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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, |