoms, which Forms are undone still by the
strongest party.

The Increasing, and Decreasing of visible Fire.
WHen Fuel's kindled, Fire seems but small,
That Fuel afterward doth seem Fire all.
Just like a Crow, that on a dead Horse lights;
When other Crows perceiving in their flights,
They strait invite themselves unto that Feast, When there is no Substance left
for sharp Atoms to work upon, they disperse, for they seek to undo the
composure of all other Atoms.

And thus from one, to Numbers are increased.
So Atoms sharpe, which singly fly about,
Join with the rest, to eat the Fuel out.
And, as the Fuel doth increase, do they,
And as it wastes, so do they fly away.
The Power of Fire.
FIre such power hath of every thing,
As like to Needle points that pierce the Skyn.
So doth that Element pierce into all,
Be it ne'er so hard, strong, thick, or Solid Ball.
All things it doth dissolve, or bow, or break,
Keeping its strength, by making others weak.
Of Burning.
THE cause why Fire doth burn, and burning smarts,
The reason is of Numerous little parts.
Which parts are Atoms sharpe, that wound like Stings,
If they so far do pierce into our Skyns;
And like an angry Porcupine, doth shoot
His fiery Quills, if nothing quench them out.
Their Figure makes their Motion sudden, quick,
And being sharpe, they do like Needles prick.
If they pierce deep, * When it (...).
do make our flesh to ache,
If only touch * Warmth.
the skyn, we pleasure take.
That kind of pain, do we a Burning call:
For Atoms numerous, and very small,
Do make from Needles point a different touch,
Whose points are gross, 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, Atoms They separate the sharp Atoms.
round the sharpe put to a rout.
For when a House is on a Fire set,
Is, Atoms sharpe do in great Armies meet.
And then they range themselves in Ranks and Files,
And strive always (...) havoc, and make spoils.
Running about as nimble as may be, When Water is thrown on Fire.

From side to side, as in great Fire we see.
But Atoms round do like a rescue When Water is thrown on Fire.
come,
And separate the sharpe, which in heaps run,
For being seperate, they have no force;
Like to a Troop, or Regiment of Horse:
Which when great Canon bullets are shot through,
They disunite, and quite their strength undo.
So water, that is thrown on flaming Fire,
Doth separate, and make that strength expire.
Of the sound of VVaters, Air, Flame, more then Earth, or Air without Flame.
WHen Crowds of Atoms meet, not joined close,
By Motion quick do give The encounters of Bodies make all Sound.
each other blows.
So Atoms 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 Atoms are
more thin theu flat, or sharpe, by reason they are more hollow: and their
hollowness makes their Bulk blgger, though not their weight heavier.

For being thin, they larger are, and wide,
Which make them apt to strike each others side.
In larger Bulks encounters are more fierce,
When that they strike, though not so quick to pierce.
This is the reason Water, Air, and Flame,
Do make most noise, when Motions move the same.
For Atoms loose are like to people rude,
Make horrid noise, when in a Multitude.
The reason of the Roaring of the Sea.
ALL Waters Sphaericall, when (...) do flow,
Beat all those sphaericall Drops as they do go.
So (...) do strike those watery drops together,
Which we at Sea do call Tempestuous weather:
And being shpaericall, and Cymball like,
They make a sound, when each against other strike.
The Agilenesse of Water.
WAter is apt to move, being round like Balls,
No points to fix, doth trundle as it falls.
This makes the Sea, when like great Mountains high
The waves do rise, it steady cannot lye.
But falls again into a Liquid Plain,
(...), Winds disturb them not, levell remain.
Thus watery Balls they do not (...),
But stick Those Drops joining close and even.
so close, as nothing is betwixt.
Of the Center.
IN Infinites no Center can be laid,
But if the (...) there be Infinites of Worlds; then there may be insiuites of
Centers, although not a Center in (...).
World has Limits, Center's made.
For whatsoe're's with Circumference faced,
A Center in the midst must needs be placed.
This makes all Forms 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 turns.
The Center small, Circumference big without,
Which by the weight doth (...) it turn about.
All sharpe Atoms do run to the Center, and those that settle not, by reason
of the straitness of the Place, fly out to the Circumference. Sharpe Atoms
to the Center, make a Sun.
ALL Atoms sharpe to every Center fly,
In midst of Earth, and midst of Planets lye;
And in The Sun in the midst of the (...), which are sharpe Atoms.
those Planets there are Centers too,
Where the sharpe Atoms with quick 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 turns round,
And gives the heat which in the Earth is found;
A World of Fire: thus may we guess the Sun;
If all sharpe Atoms to the Center run.
For why, the Sun amongst the Planets round,
Just as a Center, in the midst is found.
And (...) Stars, which give a twinkling Light,
Are Center Worlds of Fire, that shines bright.
In the Center Atoms never Separate.
JUst at the Center is a point that's small,
Those Atoms that are there are wedged in all;
They lye so close, firm in one Body bind,
No other (...), or Motion can un Wind:
For they are wreathed so hard about that point,
As they become a Circle without joint. * As it were without partition, but it
is but one.

If Infinite VVorlds, Infinite Centers.
IF Infinites of Worlds, they must be placed
At such a distance, as between lies waste.
If they were joined close, moving about,
By justling they would push each other out.
And if they swim in Air, as Fishes do
In Water, they would meet * They would beat against each other.
as they did go.
But if the Air each World doth enclose
Them all about, then like to Water flows;
Keeping them equal, and in order right.
That as they move, shall not each other strike.
Or like to water wheels by water turned,
So Air round about those Worlds do run:
And by that Motion they do turn about,
No further then that Motions strength runs out. They are (...) according to
the several strengths of their motion. They turn as they go.

Like to a Bowl, which will no further go,
But runs according as that strength do throw.
Thus like as Bowles, the Worlds do turn, and run,
But still the Jacke, and Center is the * Sun. A Jack Bowl is the mark.

The Infinites of Matter.
IF all the World were a confused heap,
What was beyond? for this World is not great:
We find it Limit hath, and Bound,
And like a Ball in compass 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 be.
A World made by four Atoms.
SHarpe Atoms Fire subtle, quick, and dry,
The Long, like Shafts still into Air fly.
The Round to Water moist, (a hollow Form,)
The Figure square to heavy dull Earth turn.
The Atoms sharpe hard Minerals do make,
The Atoms round soft Vegetables take.
In Animals none singly lye alone,
But the four Atoms meet, and join as one.
And thus four Atoms the Substance is of all;
With their four Figures make a worldly Ball.
Thus the Fancy of my Atoms is, that the four Principal Figures, as Sharpe,
Long, Round, Square, make the four Elements; not that they are of several
matters, but are all of * The several Elements are at but one matter.
one matter, only their several Figures do give them several Proprieties; so
likewise do the mixed Figures give them mixed Proprieties, their several
composures do give them other Proprieties, according to their Forms they put
themselves into, by their several Motions. This I do repeat, that the ground
of my Opinion may be understood.

