University of Virginia Library

II. Part II.

A Dialogue between two Supernatural Opinions Concerning Fame.

1 Opin.
Who know's, but that man's Soul with Fame is pleas'd,
When from the Bodie's prison it is eas'd?
If we alow the Soul shall live, not die,
Although the Body in the grave doth lie,
And that some Knowledge still it doth retain,
Why may not then some love of Fame remain?

2 Opin.
There doth no vanity in Souls then dwell
When separate, they goe to Heaven or Hell.

1 Opin.
Fame's Virtues Ofspring, or else ought to be,
What comes not from Her, is an Infamy.

2 Opin.
Souls of the World remember nought at all,
Things that are past into oblivion fall.

1 Opin.
Why may not Souls, as well as Angels, know,
And hear and see, what's done i'th' world below?

2 Opin.
Souls neither have ambition nor desire,
When once in heav'n, nor after Fame inquire.

1 Opin.
Who can tell that? since Heav'n doth love good deeds,
And Fame of Piety from Grace proceeds.

Another Dialogue of Fame between two Natural Opinions.

1 Opin.
Fame to desire, is a most noble thought,
Wch Nature in the best of minds hath wrought.

2 Opin.
Alas when men do dye, all Motion's gone,
If Motion none, all thought of Fame is done.

1 Opin.
What if the Motion of the Body dye?
The Motion of the Mind may live on high,
And in the airy Elements may lye,
There though we know it not, about may flye.
And thus by Nature may the Mind aspire
Its Fame to hear, its Pyramid desire,
Or grieve and mourn when she doth see and know
Her acts and Fame do to oblivon go.

A Simple Natural Opinion of the Mind.

Nature a Talent gives to every one,
As Heav'n gives Grace to work Salvation,
The Talent Nature gives, 's a Noble Mind,
Where Actions good a Current Coyn you find,
On which each Virtue stamps its Image so,
That all the world each several piece may know;
If man be lazie, let this Talent lye,
Seek no occasion to improve it by,
Who knows, but Nature's punishment may be,
To make his Mind to grieve eternally?
That, when his Spirit's fled, and Body rot,
He know himself of friends and world forgot.
But when he hath us'd all his Industry,
Yet cannot get a Fame to live thereby,
Then may his Mind rest fully satisfy'd,
That he hath left no means or way's untry'd.

The Purchase of Poets, or a Dialogue betwixt the Poets and Fame, and Homer's Marriage.

A Dialogue betwixt Man and Nature.

Man.
It is most strange,
How we do Change;
First to Live, and then to Dye,
Is the greatest misery.
To give us Sense, for nought but Pains to feel,
To makes our Lives only to be Death's Wheel;
To give us Reason, and yet not to know
What we are made for, or what we must do,
Whether to Atomes turn, or to Heav'n fly,
Or change into new Forms and never Dye;
Or else to the prime Matter fall again,
Thence take new Forms and so always remain:
Nature gives no such Knowledge to Mankind,
But strong Desires, which do torment his Mind;
And Senses, which like Hounds do run about,
Yet never can the perfect Truth find out.
O Nature, Nature, Cruel to Mankind,
Gives Knowledge none, but Misery to find.

Nature.
Why doth Mankind complain, and make such moan,
May not I work my will with what's my own?
But men amongst themselves Contract, and make
A Bargain for my Tree, that Tree they take,
Which cruelly they chop in pieces small,
And form it as they please, then Build withall:
Although that Tree by me, to stand, was grac'd,
Just as it grows, by none to be Defac'd.

Man.
O Nature, Trees are Dull, and have no Sense,
And therefore feel no Pain, nor take Offence.

Nature.
But Beasts have Life, and Sense, and Passions strong,
Yet cruel Man doth Kill, and doth them VVrong;
To take that Life before the time, which I
Ordain'd for them, 's to me an Injury.

Man.
What ill Man doth, Nature did make him do,
And he by Nature is prompt thereunto;
For it was in great Nature's power and will,
To make him as She pleased, good or ill.
Though Beasts have Sense, feel pain, yet whilst they Live
They Reason want, for to dispute, or grieve.
Beasts have no pain but what in Sense doth lye,
Nor troubled thoughts to think how they shall Dye.
Reason doth stretch Man's mind upon the Rack,
With Hopes & Joys pull'd up, with Fear pull'd back;
Desire doth Whip and makes him run amain;
Despair doth Wound, and pulls him back again:
For Nature, thou mad'st Man betwixt extremes,
VVants perfect Knowledge, though thereof he Dreams;
For had he been like to a stock or stone,
Or like a Beast to Live with Sense alone,
Then might he Eat and Drink, and all be well,
Ne're troubled be, neither for Heav'n nor Hell;
Man Knowledge hath enough for to inquire;
Ambition great enough for to aspire;
He hath this Knowledge, that he knows not all,
And of himself his Knowledge is but small,
Which makes him wonder, and think there are mixt
Two several qualities in Nature fixt,
The one like Love, the other like to Hate,
And striving both they do shut out wise Fate;
And then sometimes man thinks as one they be,
Which makes that Contraries so well agree,
That though the VVorld was made by Love and Hate,
Yet all is rul'd and governed by Fate.
These are man's Fears, man's Hopes run smooth and high,
VVho thinks his mind is some great Deity,
For though the body is of low degree,
In Sense like beasts, their Soul's like Gods shall be.

Nature.
Says Nature, Why doth man complain and cry,
If he believes his Soul shall never Dye?

A Dialogue betwixt the Body and the Mind.

Body.
What Bodies els but Man's did Nature make,
To joyn with such a Mind, no rest can take?
That ebbs and flow's with full and falling tide,
As minds dejected fall or swell with Pride;
In waves of passion roul to billows high,
Always in Motion, never quiet lye;
Where thoughts like Fishes swim the Mind about,
And Greater thoughts the Smaller thoughts eat out;
My Bodie's Barque rows in Mind's ocean wide,
VVhich VVaves of Passion beat on every side.
VVhen that dark Cloud of Ignorance hangs low,
And VVinds of vain Opinions strong do blow,
Then showrs of Doubts into the Mind rain down,
And Studies deep my Barque of flesh do drown.

