our land waters teares of passion vent Our waters then above our firmament Teares which our Soule doth for her sins let fall Take all a brackish tast and Funerall And even those teares which should wash sin are sin We after Gods Noe drowne the world againe Nothing but man of all invenom'd things Doth worke upon itselfe with inborne stings Teares are false Spectacles we cannot see Through passions mist what wee are or what shee In her this sea of death hath made no breach But as the tide doth wash the slimie beach And leaves embroderd workes upon the sand So is her flesh refin'd by deaths cold hand As men of China ' after an ages stay Do take up Porcelane where they buried Clay So at this grave her limbecke which refines The Diamonds Rubies Saphires Pearles Mines Of which this flesh was her soule shall inspire Flesh of such stuffe as God when his last fire Annuls this world to recompence it shall Make and name then th'Elixar of this All. They say the sea when it gaines loseth too If carnall Death the yonger brother doe Usurpe the body 'our soule which subject is To th' elder death by sinne is freed by this They perish both when they attempt the just For graves our trophies are and both deaths dust So unobnoxious now she'hath buried both For none to death sinnes that to sinne is loth Nor doe they die which are not loth to die So hath she this and that virginity Grace was in her extremely diligent That kept her from sinne yet made her repent Of what small spots pure white complaines Alas How little poyson cracks a christall glasse She sinn'd but just enough to let us see That extreme truth lack'd little of a lye Making omissions acts laying the touch Of sinne on things that sometimes may be such As Moses Cherubines whose natures doe Surpasse all speed by him are winged too So would her soule already'in heaven seeme then To clyme by teares the common staires of men How fit she was for God I am content To speake that death his vaine hast may repent How fit for us how even and how sweet How good in all her titles and how meet To have reform'd this forward heresie That woman can no parts of friendship bee How Morall how Divine shall not be told Lest they that heare her vertues thinke her old And lest we take Deaths part and make him glad Of such a prey and to his tryumph adde Elegie on Mris Boulstred DEath I recant and say unsaid by mee What ere hath slip'd that might diminish thee Spirituall treason atheisme 't is to say That any can thy Summons disobey Th' earths face is but thy Table there are set Plants cattell men dishes for Death to eate In a rude hunger now hee millions drawes Into his bloody or plaguy or sterv'd jawes Now hee will seeme to spare and doth more wast Eating the best first well preserv'd to last Now wantonly he spoiles and eates us not But breakes off friends and lets us peecemeale rot Nor will this earth serve him he sinkes the deepe Where harmelesse fish monastique silence keepe Who were Death dead by Roes of living sand Might spunge that element and make it land He rounds the aire and breakes the hymnique notes In birds Heavens choristers organique throats Which if they did not dye might seeme to bee A tenth ranke in the heavenly hierarchie O strong and long-liv'd death how cam'st thou in And how without Creation didst begin Thou hast and shalt see dead before thou dyest All the foure Monarchies and Antichrist How could I thinke thee nothing that see now In all this All nothing else is but thou Our births and life vices and vertues bee Wastfull consumptions and degrees of thee For wee to live our bellowes weare and breath Nor are wee mortall dying dead but death And though thou beest O mighty bird of prey So much reclaim'd by God that thou must lay All that thou kill'st at his feet yet doth hee Reserve but few and leaves the most to thee And of those few now thou hast overthrowne One whom thy blow makes not ours nor thine own She was more stories high hopelesse to come To her Soule thou'hast offer'd at her lower roome Her Soule and body was a King and Court But thou hast both of Captaine mist and fort As houses fall not though the King remove Bodies of Saints rest for their soules above Death gets'twixt soules and bodies such a place As sinne insinuates 'twixt just men and grace Both worke a separation no divorce Her Soule is gone to usherup her corse Which shall be'almost another soule for there Bodies are purer then best Soules are here Because in her her virtues did outgoe Her yeares would'st thou O emulous death do so And kill her young to thy losse must the cost Of beauty ' and wit apt to doe harme be lost What though thou found'st her proofe'gainst sins of youth Oh every age a diverse sinne pursueth Thou should'st have stay'd and taken better hold Shortly ambitious covetous when old She might have prov'd and such devotion Might once have stray'd to superstition If all her vertues must have growne yet might Abundant virtue'have bred a proud delight Had she persever'd just there would have bin Some that would sinne mis-thinking she did sinne Such as would call her friendship love and faine To sociablenesse a name profane Or sinne by tempting or not daring that By wishing though they never told her what Thus might'st thou'have slain more soules had'st thou not crost Thy selfe and to triumph thine army lost Yet though these wayes be lost thou hast left one Which is immoderate griefe that she is gone But we may scape that sinne yet weepe as much Our teares are due because we are not such Some teares that knot of friends her death must cost Because the chaine is broke but no linke lost To Sr Henry Goodyere WHo makes the Past a patterne for next yeare Turnes no new leafe but still the same things reads Seene things he sees againe heard things doth heare And makes his life but like a paire of beads A Palace when 't is that which it should be Leaves growing and stands such or else decayes But hee which dwels there is not so for hee Strives to urge upward and his fortune raise So had your body'her morning hath her noone And shall not better her next change is night But her faire larger guest to'whom Sun and Moone Are sparkes and short liv'd claimes another right The noble Soule by age growes lustier Her appetite and her digestion mend Wee must not sterve nor hope to pamper her With womens milke and pappe unto the end Provide you manlyer dyet you have seene All libraries which are Schools Camps Courts But aske your Garners if you have not beene In harvests too indulgent to your sports Would you redeeme it then your selfe transplant A while from hence Perchance outlandish ground Beares no
comparison The onely measure is and judge opinion HOLY SONNETS La Corona 1. DEigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise Weav'd in my low devout melancholie Thou which of good hast yea art treasury All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes But doe not with a vile crowne of fraile bayes Reward my muses white sincerity But what thy thorny crowne gain'd that give mee A crowne of Glory which doth flower alwayes The ends crowne our workes but thou crown'st our ends For at our end begins our endlesse rest The first last end now zealously possest With a strong sober thirst my soule attends 'T is time that heart and voice be lifted high Salvation to all that will is nigh ANNVNCIATION 2 Salvation to all that will is nigh That All which alwayes is All every where Which cannot sinne and yet all sinnes must beare Which cannot die yet cannot chuse but die Loe faithfull Virgin yeelds himselfe to lye In prison in thy wombe and though he there Can take no sinne nor thou give yet he'will weare Taken from thence flesh which deaths force may trie Ere by the spheares time was created thou Wast in his minde who is thy Sonne and Brother Whom thou conceiv'st conceiv'd yea thou art now Thy Makers maker and thy Fathers mother Thou'hast light in darke and shutst in little roome Immensity cloysterd in thy deare wombe NATIVITIE 3 Immensitie cloysterd in thy deare wombe Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment There he hath made himselfe to his intent Weake enough now into our world to come But Oh for thee for him hath th'Inne no roome Yet lay him in this stall and from the Orient Starres and wisemen will travell to prevent Th' effects of Herods jealous generall doome Seest thou my Soule with thy faiths eyes how he Which fils all place yet none holds him doth lye Was not his pity towards thee wondrous high That would have need to be pittied by thee Kisse him and with him into Egypt goe With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe TEMPLE 4 With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe Ioseph turne backe see where your child doth sit Blowing yea blowing out those sparks of wit Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow The Word but lately could not speake and loe It sodenly speakes wonders whence comes it That all which was and all which should be writ A shallow seeming child should deeply know His Godhead was not soule to his manhood Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse But as for one which hath a long taske 'T is good With the Sunne to beginne his businesse He in his ages morning thus began By miracles exceeding power of man CRVCIFYING 5 By miracles exceeding power of man Hee faith in some envie in some begat For what weake spirits admire ambitious hate In both affections many to him ran But Oh! the worst are most they will and can Alas and do unto the immaculate Whose creature Fate is now prescribe a Fate Measuring selfe-lifes infinity to span Nay to an inch loe where condemned hee Beares his owne crosse with paine yet by and by When it beares him he must beare more and die Now thou art lifted up draw mee to thee And at thy death giving such liberall dole Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule RESVRRECTION 6 Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule Shall though she now be in extreme degree Too stony hard and yet too fleshly bee Freed by that drop from being starv'd hard or foule And life by this death abled shall controule Death whom thy death slue nor shall to mee Feare of first or last death bring miserie If in thy little booke my name thou enroule Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified But made that there of which and for which 't was Nor can by other meanes be glorified May then sinnes sleep and death soone from me passe That wak't from both I againe risen may Salute the last and everlasting day ASCENTION 7 Salute the last and everlasting day Joy at the uprising of this Sunne and Sonne Yee whose just teares or tribulation Have purely washt or burnt your drossie clay Behold the Highest parting hence away Lightens the darke clouds which hee treads upon Nor doth hee by ascending show alone But first hee and hee first enters the way O strong Ramme which hast batter'd heaven for mee Mild lambe which with thy blood hast mark'd the path Bright torch which shin'st that I the way may see Oh with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath And if thy holy Spirit my Muse did raise Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise Holy Sonnets I. AS due by many titles I resigne My selfe to thee O God first I was made By thee and for thee and when I was decay'd Thy blood bought that the which before was thine I am thy sonne made with thy selfe to shine Thy servant whose paines thou hast still repaid Thy sheepe thine Image and till I betray'd My selfe a temple of thy Spirit divine Why doth the devill then usurpe on mee Why doth he steale nay ravish that 's thy right Except thou rise and for thine owne worke fight Oh I shall soone despaire when I doe see That thou lov'st mankind well yet wilt'not chuse me And Satan hates mee yet is loth to lose mee II. Oh my blacke Soule now thou art summoned By sicknesse deaths herald and champion Thou art like a pilgrim which abroad hath done Treason and durst not turne to whence hee is fled Or like a thiefe which till deaths doome be read Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison But damn'd and hal'd to execution Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned Yet grace if thou repent thou canst not lacke But who shall give thee that grace to beginne Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke And red with blushing as thou art with sinne Or wash thee in Christs blood which hath this might That being red it dyes red soules to white III. This is my playes last scene here heavens appoint My pilgrimages last mile and my race Idly yet quickly runne hath this last pace My spans last inch my minutes latest point And gluttonous death will instantly unjoynt My body and my soule and I shall sleepe a space But my'ever-waking part shall see that face Whose feare already shakes my every joynt Then as my soule to'heaven her first seate takes flight And earth borne body in the earth shall dwell So fall my sinnes that all may have their right To where they' are bred and would presse me to hell Impute me righteous thus purg'd of evill For thus I leave the world the flesh the devill IV. At the round earths imagin'd corners blow Your trumpets Angells and arise arise From death you numberlesse infinities Of soules and to your scattred bodies goe All whom the flood did and fire shall o'erthrow All whom warre death age agues tyrannies Despaire law chance hath slaine and you whose eyes Shall behold God and
not an artificiall day In this you'have made the Court the Antipodes And will'd your Delegate the vulgar Sunne To doe profane autumnall offices Whilst here to you wee sacrificers runne And whether Priests or Organs you wee'obey We sound your influence and your Dictates say Yet to that Deity which dwels in you Your vertuous Soule I now not sacrifice These are Petitions and not Hymnes they sue But that I may survay the edifice In all Religions as much care hath bin Of Temples frames and beauty ' as Rites within As all which goe to Rome doe not thereby Esteeme religions and hold fast the best But serve discourse and curiosity With that which doth religion but invest And shunne th'entangling laborinths of Schooles And make it wit to thinke the wiser fooles So in this pilgrimage I would behold You as you' are vertues temple not as shee What walls of tender christall her enfold What eyes hands bosome her pure Altars bee And after this survay oppose to all Bablers of Chappels you th'Escuriall Yet not as consecrate but merely'as faire On these I cast a lay and country eye Of past and future stories which are rare I finde you all record and prophecie Purge but the booke of Fate that it admit No sad nor guilty legends you are it If good and lovely were not one of both You were the transcript and originall The Elements the Parent and the Growth And every peece of you is both their All So'intire are all your deeds and you that you Must do the same things still you cannot two But these as nice thinne Schoole divinity Serves heresie to furder or represse Tast of Poëtique rage or flattery And need not where all hearts one truth professe Oft from new proofes and new phrase new doubts grow As strange attire aliens the men wee know Leaving then busie praise and all appeale To higher Courts senses decree is true The Mine the Magazine the Commonweale The story of beauty ' in Twicknam is and you Who hath seene one would both As who had bin In Paradise would seeke the Cherubin To Sr Edward Herbert at Iulyers MAn is a lumpe where all beasts kneaded bee Wisdome makes him an Arke where all agree The foole in whom these beasts do live at jarre Is sport to others and a Theater Nor scapes hee so but is himselfe their prey All which was man in him is eate away And now his beasts on one another feed Yet couple'in anger and new monsters breed How happy'is hee which hath due place assign'd To'his beasts and disaforested his minde Empail'd himselfe to keepe them out not in Can sow and dares trust corne where they have bin Can use his horse goate wolfe and every beast And is not Asse himselfe to all the rest Else man not onely is the heard of swine But he 's those devills too which did incline Them to a headlong rage and made them worse For man can adde weight to heavens heaviest curse As Soules they say by our first touch take in The poysonous tincture of Originall sinne So to the punishments which God doth fling Our apprehension contributes the sting To us