Of Elements.
SOme hold four perfect Elements there be,
Which do surmount each other by degree.
And some Opinions think that One is all,
The rest from that, and to that One shall fall:
This single Element it self to turn
To several qualities, as Fire to burn.
So water moist, that heate to quench, and then
To subtle Air, and so to Earth again.
Like (...) water, which turns with the Cold,
To Flakes of Snow, or in firm Ice to hold.
But that Heate doth melt that Icy Chain,
Then into water doth it turn again.
So from the Earth a Vapour thick ascends,
That Vapour thick it self to thin Air spends;
Or else it will condense it self to Rain,
And by its weight will fall to Earth again.
And what is very thin, so subtle grows,
As it turns Fire, and so a bright flame shows.
And what is dull, or heavy, flow 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 the 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 Atoms small,
Would pierce into the Flesh, Bones turn to Ashes all.
Thus we find Flies do carry every where
Fire in their Tails, their Breech they do not fear.
Comparing Flame to the Tide of the Sea.
LIke (...) 'Iides, a Flame will ebb and flow,
By sinking down, and then strait higher grow.
And if suppressed, all in a rage breakeout,
Streaming it self in several parts about.
Some think 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 chief of Motion from Salt takes.
What is Liquid
WE cannot call all Liquid which doth flow,
For then a Flame may turn 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 proves that Fire may from Moisture grow,
We proof have none, Moisture from Fire flow.
This shows that Fire in its self is free,
No other Element in it can be.
For Fire is pure still, and keeps the same,
Where oily Moisture's not, no Fire can flame.
Air begot of Heate and Moisture.
HEate, and Moisture joined with equal merit,
Get a Body thin 'of Air, or Spirit;
Which is a Sinoake, or Steam begot from both,
If Mother Moisture rule, 'tis full of sloth.
If the Father Fire predominates,
Then it is active, quick, and Elevates.
This Aerie Child is sometimes good, or bad,
According to the nourishment it had.
The Temper of the Earth.
THE Earth we find is very cold, and dry;
And must therefore have Fire and water night,
To wash and bath, then dry her self without,
Else she would useless be without all doubt.
Winds are made in the Air, not in the Earth.
HOW can we think Winds come from Earth below,
When they from Sky do down upon us blow?
If they proceeded from the Earth, must run
Strait up, and upon Earth again back come:
They cannot freely blow, least Earth were made
Like to a Bowling-Greene, so levell laid.
But there are Rocks, and Hills, and Mountains great,
Which stop their ways, and make them soon retreat.
Then sure it is, the Sun draws Vapour out,
And (...) it thin, then blow'th 't about.
If Heat condensed, that turns it into Rain,
And by its weight falls to the Earth again.
Thus Moisture and the Sun do cause the Winds,
And not the Cradities in hollow Mines.
Thunder is a Wind in the middle Region.
WHO knows, but Thunders are great Winds, which lye
Within the middle vault above the Sky:
Which Wind the Sun on Moisture cold begot,
When he is in his Region Cancer hot.
This * The Wind.
Child is thin, and subtle, made by hear,
It gets a voice, and makes a noise that's great:
It's Thinness 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 caused by Wind,
Vapour drawn 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 VVinds.
AS rarefied water makes Winds blow,
So rarefied Winds do colder grow.
For if they thin are rarefied, then they
Do further blow, and spread out every way.
So cold they are, and sharpe as Needle points,
For by the thinness breaks, and disunites;
Into such Atoms fall, Sharpe Figures be,
Which Porous Bodies pierce, if we could see.
Yet some will think, if Air were parted so,
The Winds could not have such strong force to blow.
Tis true, if Atoms all were (...) and Flat,
Or Round like Rings, they could not pierce, 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 intermix,
As water doth, and in one Body fix.
More like they wave, then blow as Fanns are spread,
Which Ladies use to cool their Cheeks, when red.
As water Drops feel harder when they (...),
Then when they're (...), and on us light;
Unless such streams upon our heads down run,
As we a Shelter seek 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 feel, and know their weight too much.
But Figures that are Flat, are dull, and slow,
Make weak Impression wheresoever they go.
For let ten times the quantity of Steel
Be beaten thin, no hurt by that you'll feel.
But if that one will take a Needle small,
The Point be Sharpe, and press the Flesh withal;
Strait it shall hurt, and put the Flesh to pain,
Which with more strength that shall not do, that's plain.
Although you press it hard against the Skin,
May heavy feel, but shall not enter in.
So may the Wind that's thinly rarefied,
Press us down, but it shall not pierce 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 break, seldom knock out the Brains,
Which Arrows sharpe soon do, and with less pains.
Thus what is small, more subtle is, and quick,
For all that's small in Porous Bodies stick.
Then are the Winds more cold when they do blow,
Broke into Atoms small, then streaming flow:
For all which knit, and closely do compose,
Much stronger are, and give the harder Blows.
This shows what's nearest absolute to be,
Although an (...) to its small degree:
Take quantity, for quantity alike.
Union more then Mixture hard shall strike.
Of Stars.
WE find in the East-Indies Stars there be,
Which we in our Horizon did ne'er fee;
Yet we do take great pains in Glasses clear,
To see what Stars do in the Sky appear;
But yet the more we search, the less we know,
Because we find our Work doth endless grow.
For who doth know, but Stars we see by Night,
Are Suns which to some other Worlds give Light?
But could our outward Senses pace the Sky,
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 fruitless pains Life spend,
The most we know, is, Nature Death will send.
Of the Motion of the Sun.
SOmetimes we find it Hot, and sometimes Cold,
Yet equal 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 equal be, or stay his haste.
If so, then Seas which send a Vapour high,
May cool 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 beat,
Which break his strength, and make his Beams so weak.
Of the Suns weakness.
THE Sun doth not unto the Center go,
He cannot shoot his Beams so deep and low.
For, a thick Wall will break his Arrows small,
So that his heate can do no hurt at all;
And Earth hath Arms so thick, to keep out all
His cry Darts, which he on her lets fall.
A Fire in the Center.
AS Heate about the Heart always keeps nigh.
So doth a Fire about the Center lye.
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 bear,
Although the Suns hot Beams do ne'er come there.
But yet the Sun doth nourish all without,
But Fire within the Earth gives Life, no doubt.
So heate within begets with Child the Earth,
And heate without is Mid-wise to her Birth.
The Sun is Nurse to all, the Earth bears.
THough the Earth to all gives Form, 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 Meat.
Just as a Child is got, and born of Man,
It must be fed, or't will soon dye again.
What makes Echo.
THE same Motion, which from the Mouth doth move,
Runs through the Air; which we by Echo prove.
As several Letters do a word up-joyne,
So several Figures through the Air combine.
The Air is wax, words Seal, and give the Print,
Those words an Echo in the Air do (...)!
And while those Figures last, Life domaintaine;
When Motion wears it out, is Echo slain.
As Sugar in the Mouth doth melt, and taste,
So Echo in the Air it self doth waste.
Of Rebounds.
REbounds resisting substance must work on,
Both in its self, and what it beats upon.
For yielding (...), which do bow, or break,
Can ne'er Rebound, (...) (...) like (...) speak.
Then every word of Air forms a Ball,
And every Letter like a (...) doth fall.
Words are condensed Air, which heard, do grow
As water, which by Cold doth turn to Snow.
And as when Snow is pressed, hard Balls become,
So words being pressed, as Balls do backward run.
Of Sound:
A Sound seems nothing, yet a while doth live,
And like a wanton Lad, mocke- Answers give.
Not like to Souls, which from the Body go,
For Echo hath a Body of Air we know.
Yet strange it is, that Sound so strong and clear,
Resisting Bodies have, yet not appear;
But Air which subtle is, encounter may.
Thus words a Sound may with self Echo play;
Grow weary soon, and cannot hold out long,
Seems out of breath, and falter with the Tongue.
Of Shadow, and Echo.
A Shadow fell in love with the bright Light,
Which makes her walk perpetually in her sight;
And when He's absent, then poor Soul she dyes,
But when He shows himself, her Life revives.
She Sister is to Echo loud, and clear,
Whose voice is heard, but no Body appear:
She hates to see, or show her self to men,
Unless Narcissus could live once again.
But these two Souls, for they no Bodies have,
Do wander in the Air to seek a Grave.
Silence would bury on the other Night,
Both are denied by Reflections spite;
And each of these are subject to the Sense,
One strikes the Ear, Shadow the Eye presents.
Of Light.
SOme think no Light would be without the Eye,
Tis true, a Light our Brain could not descry;
And if the Eye makes Light, and not the Sun,
As well our Touch may make the Fire to burn.
Of Light, and Sight.
PHilosophers, which thought to reason well,
Say, Light, and Colour, in the Brain do dwell;
That Motion in the Brain doth Light beget,
And if no Brain, the World in darkness Shut.
Provided that the Brain hath Eyes to see,
So Eyes, and Brain, do make the Light to (...).
If so, poor Donne was out, when he did say,
If all the World were blind, 'twould still be day.
Say they, Light would not in the Air reign,
Unless (you'll grant) the World were one great Brain.
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 though to be Non-sense
But all Opinions are by Fancy fed,
And Truth under Opinions lies dead.
The Objects of every Sense, are according to their Motions in the Brain.
WE mad should think those Men, if they should tell
That they did see a Sound, or taste a Smell.
Yet Reason proves a Man doth not err much,
When that we say his senses all are Touch.
If Actions in a Table be lively told,
The Brain strait thinks the Eye the same behold.
The Stomach Hungry, the Nose good Meat doth smell,
The Brain doth think that Smell the Tongue tastes well.
If we a These do see, and him do fear,
We strait do think that breaking Doors we hear.
Imaginations just like Motions make,
That every Sense doth strike with the mistake.
According as the Notes in Music agree with the Motions of the Heart, or
Brain, Such Passions are produced thereby.
IN Music, if the Eighths tuned Equal are,
If one be struck, the other seems to jar.
So the Heart-strings, if equally be stretched,
To those of Music, Love from thence is fetched.
For when one's struck, the other moves just so,
And with Delight as evenly doth go.
The Motion of Thoughts.
Musing alone, mine Eyes being fixed
Upon the Cround, my Sight with Gravel mixed:
My Feet did walk without Directions Guide,
My Thoughts did travel far, and wander wide;
At last they chanced up to a Hill to climb,
And being there, saw things that were Divine.
First, what they saw, a glorious Light to blaze,
Whose Splendour made it painful for the Gaze:
No Separations, nor Shadows by stops made,
No Darkness to obstruct this Light with Shade.
This Light had no Dimension, nor Extent,
But filled all places full, without Circumvent;
Always in Motion, yet fixed did prove,
Like to the Twinkling Stars which never move.
This Motion working, running several ways,
Did seem a Contradiction for to raise;
As to it self, with it self disagree,
Is like a Skein of Thread, if it knotted be.
For some did go strait in an even Line,
But some again did cross, and some did twine.
Yet at the last, all several Motions run
Into the first Prime Motion which begun.
In various Forms and Shapes did Life run through,
Life from Eternity, but Shapes still new;
No sooner made, but quickly passed away,
Yet while they were, desirous were to stay.
But Motion to one (...) can ne'er constant be,
For Life, which Motion is, joys in variety.
For the first Motion every thing can make,
But cannot add unto it self, nor take.
Indeed no other Matter could it frame,
It self was all, and in it self the same.
Perceiving now this fixed point of Light,
To be a Union, Knowledge, Power, and Might;
Wisdom, Justice, Truth, Providence, all one,
No Attribute is with it self alone.
Not like to several Lines drawn to one Point,
For what doth meet, may separate, (...).
But this a Point, from whence all Lines do flow,
Nought can diminish it, or make it grow.
Tis its own Center, and Circumference to und.
Yet neither has a Limit, or a Bound.
A fixed Eternity, and so will last,
All present is, nothing to come, or past.
A fixed Persection nothing can add more,
All things is It, and It self doth adore.
My Thoughts then wondering at what they did see,
Found at the last All things come from God Almighty.
themselves the same to be;
Yet was so small a Branch, perceive could not,
From whence they Sprung, or which ways 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 Excess, 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 faies, see God with our Eyes;
Yet may we in the Change such difference find,
Both in our Bodies, and also in 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 Sky;
And Circle could we all the World about,
And all the Effects of Nature could find out:
Yet cannot all tho Wise, and Learned tell,
Whats done in Heaven, or how we there shall dwell.
The Reason why the Thoughts are only in the Head.
THE Sinews are small, slender Strings,
Which to the Body Senses brings;
Yet like to Pipes, or Gutters, hollow be,
Where Animal Spirits run continually.
Though they are small, such Matter do contain,
As in the Skull doth lye, which we call Brain.
That makes, if any one doth strike the Heel,
The Thought of that, Sense in the Brain doth feel.
Yet tis not Sympathy, but tis the same
Which makes us think, and feel the pain.
For had the Heel such quantity of Brain,
Which doth the Head, and Skull therein contain;
Then would such Thoughts, which in the Brain dwell high,
Descend down low, and in the Heel would lye.
In Sinews small, Brain scatter'dlyes about,
It wants both room, and quantity no doubt.
For if a Sinew could so much Eraine hold,
Or had a Skin so large for to enfold,
As in the Skull, then might the Toe, or Knee,
Had they an Optic Nerve, both hear and see.
Had Sinews room, Fancy therein to breed,
Copies of Verses might from the Heel 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 Veins, to the same back comes.
The Muscles like the Tides do ebb, and flow,
According as the several Spirits go.
The Sinews, as final Pipes, come from the Head,
And all about the Body they are spread;
Through which the Animal Spirits are conveyed,
To every Member, as the Pipes are laid.
And from those Sinews Pipes each Sense doth take
Of those Pure Spirits, as they us do make.
TIs thought, an (...) Matter comes from the Sun
In streaming Beams, which Earth doth feed upon:
And that the Earth by those Beams back doth send
A Nourishment to the Sun, her good Friend.
So every Beam the Sun doth make a Chain,
To send to Earth, and to draw back again.
But every Beam is like a blazing Ship,
The Sun doth traffic to the Earth in it.
Each Ship is fraught with heat, through Air it swims,
As to the Earth warm Nourishment it brings:
And Vapour moist, Earth for that warmth returns,
And sends it in those Ships back to the Sun.
Great danger is, if Ships When the Sun draws up more Moisture then it can
digest, it turns to Rain, or wind.
be over-fraught,
For many times they sink with their own weight;
And those gilt Ships such Fate they often find,
They sink with too much weight, or split with Wind.
It is hard to believe, that there are other VVorlds in this World.
NOthing so hard in Nature, as Faith is,
For to believe Impossibilities:
As doth impossible to us appear,
Not because As it seems to us.
'tis not, but to our Sense not (...);
But that we cannot in our Reason find,
As being against Natures Course, and Kind.
For many things our Senses dull may escape,
For Sense is gross, not every thing can Shape.
So in this World another World may be,
That we do neither touch, taste, smell, hear, see.
What Eye so clear is, yet did ever see
Those little Hooks, that in the Load-stone be,
Which draw hard Iron? or give Reasons, why
The Needles point still in the North will lye.
As for Example, Atoms in the Air,
We ne'er perceive, although the Light be fair.
And whatsoever can a Body claim,
Though ne'er so small, Life may be in the same.
And what has Life, may Understanding have,
Yet be to us as buried in the Grave.
Then probably may Men, and (...) small,
Live in the World which we know not at all;
May build them Houses, several things may make,
Have Orchards, Gardens, where they pleasure take;
And Birds which sing, and Cattle in the Field,
May plow, and sow, and there small Corn may yield;
And Commonwealths may have, and Kings to (...),
Wars, Battles have, and one another slain:
And all without our hearing, or our sight,
Nor yet in any of our Senses light.
And other Stars, and Moons, 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 gross do back our Reason hold.
Things against Nature we do think are true,
That Spirits change, and can take Bodies new;
That Life may be, yet in no Body live,
For which no Sense, (...) Reason, we can give.
As Incorporeall Spirits this Fancy faines,
Yet Fancy cannot be without some Brains.
If Fancy without Substance cannot be,
Then Souls are more, then Reason well can see.
Of many VVorlds in this World.
JUST like unto a (...) of Boxes round,
Degrees of sizes within each Box are found.
So in this World, may many Worlds more be,
Thinner, and less, and less 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 works may make,
That our dull Sense can never find, but seape.
For Creatures, small as Atoms, may be there,
If every Atom a Creatures Figure bear.
If four Atoms a World can make, As I have before (...) they do, it. (...)
Atoms.
then see,
What several Worlds might in an Eare-ring be.
For Millions of these Atoms may be in
The Head of one small, little, single Pin.
And if thus small, then Ladies well may wear
A World of Worlds, as Pendents in each Ear.
A World in an Eare-Ring.
AN Eare-ring round may well a Zodiac be,
Where in a Sun goes round, and we not see.
And Planets seven about that Stin may move,
And He stand still, as some wise men would prove.
And sixed Stars, like twinkling Diamonds, placed
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 Ear take hold.
And Lightnings, Thunder, and great VVinds may blow
Within this Eare-ring, yet the Ear not know.
There Seas may ebb, and (...), where Fishes swim,
And Islands be, where Spices grow therein.
There Crystal Rocks hang dangling at each Ear,
And Golden Mines as Jewels may they wear.
There Earth-quakes be, which Mountains vast down sling,
And yet ne'er stir the Ladies Ear, nor Ring.
There Meadows be, and (...) fresh, and green,
And Cattle feed, and yet be never seen:
And Gardens fresh, and Birds which sweetly sing,
Although we hear them not in an Eare-ring.
There Night, and Day, and Heat, and Cold, and so
May Life, and Death, and Tongue, and Old, still grow.
Thus Touth may spring, and several Ages dye,
Great Plagues may be, and no Infections nigh.
There Cities be, and stately Houses built,
Their inside gay, and finely may be gilt.
There Churches be, and Priests to teach therein,
And Steeple too, yet hear the Bells not ring.
From thence may Pious Tears to Heaven run,
And yet the Ear not know which way they're gone.
There Markets be, and things both bought, and sold,
Know not the price, nor how the Markets hold.
There (...) do ruie, and Kings do Reign,
And Battles fought, where many may be slain.
And all within the Compass of this Ring,
And yet not tidings to the Wearer bring.
Within the Ring wise Counsellors may sit,
And yet the Ear not one wise word may get.
There may be dancing all Night at a Ball,
And yet the Ear be not disturbed at all.
There Rivals Duels sight, where some are slain;
There Lovers morn, yet hear them not complain.
And Death may dig a Lovers Grave, thus were
A Lover dead, in a fair Ladies Ear.
But when the Ring is broke, the World is done,
Then Lovers they in to (...) run.
Several VVorlds in several 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 Navigatiou in a Ship;
This World compared 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 (...).
Or had they lives to number with each day,
They would want time to compass half the way.
But if that Drake had lived in Venus Star,
His Journey shorter might have been by far.
THE CLASP.
WHEN I did write this Book, I took great pains,
For I did walk, and think, and break my Brains.
My (...) run out of Breath, then down 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 diet,
And made them (...) with Face, and Rest, and Quiet;
That they might run again with swifter speed,
And by this course now Fancies they could breed.
But I do fear they're not so Good to please,
But now they're out, (...) Brain is more at case.
The Circle of the Brain cannot be Squared.
A Circle Round divided in four Parts,
Hath been a Study amongst Men of Arts;
Ere since (...), or (...) time,
Hath every Brain been stretched upon a Line.
And every Thought hath been a Figure set,
Doubts Ciphers are, Hopes as Triangulars meet.
There is Division, and (...) made,
And Lines drawn out, and Points exactly laid.
But yet None can demonstrate it plain,
Of Circles round, a just (...) square remain.
Thus while the Brain is round, no Squares will be,
While Thoughts are in Divisions, no Figures will agree.
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 Equal Atoms 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, four will make.
If th Line of Temperance doth prove too short,
Then add a Figure of a discreet Thought;
Let Wisdoms Point draw up Discretions Figure,
That make two equal Lines joined both together.
Betwixt the Line Temperance and Justice, Truth must point,
Justice's Line draw down to Fortitude, that Corner joint;
Then Fortitude must draw in equal 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 laid,
Where every Line that meets, an Angle's made;
And when the Points too high, or low do fall,
Then must the Lines be stretched, to maked even all.
And thus the Circle Round you'll find,
Is Squared with the four Virtues of the Mind.
A Circle Squared in Prose.
A Circle is a Line without Ends, and a Square is four equal Because my Lines
are too long for my Rhymes, therefore I put them in Prose.
Sides, not one longer, or shorter then another. To square the Circle, is to
make the Line of the Square Figure to be equal 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 four 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 four Lines, Prudence,
Temperance, (...), and Justice; these four Lines let them be Cross 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 Rashness, and another of Timorosity. And at the end of Temperance,
Prodigality, and (...): At each end of Prudence, Sloth, and Stupidity. Then
draw out these Points, and make them Angles: As Severity, and Timorosity make
one Angle; Rashness, and Stupidity another. Sloth, and Prodigality make a
third Angle; Facility and Covetousness 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, Despair 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
Diseretion, 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 Despair, a Line of Hope, and from Industry, a Line of
Fruition, which make an Angle of Tranquillity. 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 measured with Truth, the Line will be equal
with the Circle of Honesty.

