University of Virginia Library

Loe, how the stormy world doth worldlings tosse,
Twixt sandy pleasures, and a rocky will,
Whil'st them that Court it most, it most doth crosse,
To vice indulgent, vertues stepdame still:
This masse of thoughts, this animated slittie,
This dying substance, and this living shadow,
The sport of Fortune, and the prey of Time,
Soon rais'd, soon raz'd, as flowers are in a meadow.
He toyles to get (such is his foolish nature)
A constant good in this inconstant ill:
“Unreasonable reasonable creature,
“That makes his reason subject to his will!
VVhilst on the height of contemplation plac'd,
I weigh fond earthlings, earnest idle strife,
“All (though they all have divers parts imbrac'd)
“Would act a comicke Scene of tragicke life:
“The minde (which alwaies at some new things aymes)
“To get for what it longs, no travell spares;
“And lothing what it hath of better dreames,
“Which (when enjoy'd) doth procreate but cares:
“Yet to a Soveraign blisse which they surmise,
“By divers meanes, all pregnant wits aspire,
“But with strange shapes the same so much disguise,
“That it we scarce can know, much lesse acquire:
Some place their happinesse (unhappy beasts,
Whose mindes are drunke with momentary joyes)
In gorgeous garments, and in dainty feasts,
To pamper breath-toss'd-flesh with pleasures toyes;
Some more austere, no such delights allow,
But reyne their passions with advis'd respects,
And by no fortune mov'd to brag nor bow,
Would make the world enamour'd of their sects;
Some bathing still in vertues purest springs,
Doe draw Ideas of a heavenly brood,
And search the secrets of mysterious things,
As most undoubted heires of that high good:
Thus with a dream'd delight, and certaine paine,
“All seek by severall wayes a perfect blisse;
And let none wonder though they toyle in vaine,
Who cannot well discerne what thing it is,
What happinesse can be imagin'd here,
On painted grounds though we our hopes repose,
Who dearely first doe gaine, what we hold deare,
Then what we once must lose, still feare to lose?
Thinke (though 'mongst thousands scarcely one of all,
Can at this point of happinesse arrive)
One fortune have (whilst so to fortune thrall)
To get the thing for which a world doth strive:
What though he swimme in Oceans of delights,
Have none above him, and his equals rare;
Eares joying pleasant sounds, eyes stately sights,
His treasures infinite, his buildings faire?
Yet fortunes course which cannot be contrould,
Must mount some meane men up, throw down the great,
And (still in motion) circularly rould,
From what it is, must alter every state.
“Though of his wealth, the greedy man doth boast,
“Whil'st treasures vaine his drossie wits bewitch,
“What hath he gain'd, but what another lost?
“And once his losse may make another rich.
“But ah, all lose who seeke to profit thus,
“To found their trust on trustlesse grounds whil'st made:
“We may be rob'd from them, they rob'd from us,
“Griev'd for their losse, as when first purchas'd, glad:
“Those are but fooles, who hope true rest to finde
“In this fraile world, where for a while we range:
“Which doth (like Seas expos'd to every winde)
“Ebbe, flow, storme, calme, still moving, still in change;
“Each wave we see doth drive the first away,
“And still it whitest fomes where rockes are neare,
“While as one growes, another doth decay,
“The greatest danger oft doth least appeare.
“Their seeming blisse, who trust in frothy showes,
“Whose course with moments fickle fortune dates,
“As to a height, so to confusion growes:
“A secret fate doth manage mighty states.
But I scorne fortune, and was ever free
From that dead wealth, depending on her power;
My treasure still I beare about with me,
Which neither time nor tyrants can devoure:
That Lady of events, though still she rave,
Scarce can her course to mocke my minde advance,
For (if not trusted first) none can deceive,
And I attend no certainty from chance;
Then I have learn'd to moderate my minde,
Still with contentment crowning my desires.
My garments course, my food such as I finde:
“He hath enough, who to no more aspires.
VVhat satisfaction doth o're-flow my soule,
(The world all weigh'd) while high accounts I cast,
And in my memories unblotted scroule,
Doe match the present time with others past?
Those worldly mindes, whose weaknesse wealth doth cloake,
(Though others happy) I them wretched thinke,
For, whil'st that passions base all reason choake,
The bodies slaves, their soules surcharg'd, doe sinke;
Yet loath I not the world as loath'd by it,
Like those who when disdain'd, pretend disdaine;
No, no, I had (as Athens must admit)
What riches, birth, or reputation gaine.
And if that I would vaunt of mine own deeds,
Faire Citie, where mine eyes first suck't the light,
I challenge might what most thy glory breeds,
For fame or power, as due to me of right:
When Salamina had our yoke remov'd,
With follies garments, wisedome to disguise,
What none durst else attempt, I boldly mov'd,
And seem'd a foole to make the people wise.
Then having thus by policy prevail'd,
My Countries squadrons leading to the field,
Whil'st both by strength and stratagems assail'd,
I forc'd that Ile (though wall'd with waves) to yeeld;
But when renown'd, by that advent'rous deed,
And turn'd victorious, charg'd with strangers spoiles,
“(No perfect blisse below) worse did succeed,
The peace that was abroad, bred civill broyles;
“What with more violence doth fury leade,
“Then mut'nous commons when they want a head?
The meaner sort could not their mindes conforme,
Those things to doe which great men did command:
And (whil'st distracted with a dangerous storme,)
All joyn'd to place the Rudder in my hand;
I re-united that divided state,
And with good successe manag'd matters well,
Which further kindled, had been quench'd too late,
That Hydra-headed tumult did so swell.
VVhen I my worth by those two works had prov'd,
And trod the path of power (as Prince) a space,
The peoples Minion, by the Nobles lov'd,
None could be great, save such as I would grace.
Thus carried with the force of fortunes streame,
I absolutely acted what I would;
For, the democracy was but a name,
The Cities raines my hand in trust did hold;
I might (a tyrant) still have rul'd in state,
But my cleare minde could no such clouds conceive,
But gladly left what others urge of late,
“If I may rule my selfe, no more I crave;
Yet some whose thoughts but for fraile glory car'd,
Said that my sprite could not aspire to raigne,
And that my errour could not be repair'd,
Since so to erre meanes come not oft againe.
My soule in this a more contentment findes,
Then if a Diadem adorn'd my brow,
I chayn'd th'affections of undaunted mindes,
(Though barbarous earst) which did to order bow,
Yet hardly could rich Citizens advise
To keep the statutes which my lawes contain'd,
Whil'st what one prais'd, another did despise:
Some lov'd, some loath'd, ev'n as they thought they gain'd.
At last, at least in shew, all rest content,
Ev'n those who hate me most, lend their applause:
“A worthy minde needs never to repent,
“The suffering crosses for an honest cause.
Whil'st travelling now with a contented minde,
The memory of this my fancy feeds,
Though to great states their periods are assign'd:
“Time cannot make a prey of Vertues deeds.
Where seven-mouth'd Nile from a concealed source,
Inunding ov'r the fields, no bankes can binde,
I saw their wonders, heard their wise discourse;
Rare sights enrich'd mine eyes, rare lights my minde.