as to his chickins he doth cast Hemlocke and wee as men his hemlocke taste We do infuse to what he meant for meat Corrosivenesse or intense cold or heat For God no such specifique poyson hath As kills we know not how his fiercest wrath Hath no antipathy but may be good At lest for physicke if not for our food Thus man that might be'his pleasure is his rod And is his devill that might be his God Since then our businesse is to rectifie Nature to what she was wee'are led awry By them who man to us in little show Greater then due no forme we can bestow On him for Man into himselfe can draw All All his faith can swallow ' or reason chaw All that is fill'd and all that which doth fill All the round world to man is but a pill In all it workes not but it is in all Poysonous or purgative or cordiall For knowledge kindles Calentures in some And is to others jcy Opium As brave as true is that profession than Which you doe use to make that you know man This makes it credible you have dwelt upon All worthy bookes and now are such an one Actions are authors and of those in you Your friends finde every day a mart of new To the Countesse of Bedford T' Have written then when you writ seem'd to mee Worst of spirituall vices Simony And not t' have written then seemes little lesse Then worst of civill vices thanklessenesse In this my doubt I seem'd loath to confesse In that I seem'd to shunne beholdingnesse But 't is not soe nothing as I am may Pay all they have and yet have all to pay Such borrow in their payments and owe more By having leave to write so then before Yet since rich mines in barren grounds are showne May not I yeeld not gold but coale or stone Temples were not demolish'd though prophane Here Peter Ioves there Paul have Dian's Fane So whether my hymnes you admit or chuse In me you'have hallowed a Pagan Muse And denizend a stranger who mistaught By blamers of the times they mard hath sought Vertues in corners which now bravely doe Shine in the worlds best part or all in you I have beene told that vertue'in Courtiers hearts Suffers an Ostracisme and departs Profit ease fitnesse plenty bid it goe But whither only knowing you I know Your or you vertue two vast uses serves It ransomes one sex and one Court preserves There 's nothing but your worth which being true Is knowne to any other not to you And you can never know it To admit No knowledge of your worth it some of it But since to you your praises discords bee Stop others ills to meditate with mee Oh! to confesse wee know not what we sould Is halfe excuse wee know not what we would Lightnesse depresseth us emptinesse fills We sweat and faint yet still goe downe the hills As new Philosophy arrests the Sunne And bids the passive earth about it runne So wee have dull'd our minde it hath no ends Onely the bodie 's busie and pretends As dead low earth ecclipses and controules The quick high Moone so doth the body Soules In none but us are such mixt engines found As hands of double office For the ground We till with them and them to heav'n wee raise Who prayer-lesse labours or without this prayes Doth but one halfe that 's none He which said Plough And looke not back to looke up doth allow Good sced degenerates and oft obeyes The soyles disease and into cockle strayes Let the minds thoughts be but transplanted so Into the body ' and bastardly they grow What hate could hurt our bodies like our love Wee but no forraigne tyrans could remove These not ingrav'd but inborne dignities Caskets of soules Temples and Palaces For bodies shall from death redeemed bee Soules but
to aspire That this her feaver might be it And yet she cannot wast by this Nor long beare this torturing wrong For much corruption needfull is To fuell such a feaver long These burning fits but meteors bee Whose matter in thee is soone spent Thy beauty ' and all parts which are thee Are unchangeable firmament Yet t' was of my minde seising thee Though it in thee cannot persever For I had rather owner bee Of thee one houre then all else ever Aire and Angels Twice or thrice had I loved thee Before I knew thy face or name So in a voice so in a shapelesse flame Angells affect us oft and worship'd bee Still when to where thou wert I came Some lovely glorious nothing I did see But since my soule whose child love is Takes limmes of flesh and else could nothing doe More subtile then the parent is Love must not be but take a body too And therefore what thou wert and who I bid Love aske and now That it assume thy body I allow And fixe it selfe in thy lip eye and brow Whilst thus to ballast love I thought And so more steddily to have gone With wares which would sinke admiration I saw I had loves pinnace overfraught Ev'ry thy haire for love to worke upon Is much too much some fitter must be sought For nor in nothing nor in things Extreme and scattring bright can love inhere Then as an Angell face and wings Of aire not pure as it yet pure doth weare So thy love may be my loves spheare Just such disparitie As is twixt Aire and Angells puritie 'Twixt womens love and mens will ever bee Breake of day 'T Is true 't is day what though it be O wilt thou therefore rise from me Why should we rise because 't is light Did we lie downe because 't was night Love which in spight of darknesse brought us hether Should in despight of light keepe us together Light hath no tongue but is all eye If it could speake as well as spie This were the worst that it could say That being well I faine would stay And that I lov'd my heart and honor so That I would not from him that had them goe Must businesse thee from hence remove Oh that 's the worst disease of love The poore the foule the false love can Admit but not the busied man He which hath businesse and makes love doth doe Such wrong as when a maryed man doth wooe The Anniversarie ALL Kings and all their favorites All glory of honors beauties wits The Sun it selfe which makes times as they passe Is elder by a yeare now then it was When thou and I first one another saw All other things to their destruction draw Only our love hath no decay This no to morrow hath nor yesterday Running it never runs from us away But truly keepes his first last everlasting day Two graves must hide thine and my coarse If one might death were no divorce Alas as well as other Princes wee Who Prince enough in one another bee Must leave at last in death these eyes and eares Oft fed with true oathes and with sweet salt teares But soules where nothing dwells but love All other thoughts being inmates then shall prove This or a love increased there above When bodies to their graves soules from their graves remove And then wee shall be throughly blest But now no more then all the rest Here upon earth we' are Kings and none but wee Can be such Kings nor of such subjects bee Who is so safe as wee where none can doe Treason to us except one of us two True and false feares let us refraine Let us love nobly and live and adde againe Yeares and yeares unto yeares till we attaine To write threescore this is the second of our raigne A Valediction of my name in the window I. MY name engrav'd herein Doth contribute my firmnesse to this glasse Which ever since that charme hath beene As hard as that which grav'd it was Thine eye will give it price enough to mock The diamonds of either rock II. 'T is much that Glasse should bee As all confessing and through-shine as I 'T is more that it shewes thee to thee And cleare reflects thee to thine eye But all such rules loves magique can undoe Here you see mee and I am you III. As no one point nor dash Which are but accessaries to this name The showers and tempests can outwash So shall all times finde mee the same You this intirenesse better may fulfill Who have the patterne with you still IIII. Or if too hard and deepe This learning be for a scratch'd name to teach It as a given deaths head keepe Lovers mortalitie to preach Or thinke this ragged bony name to bee My ruinous Anatomie V. Then as all my soules bee Emparadis'd in you in whom alone I understand and grow and see The rafters of my body bone Being still with you the Muscle Sinew and Veine Which tile this house will come againe VI. Till my returne repaire And recompact my scattered body so As all the vertuous powers which are Fix'd in the starres are said to flow Into such characters as graved bee When these starres have supremacie VII So since this name was cut When love and griefe their exaltation had No doore'gainst this names influence shut As much more loving as more sad 'T will make thee and thou shouldst till I returne Since I die daily daily mourne VIII When thy inconsiderate hand Flings ope this casement with my trembling name To looke on one whose wit or land New battry to thy heart may frame Then thinke this name alive and that thou thus In it offendst my Genius IX And when thy melted maid Corrupted by thy Lover's gold and page His letter at thy pillow'hath laid Disputed it and tam'd thy rage And thou begin'st to thaw towards him for this May my name step in and hide his X. And if this treason goe To an overt act and that thou write againe In superscribing this name flow Into thy fancy from the pane So in forgetting thou remembrest right And unaware to mee shalt write XI But glasse and lines must bee No meanes our firme substantiall love to keepe Neere death inflicts this lethargie And this I murmure in my sleepe Impute this idle talke to that I goe For dying men talke often so Twicknam garden BLasted with sighs and surrounded with teares Hither I come to seeke the spring And at mine eyes and at mine eares Receive such balmes as else cure every thing But O selfe traytor I do bring The spider love which transubstantiates all And can convert Manna to gall And that this place may thoroughly be thought True Paradise I have the serpent brought 'T were wholsomer for mee that winter did Benight the glory of this place And that a grave frost did forbid These trees to laugh and mocke mee to my face But that I may not this disgrace Indure nor yet leave loving
bee Division and thy happyest Harmonie Thinke thee laid on thy death-bed loose and slacke And thinke that but unbinding of a packe To take one precious thing thy soule from thence Thinke thy selfe patch'd with fevers violence Anger thine ague more by calling it Thy Physicke chide the slacknesse of the fit Thinke that thou hear'st thy knell and think no more But that as Bels cal'd thee to Church before So this to the Triumphant Church calls thee Thinke Satans Sergeants round about thee bee And thinke that but for Legacies they thrust Give one thy Pride to'another give thy Lust Give them those sinnes which they gave thee before And trust th' immaculate blood to wash thy score Thinke thy friends weeping round thinke that they Weepe but because they goe not yet thy way Thinke that they close thine eyes and thinke in this That they confesse much in the world amisse Who dare not trust a dead mans eye with that Which they from God and Angels â—â—er not Thinke that they shroud thee up think from thence They reinvest thee in white innocence Thinke that thy body rots and if so low Thy soule exalted so thy thoughts can goe Think thee a Prince who of themselves create Wormes which insensibly devoure their State Thinke that they bury thee and thinke that right Laies thee to sleepe but a Saint Lucies night Thinke these things cheerefully and if thou bee Drowsie or slacke remember then that shee Shee whose complexion was so even made That which of her ingredients should invade The other three no Feare no Art could guesse So far were all remov'd from more or lesse But as in Mithridate or just perfumes Where all good things being met no one presumes To governe or to triumph on the rest Only because all were no part was best And as though all doe know that quantities Are made of lines and lines from Points arise None can these lines or quantities unjoynt And say this is a line or this a point So though the Elements and Humors were In her one could not say this governes there Whose even constitution might have woon Any disease to venter on the Sunne Rather then her and make a spirit feare That hee too disuniting subject were To whose proportions if we would compare Cubes th' are unstable Circles Angular She who was such a chaine as Fate employes To bring mankinde all Fortunes it enjoyes So fast so even wrought as one would thinke No accident could threaten any linke Shee shee embrac'd a sicknesse gave it meat The purest blood and breath that e'r it eate And hath taught us that though a good man hath Title to heaven and plead it by his Faith And though he may pretend a conquest since Heaven was content to suffer violence Yea though hee plead a long possession too For they 're in heaven on earth who heavens workes do Though hee had right and power and place before Yet death must usher and unlocke the doore Thinke further on thy selfe my Soule and thinke How thou at first wast made but in a sinke Thinke that it argued some infirmitie That those two soules which then thou foundst in me Thou fedst upon and drewst into thee both My second soule of sense and first of growth Thinke but how poore thou wast how obnoxious Whom a small lumpe of flesh could poyson thus This curded milke this poore unlittered whelpe My body could beyond escape or helpe Infect thee with Originall sinne and thou Couldst neither then refuse nor leave it now Thinke that no stubborne sullen Anchorit Which fixt to a pillar or a grave doth sit Bedded and bath'd in all his ordures dwels So fowly as our Soules in their first built Cels. Thinke in how poore a prison thou didst lie After enabled but to suck and crie Thinke when 't was growne to most 't was a poore Inne A Province pack'd up in two yards of skinne And that usurp'd or threatned with a rage Of sicknesses or their true mother Age. But thinke that death hath now enfranchis'd thee Thou hast thy'expansion now and libertie Thinke that a rustie Peece discharg'd is flowne In peeces and the bullet is his owne And freely flies this to thy Soule allow Thinke thy shell broke thinke thy Soule hatch'd but now And think this slow-pac'd soule which late did cleave To'a body and went but by the bodies leave Twenty perchance or thirty mile a day Dispatches in a minute all the way Twixt heaven and earth she stayes not in the ayre To looke what Meteors there themselves prepare She carries no desire to know nor sense Whether th'ayres middle region be intense For th' Element of fire she doth not know Whether she past by such a place or no She baits not at the Moone nor cares to trie Whether in that new world men live and die Venus retards her not to'enquire how shee Can being one starre Hesper and Vesper bee Hee that charm'd Argus eyes sweet Mercury Workes not on her who now is growne all eye Who if she meet the body of the Sunne Goes through not staying till his course be runne Who findes in Mars his Campe no corps of Guard Nor is by Iove nor by his father bard Bee ere she can consider how she went At once is at and through the Firmament And as these starres were but so many beads Strung on one string speed undistinguish'd leads Her through those Spheares as through the beads a string Whose quick successioÌ„ makes it still one thing As doth the pith which lest our bodies slacke Strings fast the little bones of necke and backe So by the Soule doth death string Heaven and Earth For when our Soule enjoyes this her third birth Creation gave her one a second grace Heaven is as neare and present to her face As colours are and objects in a roome Where darknesse was before when Tapers come This must my Soule thy long-short Progresse bee To'advance these thoughts Remember then that she She whose faire body no such prison was But that a Soule might well be pleas'd to passe An age in her she whose rich beauty lent Mintage to other beauties for they went But for so much as they were like to her Shee in whose body if we dare preferre This low world to so high a marke as shee The Westerne treasure Easterne spicetie Europe and Afrique and the unknowne rest Were easily found or what in them was best And when w'have made this large discoverie Of all in her some one part then will bee Twenty such parts whose plenty and riches is Enough to make twenty such worlds as this Shee whom had they knowne who did first betroth The Tutelar Angels and assigned one both To Nations Cities and to Companies To Functions Offices and dignities And to each severall man to him and him They would have given her one for every limbe She of whose soule if wee may say 't was gold Her body was th'Electrum and did hold Many degrees of that