The Trasection.
CUT the Line of Wisdom into three parts; Prudence, Experience, and Judgment;
Then draw a Line of Discretion, equal to the Line of Experience, and a Line of
Industry, equal to the Line of Prudence, and a Line of Temperance, equal to
the Line of Judgment, and to Temperance, an equal Line of Tranquillity, and to
the Line Industry, a line of Ingenuity, and to the line of Discretion, draw an
equal line of Obedience. Then all these lines measured with the Rule of
Reason, and you'll find it equal to the line of Wisdom; join these lines
together, Truth makes the Angle. This is the Trasection.

The Arithmetic of Passions.
WIth Numeration Moralists begin
Upon the Passions, putting Quotients in,
Numbers divide with Figures, and Substract,
And in their Difinitions are exact:
And there Substract, as taking One, from Three,
That add to Four, 'twill make Five to be.
Thus the Odd Numbers to the Even joined,
Will make the Passions rise within the Mind.
TO MORAL PHILOSOPHERS.
Moral Philosophy is a severe School, for there is no Arithmetitian so exact
in his Accounts, or doth Divide and Substract his Numbers more subtlely, then
they the Passions; as Arithmetic 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 only subdue the
Passions, but can make the best use of them, to the Tranquillity of the mind: As
Fear to make them Circumspect, Hate to Evil, Desire to Good, Love to Virtue,
Hope makes Industry Jealous of Indiscretions, Angry at Follies, and so the like
of all the rest. For they do not only subdue the feircest of them, making them
Slaves to execute several works, in several places. But those Passions that are
mild, of gentle Nature, they make perfect Friend-ship with: for the Passions
are like Privy Counsellors, where some Counsel for Peace, others for War,
and some being bribed with the World, and Appetite, persuade to mutiny, which
uses a Rebellion. But Moralists are like powerful 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 skilful
Musicians, making the Passions Musical Instruments, which they can tune so
exactly, and play so well, and sweetly, as every several Note shall strike the
Ears of the Soul 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 only sound harsh and unpleasant, but when the Notes disagre eing,
the Mind takes wrong Steps, and keeps false time, and the Soul is disquieted
with the noise. But there is no Humour, or Passion so troublesome as Desire,
because it yields no sound satisfaction; for all it is mixed most commonly with
pleasing hopes: but hope is a greater pleasure then Enjoyment, just as Eating
is a greater pleasure to the Hungry, then when the Stomach is fully satisfied.
Yet Desire, and Curiosity make a Man to be above other Creatures: for by
desiring Knowledge, Man is as much above a Beast, as want of perfect Knowledge
makes him less then God; and Man, as he hath a transcending Soul to out-live
the World to all Eternity; so he hath a transcending desire to live in the
Worlds Memory, as long as the (...) (...); that he might not dye like a Beast,
and be forgotten; but that his Works may beget another Soul, though of shorter
life, which is Fame; and Fame is like a Soul, an Incorporeall Thing.

DIALOGUES.
Of Fame.
A Dialogue between two Supernatural Opinions.
1. Op. WHO knows, but that Mans Soul in Fame delights
After the Body and It disunites?
If we allow the Soul shall live, not dye,
Although the Body in the Grave doth lie;
And that some knowledge still It doth retain,
Why may not then some love of Fame remain?

2. Op. There doth no Vanity in Souls then dwell,
When separate, they go to Heaven, or Hell.

1. Op. Fame's Virtues Child, or ought to be;
What comes not from her, is an Insamy.

2. Op. Souls of the World remember nought at all,
All that is past into Oblivion fall.

1. Op. Why may not Souls, as well as Angels, know,
And hear and see, what's done in the World below?

2. Op. Souls neither have Ambition, nor desire,
When once in Heaven, nor after Fame inquire.

1. Op. Who can tell that? since Heaven loves good Deeds,
And Fame of Piety from Grace proceeds.

Of Fame.
A Dialogue between two Natural Opinions:
1. 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.

1. Op. What if the Motion of the Body dye?
The Motion of the Mind may live on high;
And in the Aerie Elements may lye,
Although we know it not, about may fly,
And thus by Nature may the Mind delight
To hear its Fame, and see its Pyramid;
Or grieve, and morn, when it doth see, and know,
Her Acts and Fame do to Oblivion go.

A simple natural 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 Coin.
Where every Virtue stamps their Image so,
That all the World each several Peace may know.
If Men be lazy, let this Talent lye,
Seek no occasion to improve it by:
Who knows, but Natures punishment may be,
To make the Mind to grieve eternally?
That when his Spirit's fled, and Body rot,
To know himself 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 Means, or ways untried.
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 poor,)
And Fancy, which is Wit, is all their store.
Thinking which way this Purchase they should get,
They did agree in Council all to sit:
Knowing that Fame was Honour to the Well,
And that She always 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 (...) (...) them all, what they could say,
She asked 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 greatness make.
Said she, this Hill I'll neither sell, nor give,
But they that have (...) Wit shall with Me live.
Then go you down, and get what Friends you can,
That will be bound, or plead for every man.
(...) 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 Aeneas, he all Rome,
For Horace all the Country-men came soon.
Juvenall, Catullus, all Satyrs joined,
And in sirme Bonds they all themselves did bind.
And for Tibullus, Venus, and her Son
Would needs be bound, cause wanton verse he sung.
Pythagoras his Transmigration brings
Ovid, who seals the Bond with several things.
Lucan brought Pompey, Senate all in arms,
And Casars Army with their hot Alarms:
Mustering them all in the Emathian Fields,
To Fames Bond to set their bands, and Seals.
Poets, which Epitaphei on the Dead had made,
Their Ghosts did rise, fair Fame for to persuade
To take their Bonds, that they might live, though dead,
To after Ages when, their Names were read.
The Muses nine came all at Bar to plead,
Which partial were, according as the were fee'd.
At last all Poets were cast out, but three,
Where Fame disputed long, which should her Husband be.
Pythagoras for Ovid first did speak,
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 several Shapes, and Forms they take,
Some Goddesses, and some do Devils make.
Then let fair Fame sweet Ovids Lady be,
Since Change doth please that Sex, none's fit but he.
Then spoke Aeneas on brave Virgils side,
Declared, 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, even for fair 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 Oil;
Bowing his head down low, to Fame did speak,
I come to plead, although my Wit is weak:
But since my Cause is just, and Truth my Guide,
The way is plain, I shall not (...) aside.
Homers losty Verse doth reach the Heavens high,
And brings the Gods down from the Aerie Sky:
And makes them side in Factions, for Man-kind,
As now for Troy, then Greece, as pleased his mind.
So walks he down into (...) deep,
And wakes the Furies out of their dead sleep:
With Fancy's Candles seeks above all Hell,
Where every Place, and Corner he knows well.
Opening the Gates where sleepy Dreams do lye,
Walking into the Elysium fields hard by:
There tells you, how Lovers their time employ,
And that pure Souls in one another joy.
As Painters shadows make, mixing Colours,
So Souls do mix of Platonic Lovers:
Shows how Heroic Spirits there do play
At the Olympic Games, to pass the time away.
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 Rhyme:
Besides, great Fame, thy Court he hath filled full
Of Brave Reports (...) which else an Empty Skull
It would appear, and not like Heavens Throne,
Nor like the Firmament, with Stars thick strowne:
Makes Hell appear with a Majestic 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:
Quenched out, you dwell as in perpetual 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 balance hold,
Let not the Leaden weights weigh down the Gold.
It were Injustice, Fame, for you to make
A Because (...) Poets imitate Homer.:
Servant low, his Masters place to take.
Or (...), that pick the Purse, you should prefer
Before the Owner, since condemned they were.
His are not Servants Lines; but what He leaves,
Thieves The Theft of Poets.
steal, and with the same the World deceives.
If so, great Fame, the World will never care
To worship you, unless you right prefer.
Then let the best of Poets find such grace
In your fair Eyes, to choose him first in place.
Let all the rest come offer at thy Shrine,
And show thy self a Goddess that's divine.
I, at your word, will Homer take, said Fame,
And if he proves not good, be you to blame.
Vlisses bowed, and Homer kis'd her hands,
Then were they joined in Matrimonial Bands:
And Mercury from all the Gods was sent,
To give her joy, and wish her much content.
And all the Poets were invited round,
All that were known, or in the World were found.
Then did they dance with measure, and in time,
Each in their turn took out the Muses nine.
In Numbers smooth their Feet did run,
Whilst Music plaid, and Songs were sung.
The Bride, and Bridegroom went to bed,
There Homer got Fames Maiden-head.
A Dialogue betwixt Man, and Nature.
Man. TIs strange,
How we do change.
First to live, and then to dye,
Is a great misery.
To give us sense, great pains to feel,
To make our lives to be Deaths wheel;
To give us Sense, and Reason too,
Yet know not what we're made to do.
Whether to Atoms turn, or Heaven up fly,
Or into new Forms change, and never dye.
Or else to Matter Prime to fall again,
From thence to take new Forms, and so remain.
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! cruel to Man-kind,
Gives Knowledge none, but Misery to find.

Nature. Why doth Man-kind complain, and make such Moan?
May not I work my will with what's my own?
But Men among themselves contract, and make
A Bargain for my Tree; that Tree will take:
Most cruelly do chop in pieces small,
And forms it as he please, then builds withal.
Although that Tree by me was made to stand,
Just as it grows, not to be cut by Man.

Man. O Nature, Trees are dull, and have no Sense,
And therefore feel not pain, nor take offence.
But Beasts have life and Sense, and Passion strong,
Yet cruel man doth kill, and doth them wrong.
To take that life, I gave, before the time
I did ordain, 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 pleased, either good, or ill.
Though Beast hath Sense, feels pain, yet whilst they live,
They Reason want, for to dispute, or grieve.
Beast hath no pain, 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 Joys, pulled up, with Fear pulled back.
Desire whips him forward, makes him run,
Despair dothwound, and pulls him back again.
For Nature, thou made Man betwixt Extremes,
Wants perfect Knowledge, yet thereof he dreams.
For had he bin like to a Stock, or Stone,
Or like a Beast, to live with Sense alone.
Then might he eat, or drink, or lye stone-still,
Ne'er 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 knows not all,
And that himself he knows least of all:
Which makes him wonder, and thinks there is mixed
Two several Qualities in Nature fixed.
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 ruled, and governed by Fate.
These are Mans fears; 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 Souls like Gods shall be.
Says Nature, why doth Man complain, and cry,
If he believes his Soul shall never dye?

A Dialogue betwixt the Body, and the Mind:
Body. WHat Bodies else but Mans, did Nature make,
To join with such a Mind, no rest can take;
That Ebbs, and sloes, with full, and falling Tide,
As Minds dejected fall, or swell with Pride:
In Waves of Passion roll to Billows high,
Always in Motion, never quiet lye.
Where Thoughts like Fishes swim the Mind about,
Where the great Thoughts the smaller Thoughts cate out.
My Body the Bark rows in Minds Occan wide,
Whose Waves of Passions beat on every side.
When that dark Cloud of Ignorance hangs low,
And Winds of vain Opinions strong do blow:
Then Showers of doubts into the Mind rain down,
In deep vast Studies my Bark of flesh is drowned.

Mind. Why doth the Body thus complain, when I
Do help it forth of every Misery?
For in the World your Bark is bound to swim,
Nature hath rigged it out to traffic in.
Against hard Rocks you break in (...) small,
If my Invention help 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 Bark get safe into each Bay.

Body. If I 'seape drowning in the Watery Maine,
Yet in great mighty Battles I am slain.
By your Ambition I am forced to fight,
When many (...) upon my Body light.
For you care not, so you a Fame may have,
To live, if I be buried in a Grave.

Mind. If Bodies fight, and Kingdoms win, then you
Take all the pleasure that belongs thereto.
You have a Crown, your Head for to adorn,
Upon your Body Jewels are hung on.
All things are sought, to please your Senses Five,
No Drug unpractised, to keep you alive.
And I, to set you up in high Degree,
Invent all Engines used in War 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 cate their Flesh, and after with their Skin,
When Winter comes, you lap your Bodies in.
And so of every thing that Nature makes,
By my direction you great pleasure takes.