Mind.
VVhy doth the Body thus Complain, when I
Do help it forth of every misery?
Your barque must in this VVorld swim, for 't has been
By Nature thus rigg'd out, to traffick in;
Against hard rocks you'ld break in peeces small,
If my Invention help'd you not in all.
The Loadstone of Attraction I find out,
The Card of observation guides about,
The Needle of discretion points the way
Which makes that Barque get safe into each Bay.

Body.
If I escape Drowning in th'VVat'ry main,
Yet in great mighty battels I am slain;
By your ambition I am forc'd to Fight,
VVhen many VVounds upon my body light;
For you Care not, so you a Fame may have
To live, if I be buried in a grave.

Mind.
If bodies fight and Kingdom's win, then you
Take all the pleasure that belongs thereto.
Upon that head a glorious Crown you bear,
And on that body you rich Jewels wear,
All things are sought to please your Senses five,
No drugg unpractis'd to keep you alive,
And I to set you up in high degree,
Invent all Engines, us'd in wars to be;
'Tis I that do you make in Triumph great,
Above all other Creatures t'have your seat;
By the Industrious Arts which I do find,
You other Creaturs in Subjection bind;
You eat their Flesh, and then you use their Skin,
VVhen winter comes, to lap your bodies in;
And so in every thing, Nature doth make,
By my direction you great pleasure take.

Body.
VVhat though my Senses all do take delight,
Yet you upon my Entrals always bite?
My fleshy eat up, and leave my bones all bare
VVith the sharp teeth of Sorrow, Grief and Care;
You draw my blood from th'Veins with envious spight,
Decay my strength with Shame, or extreme Fright;
Often with Love extremely Sick I lie,
And with a Cruel hate you make me dye.

Mind.
Care keeps you from all hurt or falling low,
Sorrow and Grief are debts to friends we owe,
Fear makes man Just, to give each one his own,
Shame makes Civility, without there's none;
Hate makes good Laws, that all may live in peace,
Love brings Society, and gets increase;
Besides with Joy I make the Eyes look gay,
VVith pleasing smiles they dart forth every way;
With Mirth the cheeks are Fat, Smooth, Rosie-red,
Speech flows with Wit, when Fancies fill the head.
If I were gone, you'ld miss my Company,
VVish we were Joyn'd again, or you might dye.

A Complaint of VVater, Earth and Air against the Sun, by way of Dialogue.

Moisture to the Earth.

Earth to Moisture.
Alas, dear Friend, the Sun's my greatest Foe,
Doth blast my tender Buds as they do grow;
He burns my Face, and makes it parch't and dry,
He sucks my Breast, and starves my Young thereby:
Thus I and all my Young for Thirst were slain,
But that with Wet you fill my Breast again.

Air to Earth and Moisture.
The Sun doth use me ill, as all the rest;
For his Hot sultry Beams do me molest;
Melts me into a thin and flowing Flame,
To make him Light, when Men it Day do name;
Corrupts me, makes me full of Plaguy sores,
And Putrefaction on Men's Bodies pours;
Or else with subtile Flame Men's Spirits fills,
Which them almost with Rage or Madness kills;
Draws me into a Length and Breadth, till I
Become so thin, with windy Wings do fly;
He never leaves, till all my Spirits spent,
And then I Dye, and leave no Monument.

The Sun to Earth.
O most unkind, and most ungratefull Earth,
I am thy Midwife, bring thy Young to Birth;
I with my Heat do cause thy Young to grow,
And with my Light I teach them how to go:
My shining Beams are Strings, whereon to hold,
For fear they fall and break their Limbs on Cold;
All to Maturity I bring, and give
Youth, Beauty, Strength, and make Old Age to Live.

The Sun to Water.
Dull Moisture I do Light and Active make,
And from it all Corrupt gross Humours take;
All Superfluities I dry up clean,
That nothing but pure Crystal Water's seen;
The hard-bound Cold I loosen and untye,
When you in Icy Chains a Prisoner lye:
Your Limbs when nipt with Frost and bit with Cold,
Your smooth and glassie Face grows wrinkled, old,
Then I do make you nimble, soft, and fair,
Liquid, and Nourishing, and Debonair.

The Sun to Air.
Air I do purge, and make it clear and bright,
Black clouds dissolve, wch make the day seem night;
The Crude raw Vapours I digest, and strain
The thicker part all into Showers of Rain;
The thinnest part I turn all into Wind,
Which like a Broom sweep out all Dirt, they find;
The clearest part I turn to Azure Sky,
Hang'd all with Stars; Thus next the Gods you lye.

A Dialogue between Earth and Cold.

Earth.
O cruel Cold, to Life an Enemy,
Troubler of Man, and Man's Posterity;
Most envious Cold, to stupifie Man's Brain,
And spoil that Monarchy where Wit should Reign;
Tyrant you are, and make the Waters clear
In Chains of Ice lye Fetter'd half the year,
Imprisoning each thing that dwells in me,
Shutting my porous Doors no Light can see;
I smother'd am, and almost at Death's Door,
Each Hole is stopt, and I can Breathe no more;
Congeal the Air to Massie Clouds of Snow,
And like great Mountains on my Body throw;
And all my Plants, and strong, great, Fruitful Trees,
You nip to Death, or Cloath them in course freez;
My fresh green Robes, which make me fine and gay,
You strip me of, or change to Black or Gray;
For fear of Cold, my Moisture shrinks so low,
My Head wears Bald, no Hair thereon will grow;
You break the Sun-beams, do their Heat destroy,
And take away my Comfort and my Joy;
You make my Body stiff, and Numb it so,
That nothing Fluid in my Veins can go.