in Sion which hath power To eate and her foundations to devour 12 Nor would the Kings of the earth nor all which live In the inhabitable world beleeve That any adversary any foe Into Ierusalem should enter so 13 For the Priests sins and Prophets which have shed Blood in the streets and the just murthered 14 Which when those men whom they made blinde did stray Thorough the streets defiled by the way With blood the which impossible it was Their garments should scape touching as they passe 15 Would cry aloud depart defiled men Depart depart and touch us not and then They fled and strayd and with the Gentiles were Yet told their friends they should not long dwell there 16 For this they are scattered by Jehovahs face VVho never will regard them more No grace Unto their old men shall the foe afford Nor that they are Priests redeeme them from the sword 17 And wee as yet for all these miseries Desiring our vaine helpe consume our eyes And such a nation as cannot save VVe in desire and speculation have 18 They hunt our steps that in the streets wee feare To goe our end is now approached neere Our dayes accomplish'd are this the last day Eagles of heaven are not so swift as they 19 VVhich follow us o'r mountaine tops they flye At us and for us in the desart lye 20 The annointed Lord breath of our nostrils hee Of whom we said under his shadow wee Shall with more ease under the Heathen dwell Into the pit which these men digged fell 21 Rejoyce O Edoms daughter joyfull bee Thou which inhabitst her for unto thee This cup shall passe and thou with drunkennesse Shalt fill thy selfe and shew thy nakednesse 22 And then they sinnes O Sion shall be spent The Lord will not leave thee in banishment Thy sinnes O Edoms daughter hee will see And for them pay thee with captivitie CAP. V. 1 REmember O Lord what is fallen on us See and marke how we are reproached thus 2 For unto strangers our possession Is turn'd our houses unto Aliens gone 3 Our mothers are become as widowes wee As Orphans all and without fathers be 4 Waters which are our owne wee drunke and pay And upon our owne wood a price they lay 5 Our persecutors on our necks do sit They make us travaile and not intermit 6 We stretch our hands unto th' Egyptians To get us bread and to the Assyrians 7 Our Fathers did these sinnes and are no more But wee do beare the sinnes they did before 8 They are but servants which do rule us thus Yet from their hands none would deliver us 9 With danger of our life our bread wee gat For in the wildernesse the sword did wait 10 The tempests of this famine wee liv'd in Black as an Ocean colour'd had our kinne 11 In Iudaes cities they the maids abus'd By force and so women in Sion us'd 12 The Princes with their hands they hung no grace Nor honour gave they to the Elders face 13 Unto the mill our yong men carried are And children fell under the wood they bare 14 Elders the gates youth did their songs forbeare Gone was our joy our dancings mournings were 15 Now is the crowne falne from our head and woe Be unto us because we'have sinned so 16 For this our hearts do languish and for this Over our eyes a cloudy dimnesse is 17 Because mount Sion desolate doth lye And foxes there do goe at libertie 18 But thou O Lord art ever and thy throne From generation to generation 19 Why should'st thou forget us eternally Or leave us thus long in this misery 20 Restore us Lord to thee that so we may Returne and as of old renew our day 21 For oughtest thou O Lord despise us thus 22 And to be utterly enrag'd at us SATYRES Satyre I. AWay thou fondling motley humorist Leave mee and in this standing woodden chest Consorted with these few bookes let me lye In prison and here be coffin'd when I dye Here are Gods conduits grave Divines and here Natures Secretary the Philosopher And jolly Statesmen which teach how to tie The sinewes of a cities mistique bodie Here gathering Chroniclers and by them stand Giddie fantastique Poëts of each land Shall I leave all this constant company And follow headlong wild uncertaine thee First sweare by thy best love in earnest If thou which lov'st all canst love any best Thou wilt not leave mee in the middle street Though some more spruce companion thou dost meet Not though a Captaine do come in thy way Bright parcell gilt with forty dead mens pay Not though a briske perfum'd piert Courtier Deigne with a nod thy courtesie to answer Nor come a velvet Justice with a long Great traine of blew coats twelve or fourteen strong Wilt thou grin or fawne on him or prepare A speech to Court his beautious sonne and heire For better or worse take mee or leave mee To take and leave mee is adultery Oh monstrous superstitious puritan Of refin'd manners yet ceremoniall man That when thou meet'st one with enquiring eyes Dost search and like a needy broker prize The silke and gold he weares and to that rate So high or low dost raise thy formall hate That wilt consort none untill thou have knowne What lands hee hath in hope or of his owne As though all thy companions should make thee Jointures and marry thy deare company Why should'st thou that dost not onely approve But in ranke it chie lust desire and love The nakednesse and barrennesse to enjoy of thy plumpe muddy whore or prostitute boy Hate vertue though shee be naked and bare At birth and death our bodies naked are And till our Soules be unapparrelled Of bodies they from blisse are banished Mans first blest state was naked when by sinne Hee lost that yet hee was cloath'd but in beasts skin And in this course attire which I now weare With God and with the Muses I conferre But since thou like a contrite penitent Charitably warm'd of thy sinnes dost repent These vanities and giddinesses loe I shut my chamber doore and come le ts goe But sooner may a cheape whore who hath beene Worne by as many severall men in sinne As are black feathers or musk-colour hose Name her childs right true father ' mongst all those Sooner may one guesse who shall beare away The infant of London Heire to an India And sooner may a gulling weather Spie By drawing forth heavens Sceanes tell certainly What fashioned hats or ruffes or suits next yeare Our subtile wittied antique youths will weare Then thou when thou depart'st from mee can show Whither why when or with whom thou wouldst go But how shall I be pardon'd my offence That thus have sinn'd against my conscience Now we are in the street He first of all Improvidently proud creepes to the wall And so imprisoned and hem'd in by mee Sells for a little state high libertie Yet though he cannot skip forth now to greet
by the Makers will from pulling free IX Prince of the orchard faire as dawning morne Fenc'd with the law and ripe as soone as borne That apple grew which this Soule did Till the then climing serpent that now creeps For that offence for which all mankinde weepes Tooke it and t' her whom the first man did wive Whom and her race only forbiddings drive He gave it she t' her husband both did eate So perished the eaters and the meate And wee for treason taints the blood thence die and sweat X. Man all at once was there by woman slaine And one by one we' are here slaine o'er againe By them The mother poisoned the well-head The daughters here corrupts us No smalnesse scapes no greatnesse breake their nets She thrust us out and by them we are led Astray from turning to whence we are fled Were prisoners Judges t' would seeme rigorous Shee sinn'd we here part of our paine is thus To love them whose fault to this painfull love yoak'd us XI So fast in us doth this corruption grow That now wee dare aske why wee should be so Would God disputes the curious Rebell make A law and would not have it kept Or can His creatures will crosse his Of every man For one will God and be just vengeance take Who sinn'd t' was not forbidden to the snake Nor her who was not then made nor i' st writ That Adam cropt or knew the apple yet The worme and she and he and wee endure for it XII But snatch mee heavenly Spirit from this vaine Reckoning their vanities lesse is their gaine Then hazard still to meditate on ill Though with good minde their reasons like those toyes Of glassie bubles with the gamesome boyes Stretch to so nice a thinnes through a quill That they themselves breake doe themselves spill Arguing is heretiques game and Exercise As wrastlers perfect them Not liberties Of speech but silence hands not tongues end heresies XIII Just in that instant when the serpents gripe Broke the slight veines and tender conduit-pipe Through which this soule from the trees root did draw Life and growth to this apple fled away This loose soule old one and another day As lightning which one scarce dares say he saw 'T is so soone gone and better proofe the law Of sense then faith requires swiftly she flew To a darke and foggie Plot Her her fates threw There through th'earth-pores and in a Plant hous'd her a new XIV The plant thus abled to it selfe did force A place where no place was by natures course As aire from water water fleets away From thicker bodies by this root thronged so His spungie confines gave him place to grow Just as in our streets when the people stay To see the Prince and so fill'd the way That weesels scarce could passe when she comes nere They throng and cleave up and a passage cleare As if for that time their round bodies flatned were XV. His right arme he thrust out towards the East West-ward his left th' ends did themselves digest Into ten lesser strings these fingers were And as a slumberer stretching on his bed This way he this and that way scattered His other legge which feet with toes upbeare Grew on his middle parts the first day haire To show that in loves businesse hee should still A dealer bee and be us'd well or ill His apples kinde his leaves force of conception kill XVI A mouth but dumbe he hath blinde eyes deafe eares And to his shoulders dangle subtile haires A young Colossus there hee stands upright And as that ground by him were conquered A leafie garland weares he on his head Enchas'd with little fruits so red and bright That for them you would call your Loves lips white So of a lone unhaunted place possest Did this soules second Inne built by the guest This living buried man this quiet mandrake rest XVII No lustfull woman came this plant to grieve But t' was because there was none yet but Eve And she with other purpose kill'd it quite Her sinne had now brought in infirmities And so her cradled child the moist red eyes Had never shut nor sleept since it saw light Poppie she knew she knew the mandrakes might And tore up both and so coold her childs blood Unvirtuous weeds might long unvex'd have stood But hee 's short liv'd that with his death can doe most good XVIII To an unfetterd soules quick nimble hast Are falling stars and hearts thoughts but slow pac'd Thinner then burnt aire flies this soule and she Whom foure new comming and foure parting Suns Had found and left the Mandrakes tenant runnes Thought lesse of change when her firme destiny Confin'd and enjayld her that seem'd so free Into a small blew shell the which a poore Warme bird orespread and sat still evermore Till her uncloath'd child kickt and pick'd it selfe a dore XIX Outcrept a sparrow this soules moving Inne On whose raw armes stiffe feathers now begin As childrens teeth through gummes to breake with paine His flesh is jelly yet and his bones threds All downy a new mantle overspreads A mouth he opes which would as much containe As his late house and the first houre speaks plaine And chirps alowd for meat Meat fit for men His father steales for him and so feeds then One that within a moneth will beate him from his hen XX In this worlds youth wise nature did make hast Things ripened sooner and did longer last Already this hot cocke in bush and tree In field and tent oreflutters his next hen He asks her not who did so tast nor when Nor if his sister or his neece shee be Nor doth she pule for his inconstancie If in her sight he change nor doth refuse The next that calls both liberty doe use Where store is of both kindes both kindes may freely chuse XXI Men till they tooke laws which made freedome lesse Their daughters and their sisters did ingresse Till now unlawfull therefore ill t' was not So jolly that it can move this soule Is The body so free of his kindnesses That selfe preserving it hath now forgot And slackneth so the soules and bodies knot Which tēperance streightens freely on his she friends He blood and spirit pith and marrow spends Ill steward of himself himselfe in three yeares ends XXII Else might he long have liv'd man did not know Of gummie blood which doth in holly grow How to make bird-lime nor how to deceive With faind calls his nets or enwrapping snare The free inhabitants of the Plyant aire Man to beget and woman to conceive Askt not of rootes nor of cock-sparrowes leave Yet chuseth hee though none of these he feares Pleasantly three then streightned twenty yeares To live and to encrease himselfe outweares XXIII This cole with overblowing quench'd and dead The Soule from her too active organs fled T' a brooke a female fishes sandie Roe With the males jelly newly lev'ned was For they intertouched as they did passe
And one of those small bodies fitted so This soule inform'd and abled it to roe It selfe with finnie oares which she did fit Her scales seem'd yet of parchment and as yet Perchance a fish but by no name you could call it XXIV When goodly like a ship in her full trim A swan so white that you may unto him Compare all whitenesse but himselfe to none Glided along and as he glided watch'd And with his arched necke this poore fish catch'd It mov'd with state as if to looke upon Low things it scorn'd and yet before that one Could thinke he sought it he had swallowed cleare This and much such and unblam'd devour'd there All but who too swift too great or well arm'd were XXV Now swome a prison in a prison put And now this Soule in double walls was shut Till melted with the Swans digestive fire She left her house the fish and vapour'd forth Fate not affording bodies of more worth For her as yet bids her againe retire T'another fish to any new desire Made a new prey For he that can to none Resistance make nor complaint sure is gone Weaknesse invites but silence feasts oppression XXVI Pace with the native streame this fish doth keepe And journeyes with her towards the glassie deepe But oft retarded once with a hidden net Though with great windowes for when need first taught These tricks to catch food thē they were not wrought As now with curious greedinesse to let None scape but few and fit for use to get As in this trap a ravenous pike was tane Who though himselfe distrest would faine have slain This wretch So hardly are ill habits left again XXVII Here by her smallnesse shee two deaths orepast Once innocence scap'd and left the oppressor fast The net through-swome she keepes the liquid path And whether she leape up sometimes to breath And suck in aire or finde it underneath Or working parts like mills or limbecks hath To make the wether thinne and airelike faith Cares not but safe the Place she 's come unto Where fresh with salt waves meet and what to doe She knowes not but betweene both makes a boord or two XXVIII So farre from hiding her guests water is That she showes them in bigger quantities Then they are Thus doubtfull of her way For game and not for hunger a sea Pie Spied through this traiterous spectacle from high The seely fish where it disputing lay And t' end her doubts and her beares her away Exalted she'is but to the exalters good As are by great ones men which lowly stood It 's rais'd to be the Raisers instrument and food XXIX Is any kinde subject to rape like fish Ill unto man they neither doe nor wish Fishers they kill not nor with noise awake They doe not hunt nor strive to make a prey Of beasts nor their yong sonnes to beare away Foules they pursue not nor do undertake To spoile the nests industruous birds do make Yet them all these unkinde kinds feed upon To kill them is an occupation And lawes make fasts lents for their destruction XXX A sudden stiffe land-winde in that selfe houre To sea-ward forc'd this bird that did devour The fish he cares not for with ease he flies