Body. What though my Senses all do take delight,
Yet you upon my Entrails always bite.
My flesh cate up, that all my bones are bare,
With the sharpe Teeth of Sorrow, Grief, and Care.
Draws out my Blood from Veins, with envious spite,
Decays my Strength with shame, or extreme fright.
With Love extremely sick I lye,
With cruel hate you make me dye.

Mind. Care keeps you from all hurt, or falling low,
Sorrow, and Grief are Debts to Friends we owe.
Fear makes man just, to give each one his own,
Shame makes Civility, without there's none.
Hate makes good Laws, that all may live in Peace,
Love brings Society, and gets Increase.
Besides, with Joy I make the Eyes look gay,
With pleasing Smiles they dart forth every way.
With Mirth the Cheeks are fat, smooth, Rosie-red,
Your Speech flows Wit, when Fancies fill the Head.
If I were gone, you'd miss my Company,
Wish we were joined again, or you might dye.

A Complaint of Water, Earth, and Air, against the Sun, by way of Dialogue.
Moisture to Earth. THere's none hath such an Enemy as I,
The Sun doth drink me up, when he's a dry,
He sucks me out of every hole I lye:
Draws me up high, from whence I down do fall,
In Showers of Rain, am broke in pieces small,
Where I am forced to Earth for help to call.
Strait Earth her Porous doors sets open wide,
And takes me in with hast on every side;
Then joins my Limbs fast in a slowing Tide.

Earth to Moisture. Alas, Dear Friend, the Sun, my greatest Fee,
My tender Buds he blast as they do grow:
He burns my Face, and makes it (...), and dry,
He sucks my Breast, which starves my Young thereby.
Thus I, and all my Young, for thirst were slain,
But that with Wet you fill my (...) again.

Air to Earth and Moisture. The Sun doth use me ill, as all the rest,
For his hot Sultry heats do me molest:
Melts me into a thin and slowing Flame,
To make him light, when men it Day do name.
Corrupts me, makes me full of (...) soars,
Which Putresaction on men's Bodies pores:
Or else the subtle Flame into men's Spirits run,
Which makes them raging, or stark mad become.
Draws me into a length, and breadth, till I
Become so thin, with windy wings do fly:
Never can leave, till all my Spirits spent,
And then I dye, and leave no Monument.

The Sun to (...). O most unkind, and most ungrateful 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-Bcames are Strings, whereon to hold,
For fear they fall, and break their Limbs on Cold.
All to Maturity I do bring, and give
Youth, Beauty, Strength, and make Old Age to live.

The Sun to (...)'ater Sluggish Moisture I active, and light make,
All gross and corrupt I Humours away take.
All Superfluity I dry up clean,
That nothing but pure Crystal water's seen.
The hard-bound Cold I loosen, and untie,
When you in Icy Chains a Prisoner lye:
With (...) your Limbs are nipped, and bit with Cold,
Your smooth, and glassy Face makes wrinkled, Old.
I make you nimble, soft, and fair,
And Liquid, Nourishing, and Debonair.

The Sun to Air. Air I purge, and make it clear, and bright,
Black Clouds dissolve, which make the Day seem Night.
The crude, raw Vapours, I digest and strain,
The thicker part all into Showers of Rain.
The thinnest part I turn all into Winds,
Which, like a Broom, sweeps out all Dirt it finds.
The clearest part turn into Azure Sky,
Hanged all with Stars, and next the Gods you lye.

A Dialogue between Earth, and Cold.
Earth. O Cruel Cold, to life an Enemy,
A Misery to Man, and Posterity!
Most envious Cold, to Stupefy Men's Brain,
Destroies that Monarchy, where Wit should reign.
Tyrant thou art, to bind the Waters clear
In Chains of Ice, lye fettered half the year.
Imprisons every thing that dwells in me,
Shutting my Porous doors, no Light can see:
And smothered am almost up to death,
Each hole is stopped so close, can take no breath.
Congeales the Air to massy Clouds of Snow,
Like Mountains great, they on my Body throw.
And all my Plants, and strong great fruit (...) Trees,
You nip to death, or cloth them in course Freeze.
My fresh green Robes, which (...) me fine, and gay,
You strip me of, or change to black, or gray.
For fear of Cold, my Moisture shrinks so low,
My Head wears bald, no (...) thereon will grow:
And breaks the Suns bright: (...), their heat destroy;
Which takes away my comfort, and my joy:
And makes my Body stiff, so deadly numbed,
That in my Veins nothing will fluent run.

Cold. Why do you thus complain, poor 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 cloth you from the Cold with Milke-white Snow,
Send down your Sap to nourish you below.
For if that heat should dwell, and long time stay,
His Thirst would drink your Moisture all away.
I take nought from you, nor do make you poor,
But, like a Husband good, do keep your Store.
My Ice are Locks, and Bars, all safe to keep;
From Busy Motion gives you quiet sleep.
For heat is active, and doth you molest,
Doth make you work, and never let you rest.
Heat spends your Spirits, makes you cracked, and dry,
Drinks all him self; with Thirst you almost dye.
With Sweating Labour you grow weak, and faint,
I wonder why you make such great complaint.

Earth. Both Heat, and Cold, in each extreme Degree,
Two Hells they are, though contrary they be.
Two Devils are, torment me with great pains,
One shoots hot Arrows, the other ties in Chains.

A Dialogue betwixt Earth, and Darkness.
Earth. OHorrid Darkness, and you powers of Night,
Melancholy Shades, made by obstructed Lights;
Why so Cruel? what Evil have I done?
To part me from my There may be more Earths then one, for all we know, and but
one Sun.
Husband, the bright Sun?

Darkness. I do not part you, he me hither sends,
Whilst He rides about, to visit all his Friends.
Besides, (...) hath more Wives to love, then you;
He never constant is to one, nor true.

Earth. You do him wrong, for though he Journies make
For Exercise, he care for me doth take.
He leaves his Stars, and's Sister in his place,
To comfort me, whilst (...) doth run his Race.
But you do come, most wicked (...) Night,
And rob me of that fair, and Silver Light.

Darkness. The Moon, and Stars, they are but shadows thin,
Small Cob-web Lawn they from his Light do spin:
Which they in scorned do make, you to disgrace,
As a thin Veil, to cover your Ill Face.
For Moon, or Stars have no strong Lights to show
A Colour true, nor how you bud, or grow.
Only some Ghosts do rise, and take delight,
To walk about, when that the Moon shines bright.

Earth. Your are deceived, they cast no such Disguise,
Strive me to please, by twinkling in the Skies.
And for the Ghosts my Children are, being weak,
And tender Eyed, help of the Moon they seek.
For why, her Light is gentle, moist, and Cold,
Doth ease their Eyes, when they do it behold.
But you with Shadows fright, delude the Sight,
Like Ghost appear, 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 dark Obscurity,
That none of my dear Children I can see.
Their Lovely Faces mask'st thou from my Sight,
Which show most beautiful in the day Light.
They take delight to View, and to adorn,
And fall in love with one another Form.
By which kind Sympathy they bring me store
Of Children young: those, when grown up, brings more.
But you are spiteful to those Lovers kind,
(...) their Faces, makes their Eyes quite blind.

Darkness. Is this my thanks for all my Love, and Care,
And for the great respect to you I bear?
I am thy kind, true, and constant Lover,
I all your Faults, and Imperfections cov
I take you in my gentle Arms of rest,
With cool fresh Dews I bath your dry, hot Breast.
The Children which you by the Sun did bear,
I lay to sleep, and rest them from their Care.
In Beds of silence soft I lay them in,
And cover them, though black, with Blankets clean.
Then shut them close from the Disturbing Light,
And yet you rail against your Lover, Night.
Besides if you had Light through all the year,
Though Beauty great, 'twouldnot so well appear.
For, what is Common, hath not such respect,
Nor such regard: for (...) doth bring neglect.
Nought is admired, but what is seldom (...),
And black, for change, delights as well as green.
Yet I should constant be, if I might stay,
But the bright Sun doth beat me quite away.
For he is active, and runs all about,
Ne'er dwells with one, but seeks new Lovers out.
He spiteful is to other Lovers, (...)
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 faithful, kind to Lovers true,
And all is for the (...), 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 (...) Suit disdain,
But when the Sun is gone, me entertain.
Take me sweet Love with (...) into your Bed,
And on your fresh green Breast lay my black Head.

A Dialogue between an Oak, and a Man cutting him down.
Oak. WHY cut you off my Bows, both large, and long,
That keep you from the heat, and scorching Sun (...)
And did refresh your (...) Limbs from sweat?
From thundering Rains I keep you free, from Wet;
When on my Bark your weary head would lay,
Where quiet sleep did take all Cares away.
The whilst my Leaves a gentle noise did make,
And blew cool Winds, that you (...) Air night 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 changed their Notes, and strained their tender Breast.
In Winter time, my Shoulders broad did hold
Off blustering Storms, that wounded with sharpe Cold.
And on my Head the (...) of snow did fall,
Whilst you under my Bows (...) free from all.
And will you thus requite my Love, Good Will,
To take away my Life, and (...) kill?
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 slain,
Invent always to torture me with pain.
First you do peel my Bark, and flay my Skin,
Hew down my Boughs, so chops off every Limb.
With Wedges you do pierce my Sides to wound,
And with your Hatchet knock me to the ground.
I mine'd shall be in Chips and pieces small,
And thus doth Man reward good Deeds withal.

Man. Why grumble thou, old Oak, when thou hast stood
This hundred years, as King of all the Wood.
Would you for ever live, and not resign
Your Place to one that is of your own Line?
Your Acornes young, when they grow big, and tall,
Long for your Crown, and wish to see your fall;
Think every minute lost, whilst you do live,
And grumble at each Office you do give.
Ambitien flies high, and is above
All sorts of Friend-ship strong, or Natur all 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.
Grows discontent, and Factions still do make;
What Good so ere he doth, as Evil take.
Were he as wise, as ever Nature made,
As pious, good, as ever Heaven (...):
Yet when they dye, such Joy is in their Face,
As if the Devil had gone from that place.
With Shouts of Joy they run a new to Crown,
Although next day they strive to pull him down.

(...). Why, said the Oak, because that they are mad,
Shall I rejoice, for my own Death be glad?
Because my Subjects all ungrateful are,
Shall I therefore my health, and life impair.
Good Kings govern justly, as they ought,
Examines not their Humours, but their Fault.
For when their Crimes appear, it is time to strike,
Not to examine Thoughts how they do like.
If Kings are never loved, till they do dye,
Nor (...) to live, till in the Grave they lye:
Yet he that loves himself the less, because
He cannot get every mans high applause:
Shall by my Judgment be condemned to wear,
The Asses Ears, and burdens for to bear.
But let me live the Life that Nature gave,
And not to please my Subjects, dig my Grave.

Man. But here, Poor Oak, thou liv'st in Ignorance,
And never seek thy Knowledge to advance.
I'll cut the down, because Knowledge thou may gain,
Shalt be a Ship, to traffic on the Maine:
There shalt thou swim, and cut the Seas in two,
And trample down each Wave, as thou dost go.
Though they rise high, and big are swelled with pride,
Thou on their Shoulders broad, and Back, shalt ride:
Their lofty Heads shalt bow, and make them stoop,
And on their Necks shalt set thy steady Foot:
And on their Breast thy Stately Ship shalt bear,
Till thy Sharpe Keele the watery Womb doth tear.
Thus shalt thou round the World, new Land to find,
That from the rest is of another kind.

Oak. O, said the Oak, 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 Rack may hit;
Then were I strait in sundry pieces split.
Besides, no rest, nor quiet I should have,
The Winds would toss me on each troubled Wave.
The Billows rough will beat on every side,
My Breast will ache to swim against the Tide.
And greedy Merchants may me over-fraight,
So should I drowned be with my own weight.
Besides with Sails, and Rapes my Body tie,
Just like a Prisoner, have no Liberty.
And being always wet, shall take such Colds,
My Ship may get a Pace, and leake through holes.
Which they to mend, will put me to great pain,
Besides, all patched, and peec'd, I shall remain.
I care not for that Wealth, wherein the pains,
And trouble, is far greater then the Gains.
I am contented with what Nature gave,
I not Repine, but one poor wish would have,
Which is, that you my aged Life would save.

Man. To build a Stately House I'll cut thee down,
Wherein shall Princes live of great renown.
There shalt thou live with the best Company,
All their delight, and pastime thou shalt see.
Where Plays, and Masques, and Beauties bright will shine,
Thy Wood all oiled with Smoke of Meat, and Wine.
There thou shalt hear both Men, and Women sing,
Far pleasanter then Nightingales in Spring.
Like to a Ball, their Echoes shall rebound
Against the Wall, yet can no Voice be found.

Oak. Alas, what Music shall I care to hear,
When on my Shoulders I such burdens bear?
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 pierce my Sides, to hang their Pictures on.
My Face is sinucht with Smoke of Candle Lights,
In danger to be burnt in Winter Nights.
No, let me here a poor Old Oak still grow;
I care not for these vain Delights to know.
For fruitless Promises I do not care,
More Honour tis, my own green Leaves to bear.
More Honour tis, to be in Natures dress,
Then any Shape, that Men by Art express.
I am not like to Man, would Praises have,
And for Opinion make my self a Slave.

Man. Why do you wish to live, and not to dye,
Since you no Pleasure have, but Misery?
For here you stand against the scorching Sun:
By's Fiery Beams, your fresh green Leaves become
Withered; with Winter's cold you quake, and shake:
Thus in no time, or season, rest can take.