Cold.
VVhy do you thus complain, poor Earth, and grieve?
I give you Strength and make you long to Live;
I shelter you from the Sun's scorching Heat,
I give you breath, by me your strength grows great;
I cloath you from the Cold with Milk white Snow,
Send down your Sap to Nourish you below;
If Heat with you should dwell, and long time stay,
His thirst would drink your Moisture all away;
I take nought from you, nor do make you poor,
But like a Husband good, do keep your store;
My Ice are Locks and Barrs, all safe to keep,
From busie Motion 't gives you quiet Sleep:
For Heat is active, and doth you molest,
Does make you work, and never lets you rest;
Heat spends your Spirits, makes you crackt and dry,
Drinks all himself, with Thirst you almost Dye;
VVith sweating Labour you grow weak and faint,
I wonder, why you make such great Complaint.

Earth.
Both Heat and Cold, each in extreme degree,
Two Hells they are, though contrary they be;
Two Devils they are, and Vex me with great pains,
One shoots hot Arrows, th'other ties in Chains.

A Dialogue betwixt Earth and Darkness.

Earth.
O horrid Darkness, and you powers of Night,
You direful shades made by Obstructed Light,
Why so Cruel? what evil have I done,
To part me from my Husband, the bright Sun?

Darkn.
I do not part you, he me hither sends,
Whilst he Rides round to Visit all his Friends;
Besides, he hath more Wives to Love than you,
He never constant is to one, nor true.

Earth.
You do him wrong, for though he Journeys makes
For Exercise, yet Care he for me takes,
He leaves his Stars, and's Sister in his place,
To comfort me, whilst he doth run his Race;
But you do come, most wicked Thievish Night,
And Rob me of that fair and silver Light.

Darkn.
The Moon and Stars they are but Shadows thin,
Small Cob-web Lawn they from his Light do spin,
Which they in Scorn do make, you to disgrace,
As a thin Veil to cover your ill Face:
For Moon and Stars have no strong Light to show
A Colour true, nor how you Bud or Grow,
Only some Ghosts do rise, and take delight
To walk about, when as the Moon shines bright.

Earth.
You are deceiv'd, they cast no such disguise,
But strive to please me, twinkling in the Skies;
The Ghosts my Children are, which being weak
And tender Ey'd, help from the Moon do seek;
For why? her Light is gentle, moist and cold,
Doth ease their Eyes, when they do it behold;
But you with Shadows fright, delude the Sight,
Like Ghosts appear in Gloomy shades of Night,
And you with Clouds do cast upon my back
A mourning Mantle of the deepest Black,
Which covers me with dark Obscurity,
That none of my dear Children I can see,
Their lovely Faces you hide from my sight,
Which shew most Beautifull in the Day-light;
They take Delight each other's Face to see,
And with each other's Form in Love they be,
By which kind Sympathy they bring me store
Of children young, wch when grown up, bring more;
But you are Spightfull to those Lovers kind,
Muffle up their Faces, and their Eyes quite Blind.

Darkn.
Is this my Thanks for all my love and care,
And for that great Respect to you I bear?
I am your faithfull, kind, and constant Lover,
I all your Faults and Imperfections cover,
I take you in my gentle Arms of rest,
With cool fresh Dews I bathe your dry hot Breast;
The Children which you by the Sun did bear,
I lay to Sleep, and make them rest from Care,
In Beds of Silence, where they take no harm,
With blankets soft, though black, I keep them warm;
Then shut them close from the disturbing Light,
And yet you Rail against your Lover, Night.
Besides, if you had Light through all the year,
Though Beauty great, 'twould not so well appear:
For what is common, has not such respect,
Nor such regard; for use doth bring neglect;
Nought is admir'd, but what is seldome seen,
And Black, for Change, delights as well as Green.
Yet I should constant be, if I might stay,
But the bright Sun doth beat me quite away:
For he is Active, and Runs all about,
Ne're dwells with one, but seeks new Lovers out;
He spightfull is to other Lovers, since
He by his Light doth give Intelligence;
I am Love's confident, and shady Bow'r,
Where Lovers meet and whisper many a Hour:
Thus am I faithfull, kind to Lovers true,
And all is for your Sake and Love to you.
I'm Melancholy, yet my Love's as true,
As that great Light's, which is so dear to you;
Then slight me not, nor do my Sute disdain,
But when the Sun is gone, me entertain;
Take me, sweet Love, with Joy into your Bed,
And on your fresh Green breast lay my Black head.

A Dialogue between an Oak, and a Man Cutting it down.

Oak.
Why cut you off my Bows, which largely bend,
And from the scorching Sun you do defend?
Which did refresh your fainting Limbs from sweat,
And kept you free from Thund'ring Rains and Wet;
When on my Bark your weary Head you'ld lay,
Where quiet Sleep did take all Cares away;
The whilst my Leaves a gentle Noise did make,
And blew cool Winds that you fresh Air might take?
Besides, I did invite the Birds to Sing,
That their sweet Voice might you some pleasure bring,
Where every one did strive to do their best,
Oft chang'd their Notes and strain'd their tender Breast;
In Winter time my Shoulders broad did hold
Off blustering Storms, that wounded with sharp Cold;
And on my Head the Flakes of Snow did fall,
Whilst you under my Bows sat free from all:
And shall thus be requited my good will,
That you will take my Life, and Body kill?
For all my Care and Service I have past,
Must I be Cut and laid on Fire at last?
See how true Love you Cruelly have slain,
And try'd all ways to Torture me with pain;
First you do peel my Bark, and flay my Skin,
Chop off my Limbs, and leave me nak'd and thin,
With wedges you do peirce my Sides to wound,
And with your Hatchet knock me to the ground;
I minc'd shall be in Chips and Pieces small,
And this doth Man reward good Deeds withall.