Fat gluttonies best orator at last So long hee hath flowen and hath flowen so fast That leagues o'er-past at sea now tir'd hee lyes And with his prey that till then languisht dies The soules no longer foes two wayes did erre The fish I follow and keepe no calender Of the other he lives yet in some great officer XXXI Into an embrion fish our Soule is throwne And in due time throwne out againe and growne To such vastnesse as if unmanacled From Greece Morea were and that by some Earthquake unrooted loose Morea swome Or seas from Africks body had severed And torne the hopefull Promontories head This fish would seeme these and when all hopes faile A great ship overset or without saile Hulling might when this was a whelp be like this whale XXXII At every stroake his brazen finnes do take More circles in the broken sea they make Then cannons voices when the aire they teare His ribs are pillars and his high arch'd roofe Of barke that blunts best steele is thunder-proofe Swimme in him swallowed Dolphins without feare And feele no sides as if his vast wombe were Some Inland sea and ever as hee went Hee spouted rivers up as if he ment To joyne our seas with seas above the firmament XXXIII He hunts not fish but as an officer Stayes in his court at his owne net and there All suitors of all sorts themselves enthrall So on his backe lyes this whale wantoning And in his gulfe-like throat sucks every thing That passeth neare Fish chaseth fish and all Flyer and follower in this whirlepoole fall O might not states of more equality Consist and is it of necessity That thousand guiltlesse smals to make one great must die XXXIV Now drinkes he up seas and he eates up flocks He justles Ilands and he shakes firme rockes Now in a roomefull house this Soule doth float And like a Prince she sends her faculties To all her limbes distant as Provinces The Sunne hath twenty times both crab and goate Parched since first lanch'd forth this living boate 'T is greatest now and to destruction Nearest There 's no pause at perfection Greatnesse a period hath but hath no station XXXV Two little fishes whom hee never harm'd Nor fed on their kinde two not throughly arm'd With hope that they could kill him nor could doe Good to themselves by his death they did not eate His flesh nor suck those oyles which thence outstreat Conspir'd against him and it might undoe The plot of all that the plotters were two But that they fishes were and could not speake How shall a Tyran wise strong projects breake If wreches can on them the common anger wreake XXXVI The flaile-find Thresher and steel-beak'd Sword-fish Onely attempt to doe what all doe wish The Thresher backs him and to beate begins The sluggard Whale yeelds to oppression And t'hide himselfe from shame and danger downe Begins to sinke the Swordfish upward spins And gores him with his beake his staffe-like finnes So were the one his sword the other plyes That now a scoffe and prey this tyran dyes And his owne dole feeds with himselfe all companies XXXVII Who will revenge his death or who will call Those to account that thought and wrought his fall The heires of slaine kings wee see are often so Transported with the joy of what they get That they revenge and obsequies forget Nor will against such men the people goe Because h 'is now dead to whom they should show Love in that act Some kings by vice being growne So needy of subjects love that of their won They thinke they lose if love be to the dead Prince shown XXXVIII This Soule now free from prison and passion Hath yet a little indignation That so small hammers
should so soone downe beat So great a castle And having for her house Got the streight cloyster of a wreched mouse As basest men that have not what to eate Nor enjoy ought doe farre more hate the great Then they who good repos'd estates possesse This Soule late taught that great things might by lesse Be slain to gallant mischiefe doth herselfe addresse XXXIX Natures great master-peece an Elephant The onely harmlesse great thing the giant Of beasts who thought no more had gone to make one wise But to be just and thankfull loth to offend Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend Himselfe he up-props on himselfe relies And foe to none suspects no enemies Still sleeping stood vex't not his fantasie Blacke dreames like an unbent bow carelesly His sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie XL. In which as in a gallery this mouse Walk'd and surveid the roomes of this vast house And to the braine the soules bed chamber went And gnaw'd the life cords there Like a whole towne Cleane undermin'd the slaine beast tumbled downe With him the murtherer dies whom envy sent To kill not scape for only hee that ment To die did ever kill a man of better roome And thus he made his foe his prey and tombe Who cares not to turn back may any whither come XLI Next hous'd this Soule a Wolves yet unborne whelp Till the best midwife Nature gave it helpe To issue It could kill as soone as goe Abel as white and milde as his sheepe were Who in that trade of Church and kingdomes there Was the first type was still infested soe With this wolfe that it bred his losse and woe And yet his bitch his sentinell attends The flocke so neere so well warnes and defends That the wolfe hopelesse else to corrupt her intends XLII Hee tooke a course which since succesfully Great men have often taken to espie The counsels or to breake the plots of foes To Abels tent he stealeth in the darke On whose skirts the bitch slept ere she could barke Attach'd her with streight gripes yet hee call'd those Embracements of love to loves worke he goes Where deeds move more then words nor doth she show Nor much resist nor needs hee streighten so His prey for were shee loose she would not barke nor goe XLIII Hee hath engag'd her his she wholy bides Who not her owne none others secrets hides If to the flocke he come and Abell there She faines hoarse barkings but she biteth not Her faith is quite but not her love forgot At last a trap of which some every where Abell had plac'd ends all his losse and feare By the Wolves death and now just time it was That a quicke soule should give life to that masse Of blood in Abels bitch and thither this did passe XLIV Some have their wives their sisters some begot But in the lives of Emperours you shall not Reade of a lust the which may equall this This wolfe begot himselfe and finished What he began alive when hee was dead Sonne to himselfe and father too hee is A ridling lust for which Schoolemen would misse A proper name The whelpe of both these lay In Abels tent and with soft Moaba His sister being yong it us'd to sport and play XLV Hee soone for her too harsh and churlish grew And Abell the dam dead would use this new For the field being of two kindes made He as his dam from sheepe drove wolves away And as his Sire he made them his owne prey Five yeares he liv'd and cosened with his trade Then hopelesse that his faults were hid betraid Himselfe by flight and by all followed From dogges a wolfe from wolves a dogge he fled And like a spie to both sides false he perished XLVI It quickned next a toyfull Ape and so Gamesome it was that it might freely goe From tent to tent and with the children play His organs now so like theirs hee doth finde That why he cannot laugh and speake his minde He wonders Much with all most he doth stay With Adams fift daughter Siphatecia Doth gaze on her and where she passeth passe Gathers her fruits and tumbles on the grasse And wisest of that kinde the first true lover was XLVII He was the first that more desir'd to have One then another first that ere did crave Love by mute signes and had no power to speake First that could make love faces or could doe The valters sombersalts or us'd to wooe With hoiting gambolls his owne bones to breake To make his mistresse merry or to wreake Her anger on himselfe Sinnes against kinde They easily doe that can let feed their minde With outward beauty beauty they in boyes and beasts do find XLVIII By this misled too low things men have prov'd And too high beasts and angels have beene lov'd This Ape though else through-vaine in this was wise He reach'd at things too high but open way There was and he knew not she would say nay His toyes prevaile not likelier meanes he tries He gazeth on her face with teare-shot eyes And up lifts subtly with his russet pawe Her kidskinne apron without feare or awe Of nature nature hath no gaole though shee hath law XLIX First she was silly and knew not what he ment That vertue by his touches chaft and spent Succeeds an itchie warmth that melts her quite She knew not first now cares not what he doth And willing halfe and more more then halfe Tooth She neither puls nor pushes but outright Now cries and now repents when Tethelemite Her brother entred and a great stone threw After the Ape who thus prevented flew This house thus batter'd downe the Soule possest a new L. And whether by this change she lose or win She comes out next where the Ape would have gone in Adam and Eve had mingled bloods and now Like Chimiques equall fires her temperate wombe Had stew'd and form'd it and part did become A spungie liver that did richly allow Like a free conduit on a high hils brow Life keeping moisture unto every part Part hardned it selfe to a thicker heart Whose busie furnaces lifes spirits do impart LI. Another part became the well of sense The tender well arm'd feeling braine from whence Those sinowie strings which do our bodies tie Are raveld out and fast there by one end Did this Soule limbes these limbes a soule attend And now they joyn'd keeping some quality Of every past shape she knew treachery Rapine deceit and lust and ills enow To be a woman Themech she is now Sister and wife to Caine Caine that first did plow LII Who ere thou beest that read'st this sullen Writ Which just so much courts thee as thou dost it Let me arrest thy thoughts wonder with mee Why plowing building ruling and the rest Or most of those arts whence our lives are blest By cursed Cains race invented be And blest Seth vext us with Astronomie Ther 's nothing simply good nor ill alone Of every quality
Philo with twelve yeares study hath beene griev'd To'be understood when will hee be beleev'd Klockius so deeply hath sworne ne'r more to come In bawdie house that hee dares not goe home Raderus Why this man gelded Martiall I muse Except himselfe alone his tricks would use As Katherine for the Courts sake put downe Stewes Mercurlus Gallo-Belgicus Like Esops fellow-slaves O Mercury Which could do all things thy faith is and I Like Esops selfe which nothing I confesse I should have had more faith if thou hadst lesse Thy credit lost thy credit 'T is sinne to doe In this case as thou wouldst be done unto To beleeve all Change thy name thou art like Mercury in stealing but lyest like a Greeke Compassion in the world againe is bred Ralphius is sick the broker keeps his bed ELEGIE I. FOnd woman which would'st have thy husband die And yet complain'st of his great jealousie If swolne with poyson hee lay in'his last bed His body with a sere-barke covered Drawing his breath as thick and short as can The nimblest crocheting Musitian Ready with loathsome vomiting to spue His Soule out of one hell into a new Made deafe with his poore kindreds howling cries Begging with few feign'd teares great legacies Thou would'st not weepe but jolly ' and frolicke bee As a slave which to morrow should be free Yet weep'st thou when thou seest him hungerly Swallow his owne death hearts-bane jealousie O give him many thanks he 'is courteous That in suspecting kindly warneth us Wee must not as wee us'd flout openly In scoffing ridles his deformitie Nor at his boord together being satt With words nor touch scarce lookes adulterate Nor when he swolne and pamper'd with great fare Sits downe and snorts cag'd in his basket chaire Must wee usurpe his owne bed any more Nor kisse and play in his house as before Now I see many dangers for it is His realme his castle and his diocesse But if as envious men which would revile Their Prince or coyne his gold themselves exile Into another countrie ' and doe it there Wee play'in another house what should we feare There we will scorne his houshold policies His seely plots and pensionary spies As the inhabitants of Thames right side Do Londons Major or Germans the Popes pride Elegie II. Marry and love thy Flavia for shee Hath all things whereby others beautious bee For though her eyes be small her mouth is great Though they be Ivory yet her teeth be jear Though they be dimme yet she is light enough And though her harsh haire fall her skinne is rough What though her cheeks be yellow her haire 's red Give her thine and she hath a maydenhead These things are beauties elements where these Meet in one that one must as perfect please If red and white and each good quality Be in thy wench ne'r aske where it doth lye In buying things perfum'd we aske if there Be muske and amber in it but not where Though all her parts be not in th'usuall place She'hath yet an Anagram of a good face If we might put the letters but one way In the leane dearth of words what could wee say When by the Gamut some Musitions make A perfect song others will undertake By the same Gamut chang'd to equall it Things simply good can never be unfit She 's faire as any if all be like her And if none bee then she is singular All love is wonder if wee justly doe Account her wonderfull why not lovely too Love built on beauty soone as beauty dies Chuse this face chang'd by no deformities Women are all like Angels the faire be Like those which fell to worse but such as shee Like to good Angels nothing can impaire 'T is lesse griefe to be foule then to'have beene faire For one nights revels silke and gold we chuse But in long journeyes cloth and leather use Beauty is barren oft best husbands say There is best land where there is foulest way Oh what a soveraigne Plaister will shee bee If thy past sinnes have taught thee jealousie Here needs no spies nor eunuches her commit Safe to thy foes yea to a Marmosit When Belgiaes citties the round countries drowne That durty foulenesse guards and armes the towne So doth her face guard her and so for thee Which forc'd by businesse absent oft must bee Shee whose face like clouds turnes the day to night Who mightier thē the sea makes Moores seem white Who though seaven yeares she in the Stews had laid A Nunnery durst receive and thinke a maid And though in childbeds labour she did lie Midwifes would sweare 't were but a tympanie Whom if shee accuse her selfe I credit lesse Then witches which impossibles confesse One like none and lik'd of none fittest were For things in fashion every man will weare Elegie III. Although thy hand and faith and good workes too Have seal'd thy love which nothing should undoe Yea though thou fall backe that apostasie Confirme thy love yet much much I feare thee Women are like the Arts forc'd unto none Open to'all searchers unpriz'd if unknowne If I have caught a bird and let him flie Another fouler using these meanes as I May catch the same bird and as these things bee Women are made for men not him nor mee Foxes and goats all beasts change when they please Shall women more hot wily wild then these Be bound to one man and did Nature then Idly make them apter to'endure then men They' are our clogges not their owne if a man bee Chain'd to a galley yet the galley'is free Who hath a plow-land casts all his seed corne there And yet allowes his ground more corne should beare Though Danuby into the sea must flow The sea receives the Rhene Volga and Po. By nature which gave it this liberty Thou lov'st but Oh! canst thou love it and mee Likenesse glues love and if that thou so doe To make us like and love must I change too More then thy hate I hate'it rather let mee Allow her change then change as oft as shee And soe not teach but force my'opinion To love not any one nor every one To live in one land is captivitie To runne all countries a wild roguery Waters stincke soone if in one place they bide And in the vast sea are more putrifi'd But when they kisse one banke and leaving this Never looke backe but the next banke doe kisse Then are they purest Change'is the nursery Of musicke joy life and eternity Elegie IV. Once and but once found in thy company All thy suppos'd escapes are laid on mee And as a thiefe at barre is question'd there By all the men that have beene rob'd that yeare So am I by this traiterous meanes surpriz'd By thy Hydroptique father catechiz'd Though hee hath oft sworne that hee would remove Thy beauties beautie and food of our love Hope of his goods if I with thee were seene Yet close and secret as our soules we'have beene Though thy