Oak. Yet I am happier, said the Oak, then Man;
With my condition I contented am.
He nothing loves, but what he cannot get,
And soon doth surfeit of one dish of meat:
Dislikes all Company, displeased alone,
Makes Griese himself, if Fortune gives him none.
And as his Mind is restless, never pleased;
So is his Body sick, and oft diseased.
His Gouts, and Pains, do make him sigh, and cry,
Yet in the midst of Pains would live, not dye.

Man. Alas, poor Oak, thou understandst, nor can
Imagine half the misery of Man.
All other Creatures only in Sense join,
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 seek Nature out.
For She doth hide her self, as feared to show
Man all her works, least he too powerful grow.
Like to a King, his Favourite makes so great,
That at the last, he fears his Power hee'll get.
And what creates desire in Mans Breast,
A Nature is divine, which seeks the best:
And never can be satisfied, not ill
He, like a God, doth in Perfection dwell.
If you, as Man, desire like Gods to be,
I'll spare your Life, and not cut down your Tree.

A Dialogue of Birds.
AS I abroad in Fields, and Woods did walk,
I heard the Birds of several things did talk:
And on the Boughs would (...), prate, and chat,
And every one discourse of this, and that.
I, said the Lark, before the Sun do rise,
And take my flight up to the highest Skies:
There sing some Notes, to raise Appollo's head,
For fear that he might lye too long a Bed.
And as I mount, or if descend down low,
Still do I sing, which way so ere I go.
Winding my Body up, just like a Scrue,
So doth my Voice wind up a Trillo too.
What Bird, besides my self, both flies and sings,
Just tune my (...) keeps to my (...) Wings.
I, said the Nightingale, all night do watch,
For fear a Serpent should my young Ones catch:
To keep back sleep, I several Tunes do sing,
Which Tunes so pleasant are, they Lovers bring
Into the Woods; who listening sit, and mark:
When I begin to sing, they cry, hark, hark.
Stretching my Throat, to raise my Trilloes high,
To gain their praises, makes me almost dye.
Then comes the Owl, which says, here's such a do
With your sweet Voices; through spite cries Wit-a-woo.
In Winter, said the Robin, I should dye,
But that I in a good warm house do fly:
And there do pick up Crumbs, which make me fat,
But oft am scared away with the Pusse-cat.
If they molest me not, then I grow bold,
And stay so long, whilst Winter (...) are told.
Man superstitiously dares not hurt me,
For if I am killed, 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 Bows 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 knows, we eat them in great fear.
But Men will eat, until their Belly burst,
And surfeits take: if we eat, we are cursed.
Yet we by Nature are revenged still,
For eating over-much themselves they kill.
And if a Child do chance to cry, or brawl,
They strive to catch us, to please that Child withal:
With Threads they tie 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 pains they'll give us one small Crum.
I wonder, said Mag-pye, you grumble so,
Dame Sparrow, we are used much worse I trow.
For they our Tongues do slit, their words to learn,
And with the pain, our food we dearly came.
Why, say the (...), and the (...) all,
Do you so prate Mag-pie, and so much baule?
As if no Birds besides were wronged but you,
When we by cruel Man are injured to.
For we, to learn their (...), are kept awake,
That with their whistling we no rest can take.
In darkness we are kept, no Light must see,
Till we have learnt their Tunes most perfectly.
But Jack-dawes, they may dwell their houses nigh,
And build their Nests in Elms that do grow high:
And there may prate, and fly from place to place;
For why, they think they give their House a grace.
Lord! said the Partridge, Cock, Puet, Snite, and Quail,
Pigeons, Larks, my Masters, why d'yee rail?
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 clean from (...), and Dung:
When we poor Birds are by the dozens killed,
And luxuriously us eat, till they be filled:
And of our Flesh they make such cruel (...),
That but some of our Limbs will please their taste.
In VVood-cockes thighs they only take delight,
And Partridge wings, which swift were in their flight.
The smaller Lark they eat all at one bite,
But every part is good of Quail, and Suite.
The Murderous Hawk they keep, us for to catch,
And learn their Dogs, to crouch, and creep, and watch:
Until they have sprung us to Nets, and Toils,
And thus poor Creatures we are made Mans spoils.
Cruel 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 eat us only Famine might enforce.
But when they eat us, may they surfeits take,
May they be poor, when they a (...) us make.
The more they eat, the leaner may they grow,
Or else so fat, they cannot stir, nor go.
O, said the (...), let me morn in black,
For, of Mans cruelty I do not lack:
I am the (...) of Summer warm,
Do neither pick their Fruit, nor eat their Corn;
Yet they will take us, when alive we be,
I shake to tell, O horrid Cruelty!
Beat us alive, till we an Oil become.
Can there to Birds be a worse Mortyrdome?
(...), O Man, if we should serve you so,
You would (...) us your great Curses throw.
But Nature, she is good, do not her blame:
We ought to give her thanks, and not exclaim.
For Love is Natures chiefest Law in Mind,
Hate but an Accident from Love we find.
Tis true, Selfe-Preservation is the chief,
But Luxury to Nature is a (...).
Corrupted manners always do breed Vioe,
Which by (...) doth the Mind entice.
No Creature doth usurp so much as Man,
Who thinks himself like God, because he can
Rule other Creatures, makes them to obey:
We Souls have, Nature never made, say they.
What ever comes from Natures Stock, and Treasure,
Created is only to serve their pleasure.
Although the Life of Bodies comes from Nature,
Yet still the Souls come from the great Creator.
And they shall live, though we to (...) do turn,
Either in Bliss, or in hot flames to burn.
Then came the Parrot with her painted wing (...)
Spake like an Orator in every thing.
Sister Jay, Neighbour (...), Gossip Pie,
We taken are, not like the rest, to dye:
Only to talk, and prate, the best we can,
To Imitate to (...) Life, the Speech of Man.
And just like men, we (...) 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 (...) the rest.
Then Nature we will praise, because she have
Given us such Tongues, as Men our Lives to save.
Morn 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 complain, but in delights agree.
Strait came the (...) with a frowning face,
And hopt about, as in an angry pace.
My Masters all, what are you mad,
Is no regard unto the public 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 pains take,
Both for the Common good, and young Chickes sake:
And not sit murmuring here against great Man,
Unless 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, (...), strike, turn, and wind,
What ways they will, which makes them new Arts find.
Tis not their Wit, which new Inventions make,
But tis their Shapes, which height, breadth, depth, can take.
Thus they can measure the great worldly Ball,
And Numbers set, to prove the Truth of all.
What Creature else hath Arms, or goes upright,
Or have all sorts of Motions so unite?
Man by his Shape can Nature imitate,
Can govern, rule, and new Arts can create.
Then come away, (...) (...) no good can do,
And what we cannot help, submit unto.
Then some their (...), others their Husbands call,
To gather Sticks, to build their Nests withal.
Some that were Shrews, did chide, and scold, and fret,
The Wind blew down their Nest where they should sit:
For all they gathered, with (...), and care,
Those Sticks, and Straws were blown they knew not where.
But none did labour like the little Wren,
To build her Nest, to hatch her young Ones in.
She lays 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 Mistress still,
The Yellow hammer cried, tis wet, tis wet,
For it will rain 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 Corn from Sheaves out strewed,
And some to pick up Seed that's newly sowed.
Some had Courage a Cherry ripe to take,
Others catch t Flies, when they a Feast did make.
And some did pick up Ants, and Eggs, though small,
To carry home, to feed their young withal.
When every Crap was filled, and Night came on,
Then did they stretch their Wings to fly fast home.
And as like Men, from Market home they come,
Set out alone, but every Mile adds some:
Until 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,
Rejoicing at past dangers, and great fear.
When they their wings had pruned, 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 Hymns to God on high,
Praising his Name, blessing his Majesty.
And when they asked for Gifts, to God did pray,
He would be pleased to give them a fair day.
At last they drowsy grew, and heavy 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 down,
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.
A Dialogue between Melancholy, and Mirth.
AS I fate Musing, by my self alone,
My Thoughts on several 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 govern, rule a State;
Some as Republickes, which all Monarchs hate.
Others, as Lawyers, plending at the Bar,
Some privy Counsellors, and Judges are.
Some Priests, which do preach Peace, and Godly life,
Others Tumultuous are, and full of (...).
Some are debauched, do wench, swagger, and swear,
And some poor Thoughts do tremble out of fear.
Some jealous are, and all things do suspect,
Others so Careless, every thing neglect.
Some Nymphs, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses,
Some so kind, as one another kisses.
All sorts of Lovers, and their Passions,
Several ways of Conrt-(...), and fine Fashions.
Some take strong Towns, and Buttels win,
Few do loose, but all must yield to him.
Some are Heroic, Generous, and Free,
And some so base, do crouch with Flattery.
Some dying are, and in the Grave half lye,
And some Repenting, which for sorrow cry.
The Mind oppres'd with Grief, Thoughts Mourners be,
All clothed in Black, no light of Joy can see.
Some with Despair do rage, are almost mad,
And some so merry, nothing makes thein sad.
And many more, which were too long to tell,
Thoughts several be, in several places dwell.
At last came two, which were in various dress,
One Melancholy, the other did Mirth express.
Melancholy was all in black Array,
And Mirth was all in Colours fresh, and gay.
(...) Mirth laughing came, running unto me, flung
Her fat white Arms, about my Neck she hung:
Embraced, and kis'd me oft, and strok't my Cheek,
Telling me, she would no other Lover seek.
I'll sing you Songs, and please you every day,
Invent new Sports, to pass the time away.
I'll keep your Heart, and guard it from that Thief,
Dull Melancholy Care, or sadder Griese:
And make your Eyes with Mirth to over-flow,
With springing blood, your Cheeks 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 days prolong.
Refuse me not, but take me to your Wife,
For I shall make you happy all your Life.
If you take Melancholy, she'll make you lean,
Your Cheeks shall hollow grow, your Jaws all seen:
Your Eyes shall buried be within your Head,
And look as Pale, as if you were quite dead.
She'll make you start at every noise you hear,
And Visions strange shall in your Eyes appear.
Your Stomach cold, and raw, digesting nought,
Your Liver dry, your Heart with sorrow fraught.
Your shriveled Skin, and Cloudy Brows, 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,
She hates the Light, in darkness only found:
Or set with blinking (...), or Tapers small,
Which various Shadows 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 Mandrakes groan,
And shrieking Owls, which in Night fly alone.
The Tolling Bell, which for the dead rings out,
A Mill, where rushing waters run about.
The roaring winds, which shake the Cedars tall,
Plow up the Seas, and beat the Rocks withal.
She loves to walk in the still Moon shine Night,
Where in a thick dark Grove she takes delight.
In hollow Caves, Houses thatched, or lowly Cell,
She loves to live, and there alone to dwell.
Her Ears are stopped with Thoughts, her Eyes purblind,
For all she hears, or sees, is in the (...).
But in her Mind, luxuriously she lives,
Imagination several pleasures gives.
Then leave her to her self, alone to dwell,
Let you and I in Mirth and pleasure swell:
And drink long lusty Draughts from (...) Boule,
Until our Brains on vaporous Waves do roll.
Lets joy our selves in Amorous Delights.
There's none so happy, as the Carpet Knights.

Melancholy. 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 self, so wiser you shall grow.
I (...) the depth, and bottom of Man-kind,
Open the Eye of Ignorance that's blind.
I travel far, and view the World about,
I walk with Reasons Staff to find Truth out,
I watchful am, all dangers for to shun,
And do prepare against Evils that may come.
I hang not on inconstant Fortunes wheel,
Nor yet with unresolving doubts do reel.
I shake not with the Terrors of vain fears,
Nor is my Mind filled with unuseful Cares.
I do not spend my time like idle Mirth,
Which only happy is just at her Birth.
Which seldom lives for to be old,
But, if she doth, can no affections hold.
For in short time she troublesome will grow,
Though at the first she makes a pretty show.
But yet she makes a noise, and keeps a rout,
And with dislike most commonly goes out.
Mirth good for nothing is, like Weeds do grow,
Such Plants cause madness, Reason doth not know.
Her face with Laughter crumples on a heap,
Which plowes deep Furroughes, making wrinkles great.
Her Eyes do water, and her Skin turns red,
Her mouth doth gape, Teeth bare, like one that's dead.
Her sides do stretch, as set upon the Last,
Her Stomach heaving up, as if she would cast.
Her Veins do swell, Joints seem to be unset;
Her Pores are open, streaming out a sweat.
She fulsome is, and gluts the Senses all;
Offers her self, and comes before a Call:
Seeks Company out, hates to be alone.
Vnsent-for Guests Affronts are thrown upon.
Her house is built upon the golden Sands;
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 Roof, Disasters lye,
Beats down the house, and many kills thereby.
I dwell in Groves that gilt are with the Sun,
Sit on the Banks, by which clear waters run.
In Summers hot, down in a Shade I lye;
My Music is the buzzing of a Fly:
Which in the Sunny Beams do dance all day,
And harmlesly do pass their time away.
I walk in Meadows, where grows fresh green Grass.
Or Fields, where Corn is high, in which I pass:
Walk up the Hills, where round I Prospects see;
Some Brushy Woods, and some all Champions (...).
Returning back, in the fresh Pasture go,
To hear the bleating Sheep, and Cowes to lowe.
They gently feed, no Evil think upon,
Have no designs to do another wrong.
In Winter Cold, when nipping Frosts come on,
Then do I live in a small House alone.
The littleness doth make it warm, being close,
No Wind, nor Weather cold, can there have force.
Although tis plain, yet cleanly tis within,
Like to a Soul that's pure, and clear from Sin.
And there I dwell in quiet, and still Peace,
Not filled with Cares, for Fiches to increase.
I wish, nor seek for valne, and (...) Pleasures,
No Riches are, but what the Mind intreasures.
Thus am I solitary, and live alone,
Yet better loved, the more that J am known.
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, nor yet Sun-burned be.
I keep off blustering Storms, from doing hurt,
When Mirth is often sinutch'd with dust, and dirt.
Refuse menot, for J shall constant be,
Maintain your Credit, keep up Dignity.