Man.
Why grumble you old Oak, when you have stood
This hundred Years, as King of all the Wood?
Would you for ever Live, and not resign
Your place to one that is of your own Line?
Your Acorns young, when you grow big and tall,
Long for your Crown, and wish to see your fall,
Think every Minute lost, whilst you do Live,
And grumble at each Office you do give;
Ambition doth fly High, and is above
All sorts of Friendship and of Nat'ral Love:
Besides, all Subjects do in Change delight,
When Kings grow Old, their Government they slight,
Although in ease, and peace, and wealth they Live,
Yet all those Happy times for Change they'l give,
Grow discontent, and Factions still do make,
What Good so'ere he doth, as Evil take;
Were he as wise, as ever Nature made,
As pious, good, as ever Heav'n has Sav'd,
Yet when he Dyes, such Joy is in their Face,
As if the Devil had gone from that place;
With shouts of Joy they run a new to Crown,
Although next day they strive to pull him down.

Oak.
Why, said the Oak, because that they are mad,
Shall I rejoyce, for my own Death be glad?
Because my Subjects all Ingratefull are,
Shall I therefore my Health and Life impair?
Good Kings, who Govern justly at all times,
Examine not Men's Humours but their Crimes;
For when their Crimes appear, 'tis time to strike,
Not to examine Thoughts what they do like;
Though Kings are never Lov'd till they do Dye,
Nor wisht to Live, till in the Grave they lye,
Yet he that Loves himself the less, because
He cannot get every Man's high Applause,
Shall by my Judgement be Condemn'd to wear
The Asses Ears, and Burdens for to bear:
But let me Live the Life that Nature gave,
And not to please my Subjects, Dig my Grave.

Man.
But here, poor Oak, you Live in Ignorance,
And never seek your Knowledge to advance,
I'l Cut you down, that Knowledge you may gain,
Shalt be a Ship to traffick on the Main;
There shall you Swim and Cut the Seas in two,
And trample down each Wave as you do go,
Though they do rise, and big are swell'd with pride,
You on their Shoulders broad and Back shall Ride,
And bow their lofty Heads, their Pride to check,
Shall set your steddy Foot upon their Neck;
They on their Breast your stately Ship shall bear,
Till your sharp Keel the wat'ry Womb doth tear:
Thus shall you round the World, new Land to find,
That from the rest is of another Kind.

Oak.
O! said the Oak, I am contented well,
VVithout that Knowledge in my Wood to dwell;
For I had rather Live, and Simple be,
Than run in Danger, some strange Sight to see;
Perchance my Ship against a Rock may hit,
Then am I strait in sundry pieces Split:
Besides, no rest nor quiet shall I have,
The Winds will toss me on each troubled Wave,
The billows Rough will beat on every side,
My Breast will ake, to swim against the Tide;
And greedy Merchants may me Over-fraight,
Then should I Drowned be with my own weight;
With Sails and Ropes men will my Body tye,
And I a Prisoner have no Liberty,
And being always wet, such Colds shall take,
My Ship may get a Pose, through Holes, and Leak,
Which they to mend, will put me to great pain,
Besides all patch'd and piec'd I shall remain;
I care not for that VVealth, wherein the Pains
And Troubles are far greater than the Gains;
I am contented with what Nature gave,
I'l not repine, but one poor wish I'ld have,
VVhich is, that you my Aged Life would save.

Man.
To Build a stately House, I'l cut you down,
Wherein shall Princes Live of great Renown,
There shall you Live with the best Company,
All their Delight and Pastime you shall see;
Where Plays, and Masques, and Beauties bright will shine,
Your wood all Oyl'd with smoak of Meat & Wine;
There shall you hear both Men and VVomen sing,
Far pleasanter than Nightingales i'th' Spring;
Like to a Ball there Echoes shall rebound
Against the VVall, and yet no Voice be found.

Oak.
Alas, what Musick shall I care to hear,
VVhen on my Shoulders I such Burdens bear?
Both Brick and Tiles upon my Head are laid,
Of this preferment I am sore afraid;
VVith Nails and Hammers they will often wound,
And peirce my Sides to hang their Pictures round;
My Face is Smutch'd with smoak of Candle lights,
In danger to be Burnt in VVinter Nights.
No, let me here a poor Old Oak still grow,
Such vain Delights I matter not to know;
For fruitless Promises I do not care,
More honour 'tis, my own green Leaves to bear;
More honour 'tis, to be in Natures dress,
Than any Shape that Men by Art express:
I am not like to Men would praises have,
And for Opinion make my Self a Slave.

Man.
VVhy do you wish to Live, and not to Dye,
Since you no Pleasure have, but Misery?
Here you the Sun with scorching Heat doth burn,
And all your Leaves so Green to Driness turn;
Also with Winters Cold you quake and shake,
And in no Time or Season rest can take.

Oak.
I'm happier far, said th'Oak, than you Mankind,
For I Content in my Condition find;
Man nothing Loves, but what he cannot get,
And soon doth Surfet of one Dish of Meat,
Dislikes all Company, Displeas'd alone,
Makes Grief himself, if Fortune gives him none;
And as his Mind is restless, never pleas'd,
So is his Body Sick and oft Diseas'd;
His Gouts and Pains do make him sigh and cry,
Yet in the midst of them would Live, not Dye.

Man.
Alas, poor Oak, you do not know, nor can
Imagine half the Misery of Man;
All other Creatures only in Sense joyn,
But man has something more which is Divine;
He hath a Mind, and doth to Heav'n aspire,
For Curiosities he doth inquire;
A Wit, that nimble is, and runs about
In every Corner, to seek Nature out;
For she doth hide her Self, afraid to show
Man all her Works, lest he too powerfull grow;
Like as a King, his Favourite waxing great,
May well suspect, that he his Pow'r will get;
And what Creates desire in a Man's breast,
That Nature is Divine, which seeks the best;
For no Perfection he at all doth prize,
Till he therein the Gods doth Equalize:
If you, as Man, desire like Gods to be,
I'l spare your Life, and not Cut down your Tree.