grow good But I remaine a poyson'd fountaine still But not your beauty vertue knowledge blood Are more above all flattery then my will And if I flatter any 't is not you But my owne judgement who did long agoe Pronounce that all these praises should be true And vertue should your beauty ' and birth outgrow Now that my prophesies are all fulfill'd Rather then God should not be honour'd too And all these gifts confess'd which hee instill'd Your selfe were bound to say that which I doe So I but your Recorder am in this Or mouth or Speaker of the universe A ministeriall notary for 't is Not I but you and fame that make this verse I was your Prophet in your yonger dayes And now your Chaplaine God in you to praise To M. I. W. ALl haile sweet Poët more full of more strong fire Then hath or shall enkindle any spirit I lov'd what nature gave thee but this merit Of wit and Art I love not but admire Who have before or shall write after thee Their workes though toughly laboured will bee Like infancie or age to mans firme stay Or earely and late twilights to mid-day Men say and truly that they better be Which be envyed then pittied therefore I Because I wish thee best doe thee envie O wouldst thou by like reason pitty mee But care not for mee I that ever was In Natures and in fortunes gifts alas Before thy grace got in the Muses Schoole A monster and a begger am a foole Oh how I grieve that late borne modesty Hath got such root in easie waxen hearts That men may not themselves their owne good parts Extoll without suspect of surquedrie For but thy selfe no subject can be found Worthy thy quill nor any quill resound Thy worke but thine how good it were to see A Poëm in thy praise and writ by thee Now if this song be too'harsh for rime yet as The Painters bad god made a good devill 'T will be good prose although the verse be evill If thou forget the rime as thou dost passe Then write then I may follow and so bee Thy debter thy'eccho thy foyle thy zanee I shall be thought if mine like thine I shape All the worlds Lyon though I be thy Ape To M. T. W. HAst thee harsh verse as fast as thy lame measure Will give thee leave to him My pain pleasure I have given thee and yet thou art too weake Feete and a reasoning soule and tongue to speake Tell him all questions which men have defended Both of the place and paines of hell are ended And 't is decreed our hell is but privation Of him at least in this earths habitation And 't is where I am where in every street Infections follow overtake and meete Live I or die by you my love is sent And you' are my pawnes or else my Testament To M. T. W. PRegnant again with th' old twins Hope and Feare Oft have I askt for thee both how and where Thou wert and what my hopes of letters were As in our streets sly beggers narrowly Watch motions of the givers hand or eye And evermore conceive some hope thereby And now thy Almes is given thy letter'is read The body risen againe the which was dead And thy poore starveling bountifully fed After this banquet my Soule doth say grace And praise thee for'it and zealously imbrace Thy love though I thinke thy love in this case To be as gluttons which say ' midst their meat They love that best of which they most do eat At once from hence my lines and I depart I to my soft still walks they to my Heart I to the Nurse they to the child of Art Yet as a firme house though the Carpenter Perish doth stand as an Embassadour Lyes safe how e'r his king be in danger So though I languish prest with Malancholy My verse the strict Map of my misery Shall live to see that for whose want I dye Therefore I envie them and doe repent That from unhappy mee things happy'are sent Yet as a Picture or bare Sacrament Accept these lines and if in them there be Merit of love bestow that love on mee To M. C. B. THy friend whom thy deserts to thee enchaine Urg'd by this unexcusable occasion Thee and the Saint of his affection Leaving behinde doth of both wants complaine And let the love I beare to both sustaine No blott nor maime by this division Strong is this love which ties our hearts in one And strong that love pursu'd with amorous paine But though besides thy selfe I leave behind Heavens liberall and earths thrice-faire Sunne Going to where sterne winter aye doth wonne Yet loves hot fires which martyr my sad minde Doe send forth scalding sighes which have the Art To melt all Ice but that which walls her heart To M. S. B. O Thou which to search out the secret parts Of the India or rather Paradise Of knowledge hast with courage and advise Lately launch'd into the vast Sea of Arts Disdaine not in thy constant travailing To doe as other Voyagers and make Some turnes into lesse Creekes and wisely take Fresh water at the Heliconian spring I sing not Siren like to tempt for I Am harsh nor as those Scismatiques with you Which draw all wits of good hope to their crew But seing in you bright sparkes of Poetry I though I brought no fuell had desire With these Articulate blasts to blow the fire To M. B. B. IS not thy sacred hunger of science Yet satisfy'd Is not thy braines rich hive Fulfil'd with hony which thou dost derive From the Arts spirits and their Quintessence Then weane thy selfe at last and thee withdraw From Cambridge thy old nurse and as the rest Here toughly chew and sturdily digest Th' immense vast volumes of our common law And begin soone lest my griefe grieve thee too Which is that that which I should have begun In my youthes morning now late must be done And I as Giddy Travellers must doe Which stray or sleepe all day and having lost Light and strength darke and tir'd must then ride post If thou unto thy Muse be marryed Embrace her ever ever multiply Be far from me that strange Adulterie To tempt thee and procure her widdowhood My nurse for I had one because I 'am cold Divorc'd her selfe the cause being in me That I can take no new in Bigamye Not my will only but power doth withhold Hence comes it that these Rymes which never had Mother want matter aud they only have A little forme the which their Father gave They are prophane imperfect oh too bad To be counted Children of Poetry Except confirm'd and Bishoped by thee To M. R. W. IF as mine is thy life a slumber be Seeme when thou read'st these lines to dreame of me Never did Morpheus nor his brother weare Shapes soe like those Shapes whom they would appeare As this my letter is like me for it Hath my name words hand feet heart minde
commend Who knowes thy destiny when thou hast done Perchance her Cabinet may harbour thee Whither all noble ambitious wits doe runne A nest almost as full of Good as shee When thou art there if any whom wee know Were sav'd before and did that heaven partake When she revolves his papers marke what show Of favour she alone to them doth make Marke if to get them she o'r skip the rest Marke if shee read them twice or kisse the name Marke if she doe the same that they protest Marke if she marke whether her woman came Marke if slight things be'objected and o'r blowne Marke if her oathes against him be not still Reserv'd and that shee grieves she 's not her owne And chides the doctrine that denies Freewill Ibid thee not doe this to be my spie Nor to make my selfe her familiar But so much I doe love her choyce that I Would faine love him that shall be lov'd of her To the Countesse of Bedford HOnour is so sublime perfection And so refinde that when God was alone And creaturelesse at first himselfe had none But as of the elements these which wee tread Produce all things with which wee'are joy'd or fed And those are barren both above our head So from low persons doth all honour flow Kings whom they would have honoured to us show And but direct our honour not bestow For when from herbs the pure part must be wonne From grosse by Stilling this is better done By despis'd dung then by the fire or Sunne Care not then Madame ' how low your prayses lye In labourers balads oft more piety God findes then in Te Deums melodie And ordinance rais'd on Towers so many mile Send not their voice nor last so long a while As fires from th' earths low vaults in Sicil Isle Should I say I liv'd darker then were true Your radiation can all clouds subdue But one 't is best light to contemplate you You for whose body God made better clay Or tooke Soules stuffe such as shall late decay Or such as needs small change at the last day This as an Amber drop enwraps a Bee Covering discovers your quicke Soule that we May in your through-shine front our hearts thoughts see You teach though wee learne not a thing unknowne To our late times the use of specular stone Through which all things within without were shown Of such were Temples so and such you are Beeing and seeming is your equall care And vertues whole summe is but know and dare But as our Soules of growth and Soules of sense Have birthright of our reasons Soule yet hence They fly not from that nor seeke presidence Natures first lesson so discretion Must not grudge zeale a place nor yet keepe none Not banish it selfe nor religion Discretion is a wisemans Soule and so Religion is a Christians and you know How these are one her yea is not her no. Nor may we hope to sodder still and knit These two and dare to breake them nor must wit Be colleague to religion but be it In those poore types of God round circles so Religions tipes the peeclesse centers flow And are in all the lines which alwayes goe If either ever wrought in you alone Or principally then religion Wrought your ends and your wayes discretion Goe thither stil goe the same way you went Who so would change do covet or repent Neither can reach you great and innocent To the Countesse of Bedford Begun in France but never perfected THough I be dead and buried yet I have Living in you Court enough in my grave As oft as there I thinke my selfe to bee So many resurrections waken mee That thankfullnesse your favours have forgot In mee embalmes mee that I doe not rot This season as'tis Easter as'tis spring Must both to growth and to confession bring My thoughts dispos'd unto your influence so These verses bud so these confessions grow First I confesse I have to others lent Your stock and over prodigally spent Your treasure for since I had never knowne Vertue or beautie but as they are growne In you I should not thinke or say they shine So as I have in any other Mine Next I confesse this my confession For 't is some fault thus much to touch upon Your praise to you where half rights seeme too much And make your minds sincere complexion blush Next I confesse my'impenitence for I Can scarce repent my first fault since thereby Remote low Spirits which shall ne'r read you May in lesse lessons finde enough to doe By studying copies not Originals Desunt caetera A Letter to the Lady Carey and Mrs Essex Riche From Amyens MADAME HEre where by All All Saints invoked are 'T were too much schisme to be singular And ' gainst a practise generall to warre Yet turning to Saincts should my'humility To other Sainct then you directed bee That were to make my schisme heresie Nor would I be a Convertite so cold As not to tell it If this be too bold Pardons are in this market cheaply sold Where because Faith is in too low degree I thought it some Apostleship in mee To speake things which by faith alone I see That is of you who is a firmament Of virtues where no one is growne or spent They' are your materials not your ornament Others whom wee call vertuous are not so In their whole substance but their vertues grow But in their humours and at seasons show For when through tastlesse flat humilitie In dow bak'd men some harmelessenes we see 'T is but his flegme that 's Vertuous and not Hee Soe is the Blood sometimes who ever ran To danger unimportun'd he was than No better then a sanguine Vertuous man So cloysterall men who in pretence of feare All contributions to this life forbeare Have Vertue in Melancholy and only there Spirituall Cholerique Crytiques which in all Religions find faults and forgive no fall Have through their zeale Vertue but in their Gall. We are thus but parcel guilt to Gold we' are growne When Vertue is our Soules complexion Who knowes his Vertues name or place hath none Vertue'is but aguish when 't is severall By occasion wak'd and circumstantiall True vertue is Soule Alwaies in all deeds All. This Vertue thinking to give dignitie To your soule found there no infirmitie For your soule was as good Vertue as shee Shee therefore wrought upon that part of you Which is scarce lesse then soule as she could do And so hath made your beauty Vertue too Hence comes it that your Beauty wounds not hearts As Others with prophane and sensuall Darts But as an influence vertuous thoughts imparts But if such friends by the honor of your sight Grow capable of this so great a light As to partake your vertues and their might What must I thinke that influence must doe Where it findes sympathie and matter too Vertue and beauty of the same stuffe as you Which is your noble worthie sister shee Of whom if what in
tide Of thy pride Now a flowing growes to turning Victor now shall then be thrall And shall fall To as low an ebbe of mourning X. Happy he who shall thee waste As thou hast Us without all mercy wasted And shall make thee taste and see What poore wee By thy meanes have seene and tasted XI Happy who thy tender barnes From the armes Of their wailing mothers tearing ' Gainst the walls shall dash their bones Ruthlesse stones With their braines and blood besmearing Resurrection imperfect SLeep sleep old Sun thou canst not have repast As yet the wound thou took'st on friday last Sleepe then and rest The world may beare thy stay A better Sun rose before thee to day Who not content to'enlighten all that dwell On the earths face as thou enlightned hell And made the darke fires languish in that vale As at thy presence here our fires grow pale Whose body having walk'd on earth and now Hasting to Heaven would that he might allow Himselfe unto all stations and fill all For these three daies become a minerall Hee was all gold when he lay downe but rose All tincture and doth not alone dispose Leaden and iron wills to good but is Of power to make even sinfull flesh like his Had one of those whose credulous pietie Thought that a Soule one might discerne and see Goe from a body ' at this sepulcher been And issuing from the sheet this body seen He would have justly thought this body a soule If not of any man yet of the whole Desunt caetera An hymne to the Saints and to Marquesse Hamylton VVHither that soule which now comes up to you Fill any former ranke or make a new Whither it take a name nam'd there before Or be a name it selfe and order more Then was in heaven till now for may not hee Bee so if every severall Angell bee A kind alone What ever order grow Greater by him in heaven wee doe not so One of your orders growes by his accesse But by his losse grow all our orders lesse The name of Father Master Friend the name Of Subject and of Prince in one are lame Faire mirth is dampt and conversation black The household widdow'd and the garter slack The Chappell wants an eare Councell a tongue Story a theame and Musicke lacks a song Blest order that hath him the losse of him Gangred all Orders here all lost a limbe Never made body such hast to confesse What a soule was All former comelinesse Fled in a minute when the soule was gone And having lost that beauty would have none So fell our Monasteries in one instant growne Not to lesse houses but to heapes of stone So sent this body that faire forme it wore Unto the spheare of formes and doth before His soule shall fill up his sepulchrall stone Anticipate a Resurrection For as in his fame now his soule is here So in the forme thereof his bodie 's there And if faire soule not with first Innocents Thy station be but with the Paenitents And who shall dare to aske then when I am Dy'd scarlet in the blood of that pure Lambe Whether that colour which is scarlet then Were black or white before in eyes of men When thou rememb'rest what sins thou didst finde Amongst those many friends now left behinde And seest such sinners