A Dialogue betwixt Joy, and Discretion.
Joy. GIve me some Music, 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 Fear is gone away with her Pale Face,
And Pain is banished out from every place.

Discretion. O Joy, take Moderation by the hand,
Or (...) you'll fall so drunk, you cannot stand.
Your Tongue doth run so fast, no time can keep,
High as a Mountain, many words you heap.
Your Thoughts in multitudes the Brain do throng,
That Reason is cast down, and trod upon.

Joy. O wise Discretion, do not angry grow.
Great dangers, fears, (...), you do not know.
But Fear being past, they suddenly are slackt,
Fear, being a string, binds hard; when once tis cracked:
Spirits find Liberty, (...) run about:
Hard being (...), they suddenly burst out,
And to recover what they had before,
When once (...), their liberty is more.
Like Water, which was pen't, then passage finds,
Goes in a Fury like the Northern winds.
What gathers on a heap, so strong doth grow,
That when they're loose, far swifter do they go.
But dear Discretion with me do not scold,
Whilst you do feel great Fears, your Tongue pray hold.
For Joy cannot contain it self in rest:
It never leaves till some way is expressed.

A Dialogue betwixt Wit, and Beauty.
Wit. Mixed Rose, and Lilly, why are you so proud,
Since Fair 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 reign.
For Beauty is created in the Brain.
But say there were a Body perfect made,
Complexion pure, by Natures pencil laid:
A Countenance where all sweet Spirits meet,
A Hair that's thick, or long curled 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 would weary be, as well as Sight.
For Wit is fresh, and new, doth sport, and play,
And runs about the Humour every way.
Withal the Passions Wit can well agree;
Wit tempers them, and makes them pleased to be.
Wit's ingenious, doth new Inventions find,
To ease the Body, recreate the Mind.

Beauty. When I appear, I strike the Optic Nerve,
I wound the Heart, I make the Passions serve.
Souls are my Prisoners, yet love me so well,
My Company is Heaven, my absence Hell.
Each Knee doth bow to me, as to a Shrine,
And all the World accounts me as Divine.

Wit. Beauty, you cannot long Devotion keep:
The Mind grows weary, Senses fall a sleep.
As those which in the House of God do go,
Are very zealous in a Prayer, or two:
But if they kneel an houre-long to pray,
Their Zeal grows cold, nor know they what they say.
So Admirations last not very long,
After nine days 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 Ear a new Tale Wit can tell.
And, for the Taste, meat dresses several ways,
To please the Eye, new Forms, and Fashions raise.
And for the Touch, Wit spins both Silk, and Wool,
Invents new ways to keep Touch warm, and cool.
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 several Objects, though the Eyes be blind.
I can create Ideas in the Brain,
Which to the Mind seem real, though but feigned.
The Mind like to a Shop of Toys I fill,
With fine Concerts, all sorts of Humours sell.
I can the work of Nature imitate;
And change my self into each several Shape.
I conquer all, am Master of the Field,
I make fair Beauty in Loves Wars to yield.

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 Evil most did shun.
Then Hate with frowning Brows this Speech begun.
Hate. I fly, said she, from wicked, and base Acts,
And tear the Bonds unjust, or ill Contracts.
I do abhor all Murder, War, and strife,
Inhumane Actions, and disordered life.
Ungrateful, and unthankful Minds, that shun
All those, from whom they have received a Boon.
From Discords harsh, and rude, my Ears I stop,
And what is Bad, I from the Good do lop.
I Perjured Lovers brand with foul disgrace,
And from ill Objects do I hide my Face.
Things, that are Bad, I hate; or what seems so:
But Love is contrary to this, I know.
Love loves Ambition, the Mind's hot Fire,
And Worlds would ruin, 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, poor Virgins would undo.
You love the ruin of your Foes to see,
And of your Friends, if they but Prosperous be.
You nothing love besides your self, though ill,
And with vaine-glorious wind your Brain do fill.
You love no ways, but where your Bias tends,
And love the Gods only for your own Ends.

Love. But Love, in words as sweet, as Nature is,
Said, Hate was false, and always did amiss.
For she did Canker-fret, the Soul destroy,
Disturb 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 Music was invented for my sake.
I Men by Laws in Common-wealthes do join;
Against a common Foe, as one combine.
I am a Guard, to watch, defend, and keep,
The Sick, the Lame, the Helpless, Aged, weak:
I for Honours sake high Courage raise;
And bring to Beauty 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 bear great sway.
Thus Love, and Hate, in somethings equal be;
Yet in Disputes will always disagree.

A Dialogue betwixt Learning, and Ignorance.
Learning. THou Busy, Forester, that search bout
The VVor'd, to find the Heart of Learning out.
Or, Perseus like, foul Monsters thou dost kill;
Rude Ignorance, which always doth ill,

Ignorance. O thou Proud Learning, that standst on Tip-toes high,
Can never reach to know the Deity:
Nor where the Cause of any one thing lies,
But fill man full of Care, and Miseries.
Learning inflames the Thoughts to take great pains,
Doth nought but make an Almes-tub of the Brains.

Learning. Learning doth seek about, new things to find;
In that Pursuit, doth recreate the Mind.
It is a Perspective, Nature to epsy,
Can all her Curiosity descry.

Ignorance. Learning's an useless pain, unless it have
Some ways, or means to keep us from the Grave.
For, what is all the World, if understood,
If we do use it not, nor taste 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 tedions, long:
Before we come to use what's Learned, Life's gone.

Learning. O Ignorance, thou Beast, which (...) and lazy lie,
And only cat'st, and sleep, till thou die.

Ignorance. The Lesson Nature taught, is, most delight,
To please the Sense, and eke the Appetite.
I Ignorance am still the Heaven of Bliss:
For in me lies the truest happiness.
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 only Misery knew.
Had Man but Knowledge, Ignorance to love,
He happy would have been, as Gods above.

Learning. O Ignorance, how foolish thou dost talk!
I'st happiness in Ignorance to walk?
Can there be Joy in Darkness, more then Light?
Or Pleasure more in Blindness, then in Sight?

A Dialogue betwixt Riches, and Poverty.
Riches. I, Wealth, can make all Men of each degree,
To crouch, and flatter, and to follow me.
I many Cities build, high, thick, and large,
And Armies raise, against each other charge:
I make them loose their Lives, for my dear sake,
Though when they're dead, they no Rewards can take.
I trample Truth under my Golden Feet,
And tread down Innocence, that Flower sweet.
I gather Beauty, when tis newly blown,
Reap Chastity, before tis over-growne.
I root out Virtue 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 (...) more adorned am I,
Although but Earth, then the Bright Sun so high.

Poverty. Riches, thou art a Slave, and run about,
On every Errant thou come in, go out:
And Men of Honour set on thee no price,
Nor Honesty, nor Virtue can entice.
Some foolish Gamesters, which do love to play
At Cards, and Dice, corrupt perchance you may:
A Silly (...) gather here, and there,
That doth gay Clothes, and Jewels love to wear.
Some Poor, 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 pass by, will call.
On Age, tis true: you have a great, strong power;
For they embrace you, though they dye next Hour.

Riches. You speak, poor Poverty, mere out of spite,
Because there's none with you doth take delight:
If you into Mans Company will thrust,
They call that Fortune ill, and most accursed.
Men are ashamed with them you should be seen,
You are so ragged, torn, and so unclean.
When I come in, much Welcome do I find,
Great Joy there is, and Mirth in every Mind.
And every door is open set, and wide,
And all within is busily employed.
There Neighbours all invited are to see,
And proud they are in my dear Company.

Poverty. Tis Prodigality you brag so on,
Which never lets you rest, till you are gone;
Calls in for help to beat you out of doors,
His dear Companions, Drunkards, Gamesters, Whores.
What though you're Brave, and Gay in outward Show?
Within you are foul, 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 lean;
Yet I am Decent, sweet, and very clean.
I healthful am, my Diet being spare:
You're full of Gouts, and Pains, and Surfeits fear.
I am Industrious new Arts to find,
To ease the Body, and to please the Mind.
The World like to a Wilderness would be,
If it were not for the Poores Industry.
For Poverty doth set awork the Brains,
And all the Thoughts to labour, and take pains.
The Mind ne'er idle sits, but is employed:
Riches breed Sloth, and fill it full of Pride.
Riches, like a Sow, in its own Mire lies;
But Poverty's light, and like a Bird still flies.

A Dialogue betwixt Anger, and Patience.
Patience. ANger, why are you so hot, and siery red?
Or else so (...) as if you were quite dead?
Joints seem unset, Flesh shakes, the Nerves grow Slack,
Your Spirits all disturbed, your Senses lack.
Your Tongue doth move, but not a plain word speak,
Or else words flow so thick, like Torrents great.

Anger. Lord, what a (...) of dislike you tell!
If you were stung with wrong, your Mind would swell:
Your Spirits would be set on flame with Fire,
Or else grow chill with Cold, and back retire.

Patience. Alas, it is for some supposed wrong:
Sometimes you have no ground to build upon.
Suspicion is deceitful, runs about,
And, for a Truth, it oft takes wrong, no doubt.
If you take False-hood, up, ne'er search them through,
You do a wrong to Truth, and your self too.
Besides, you're blind, and undiscerning fly
On every Object, though Innocence is by.

Anger. O Patience, you are strict, and seem precise,
And Counsels give, as if you were so wise.
But you are cruel, and fit times will take
For your Revenge, and yet no show do make.
Your Brows (...), your Heart seems not to burn,
Yet on Suspicion will do a (...) turn.
But I am sudden, and do all in (...),
Yet in short time my (...) all is (...).
Though Anger be not right, but sometimes wrong,
The greatest Mischiese lies but in the Tongue.
But you do mischiese, and your time you'll 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 (...).
If I have wrong, my self I well may (...),
But I do wrong, if Innocence I strike.
The Knot of Anger by degrees unties;
Take of that Muffler from Discretions Eyes.
My Thoughts run clear, and smooth, as Crystal Brookes,
That every Face may see, that therein looks.
Though I run low, yet wisely do I wind,
And many times through Mountains passage find:
When you swell high, like to a flowing Sea,
For windy Passions cannot in rest be.
Where you are rolled in Waives, and tossed about,
Tormented is, no passage can find out.

Angry. Patience, your mouth with good words you do fill,
And preach Morality, but you act ill.
Besides, you seem a Coward full of fear,
Or like an Ass, which doth great Burdens bear.
Lets every Poltroon at his will give blows,
And every fool in scorn 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,
Heroic, Valorous, and of great Spirit;
And every one doth fear me to offend,
And for to please me, all their Forces bend:
I flattered am, make Fear away to run:
Thus I am Master wheresoever I come.
A way you foolish Patience, give me rage,
That I in Wars may this great World engage.

Patience. O Anger thou art mad, there's none will care
For your great brags, but Fools and cowardly Fear.
Which in weak Women, and small Children dwell;
Wisdom knows 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 Grief, I strive to cure,
What cannot help, with Courage, I endure.
Whilst you do vex your self with grievous Pains,
And nothing but Disturbance is your Gains.
Let me give counsel, Anger, take it not ill,
That I do offer you my Patience still.
For you in danger live still all your life,
And (...) do, when you are hot in Strife.

A Dialogue between a Bountiful Knight, and a Castle ruined in War.
Knight. ALas, poor Castle, how thou now art changed
From thy first Form! to me thou dost seem strange.
I left thee Comely, and in perfect health;
Now thou art withered, and decayed in Wealth.

Castle. O Noble Sir, I from your Stock was raised,
Flourished in plenty, and by all Men praised:
For your Most Valiant Father did me build,
Your Brother furnished me, my Neck did gild:
And Towers on my Head like Crowns The Crest in the Wainscot gilt.
were placed,
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 Field, like Gardens, is enclosed,
Where fresh green Grass, 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 destroyed, all Right's o'repowr'd,
Beauty, and Innocence 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 placed.
Their Gunnes, and Pistols all about me hung,
And in despite their Bullets at me flung:
Which through my Sides they passages made out,
Flung down my Walls, that circl'd me about.
And let my Rubbish on huge heaps 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 Grief to tell it to the Spring.
My Windows all are broke, the wind blows in,
With Cold I shake, with Agues shivering.
O pity me, dear Sir, release my Band,
Or let me dye by your most Noble hand.

Knight. Alas, poor Castle, I small help can bring,
Yet shall my Heart supply the former Spring:
From whence the water of fresh tears 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 Rausome to thy Foe.
Thy Health recover, and to build thy Wall,
I have not Means enough to do it withal.
Had I the Art, no pains that I would spare,
For what is broken down, I would repair.

Castle. Most Noble Sir, you that me Freedom give,
May your great Name in after Ages live.
For this your Bounty may the Gods requite,
And keep you from such Enemies of Spite.
And may great Fame your Praises sound aloud:
Gods give me life to show my Gratitude.