A Dialogue betwixt Birds.

A Dialogue between Melancholy and Mirth.

A Dialogue betwixt Joy and Discretion.

Joy.
Give me some Musick, that my Spirits may
Dance a fair Galliard whilst Delight doth play;
Let every Voice sing out, both Loud and Shril,
And every Tongue run too, what way it will:
For Fear is gone away with her Pale Face,
And Pain is Banish't out of every place.

Discre.
O Joy, take Moderation by the hand,
Or else you'l be so Drunk as hardly stand;
Your Tongue doth run so fast, no time can keep,
High as a Mountain many Words you heap.
Your Thoughts in Multitudes the Brain do throng,
That Reason is cast down and must go wrong.

Joy.
O wise Discretion, do not angry grow,
Great Dangerous Fears, alas! you do not know;
Fear being past, the Spirits soon are slack't,
For Fear's a string, binds hard, but when once crack't,
Spirits get Liberty and Run about,
VVhich being stopt do suddenly burst out,
And to Recover what they had before,
VVhen once unti'd, take Liberty the more;
Like VVater that is Pen't, when't passage finds,
Breaks out in Fury, like the Northern winds;
VVhat gathers on a Heap, so strong doth grow,
That when 'tis Loose it doth far swifter go.
But, dear Discretion, do not with me Scold,
Whilst you do feel great Fears, your Tongue pray hold;
For Joy cannot contain it Self in rest,
It never leaves untill it be exprest.

A Dialogue betwixt Wit and Beauty.

Wit.
Mixt Rose and Lilly why are you so proud,
Since Fair is not in all Minds like allow'd?
Some do like Black, some Brown, and some like White,
Some Eys in all Complexions take delight;
Nor doth one Beauty in the VVorld still Reign;
For Beauty is Created in the Brain.
But say there were a Body perfect made,
Complexion pure, by Nature's Pencil laid,
A Countenance where all sweet Spirits meet,
A Hair that's Thick, and Long, Curl'd to the Feet;
Yet were it like a Statue made of Stone,
The Eye would weary grow to Look upon;
Had it no VVit, the Mind still to delight,
It soon would weary be as well as Sight;
For VVit is fresh and new, doth sport and play,
And runs about the Humour every way;
VVith all the Passions Wit can well agree,
Wit tempers them, and makes them pleas'd to be;
Ingenious 'tis, doth new Inventions find,
To ease the Body and divert the Mind.

Beauty.
When I appear, I strike the Optick Nerve,
I wound the Heart, and make the Passions serve;
Souls are my Pris'ners, yet do Love me well;
My company is Heav'n, my absence Hell;
Each Knee doth Bow to me, as to a Shrine,
And all the World accounts me as Divine.

Wit.
Beauty, you cannot long Devotion keep,
The Mind grows weary, Senses fall asleep;
As those which in the House of God do go,
Are very Zealous in a Pray'r or two;
But if they must an Hour-long kneel to Pray,
Their Zeal grows Cold, nor know they what they say;
So Admirations are, they do not last,
After Nine days the greatest Wonder's past;
The Mind, as th'Senses all, delights in Change,
They nothing Love, but what is new and strange:
But subtile Wit can please both long and well;
For to the Ear Wit a new Tale can tell,
And for the Taste doth dress Meat several ways,
To th'Eye it can new Forms and Fashions raise;
And for the Touch, Wit spins both Silk and Wool,
Invents new ways to keep Touch warm and cool:
For Sent, Wit mixtures and compounds doth make,
That still the Nose a fresh new Smell may take.
I by Discourse can represent the Mind
VVith several Objects, though the Eyes be Blind;
I'th' Brain I can Create Ideas, and
Those make to th'Mind seem Real, though but Feign'd;
The Mind's a Shop, where sorts of Toys I Sell,
VVith fine Conceits I fit all Humours well:
I can the VVork of Nature imitate,
And in the Brain each several Shape Create.
I Conquer all, am Master of the Field,
And make fair Beauty in Love's VVarrs to yield.

A Dialogue between Love and Hate.

Hate.
I Fly, said she, from wicked and base Acts,
And tear all unjust Bonds and ill Contracts;
I do abhorr all Murther, VVarr, and Strife,
Inhuman Actions and Disorder'd Life,
Ungratefull and Unthankfull minds, that shun
All those, from whom they have receiv'd a Boon;
From harsh and rude Discords my Ears I stop,
And what is Bad I from the Good do Lop;
I perjur'd Lovers brand with foul Disgrace,
And from ill Objects do I hide my Face;
Things that are Bad I hate, or what Seems so;
But Love is contrary to this, I know.
Love loves Ambition, as the Mind's hot Fire,
VVould ruine Worlds only to rise up higher;
You love to please your Appetite and VVill,
To Glut your Gusto, you delight in still;
You love to Flatter, and be Flatter'd too,
And for your Lust, poor Virgins would undo;
You love the Ruine of your Foes to see,
And of your Friends if they but Prosperous be;
You nothing love besides your Self, though ill,
And with Vain-glorious Wind your Brain do fill:
You love no ways, but where your Bias tends,
And love the Gods only for your own ends.

Love.
But, Love, in VVords as sweet as Nature is,
Said, Hate was false, and always did amiss;
For she did Canker-fret, the Soul destroy,
Disturb the Pleasure wherein Life takes Joy;
Ruin the World with Wars, wch Peace would make,
Torment the Head and Heart, Revenge to take;
She never rests till she Descends to Hell;
For she amongst the Devils loves to dwell:
But I, said Love, Unite and Concords make,
All Musick was Invented for my Sake;
I Men by Laws in Common-wealths do joyn,
And 'gainst a common Foe do them Combine:
To th'Sick, Lame, Weak and Aged I'm a Friend,
I Watch, Guard, Keep, and do them Safe defend;
For Honour's Sake I do high Courage raise,
And bring to Beauty's Shrine Off'rings of Praise;
Compassion's Bowels I the World throughout
Do carry, and Distribute all about;
I to the Gods shew Rev'rence, Bow and Pray,
And in their Heav'nly Mansions bear great sway:
Thus Love and Hate in some things Equal be,
Yet in Disputes they always Disagree.