as they are with thee Got thither by repentance Let it bee Thy wish to wish all there to wish them cleane Wish him a David her a Magdalen SIR I Presume you rather try what you can doe in me then what I can doe in verse you know my uttermost when it was best and even then I did best when I had least truth for my subjects In this present case there is so much truth as it defeats all Poetry Call therefore this paper by what name you will and if it bee not worthy of you nor of him we will smother it and be it your sacrifice If you had commanded mee to have waited on his body to Scotland and preached there I would have embraced your obligation with much alacrity But I thanke you that you would command me that which I was loather to doe for even that hath given a tincture of merit to the obedience of Your poore friend and servant in Christ Jesus I. D. An Epitaph upon Shakespeare REnowned Chaucer lie a thought more nigh so rare Beaumond and learned Beaumond lie A little nearer Spencer to make roome For Shakespeare in your threefold fourefold tombe To lie all foure in one bed make a shift For untill doomesday hardly will a fift Betwixt this day and that be slaine For whom your curtaines need be drawne againe But if precedency of death doth barre A fourth place in your sacred sepulchre Under this curled marble of thine owne Sleepe rare Tragedian Shakespeare sleepe alone That unto Vs and others it may bee Honor hereafter to be laid by thee Sapho to Philaenis VVHere is that holy fire which Verse is said To have is that inchanting force decai'd Verse that drawes Natures workes from Natures law Thee her best worke to her worke cannot draw Have my teares quench'd my old Poetique fire Why quench'd they not as well that of desire Thoughts my mindes creatures often are with thee But I their maker want their libertie Onely thine image in my heart doth sit But that is waxe and fires environ it My fires have driven thine have drawne it hence And I am rob'd of Picture Heart and Sense Dwells with me still mine irksome Memory Which both to keepe and lose grieves equally That tells me'how faire thou art Thou art so faire As gods when gods to thee I doe compare Are grac'd thereby And to make blinde men see What things gods are I say they' are like to thee For if we justly call each silly man A litle world What shall we call thee than Thou art not soft and cleare and strait and faire As Down as Stars Cedars and Lillies are But thy right hand and cheek and eye only Are like thy other hand and cheek and eye Such was my Phao awhile but shall be never As thou waâ—t art and oh maist be ever Here lovers sweare in their Idolatrie That I am such but Griefe discolors me And yet I grieve the lesse least Griefe remove My beauty and make me'unworthy of thy love Plaies some soft boy with thee oh there wants yet A mutuall feeling which should sweeten it His chinne a thorny hairy unevennesse Doth threaten and some daily change possesse Thy body is a naturall Paradise In whose selfe unmanur'd all pleasure lies Nor needs perfection why shouldst thou than Admit the tillage of a harsh rough man Men leave behinde them that which their sin showes And are as theeves trac'd which rob when it snows But of our dallyance no more signes there are Then fishes leave in streames or Birds in aire And betweene us all sweetnesse may be had All all that Nature yields or Art can adde My two
influence all impression came But by receivers impotencies lame Who though she could not transubstantiate All states to gold yet guilded every state So that some Princes have some temperance Some Counsellers some purpose to advance The common profit and some people have Some stay no more then Kings should give to crave Some women have some taciturnity Some nunneries some graines of chastitie She that did thus much and much more could doe But that our age was Iron and rustie too Shee she is dead she 's dead when thou knowst this Thou knowst how drie a Cinder this world is And learn'st thus much by our Anatomy That 't is in vaine to dew or mollifie It with thy teares or sweat or blood nothing Is worth our travaile griefe or perishing But those rich joyes which did possesse her heart Of which she 's now partaker and a part But as in cutting up a man that 's dead The body will not last out to have read On every part and therefore men direct Their speech to parts that are of most effect So the worlds carcasse would not last if I Were punctuall in this Anatomy Nor smels it well to hearers if one tell Them their disease who faine would think thy're well Here therefore be the end and blessed maid Of whom is meant what ever hath been said Or shall be spoken well by any tongue Whose name refines course lines and makes prose song Accept this tribute and his first yeares rent Who till his darke short tapers end be spent As oft as thy feast sees this widowed earth Will yearely celebrate thy second birth That is thy death for though the soule of man Be got when man is made 't is borne but than When man doth die our body 's as the wombe And as a Mid-wife death directs it home And you her creatures whom she workes upon And have your last and best concoction From her example and her vertue if you In reverence to her do thinke it due That no one should her praises thus rehearse As matter fit for Chronicle not verse Vouchsafe to call to minde that God did make A last and lasting'st peece a song He spake To Moses to deliver unto all That song because hee knew they would let fall The Law the Prophets and the History But keepe the song still in their memory Such an opinion in due measure made Me this great office boldly to invade Nor could incomprehensiblenesse deterre Mee from thus trying to emprison her Which when I saw that a strict grave could doe I saw not why verse might not do so too Verse hath a middle nature heaven keepes Soules The Grave keepes bodies Verse the Fame enroules A Funerall ELEGIE 'T Is lost to trust a Tombe with such a guest Or to confine her in a marble chest Alas what 's Marble Jeat or Porphyrie Priz'd with the Chrysolite of either eye Or with those Pearles and Rubies which she was Joyne the two Indies in one Tombe 't is glasse And so is all to her materials Though every inch were ten Escurials Yet she 's demolish'd can wee keepe her then In works of hands or of the wits of men Can these memorials ragges of paper give Life to that name by which name they must live Sickly alas short-liv'd aborted bee Those carcasse verses whose soule is not shee And can shee who no longer would be shee Being such a Tabernacle stoop to be In paper wrapt or when shee would not lie In such a house dwell in an Elegie But'tis no matter wee may well allow Verse to live so long as the world will now For her death wounded it The world containes Princes for armes and counsellors for braines Lawyers for tongues Divines for hearts and more The rich for stomackes and for backs the poore The officers for hands merchants for feet By which remote and distant Countries meet But those fine spirits which do tune and set This Organ are those peeces which beget Wonder and love and these were shee and shee Being spent the world must needs decrepit bee For since death will proceed to triumph still He can finde nothing after her to kill Except the world it selfe so great was shee Thus brave and confident may Nature bee Death cannot give her such another blow Because shee cannot such another show But must wee say she 's dead may 't not be said That as a sundred clocke is peecemeale laid Not to be lost but by the makers hand Repollish'd without errour then to stand Or as the Affrique Niger streame enwombs It selfe into the earth and after comes Having first made a naturall bridge to passe For many leagues farre greater then it was May 't not be said that her grave shall restore Her greater purer firmer then before Heaven may say this and joy in 't but can wee Who live and lacke her here this vantage see What is 't to us alas if there have beene An Angell made a Throne or Cherubin Wee lose by 't and as aged men are glad Being tastlesse growne to joy in joyes they had So now the sick starv'd world must feed upon This joy that we had her who now is gone Rejoyce then Nature and this World that you Fearing the last fires hastning to subdue Your force and vigour ere it were neere gone Wisely bestow'd and laid it all on one One whose cleare body was so pure and thinne Because it need disguise no thought within 'T was but a through-light scarfe her minde t'inroule Or exhalation breath'd out from her Soule One whom all men who durst no more admir'd And whom who ere had worke enough desir'd As when a Temple 's built Saints emulate To which of them it shall be consecrate But as when heaven lookes on us with new eyes Those new starres every Artist exercise VVhat place they should assigne to them they doubt Argue ' and agree not till those starres goe out So the world studied whose this peece should be Till shee can be no bodies else nor shee But like a Lampe of Balsamum desir'd Rather t' adorne then last she soone expir'd Cloath'd in her virgin white integritie For marriage though it doth not staine doth die To scape th'infirmities which wait upon VVoman she went away before sh'was one And the worlds busie noyse to overcome Tooke so much death as serv'd for opium For though she could not nor could chuse to dye She'ath yeelded to too long an extasie Hee which not knowing her said History Should come to reade the booke of destiny How faire and chast humble and high she'ad been Much promis'd much perform'd at not fifteene And measuring future things by things before Should turne the leafe to reade and reade no more VVould thinke that either destiny mistooke Or that some leaves were torne out of the booke But 't is not so Fate did but usher her To yeares of reasons use and then inferre Her destiny to her selfe which liberty She tooke but for thus much thus much
wee understood Her by her sight her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheekes and so distinctly wrought That one might almost say her body thought Shee shee thus richly and largely hous'd is gone And chides us slow-pac'd snailes who crawle upon Our prisons prison earth nor thinke us well Longer then whil'st wee beare our brittle shell But 't were but little to have chang'd our roome If as we were in this our living Tombe Oppress'd with ignorance wee still were so Poore soule in this thy flesh what dost thou know Thou know'st thy selfe so little as thou know'st not How thou didst die nor how thou wast begot Thou neither know'st how thou at first cam'st in Nor how thou took'st the poyson of mans sinne Nor dost thou though thou know'st that thou art so By what way thou art made immortall know Thou art too narrow wretch to comprehend Even thy selfe yea though thou wouldst but bend To know thy body Have not all soules thought For many ages that our body is wrought Of aire and fire and other Elements And now they thinke of new ingredients And one Soule thinkes one and another way Another thinkes and 't is an even lay Knowst thou but how the stone doth enter in The bladders cave and never brake the skinne Know'st thou how blood which to the heart doth flow Doth from one ventricle to th' other goe And for the putrid stuffe which thou dost spit Know'st thou how thy lungs have attracted it There are no passages so that there is For ought thou know'st piercing of substances And of those many opinions which men raise Of Nailes and Haires dost thou know which to praise What hope have wee to know our selves when wee Know not the least things which for our use be Wee see in Authors too stiffe to recant A hundred controversies of an Ant And yet one watches starves freeses and sweats To know but Catechismes and Alphabets Of unconcerning things matters of fact How others on our stage their parts did Act What Caesar did yea and what Cicero said Why grasse is greene or why our blood is red Are mysteries which none have reach'd unto In this low forme poore soule what wilt thou doe When wilt thou shake off this Pedantery Of being taught by sense and Fantasie Thou look'st through spectacles small things seeme great Below But up unto the watch-towre get And see all things despoyl'd of fallacies Thou shalt not peepe through lattices of eyes Nor heare through Labyrinths of eares nor learne By circuit or collections to discerne In heaven thou straight know'st all concerning it And what concernes it not shalt straight forget There thou but in no other schoole maist bee Perchance as learned and as full as shee Shee who all libraries had throughly read At home in her owne thoughts and practised So much good as would make as many more Shee whose example they must all implore Who would or doe or thinke well and confesse That all the vertuous Actions they expresse Are but a new and worse edition Of her some one thought or one action She who in th' art of knowing Heaven was growne Here upon earth to such perfection That she hath ever since to Heaven she came In a far fairer point but read the same Shee shee not satisfied with all this waight For so much knowledge as would over-fraight Another did but ballast her is gone As well t' enjoy as get perfection And cals us after her in that shee tooke Taking her selfe our best and worthiest booke Returne not my Soule from this extasie And meditation of what thou shalt bee To earthly thoughts till it to thee appeare With whom thy conversation must be there With whom wilt thou converse what station Canst thou chose out free from infection That will not give thee theirs nor drinke in thine Shalt thou not finde a spungie slacke Divine Drinke and sucke in th' instructions of great men And for the word of God vent them agen Are there not some Courts and then no things bee So like as Courts which in this let us see That wits and tongues of Libellers are weake Because they do more ill then these can speake The poyson's gone through all poysons affect Chiefly the chiefest parts but some effect In nailes and haires yea excrements will show So lyes the poyson of sinne in the most low Up up my drowsie Soule where thy new eare Shall in the Angels songs no discord heare Where thou shalt see the blessed Mother-maid Joy in not being that which men have said Where she is exalted more for being good Then for her interest of Mother-hood Up to those Patriarchs which did longer sit Expecting Christ then they'have enjoy'd him yet Up to those Prophets which now gladly see Their Prophesies growne to be Historie Up to th'Apostles who did bravely runne All the Suns course with more light then the Sunne Up to those Martyrs who did calmly bleed Oyle to th'Apostles Lamps dew to their seed Up to those Virgins who thought that almost They made joyntenants with the Holy Ghost If they to any should his Temple give Up up for in that squadron there doth live She who hath carried thither new degrees As to their number to their dignities Shee who being to her selfe a State injoy'd All royalties which any State employ'd For shee made warres and triumph'd reason still Did not o'rthrow but rectifie her will And she made peace for no peace is like this That beauty and chastity together kisse She did high justice for she crucified Every first motion of rebellious pride And she gave pardons and was liberall For onely her selfe except she pardon'd all Shee coy'nd in this that her impression gave To all our actions all the worth they have She gave protections the thoughts of her brest Satans rude Officers could ne'r arrest As these prerogatives being met in one Made her a soveraigne State religion Made her a Church and these two made her all She who was all this All and could not fall To worse by company for she was still More Antidote then all the world was ill Shee shee doth leave it and by Death survive All this in Heaven whether who doth not strive The more because shee s there he doth not know That accidentall joyes in Heaven doe grow But pause my soule And study ere thou fall On accidentall joyes th'essentiall Still before Accessories doe abide A triall must the principall be tride And what essentiall joy can'st thou expect Here upon earth what permanent effect Of transitory causes Dost thou love Beauty And beauty worthy'st is to move Poore cousened cousenor that she and that thou Which did begin to love are neither now You are both fluid chang'd since yesterday Next day repaires but ill last dayes decay Nor are although the river keepe the name Yesterdaies waters and to daies the same So flowes her face and thine eyes neither now That Saint nor Pilgrime which your loving vow Concern'd remaines