A Dialogue betwixt Peace, and War.
Peace. WAR makes the Vulgar Multitude to drink
In at the Ear the foul, and muddy Sink
Of Factious Tales, by which they dizzy grow,
That the clear sight of Truth they do not know.
And reeling stand, know not what way to take,
But when they choose, 'tis wrong, so a War make.

War. Thou Flattering Peace, and most unjust, which draws
The Vulgar by thy Rhet'rick to hard Laws:
Which makes them silly Ones, content to be,
To take up Voluntary Slavery.
And make great Inequalities beside,
Some like to Asses bear, others on Horseback ride.

Peace. O War, thou cruel Enemy to Life,
Vnquieted Neighbour, breeding always Strife.
Tyrant thou art, to Rest will give no time,
And Blessed Peace thou punishest as a Crime.
Factions thou make in every Publick-weale,
From Bonds of Friendship take off Wax, and Seal.
On Natural Affections thou dost make
A Massacre, that hardly one can escape.
The Root of all Religion thou pull'st up,
And every Branch of Ceremony cut.
Civil Society is turned to Manners base,
No Laws, or Customs can by thee get place.
Each Mind within it self cannot agree,
But all do strive for Superiority:
In the whole World dost such disturbance make,
To save themselves none knows what ways to take.

War. O Peace, thou idle Drone, which love to dwell,
If it but keep the safe, in a poor Cell.
Thy Life thou sleep away, Thoughts lazy lye.
Sloth buries Fame, makes all great Actions dye.

Peace. J 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 keeps Virtue safe,
Under my Roose security she hath.
I am adorned with Pastimes, and with Sports,
Each several Creature still to me resorts.

War. I a great School am, where all may grow wise:
For Prudent Wisdom in Experience lies.
And am a Theater to all Noble Minds,
A Mint of true Honour, that Valour still co ines.
I am a high Throne for Valour to sit,
And a great Court where all Fame may get.
I am a large Field, where doth Ambition run,
Courage still seeks me, though Cowards me shun.