A Dialogue betwixt Learning and Ignorance.

Learn.
Thou busie Forester, that seek'st about
The World, to find the Heart of Learning out;
Or Perseus like, foul Monsters thou dost Kill,
Rude Ignorance, which nothing dost but Ill.

Ignor.
Proud Learning, thou that stands on Tip-toes high,
Yet canst not reach to know the Deity,
Nor where the Cause of any one thing lies,
But fill'st Man full of Care and Miseries.
Learning inflames the Thoughts to take great pains,
Doth nought but make an Alms-tub of the Brains.

Learn.
Learning doth seek about, new things to find,
In that Pursute doth Recreate the Mind;
It is a Perspective, Nature to Spy,
Can all her Curiosity descry.

Ignor.
Learning's a useless Pain, unless it have.
Some ways or means to keep us from the Grave;
For what is all the World if understood,
If we it do not Use, nor Taste its good?
Learning may come to know the Use of things,
Yet not receive the Good which from them Springs;
For Life is short, and Learning long; Ere we
May come to Use what's Learned, Dead we be.

Learn.
O Ignorance, thou Beast, which Lazy liest,
And only Eat'st and Sleepest, till thou Diest.

Ignor.
The Lesson, Nature taught, is, Most delight
To please the Senses and the Appetite.
I Ignorance am still the Heav'n of Bliss;
For in me lies the truest Happiness:
Give me but Ignorance, that harmless 'state,
That Paradise that's free from Envious hate;
Learning that Tree was, whereon Knowledge grew,
Tasting that Fruit, Man nought but Misery knew;
Had Man to Ignorance but had more Love,
He Happy would have been, as th'Gods above.

Learn.
O Ignorance, how Foolish doest thou Talk?
Is't Happiness in Ignorance to walk?
Can there be Joy in Darkness more than Light?
Or Pleasure more in Blindness than in Sight?

A Dialogue betwixt Riches and Poverty.

Riches.
I wealth, can make all Men of each Degree,
To Crouch, and Flatter, and to Follow me;
I many Cities Build, High, Thick, and Large,
And Armies raise, against each other Charge;
I make them lose their Lives for my dear Sake,
Though when they're Dead, they no Rewards can take;
I trample Truth under my Golden feet,
And tread down Innocence, that Flower sweet;
I gather Beauty, when 'tis newly blown,
Reap Chastity before 'tis Over-grown:
I Root out Virtue with a Golden Spade,
I Cut off Justice with a Golden Blade.
Pride and Ambition are my Vassals low,
And on their Heads I tread as I do go;
And by Mankind much more Ador'd am I,
Although but Earth, than the bright Sun that's high.

Poverty.
Riches, thou art a Slave, and Run'st about
On every Errant, thou Comest in, Goest out,
And Men of Honour set on thee no price,
Their Honesty or Virtue to Intice.
Some foolish Gamesters, which do love to play
At Cards and Dice, Corrupt perchance you may;
A Silly Virgin gather here and there,
That does Gay Cloaths and Jewels love to wear:
The Poor, which hate their Neighbour brave to see,
Perchance may seek and love your Company;
And those, that strive to please their Senses all,
If they want Wealth, and you pass by, may Call.
On Age, 'tis true, you have a great strong power;
For they Imbrace you, though they Dye next hour.

Riches.
You speak, poor Poverty, meer out of spight,
Because there's none with you doth take delight;
If you into Man's Company will thrust,
They call that Fortune ill, and most accurst;
Men are asham'd of you, you are so mean,
You are so Ragged, Torn, and so Unclean:
When I come in, much welcome do I find,
Great Joy there is, and Mirth in every Mind;
And every Door is Open set and wide,
And all within is busily Imploy'd;
There Neighbours all Invited are to see,
So proud they are in my dear Company.

Poverty.
'Tis Prodigality, you Brag so on,
Which never lets you Rest till you are gone;
Calls in for help to beat you out of Doors
His dear Companions, Drunkards, Gamesters, Whores.
What, though you're Brave, and Gay in outward show?
Within you're Foul and Beastly, as you know;
Besides, Debauchery is like a Sink,
And you are Father to that filthy Stink.
True, I am Thread-bare, and am very Lean,
Yet I am Decent, Sweet, and very Clean;
I Healthfull am, my Diet being spare,
You're full of Gouts, and Pains, and Surfeits fear:
I am Industrious, new Arts to find,
To ease the Body, and to please the Mind:
The World like to a Wilderness would be,
If it were not for the Poors Industry;
For Poverty doth set awork the Brains,
And all the Thoughts to labour and take pains;
The Mind ne're idle Sits, but is imploy'd,
Riches breed Sloth, and fill it full of Pride:
Riches, like Swine, in its own Mire doth lye,
Light Poverty, like Birds, on high doth Fly.

A Dialogue betwixt Anger and Patience.

Patience.
Anger , why are you Hot and Fiery red?
Or else so Pale, as if you were quite Dead?
Your Spirits are disturb'd, you Senses lack,
Your Joynts unset, Flesh shakes, your Nerves grow slack;
Your Tongue doth move, but Speaks no word that's plain,
Or else they flow like Torrents caus'd by Rain.

Anger.
Lord, what a Bead-roul of Dislikes you tell!
If you were stung with Wrong, your Mind would swell:
Your Spirits would be set on Flame with Fire;
Or else grow Chil with Cold, and back retire.

Patience.
Alas, 'tis but your own Suspicion,
Sometimes you have no Ground to Build upon;
Suspicion is Deceitfull, runs about,
And often for a Truth takes VVrong, no doubt.
If you take Falshood up, ne're search things through,
You do great Wrong to Truth, and your Self too;
Besides, you Blind and Undiscerning fly,
On every Thing, though Innocence be by.