but whil'st you thinke you bee Constant you' are hourely in inconstancie Honour may have pretence unto our love Because that God did live so long above Without this Honour and then lov'd it so That he at last made creatures to bestow Honour on him not that he needed it But that to his hands man might grow more fit But since all Honours from inferiours flow For they doe give it Princes doe but shew Whom they would have so honor'd and that this On such opinions and capacities Is built as rise and fall to more and lesse Alas 't is but a casuall happinesse Hath ever any man to'himselfe assign'd This or that happinesse to'arrest his minde But that another man which takes a worse Thinks him a foole for having tane that course They who did labour Babels tower to'erect Might have considered that for that effect All this whole solid Earth could not allow Nor furnish forth materialls enough And that his Center to raise such a place Was farre too little to have beene the Base No more affords this world foundation To erect true joy were all the meanes in one But as the Heathen made them severall gods Of all Gods benefits and all his rods For as the Wine and Corne and Onions are Gods unto them so Agues bee and warre And as by changing that whole precious Gold To such small Copper coynes they lost the old And lost their only God who ever must Be sought alone and not in such a thrust So much mankinde true happinesse mistakes No Joy enjoyes that man that many makes Then Soule to thy first pitch worke up againe Know that all lines which circles doe containe For once that they the Center touch doe touch Twice the circumference and be thou such Double on heaven thy thoughts on earth emploid All will not serve Only who have enjoy'd The sight of God in fulnesse can thinke it For it is both the object and the wit This is essentiall joy where neither hee Can suffer diminution nor wee 'T is such a full and such a filling good Had th'Angels once look'd on him they had stood To fill the place of one of them or more Shee whom wee celebrate is gone before She who had here so much essentiall joy As no chance could distract much lesse destroy Who with Gods presence was acquainted so Hearing and speaking to him as to know His face in any naturall Stone or Tree Better then when in Images they bee Who kept by diligent devotion Gods Image in such reparation Within her heart that what decay was growne Was her first Parents fault and not her owne Who being solicited to any act Still heard God pleading his safe precontract Who by a faithfull confidence was here Betroth'd to God and now is married there Whose twilights were more cleare then our mid-day Who dreamt devoutlier then most use to pray Who being here fil'd with grace yet strove to bee Both where more grace and more capacitie At once is given she to Heaven is gone Who made this world in some proportion A heaven and here became unto us all Joy as our joyes admit essentiall But could this low world joyes essentiall touch Heavens accidentall joyes would passe them much How poore and lame must then our casuall bee If thy Prince will his subjects to call thee My Lord and this doe swell thee thou art than By being greater growne to bee lesse Man When no Physitian of redresse can speake A joyfull casuall violence may breake A dangerous Apostem in thy breast And whil'st thou joyest in this the dangerous rest The bag may rise up and so strangle thee What e'r was casuall may ever bee What should the nature change Or make the same Certaine which was but casuall when it came All casuall joy doth loud and plainly say Only by comming that it can away Only in Heaven joyes strength is never spent And accidentall things are permanent Joy of a soules arrivall ne'r decaies For that soule ever joyes and ever staies Joy that their last great Consummation Approaches in the resurrection When earthly bodies more celestiall Shall be then Angels were for they could fall This kinde of joy doth every day admit Degrees of growth but none of losing it In this fresh joy 't is no small part that shee Shee in whose goodnesse he that names degree Doth injure her 'T is losse to be cal'd best There where the stuffe is not such as the rest Shee who left such a bodie as even shee Only in Heaven could learne how it can bee Made better for shee rather was two soules Or like to full on both sides written Rols Where eyes might reade upon the outward skin As strong Records for God as mindes within Shee who by making full perfection grow Peeces a Circle and still keepes it so Long'd for and longing for it to heaven is gone Where shee receives and gives addition Here in a place where mis-devotion frames A thousand Prayers to Saints whose very names The anciēt Church knew not Heaven knows not yet And where what lawes of Poetry admit Lawes of Religion have at least the same Immortall Maide I might invoke thy name Could any Saint provoke that appetite Thou here should'st make me a french convertite But thou would'st not nor would'st thou be content To take this for my second yeares true Rent Did this Coine beare any other stampe then his That gave thee power to doe me to say this Since his will is that to posteritie Thou should'st for life and death a patterne bee And that the world should notice have of this The purpose and th' authoritie is his Thou art the Proclamation and I am The Trumpet at whose voyce the people came The Extasie WHere like a pillow on a bed A Pregnant banke swel'd up to rest The violets reclining head Sat we two one anothers best Our hands were firmely cimented With a fast balme which thence did spring Our eye-beames twisted and did thred Our eyes upon one double string So to'entergraft our hands as yet Was all the meanes to make us one And pictures in our eyes to get Was all our propagation As 'twixt two equall Armies Fate Suspends uncertaine victorie Our soules which to advance their state Were gone out hung 'twixt her and mee And whil'st our soules negotiate there Wee like sepulchrall statues lay All day the same our postures were And wee said nothing all the day If any so by love refin'd That he soules language understood And by good love were growen all minde Within convenient distance stood He though he knowes not which soule spake Because both meant both spake the same Might thence a new concoction take And part farre purer then he came This Extasie doth unperplex We said and tell us what we love Wee see by this it was not sexe Wee see we saw not what did move But as all severall soules containe Mixture of things they know not what Love these mixt soules doth
mixe againe And makes both one each this and that A single violet transplant The strength the colour and the size All which before was poore and scant Redoubles still and multiplies When love with one another so Interanimates two soules That abler soule which thence doth flow Defects of lonelinesse controules Wee then who are this new soule know Of what we are compos'd and made For th'Atomies of which we grow Are soules whom no change can invade But O alas so long so farre Our bodies why doe wee forbeare They are ours though not wee Wee are The intelligences they the spheares We owe them thankes because they thus Did us to us at first convay Yeelded their senses force to us Nor are drosse to us but allay On man heavens influence workes not so But that it first imprints the ayre For soule into the soule may flow Though it to body first repaire As our blood labours to beget Spirits as like soules as it can Because such fingers need to knit That subtile knot which makes us man So must pure lovers soules descend T'affections and to faculties Which sense may reach and apprehend Else a great Prince in prison lies To'our bodies turne wee then that so Weake men on love reveal'd may looke Loves mysteries in soules doe grow But yet the body is his booke And if some lover such as wee Have heard this dialogue of one Let him still marke us he shall see Small change when we' are to bodies gone Loves Deitie I Long to talke with some old lovers ghost Who dyed before the god of Love was borne I cannot thinke that hee who then lov'd most Sunke so low as to love one which did scorne But since this god produc'd a destinie And that vice-nature custome lets it be I must love her that loves not mee Sure they which made him god meant not so much Nor he in his young god head practis'd it But when an even flame two hearts did touch His office was indulgently to fit Actives to passives Correspondencie Only his subject was It cannot bee Love till I love her that loves mee But every moderne god will now extend His vast prerogative as far as Jove To rage to lust to 〈◊〉 to commend All is the purlewe of the God of Love Oh were wee wak'ned by this Tyrannie To ungod this child againe it could not beo I should love her who loves not mee Rebell and Atheist too why murmure I As though I felt the worst that love could doe Love may make me leave loving or might trie A deeper plague to make her love mee too Which since she loves before I 'am loth to see Falshood is worse then hate and that must bee If shee whom I love should love mee Loves diet TO what a combersome unwieldinesse And burdenous corpulence my love had growne But that I did to make it lesse And keepe it in proportion Give it a diet made it feed upon That which love worst endures discretion Above one sigh a day I'allow'd him not Of which my fortune and my faults had part And if sometimes by stealth he got A she sigh from my mistresse heart And thought to feast on that I let him see 'T was neither very sound nor meant to mee If he wroung from mee'a teare I brin'd it so With scorne or shame that him it nourish'd not If he suck'd hers I let him know 'T was not a teare which hee had got His drinke was counterfeit as was his meat For eyes which rowle towards all weepe not but sweat What ever he would dictate I writ that But burnt my letters When she writ to me And that that favour made him fat I said if any title bee Convey'd by this Ah what doth it availe To be the fortieth name in an entaile Thus I redeem'd my buzard love to flye At what and when and how and where I chuse Now negligent of sports I lye And now as other Fawkners use I spring a mistresse sweare write sigh and weepe And the game kill'd or lost goe talke and sleepe The Will BEfore I sigh my last gaspe let me breath Great love some Legacies Here I bequeath Mine eyes to Argus if mine eyes can see If they be blinde then Love I give them thee My tongue to Fame to'Embassadours mine eares To women or the sea my teares Thou Love hast taught mee heretofore By making mee serve her who 'had twenty more That I should give to none but such as had too much before My constancie I to the planets give My truth to them who at the Court doe live Mine ingenuity and opennesse To Jesuites to Buffones my pensivenesse My silence to'any who abroad hath beene My mony to a Capuchin Thou Love taught'st me by appointing mee To love there where no love receiv'd can be Onely to give to such as have an incapacitie My faith I give to Roman Catholiques All my good works unto the Schismaticks Of Amsterdam my best civility And Courtship to an Universitie My modesty I give to souldiers bare My patience let gamesters share Thou Love taughtst mee by making mee Love her that holds my love disparity Onely to give to those that count my gifts indignity I give my reputation to those Which were my friends Mine industrie to foes To Schoolemen I bequeath my doubtfulnesse My sicknesse to Physitians or excesse To Nature all that I in Ryme have writ And to my company my wit Thou love by making mee adore Her who begot this love in mee before Taughtst me to make as though I gave when I did but restore To him for whom the passing bell next tolls I give my physick bookes my writen rowles Of Morall counsels I to Bedlam give My brazen medals unto them which live In want of bread to them which passe among All forrainers mine English tongue Thou Love by making mee love one Who thinkes her friendship a fit portion For yonger lovers dost my gifts thus disproportion Therefore I 'll give no more But I 'll undoe The world by dying because love dies too Then all your beauties will bee no more worth Then gold in Mines where none doth draw it forth And all your graces no more use shall have Then a Sun dyall in a grave Thou Love taughtst mee by making mee Love her who doth neglect both mee and thee To'invent and practise this one way to'annihilate all three The Funerall WHo ever comes to shroud me do not harme Nor question much That subtile wreath of haire which crowne my arme The mystery the signe you must not touch For'tis my outward Soule Viceroy to that which unto heaven being gone Will leave this to controule And keepe these limbes her Provinces from dissolution For if the sinewie thread my braine le ts fall Through every part Can tye those parts and make mee one of all Those haires which upward grew and strength and art Have from a better braine Can better do' it except she meant that I By this should
it and dignifie it But infinite nothings are but one such Yet since even Chymeraes have some name and titles I am also Yours To Sr. H. G. SIR IN the history or stile of friendship which is best written both in deeds and words a letter which is of a mixed nature and hath something of both is a mixt parenthesis It may be left out yet it contributes though not to the beeing yet to the verdure and freshnesse thereof Letters have truly the same office as oathes As these amongst light and empty men are but fillings and pauses and interjections but with waightier they are sad attestations So are letters to some complement and obligation to others For mine as I never authorized my servant to lye in my behalfe for if it were officious in him it might be worse in mee so I allow my letters much lesse that civill dishonesty both because they goe from mee more considerately and because they are permanent for in them I may speake to you in your chamber a yeare hence before I know not whom and not heare my selfe They shall therefore ever keepe the sincerity and intemeratenesse of the fountaine whence they are derived And as wheresoever these leaves fall the root is in my heart so shall they as that sucks good affections towards you there have ever true impressions thereof Thus much information is in very leaves that they can tell what the tree is and these can tell you I am a friend and an honest man Of what generall use the fruit should speake and I have none and of what particular profit to you your application and experimenting should tell you and you can make none of such a nothing Yet even of barren Sicamores such as I there were use if either any light flashings or scorching vehemencies or sudden showers made you need so shadowie an example or Remembrancer But Sir your fortune and minde do you this happy injury that they make all kinde of fruits uselesse unto you Therefore I have placed my love wisely where I need communicate nothing All this though perchance you reade it not till Michaelmas was told you at Michin 15. Aug. 1607. To Sr H. G. SIR IT should be no interruption to your pleasures to heare mee often say that I love you and that you are as much my meditation as my selfe I often compare not you and mee but the Spheare in which your resolutions are and my wheele both I hope concentrique to God for me thinkes the new Astronomie is thus applyable well that wee which are a little earth should rather move towards God then that hee which is fulfilling and can come no whither should move towards us To your life full of variety nothing is old nor new to mine And as to that life all stickings and hesitations seeme stupid and stony so to this all fluid slipperinesses and transitory migrations seeme giddy and feathery In that life one is ever in the porch or posterne going in or out never within his house himself It is a garment made of remnants a life raveld out into ends a line discontinued a number of small wretched points uselesse because they concurre not A life built of past future not proposing any constant present They have more pleasures then wee but not more pleasure they joy oftner wee longer and no man but of so