MORAL DISCOURSES.
A Discourse of Love, the Parent of Passions.
NO Mind can think, or Understanding know,
To what a Height, and Vastness Love can grow.
Love, as a God, all Passions doth create
Besides it self, and those determinate.
Bowing down low, devoutly prays Fear,
Sadness, and Grief, Loves heavy burdens bear.
Anger Rage makes, Envy, Spleen, and Spite,
Like Thunder roars, and in Loves quarrels fight.
Jealousy, Loves (...) is t'espie,
And Doubt its Guide, to search where'ts Foe doth lye.
Pity, Loves Child, whose Eyes Tears overflow,
On every Object Misery can show.
Hate is Loves Champion, which opposes all
Loves Enemies, their Ruin, and their Fall.
A Discourse of Love neglected, burnt up with Grief.
LOve is the Cause, and Hate is the Effect,
Which is produced, when Love doth find Neglect.
For Love, as Fire, doth on Fuel burn,
And Grief, as Coals, when quenched, to Blackness turn.
Thence pale, and Melancholy Ashes grow,
Which every Wind though weak dispersing blow.
For Life, and Strength from it is gone, and past,
With the Species, which caused the Form to last.
Which ne'er regain the Form it had at first:
So Love is lost in Melancholy dust.
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 govern as the Wise?
And by his Wit he can his Mind indite,
As Numbers set, and subtle Letters write.
What Creature else, but (...), 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 show?
They are the ground by which Affections grow.
The're several Dresses, which the Mind puts on.
Some serve as Veils, which over it is thrown.
What Creature is there hath such piercing Eyes,
That mingles Souls, and a fast Friend-ship ties?
What Creature else, but Man, hath such Delights,
So various, and such strong odd Appetites?
Man can distill, and is a Chemist rare,
Divides, and separates, Water, Fire, and Air.
Thus can (...) divide, and separate
All Natures work, what ere she made:
Can take the Breadth, and Height of things,
Or know the Virtue 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 Pencil can new Worlds create?
There's none like Man, for like to Gods is he:
Then let the World his Slave, and Vassal be.
Of Ambition.
TEN Thousand Pounds a year will make me live:
A Kingdom, Fortune then to me must give.
I'll conquer all, like Alexander Great,
And, like to Caesar, my Opposers beat,
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 ruin Man, and raise him in an Hour.
Let me command the Fates, and spin their thread;
And Death to stay his Sith, when I forbid.
And, Destiny, give me your Chains to tie,
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 self 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 odds:
Only the Shape of Men is fit for use,
Which makes him seem much wiser then a Goose.
For had a Goose (which seems of simple Kind)
A Shape to form, and fit things to his Mind:
To make such Creatures as himself obey,
Could hunt and shoot those that would escape away;
As wise would seem as Man, be as much feared,
As when the Coose comes near, the Man be feared.
Who knows but Beasts may wiser then Men be?
We no such Errors, 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 vain,
(...) not unto Eternity remain.
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 Brain works best,
Despise not Beast, cause Motion is depressed.
Nor proud of Speech, because Reason you can show,
For Beast hath Reason too, for all we know.
But Shape the Mind informs with what doth find,
Which being taught, is wiser then Beast-kind.
Of Riches, or Covetousness.
WHat will not (...) in abundance do,
Or make the Mind of Man submit unto?
It bribes out Virtue from her strongest hold,
It makes the Coward valorous, and bold:
It corrupts Chastity, meltes Thoughts of Ice,
And bashful Modesty it doth entice.
It makes the humble, proud, and Meek to swell,
Destroies all Loyalty, makes Hearts rebel.
It doth untie the Knots of Friend-ship fast,
Natural Affections away to cast.
It cuts the Innocents Throat, and Hearts divide;
It buys out Conscience, doth each Cause decide.
It makes Man venture Life, and Limb,
So much is Wealth desired by him.
It buies out Heaven, and casts Souls to Hell,
For Man to get this Muck his God will sell.
Of Poverty.
I live in low Thatched House, Rooms small, my Cell
Not big enough for Prides great Heart to dwell.
My Rooms are not with Stately Cedars built,
No Marble Chimney-peece, nor Wainscot gilt.
No Statues cut, or carved, nor cast in Brass,
Which, had they Life, would Natures Art surpass.
Nor painted Pictures which Appelles drew,
There's nought but Lime, and Hair homely to view;
No Agget Table, with a Tortoise Frame,
Nor Stools stuffed with Birds feathers, wild, or tame.
But a Stump of an old decayed Tree,
And Stools with three legs, which half lame they be,
Cut with a Hatchet from some broken Boughs.
And this is all which Poverty allows;
Yet it is free from Cares, no Thieves do fear,
The Door stands open, all is welcome there.
Not like the Rich, who Guests doth entertain,
With cruelty to Birds, Beasts that are slain
Who (...) their Bodies with their melted Grease,
And by their Flesh their Bodies fat increase.
We need no Cook, nor Skill to dress our Meat;
For Nature dresses most of what we cate:
As Roots, and Herbs, not such as Art doth sow,
But such in Fields 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 taste,
(...) out the Juice from Earth, her strength do wast:
For, Bearing often, she will grow so lean,
A (...), for Bones bare Earth is seen.
And for their Drink, the subtle Spirits take
Both from the Barley, and the sull-ripe Grape.
Thus by their Luxury, their life they wast,
All the ir delight is still to please their taste.
This heates the Mind with an ambitious fire,
None happy is; but in a low desire.
Their desires run, they six themselves no where,
What they have, or can have, they do not care.
What they enjoy not, long for, and admire,
Sick for that want; so restless is desire.
When we from Labours come, blessed with a quiet sleep:
No (...) (...) our Sense awake doth keep.
All's still and silent, in our House, and Mind,
Our Thoughts are cheerful, and our Hearts are kind.
And though that life in Motion still doth dwell,
Yet rest in life a poor Man loves 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,
Raised on the Pillars of Justice strong.
Let nothing dwell there, but Thoughts right holy,
Turn out Ignorance, and rude rash folly.
There will the Mind enjoy it self in Pleasure,
For, to it (...), it is the greatest Treasure.
For, they are poor, 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 Bark, made of a rotten Tree.
Where every (...) ave indangers it to split,
And drowned it is, if against a Rock it hit.
But if this Bark 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.
(...), as Factor, sets the price of things,
Tranquillity, as Buyers, in the Money brings.
Of the Shortness of Mans Life, and his foolish Ambition.
IN Gardens sweet, each Flower mark did J,
How they did spring, bud, blow, wither, and dye.
With that, contemplating of Mans short stay,
Saw Man like to those Flowers pass away.
Yet build they Houses, thick, and strong, and high,
As if they should live to Eternity.
Hoard up a Mass of Wealth, yet cannot fill
His Empty Mind, but covet he will still.
To gain, or keep such Falshhood Men do use,
Wrong Right, and Truth, no base ways will refuse.
I would not blame them, could they Death out keep,
Or ease their Pains, 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 Winds to blow, Seas to obey,
To levell all their Waves, to cause the Winds to stay.
But they no power have, unless to dye,
And Care in Life is a great Misery.
This Care is for a word, an empty sound,
Which neither Soul nor Substance in is found.
Yet as their Heir, they make it to inherit,
And all they have, they leave unto this Spirit.
To get this Child of Fame, and this Bareword,
They fear no Dangers, neither Fire, nor Sword.
All horrid Pains, and Death they will endure,
Or any thing that can but Fame procure.
O Man, O Man, what high Ambition grows,
Within your Brain, and yet how low he goes!
To be contented only in a Sound,
Where neither Life, nor Body can be found.
A Moral Discourse betwixt Man, and Beast.
MAN is a Creature like himself alone,
In him all qualities do join as one.
When Man is injurd, and his Honour stung,
He seems a Lion, furious, feirce, and strong.
With greedy Covetousness, like to Wolves, and Bears,
Devours Right, and Truth in pieces tears.
Or like as crafty Foxes lye in wait,
To catch young Novice-Kids by their deceit;
So subtle Knaves do watch, who Errors make,
That they thereby Advantages might take.
Not for Examples them to rectisie,
But that much Mischief they can make thereby.
Others, like Crouching Spaniels, close will set,
Creeping about the Partridge too in Net.
Some humble seem, and lowly bend the Knee,
To those which have Power, and Authority:
Not out of Love to Honour, or Renoune,
But to ensnare, and so to pull them down.
Or as a Mastiff flies at every (...),
So Spite will fly at all, that is of note.
With Slanderous words, as Teeth, good Deeds out tear,
Which neither Power, nor Strength, nor Greatness spare.
And are so mischievous, love not to see
Any to live without an Infamy.
Most like to ravenous Beasts in blood delight,
And only to do mischief, love to fight.
But some are like to Horses, strong, and free,
Will gallop over Wrong, and Injury.
Who fear no Foe, nor Enemies do dread,
Will fight in Battles till they fall down dead.
Their Heart with noble rage so hot will grow,
As from their (...) Clouds of Smoke do blow.
And with their Hooves the firm hard ground will strike,
In anger, that they cannot go to fight.
Their Eyes (like Flints) will beat out Sparks of Fire,
Will neigh out loud, when Combats they desire.
So valiant Men their Foe aloud will call,
To try their Strength, and grapple Arms withal.
And in their Eyes such Courage doth appear,
As if that Mars did rule that (...).
Some like to slow, dull Asses, full of Fear,
Contented are great Burdens for to bear.
And every Clown doth beat his Back, and Side,
Because he'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 Minds will yield their Heads under the Toake,
Offer their Backs to every Tyrants stroke.
Like Fools 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 grovelling in the Mire,
Have no Heroic 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 cruel 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.
So cruel are, so far fom death to save,
That they will take away the Life they have.
Some like to fearful Hart, or frighted Hare,
Shun every noise, and their own Shadows fear.
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 (...),
And with that noise, the Heart (...) Coward falls.
Others as harmless Sheep in peace do live,
Contented are, no Injury will give:
But on the tender Grass they gently feed,
Which do no Spite, nor ranckled Malice breed.
They never in the ways of mischief stood,
To set their Teeth in flesh, or drink up blood.
They grieve to walk alone, will pine away,
Grow fat in Flocks, will with each other play.
The naked they do cloth with their soft Wool,
The (...) do feed the hungry Stomach full.
So gentle Nature's Disposition sweet
Shuns foolish Quarrels, loves the Peace to keep.
Full of Compassion, pitying the distressed,
And with their Bounty help they the oppressed.
They swell not with the Pride of self-conceit,
Nor for their Neighbours life do lye in wait.
Nor Innocence by their Extortions tear,
Nor fill the (...) Heart with Grief, or Care:
Nor Bribes will take with covetous hands,
Nor set they back the Mark of the Owners Lands.
But with a grateful Heart do still return
The Courtesies 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 show her self.
Others as Apes do imitate the rest,
And when they mischief do, seem but to jest.
So are (...), that seem for Mirth to sport,
Whose liberty fills Factions in a Court.
Those that delight in Fools, must in good part
Take what they say, although the words are smart.
But many times such ranckled Thoughts beget
In Hearts of Princes, and much Envy set,
By praising Rivals; or else do reveal
Those Faults, most fit for privacy to conceal,
For though a Fool, if he an ill truth tells,
Or be it false, if like a Truth it smells;
It gets such hold though in a wise mans Brain,
That hardly it will ever out again.
And so like Worms, some will be trod to Earth,
Others as venomous Vipers stung to death.
Some like to subtle Serpents wind about,
To compass their designs craulein, and out:
And never leave until some Nest they find,
Suck out the Eggs, and leave the Shells behind.
So Flatterers with Praises wind about
A Noble Mind, to get a Secret out,
For Flattery through every Ear will glide,
Down to the Heart, and there some time abide;
And in the Breast 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 bear them to the Sky.
Or, like to Hawks, fly (...) to catch their Prey,
Or like to (...), bear the Chick away.
Some like to Ravens, which on Carrion feed,
And some their spite feed on, what slanders breed.
Some like to Peacock proud, his tail to show:
So men, that Followers have, will haughty grow.
Some Melancholy Owls, that hate the Light,
And as the Bat flies 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,
Until some Mischief on the Good do fall.
Others, as cheerful Larks, sing as they fly.
So men are merry, which have no Envy.
And some as Nightingales do sweetly sing,
As Messengers, when they good News do bring.
Thus Men, Birds, Beasts, in Humours much agree,
But several Properties in these there be.
Tis proper for a lively Horse to neigh,
And for a slow, dull foolish Ass to bray.
For Dogs to bark, (...) roar, Wolves houle, Pigs (...),
For Men to frown, to weep, to laugh, to speak.
Proper for Flies to buzz, Birds sing, and chatter,
Only for Men to promise, swear, and flatter:
So Men these Properties can imitate,
But not their Faculties that Nature made.
Men have no Wings to fly up to the Sky,
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 have they Sent, like Dogs, a Hare to find,
Or Sight like Swine to see the subtle wind.
Thus several Creatures, by several Sense,
Have better far (then Man) Intelligence.
These several Creatures, several Arts do well,
But Man in general, doth them far excel.
For Arts in Men as well did Nature give,
As other qualities in Beast to live.
And from Men's Brains 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 devour?
What Creature makes such Engines as Man can?
To traffic, and to use at Sea, and Land.
To kill, to spoil, or clse alive to take,
Destroying all that other Creatures make.
This makes Man seem of all the World a King,
Because he power hath of every thing.
He'll teach Birds words, in measure Beast to go,
Makes Passions in the Mind, to ebb, and flow.
And though he cannot fly 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 Ho makes, to catch those Fishes in.
And with his Ships he will circle the World round.
What Beast, or Bird that can do so, is found?
He will fell down Woods, with Axes sharp will strike;
Whole Herds of Beasts can never do the like.
What Beast can plead, to save another 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?
He will turn the Current of the Water clear,
And make them like new Seas for to appear.
Where Fishes only in old waters glide.
Can cut new Rivers out on any side.
He Mountains makes so high, the Clouds will touch,
Mountains of Moles, or Ants, scarce do so much.
What Creature like to Man can Reasons show,
Which makes him know, that he thereby doth know?
And who, but Man, makes use of every thing,
As Goodness out of Poison He can bring?
Thus (...) is filled a with strong Desire,
And by his Rhet'rick sets the Soul on Fire.
Beasts no Ambition have to get a Fame,
Nor build they Tombs, 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 busy motion (...) goes on:
As if the ordered all the Worlds Affairs;
When tis but only one small Straw she bearcs.
But when they find a Fly, which on the ground lies dead,
Lord, how they stir; so full is every Head.
Some with their Feet, and Mouths, draw it along,
Others their Tails, and Shoulders thrust it on.
And if a Stranger Ant comes on that way,
She helps them strait, ne'er asks if she may.
Nor stays to ask Rewards, but is well pleased:
Thus pays her self with her own Pains, their Ease.
They live as the Lacedaemonians did,
All is in Common, nothing is forbid.
No Private Feast, but altogether meet,
Whole some, though Plain, in Public do they eat.
They have no Envy, all Ambition's down,
There is no Superiority, or Clown.
No Stately Palaces for Pride to dwell,
Their House is Common, called the (...) Hill.
All help to build, and keep it in repair,
No 'speciall work-men, all Labourers they are.
No (...) keep, no (...) they have to sell,
For what each one doth eat, all welcome is, and well.
No Jealousy, each takes his Neighbours Wife,
Without Offence, which never breeds (...).
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 against Winter comes.
But many loose their Life, as Chance doth fall,
None is perpetual, Death devours all.
A Moral Description of Corn.
THE yellow Bearded Corn bows down each Head,
Like Gluttons, when their Stomack's over-fed.
Or like to those whose Wealth make heavy Cares,
So doth the full-ripe Corn bow down their Ears.
Thus Plenty, makes Oppression, given small (...);
And (...) is a Disease.
Yet all that Nature makes, aspiring runs
Still for ward for to get, ne'er backward turns;
Until 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 pains,
Since nothing but the Earth hath all the Gains?
No Riches are, but what the Mind doth keep:
And they are poor, who from the Earth do seek.
For Time, that feeds on Life, makes all things fall,
Is never satisfied, yet eats up all.
Then let the Minds of Men in peace to rest,
And count a Moderation still the best:
Nor grumble not, nor covet Natures Store,
For those that are content, can ne'er be poor.
And bless the Gods, submit to their (...),
Think all things best, what they are pleased shall (...).
For he that murmurs at what cannot mend,
Is one that takes a thing at the wrong End.
A Discourse of Beasts.
WHO knows; but Beasts, as they do lye,
In Meadows low, or else on Mountains high?
But that they do contemplate on the Sun,
And how his daily, yearly Circles run.
Whether the Sun about the Earth doth rove,
Or else the Earth upon its own Poles move.
And in the Night, when twinkling Stars we see,
Like Man, imagines them all Suns to be.
And may like Man, Stars, Planets number well,
And could they speak, they might their Motions tell.
And how the Planets in each Orb do move:
Against their Astrology no Man can prove.
For they may know the Stars, and their Aspects,
What (...) they cast, and their Effects.
Of Fishes.
WHO knows, but Fishes which swim in the Sea,
Can give a Reason, why so Salt it be?
And how it Ebbs and Flows, perchance they can
Give (...), for which never yet could Man.
Of Birds.
WHO knows; but Birds which in the Air flies,
Do know from whence the Blustering Winds do rise?
May know what Thunder is, which no Man knows,
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 drawn up high,
And when the Sulphure's spent, the Flame doth dye.
Or whether it be a Gelly set on Fire,
And wasting like a Candle doth expire.
Or whether it be a Star wholly entire,
Perchance might know of Birds, could we inquire.
Earths Complaint.
O Nature, Nature, hearken to my Cry,
Each (...) wounded am, but cannot dye.
My Children which I from my Womb did bear,
Do dig my Sides, and all my (...) tear:
Do plow deep Furroughs in my very Face,
From Torment, I have neither time, nor place.
No other Element is (...) abused,
Nor by Man-kind so (...) is used.
Man cannot reach the Skies to plow, and sow,
Nor can they (...), 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 yield their place
To younger Stars, but still run their own Race.
The Sun doth never groan young Suns to bear,
For he himself is his own Son, and Heir.
The Sun just in the Center sits, as King,
The Planets round about incircle him.
The slowest Orbs over his Head turn slow,
And underneath, the (...) Planets go.
Each several Planet, several measures take,
And with their Motions they sweet Music make.
Thus all the Planets round about him move,
And he returns them Light for their kind Love.
A Discourse of a Knave.
A Prosperous Knave, that Mischieses still doth plot,
Swells big with Pride, since he hath power got.
Whose Conscience, like a Purse, drawn open wide,
False hands do (...) in Bribes on every side.
And as the Guts are stuffed with Excrement,
So is his Head with Thoughts of ill intent,
Compassions none, for them (...) pressed with Griese,
But yet is apt to pity much a Thief.
He thinks them Fools, that wickedness do shun,
Esteems them wise, which Evil ways do run.
He scorns the Noble, if that they be poor,
The Rich, though ne'er so base, he doth adore.
He always (...), as if he (...) still meant,
When all the while his (...) is evil bent.
A Seeming friend-ship, large Professions make,
Where he doth think Advantages to take.
Thus doth a (...) (...) the World abuse,
To work his End, the (...) a Friend will choose.
Of a Fool.
I hate your Fools, for they my (...) do crack,
And when they speak, my Patience's on the Rack,
Their Actions all from Reason quite do run,
Their Ends prove bad, because ill they first begun.
They (...) from Wisdom, do her Counsels fear,
As if some Ruin ncere their (...) there were.
They seek the (...), 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, says Salomon.
As Spiders Webs entangle little Flies,
So Fools wrapped up in Webs of Errors lies.
Then comes the Spider, Flies with Poison sills,
So Mischief, after Errors, Fools oft kills.
A Discourse of Melancholy.
A Sad, and solemn Verse doth please the Mind,
With Chains of Passions doth the Spirits bind.
As Pensil'd Pictures drawn presents the Night,
Whose Darker Shadows give the Eye delight;
(...) Aspects invite the (...),
And always have a seeming Majesty.
By its Converting Qualities, there grows
A Perfect Likeness, when it self it shows.
Then let the World in mourning sit, and weep,
Since only Sadness we are apt to keep.
In light and Toyish things we seek for Change,
The Mind grows weary, and about doth range.
What Serious is, there Constancies will dwell;
Which shows that Sadness Mirth doth far excel.
Why should Men grieve when they do think of Death,
Since they no settlement can have in (...)?
The Grave, though sad, in quiet still they keep,
Without disturbing (...) they lye a sleep.
No rambling Thoughts to vex their restless Brains,
Nor Labour hard, to scorch, and dry their Veins.
No care to search for that, they cannot find,
Which is an Appetite to every Mind.
Then (...), good Man, to dye in quiet Peace,
Since Death in Misery is a Release.
A Discourse of the Power of Devils.
WOmen, and Fools, fear in the Dark to be;
They think the Devil in some Shape should see:
As if like silly Owls, 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 (...)-rout.
To make the Sow to grunt, the Pigs to squeek,
The Dogs to bark, Cats mew, as if they speak.
Alas, poor Devil, whose Power is small,
Only to make a Cat, or Dog to baule:
And with the (...), (...) to make a noise,
To stew with fearful sweat (...) Girls, and Boys.
Why should we fear him, (...) he doth no harm?
For we may bind him fast within a Charm.
Then what a Devil ails a Woman Old,
To play such Tricks, to give away her Soul?
Can he destroy Man-kind, or new Worlds make,
Or alter States for an Old Woman's 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 have such power over Souls, to draw
Them from their God, and from his holy Law.
Persuading Conscience to do more ill,
Then the sweet Grace of God to rule the Will:
To cut of Faith, by which our Souls should climb,
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 Souls he keeps from Heavens Court.
It seems, his Power shall for ever last,
Because tis on the Soul, which never wast.
And thus hath God the Devil Power lent,
To punish Man, unless he doth repent.
THE CLASP:
GIVE Me the Free, and Noble Stile,
Which seems (...), though it be wild:
Though It runs wild about, It cares not where;
It shows more Courage, then It doth of Fear.
Give me a Stile that Nature frames, not Art:
(...) or Art doth seem to take the Pedants part.
And that seems Noble, which is Easy, Free,
Not to be bound with ore-nice Pedantry.
The Hunting of the Hare.
BEtwixt two Ridges of (...)-land, lay Wat,
Pressing his Body close to Earth lay squat.
His Nose upon his two Fore-feet close lies,
Glaring obliquely with his great gray Fyes.
His Head he always sets against the Wind;
If turn his Tail his Hairs blow up behind:
Which he too cold will grow, but he is wise,
And keeps his Coat still down, so warm he lies.
Thus resting all the day, till Sun doth set,
Then rises up, his Relief for to get.
Walking about until the Sun doth rise,
Then back returns, down in his Form he lies.
At last, Poor Wat was found, as he there lay,
By Hunts-men, with their Dogs which came that way.
Seeing, gets up, and fast begins to run,
Hoping some ways the (...) Dogs to shun.
But they by Nature have so quick a Sent,
That by their Nose they trace what way he went.
And with their deep, wide Mouths set forth a Cry,
Which answered was by Echoes in the Sky.
Then Wat was struck with Terror, and with Fear,
Thinks every Shadow still the Dogs they were.
And running out some distance from the noise,
To hide himself, his Thoughts he new imploies.
Under a Clod of Earth in Sand-pit wide,
Poor Wat fat close, hoping himself to hide.
There long he (...) not sat, but strait his Ears
The Winding (...), and crying Dogs he hears:
Starting with Fear, up leaps, then doth he run,
And with such speed, the Ground scarce treads upon.
Into a great thick Wood (...) strait way gets,
Where underneath a broken Bough he sits.
At every Lease that with the wind did shake,
Did bring such (...), made his Heart to ache.
That Place he left, to Champion Plains he went,
Winding about, for to deceive their Sent.
And while they (...) were, to sind his Track,
Poor Wat, being weary, his swift pace did slack.
On his two hinder legs for ease did sit,
His Fore-feet rubbed his Face from Dust, and Sweat.
Licking his Feet, he wiped his Ears so clean,
That none could tell that Wat had hunted been.
But casting round about his fair great Eyes,
The Hounds in full Career he (...) him 'spies:
To Wat it was so terrible a Sight,
Fear gave him Wings, and made his Body light.
Though weary was before, by running long,
Yet now his Breath he never felt more strong.
Like those that dying are, think Health returns,
When tis but a faint Blast, which Life out burns.
For Spirits seek to guard the Heart about,
Striving with Death, but Death doth quench them out.
Thus they so fast came on, with such loud Cries,
That he no hopes hath left, nor help espies.
With that the Winds did pity poor Wats case,
And with their Breath the Sent blew from the Place.
Then every Nose is busily employed,
And every Nostril is set open, wide:
And every Head doth seek a several way,
To find what (...), or Track, the Sent on lay.
Thus quick Industry, that is not slack,
Is like to Witchery, brin