Anger.
O Patience, you are strict and seem precise,
And Counsels give, as if you were so Wise;
But you are Cruel, and fit times will take
For your Revenge, though you no shew do make;
Your Brows unknit, your Heart seems not to burn,
Yet on Suspicion will do a shrewd turn:
But I am Sudden, and do all in haste,
Yet in short time my Fury all is past.
Though Anger be not right, but sometimes wrong,
The greatest Mischief lies but in the Tongue;
But you do Mischief, and your time will find
To work Revenge, though Quiet in your Mind.

Patience.
If I take time, I clearly then can see,
To view the Cause, and seek for Remedy;
If I have wrong, my Self I well may right,
But I do wrong, if Innocence I Smite;
The Knot of Anger by degrees unties,
Then falls that Muffler from Discretion's Eyes:
My Thoughts run clear and smooth, as Crystal brooks,
That every Face may see which therein Looks;
Though I run Low, yet wisely do I wind,
And many times through Mountains passage find;
When you Swell high, like to a flowing Sea,
For windy Passions ne're in Rest can be,
Where you are Roul'd in Waves, and Tost about,
Tormented, and can find no passage out.

Anger.
Patience, your Mouth with good Words you do fill,
And preach Morality, but you Act ill;
Besides, you seem a Coward full of Fear,
Or like an Ass, which doth great Burthens bear;
Let every Poultron strike and give you blows,
And every Fool in Scorn to wring your Nose:
Most of the World do think you have no Sense,
Because not Angry, nor do take Offence;
When I am thought right Wise, & of great Merit,
Heroick, Valorous, and of great Spirit:
For every one doth fear me to Offend,
And for to Please me, all their Forces bend;
I Flatter'd am, make Fear to run away:
Thus am I Master wheresoe're I stay.
Away you Foolish Patience, give me Rage,
That I in VVarrs may all the VVorld ingage.

Patience.
O Anger, you are Mad, there's none will Care
For your great Brags, but such as Cowards are;
Fear doth in VVomen and small Children dwell;
That you more Talk than Fight, VVisdome knows well;
Besides, great Courage takes me by the hand,
That whilst he Fights, I close by him must stand:
I want no Sense, Misfortunes to espy,
Although I Silent am, and do not Cry;
Ill Accidents and Grief I strive to Cure,
VVith Courage, what I cannot help, indure;
VVhilst you do Vex your Self with grievous Pains,
And nothing but Disturbance have for gains:
Let me advise you, Anger, take't not Ill,
That I do Offer you my Patience still;
For you in Danger live still all your Life,
And Mischief do, when you are hot in Strife.

A Dialogue between a Bountifull Knight and a Castle Ruin'd in Warr.

Knight.
Alas, poor Castle, how great is thy Change
From thy first Form! to me thou doest seem strange;
I left thee Comely, and in perfect Health,
Now thou art Wither'd and Decay'd in Wealth.

Castle.
O Noble Sir, I from your Stock was Rais'd,
Flourish'd in Plenty, and by all Men prais'd;
For your most Valiant Father did me Build,
Your Brother furnish'd me, my Neck did Gild;
Towers upon my Head like Crowns were plac'd,
VValls, like a Girdle, went about my VVaste;
And on this pleasant Hill he set me high,
To view the Vales below, as they do lye,
VVhere like a Garden is each Field and Close,
VVhere fresh green Grass, and yellow Cowslip grows;
There did I see fat Sheep in Pastures go,
And hear the Cows, whose Bags were full, to Low.
By Warrs I'm now Destroy'd, all Right's o're-powr'd,
Beauty and Innocency are Devour'd;
Before these VVarrs I was in my full Prime,
And held the greatest Beauty in my Time:
But, noble Sir, since I did see you last,
VVithin me has a Garrison been plac'd;
Their Guns and Pistols all about me hung,
And in despight their Bullets at me flung,
VVhich through my Sides those passages you see,
Made, and Destroy'd the Walls that Circled me,
And left my Rubbish on huge Heaps to lye;
VVith Dust I'm Choak'd, for want of Water dry:
For those small Leaden Pipes, which winding lay
Under the Ground, the Water to convey,
VVere all Cut off, the Water murmuring,
Run back with Grief to tell it to the Spring.
My Windows broke, the Winds blow in, and make,
That I with Cold like Shivering Agues shake:
O pitty me, dear Sir, release my Band,
Or let me Dye by your most Noble hand.

Knight.
Alas, poor Castle, I small help can bring,
Yet shall my Heart supply the former Spring,
From whence the Water of fresh Tears shall rise,
To quench thy Drought, I'l spout them from mine Eyes.
That VVealth I have, for to release thy Woe,
I'l offer for a Ransome to thy Foe;
But to restore thy Health, and build thy VVall,
I have not Means enough to do't withall;
Had I the Art, no Pains then I would spare,
But all what's Broken down I would Repair.

Castle.
Most noble Sir, you that me Freedome give,
May your great Name in After-ages Live;
This your great Bounty may the Gods requite,
And keep you from such Enemies and Spight;
And may great Fame your Praises sound aloud;
Gods give me Life to shew my Gratitude!

A Dialogue betwixt Peace and VVarr.

Peace.
Warr makes the Vulgar multitude to Drink
In at the Ear, the Foul and Muddy sink
Of Factious Tales, by which they Dizzy grow,
That the clear Sight of Truth they do not know,
But Reeling stand, know not what way to take,
And when they chuse, 'tis wrong, so War they make.

Warr.
Thou Flattering and most Unjust Peace, which draws
The Vulgar by thy Rhet'rick to hard Laws,
VVhich makes them Silly, and Content to be
To take up Voluntary Slavery,
Thou mak'st great Inequalities beside,
Some Bear like Asses, some on Horse-back Ride.