much understanding as may deliver him from being a foole would change with a mad-man which had a better proportion of wit in his often Lucidis You know they which dwell farthest from the Sunne if in any convenient distance have longer dayes better appetites better digestion better growth and longer life And all these advantages have their mindes who are well removed from the scorchings and dazlings and exhalings of the worlds glory but neither of our lifes are in such extremes for you living at Court without ambition which would burne you or envy which would devest others live in the Sunne not in the fire and I which live in the Country without stupifying am not in darknesse but in shadow which is not no light but a pallid watrish and diluted one As all shadowes are of one colour if you respect the body from which they are cast for our shadows upon clay will be dirty and in a garden greene and flowery so all retyrings into a shadowie life are alike from all causes and alike subject to the barbarousnesse and insipid dulnes of the countrie Only the employment and that upon which you cast and bestow your pleasure businesse or bookes gives it the tincture and beauty But truly wheresoever we are if wee can but tell our selves truly what where we would be we may make any state place such For we are so composed that if abundance or glory scorch melt us we have an earthly cave our bodies to go into by consideration coole our selves and if we be frozen and contracted with lower and darke fortunes wee have within us a torch a soule lighter and warmer then any without we are therefore our owne umbrellas and our owne Sun◠These Sir are the Sallads and Onyons of Michin sent to you with as wholsome affection as your other friends send Melons and Quelque choses from Court and London If I present you not as good dyet as they I would yet say grace to theirs and bid much good do it you I send you with this a letter which I sent to the Countesse It is not my use nor duty to do so But for your having of it there were but two consents and I am sure you have mine and you are sure you have hers I also writ to her Ladiship for the verses shee shewed in the garden which I did not onely to extort them nor onely to keepe my promise of writing for that I had done in the other letter and perchance shee hath forgotten the promise nor onely because I thinke my letters just good enough for a Progresse but because I would write apace to her whilst it is possible to expresse that which I yet know of her for by this growth I see how soone she will be ineffable To the Countesse of Bedford Happiest and worthyest Lady I Do not remember that ever I have seen a petition in verse I would not therefore be singular nor adde these to your other papers I have yet adventured so neare as to make a petitiō for verse It is for those your Ladiship did me the honor to see in a Twicknam garden except you repēt your making having mended your judgement by thinking worse that is better because juster of their subject They must needs be an excellent exercise of your wit which speake so well of so ill I humbly begge them of your Ladiship with two such promises as to any other of your compositions were threatnings That I will not shew them that I will not beleeve them And nothing should be so used which comes from your braine or heart
If I should confesse a fault in the boldnesse of asking them or make a fault by doing it in a longer letter your Ladiship might use your stile and old fashion of the Court towards mee and pay mee with a pardon Here therefore I humbly kisse your Ladiships faire learned hands and wish you good wishes and speedy grants Your Ladiships servant JO. DONNE To Sr H. G. SIR BEcause I am in a place and season where I see every thing bud forth I must do so too and vent some of my meditations to you the rather because all other buds being yet without taste or vertue my letters may be like them The pleasantnes of the season displeases mee Every thing refreshes and I wither and I grow older and not better My strength diminishes and my load growes and being to passe more and more stormes I finde that I have not only cast out all my ballast which nature and time gives reason discretion so am as empty light as vanity can make me but I have over-fraught my selfe with vice and so am riddingly subject to two contrary wrackes sinking and over-setting and under the iniquity of such a disease as enforces the patient when hee is almost starv'd not onely to fast but to purge for I have much to take in and much to cast out Sometimes I thinke it easier to discharge my selfe of vice then of vanity as one may sooner carry the fire out of a roome then the smoke And then I see it was a new vanity to thinke so And when I thinke sometimes that vanity because it is thinne and airy may be expelled with vertue or businesse or substantiall vice I finde that I give entrance thereby to new vices Certainly as the earth water one sad the other fluid make but one body so to vice and vanity there is but one Centrum morbi And that which later Physitiās say of our bodies is fitter for our mindes for that which they call destruction which is a corruption and want of those fundamentall parts whereof we consist is vice And that Collectio Stercorum which is but the Excrement of that corruption is our vanity and indiscretion Both these have but one root in mee and must bee pulled out at once or never But I am so far from digging to it that I know not where it is For it is not in mine eyes only but in every sense nor in my concupiscence only but in every power and affection Sir I was willing to let you see how impotent a man you love not to dishearten you from doing so still for my vices are not infectious nor wandring They came not yesterday nor meane to goe away to day They Inne not but dwell in mee and see themselves so welcome and finde in mee so good bad company of one another that they will not change especially to one not apprehensive nor easily accessible but I doe it that your counsell might cure mee and if you deny that your example shall for I will as much strive to be like you as I will wish you to continue good To Sir H. G. SIR I Hope you are now welcome to London and well and well comforted in your fathers health and love and well contented that we aske you how you doe and tell you how we are which yet I cannot of my selfe If I knew that I were ill I were well For we consist of three parts a Soule and Body and Mind which I call those thoughts and affections and passions which neither Soule nor Body hath alone but have beene begotten by their communication as Musique results out of our breath and a Cornet And of all these the diseases are cures if they be knowne Of our Soules sicknesses which are sinnes the knowledge is to acknowledge and that is her physick in which wee are not dieted by drams and scruples for we cannot take too much Of our bodies infirmities though our knowledge be partly ab extrinseco from the opinion of the Physitian and that the subject and matter be flexible and various Yet their rules are certaine and if the matter be rightly applyed to the rule our knowledge thereof is also certaine But of the diseases of the minde there is no Cryterium no Canon no rule for our owne tast and apprehension interpretation should be the judge and that is the disease it selfe Therefore sometimes when I finde my selfe transported with jollity and love of company I hang leads at my heeles and reduce to my thoughts my fortunes my yeares the duties of a man of a friend of a husband of a father and all the incumbencies of a family When sadnesse dejects me either I countermine it with another sadnesse or I kindly squibs about mee againe and flie into sportfulnesse and company And I finde ever after all that I am like an Exorcist which had long laboured about one which at last appeares to have the Mother that I still mistake my disease And I still vexe my selfe with this because if I know it not no body can know it And I comfort my selfe because I see dispassioned men are subject to the like ignorances For divers mindes out of the same thing often draw contrary conclusions as Augustine thought devout Anthony to bee therfore full of the holy Ghost because not being able to read he could say the whole Bible and interpret it And Thyraeus the Jesuite for the same reason doth thinke all the Anabaptists to be possessed And as often out of contrary things men draw one conclusion As To the Romane Church Magnificence and Splendor hath ever beene an argument of Gods favour and Poverty and Affliction to the Greeke Out of this variety of mindes it proceeds that though all our Soules would goe to one end Heaven and all our bodies must goe to one end the Earth Yet our third part the minde which is our naturall Guide here chuses to every man a severall way Scarce any man likes what another doth nor advisedly that which himselfe But Sir I am beyond my purpose I meant to write a letter and I am fallen into a discourse and I doe not only take you from some businesse but I make you a new businesse by drawing you into these meditations In which yet let my opennes be an argument of such love as I would fain expresse in some worthier fashion Elegies upon the Author TO THE MEMORIE OF MY EVER DESIRED FRIEND Dr. DONNE TO have liv'd eminent in a degree Beyond our lofty'st flights that is like Thee Or t' have had too much merit is not safe For such excesses finde no Epitaph At common graves we have Poetique eyes Can melt themselves in easie Elegies Each quill can drop his tributary verse And pin it like the Hatchments to the Hearse But at Thine Poeme or Inscription Rich soule of wit and language we have none Indeed a silence does that tombe befit Where is no Herald left to blazon it Widow'd invention justly doth
forbeare To come abroad knowing Thou art not here Late her great Patron Whose Prerogative Maintain'd and cloth'd her so as none alive Must now presume to keepe her at thy rate Though he the Indies for her dowre estate Or else that awfull fire which once did burne In thy cleare Braine now falne into thy Urne Lives there to fright rude Empiricks from thence Which might prophane thee by their Ignorance Who ever writes of Thee and in a stile Unworthy such a Theme does but revile Thy precious Dust and wake a learned Spirit Which may revenge his Rapes upon thy Merit For all a low pitch't phansie can devise Will prove at best but Hallow'd Injuries Thou like the dying Swanne didst lately sing Thy Mournfull Dirge in audience of the King When pale lookes and faint accents of thy breath Presented so to life that peece of death That it was fear'd and prophesi'd by all Thou thither cam'st to preach thy Funerall O! had'st Thou in an Elegiacke Knell Rung out unto the world thine owne farewell And in thy High Victorious Numbers beate The solemne measure of thy griev'd Retreat Thou might'st the Poets service now have mist As well as then thou did'st prevent the Priest And never to the world beholding bee So much as for an Epitaph for thee I doe not like the office Nor is 't fit Thou who did'st lend our Age such summes of wit Should'st now re-borrow from her bankrupt Mine That Ore to Bury Thee which once was Thine Rather still leave us in thy debt And know Exalted Soule more glory 't is to owe Unto thy Hearse what we can never pay Then with embased Coine those Rites defray Commit we then Thee to Thy selfe Nor blame Our drooping loves which thus to thy owne Fame Leave Thee Executour Since but thine owne No pen could doe Thee Justice nor Bayes Crowne Thy vast desert Save that wee nothing can Depute to be thy Ashes Guardian So Jewellers no Art or Metall trust To forme the Diamond but the Diamonds dust H. K. To the deceased Author Upon the Promiscuous printing of his Poems the Looser sort with the Religious WHen thy Loose raptures Donne shall meet with Those That doe confine Tuning unto the Duller line And sing not but in Sanctified Prose How will they with sharper eyes The Fore-skinne of thy phansie circumcise And feare thy wantonnesse should now begin Example that hath ceased to be Sin And that Feare fannes their Heat whilst knowing eyes Will not admire At this Strange Fire That here is mingled with thy Sacrifice But dare reade even thy Wanton Story As thy Confession not thy Glory And will so envie Both to future times That they would buy thy Goodnesse with thy Crimes Tho Browne On the death of Dr DONNE I Cannot blame those men that knew thee well Yet dare not helpe the world to ring thy knell In tunefull Elegies there 's not language knowne Fit for thy mention but 't was first thy owne The Epitaphs thou writst have so bereft Our tongue of wit there is not phansie left Enough to weepe thee what henceforth we see Of Art or Nature must result from thee There may perchance some busie gathering friend Steale from thy owne workes and that varied lend Which thou bestow'st on others to thy Hearse And so thou shalt live still in thine owne verse Hee that shall venture farther may commit A pitied errour shew his zeale not wit Fate hath done mankinde wrong vertue may aime Reward of conscience never can of fame Since her great trumpet's broke could onely give Faith to the world command it to beleeve Hee then must write that world define thy parts Here lyes the best Divinitie All the Arts. Edw. Hyde On Doctor Donne By Dr C. B. of O. HEe that would write an Epitaph for thee And do it well must first beginne to be Such as thou wert for none can truly know Thy worth thy life but he that hath liv'd so He must have wit to spare and to hurle downe Enough to keepe the gallants of the towne He must have learning plenty both the Lawes Civill and Common to judge any cause Divinity great store above the rest Not of the last Edition but the best Hee must have language travaile all the Arts Judgement to use or else he wants thy parts He must have friends the highest able to do Such as Mecoenas and Augustus too He must have such a sicknesse such a death Or else his vaine descriptions come beneath Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee He must be dead first let'it alone for mee An Elegie upon the incomparable Dr DONNE ALl is not well when such a one as I Dare peepe abroad and write an Elegie When smaller Starres appeare and give their light Phoebus is gone to bed Were it not night And the world witlesse now that DONNE is dead You sooner should have broke then seene my head Dead did I say Forgive this Injury I doe him and his worthes Infinity To say he is but dead I dare averre It better may be term'd a Massacre Then Sleepe or Death See how the Muses mourne Upon their oaten Reeds and from his Vrne Threaten the World with this Calamity They shall have Ballads but no Poetry Language lyes speechlesse and Divinity Lost such a Trump as even to Extasie Could charme the Soule and had an Influence To teach best judgements and please dullest Sense The Court the Church the Vniversitie Lost Chaplaine Deane and Doctor All these Three It was his Merit that his Funerall Could cause a losse so great and generall If there be any Spirit can answer give Of such as hence depart to such as live Speake Doth his body there vermiculate Crumble to dust and feele the lawes of Fate Me thinkes Corruption Wormes what else is foule Should spare the Temple of so faire a Soule I could beleeve they doe but that I know What inconvenience might hereafter grow Succeeding ages would Idolatrize And as his Numbers so his Reliques prize If that Philosopher which did avow The world to be but Mores was living now He would affirme that th' Atomes of his mould Were they in severall bodies blended would Produce new worlds of Travellers Divines Of Linguists Poets sith these severall Lines In him concentred were and flowing thence Might fill againe the worlds Circumference I could beleeve this too and yet my faith Not want a President The Phoenix hath And such was He a power to animate Her ashes and herselfe perpetuate But busie Soule thou dost not well to pry Into these Secrets Griefe and Iealousie The more they know the further still advance And finde no way so safe as Ignorance Let this suffice thee that his Soule which flew A pitch of all admir'd known but of few Save those of purer mould is now translated From Earth to Heavên and there Constellated For if each Priest of God shine as a Starre His Glory is as his Gifts 'bove others farre HEN. VALENTINE An Elegie upon