And if it were but this, yet this delights:
Behold how Crœsus here the Lydian King,
To be his guest me earnestly invites,
The which to some would great contentment bring;
But I bemoane that world-bewitched man,
Who makes his gold his god, the earth his heaven;
And I will try by all the meanes I can,
To make his judgement with his fortune caven.

VVhat can mans wandring thoughts confine,
Or satisfie his fancies all?
For whil'st he wonders doth designe,
Even great things then doe seeme but small;
What terrour can his sprite appall,
Whil'st taking more then it can hold,
He to himselfe contentment doth assigne;
His minde which monsters breeds,
Imagination feeds,
And with high thoughts quite headlongs rold,
Whil'st seeking here a perfect ease to finde,
Would but melt mountains, and embrace the winde.

What wonder though the soule of man,
(A sparke of heaven that shines below)
Doth labour by all meanes it can,
Like to it selfe, it selfe to show?
The heavenly essence, heaven would know,
But from this masse, (where bound) till free,
With paine both spend lifes little span;
The better part would be above:
And th'earth from th'earth cannot remove;
How can two contraries agree?
“Thus as the best part or the worst doth move,
“Man of much worth, or of no worth doth prove.

O! from what fountaine doe proceed
These humours of so many kindes?
Each braine doth divers fancies breed,
“As many men, as many mindes:
And in the world a man scarce findes
Another of his humour right,
Nor are there two so like indeed,
If we remarke their severall graces,
And lineaments of both their faces,
That can abide the proofe of sight?
“If th'outward formes then differ as they doe,
“Of force th'affections must be different too.

“Ah! passions spoile our better part,
The soule is vext with their dissentions;
We make a God of our owne heart,
And worship all our vaine inventions;
This braine-bred mist of apprehensions
The minde doth with confusion fill;
Whil'st reason in exile doth smart,
And few are free from this infection,
For all are slaves to some affection,
Which doth oppresse the judgement still:
“Those partiall tyrants, not directed right,
“Even of the clearest mindes, eclipse the light.

A thousand times, O happy he!
Who doth his passions so subdue,
That he may with cleare reasons eye,
Their imperfections fountaines view,
That so he may himselfe renew,
Who to his thoughts prescribing lawes,
Might set his soule from bondage free,
And never from bright reason swerve,
But making passions it to serve,
Would weigh each thing as there were cause:
O greater were that Monarch of the minde!
Then if he might command from Thule to Inde.