Peace.
O Warr, thou Cruel Enemy to Life,
Unquiet Neighbour, breeding always Strife;
Tyrant thou art, to Rest wilt give no time,
And blessed Peace thou Punish'st as a Crime;
Factions thou mak'st in every Publick weal,
From Bonds of Friendship tak'st off Wax and Seal;
All Natural Affections are by thee
Massacred, none escapes thy Cruelty;
The Root of all Religion thou pull'st up,
Dost every Branch of Ceremony Lop;
Civil Society to Manners base
Thou turn'st, no Laws nor Customs can get place;
Each Mind within it Self cannot agree,
But all do strive for Superiority:
In the whole World thou dost Disturbance make,
To save themselves none knows what ways to take.

Warr.
O Peace, thou idle Drone, which Lov'st to dwell,
If it but keep thee Safe, in a poor Cell;
Thy Life thou Sleep'st away, Thoughts lazy lye:
Sloth buries Fame, makes all great Actions dye.

Peace.
I am the Bed of Rest, and Couch of Ease,
My Conversation doth all Creatures please;
The Parent I'm of Learning and of Arts,
Religion's Nurse, and Comfort to all Hearts;
I am the Guardian Virtue safe do keep,
Under my Roof she may securely Sleep;
I am Adorn'd with Pastimes and with Sports,
Each several Creature still to me Resorts.

Warr.
A School am I, where all Men may grow VVise;
For prudent VVisdome in Experience lies;
A Theatre, where Noble Minds do stand,
A Mint of Honour, Coyn'd for Valour's Hand:
I am a Throne, which is for Valour fit,
And a great Court, where Royal Fame may Sit;
A Field, in which Ambition much doth run;
Courage still seeks me, Cowards do me shun.

MORAL DISCOURSES.

A Discourse of Love, the Parent of Passions.

No Mind can think, nor Understanding know,
To what a Height and Vastness Love can grow:
Love as a God all Passions doth Create,
Besides it Self, and those Determinate:
To Love bows down, and Prays devoutly, Fear;
Sadness and Grief Love's heavy Burthens bear;
Anger makes Rage, and Envy, Splene and Spight,
Like Thunder Roar, and in Love's Quarrels Fight.
Th'Informing Spie of Love is Jealousie,
And Doubt its Guide, to Search where th'Foes do lye;
Pity, Love's Child, whose Eyes with Tears do flow,
On every Object misery doth show:
Hate is Love's Champion, which opposeth all
Love's Enemies; their Ruine and their Fall.

A Discourse of Love Neglected, and Burnt up with Grief.

Love is the Cause, and Hate is the Effect,
Wch is produc'd, when Love doth find neglect;
For Love's like Fire, which doth on Fuel burn,
And Grief as Coals, wch quench'd to Blackness turn;
Whence Pale and Melancholy Ashes grow,
Which every Wind, though weak, about doth blow;
For Life and Strength from thence is gone, and past
With th'Species, which did cause the Form to last;
Which Form, as it was first, comes ne're again:
Thus Love in Melancholy adust is Slain.

A Discourse of Man's Pride, or seeming Prerogative.

What Creature's in this World besides Mankind,
That can such Arts and new Inventions find?
Or has such Fancies as to Similize,
Or can so Rule and Govern as the Wise?
Or that can by his Wit his Mind indite,
Can Numbers set, and subtile Letters write?
What Creature else but Man can Speak true Sense,
At Distance give and take Intelligence?
VVhat Creature else by Reason can abate
All Passions, can raise Doubts, Hopes, Love and Hate?
And can so many Countenances show,
Which are the Ground by which Affections grow?
They're several Dresses which the Mind puts on,
Some serve as Veils, which over it are thrown.
What Creature is, that has such peircing Eyes,
That mingles Souls, and in fast Friendship ties?
VVhat Creature else but Man has such delights,
So Various, and such Strong, Odd appetites?
Man can Distill, and is a Chymist rare,
Divides and Sep'rates Water, Fire, and Air;
He can Divide, and doth Asunder take
All Nature's Works, what ever she doth make;
Can take the Breadth, Depth, Length, & Height of things,
And know the Virtue of each Plant that Springs;
Make Creatures all Submit unto his will,
And Live by Fame, though Death his Body Kill:
VVhat else, but Man, can Nature imitate,
VVith th'Pen and Pencil can new Worlds create?
There's none like Man; for like the Gods is he;
Then let the World his Slave and Vassall be.

Of Foolish Ambition.

Ten thousand Pounds a Year will make me Live,
Fortune then must a Kingdome to me give;
I'l Conquer all, like Alexander Great,
And, like to Cæsar, my Opposers beat:
Give me a Fame, that with the VVorld may last,
Let all Tongues tell of my great Actions past;
Let every Child, that Learns to Speak, my Name
Repeat, to keep the Memory of my Fame;
And then great Fortune, give to me thy Power,
To ruine Man, and raise him in an Hour;
Let me Command the Fates, and Spin their Thread,
And Death to stay his Sith, when I forbid;
And Destiny, give me your Chains to tye,
Effects from Causes to produce thereby;
And let me like the Gods be high alone,
That nothing may but by my VVill be done.

Of Humility.

When with returning Thoughts I do behold
My self, I find all Creatures of that Mould,
And for the Mind, which some say is like Gods,
I do not find 'twixt Man and Beast such Odds,
Only the Shape of Man is fit for use,
Which makes him seem much wiser than a Goose;
For had a Goose, which seems of Simple Kind,
A Shape to form and fit things to her Mind,
To make such Creatures as her would Obey,
Could hunt and shoot those that would 'scape away,
As Wise she'ld seem as Man, be as much Fear'd,
And when the Goose comes near, the Man be Scar'd.
Who knows, but Beasts may Wiser than Men be?
VVe no such Errours or Mistakes can see;
Like quiet Men they do Injoy their rest,
To Eat and Drink in Peace, they think it best;
Their Food is all they seek, the rest think Vain,
If they not to Eternity remain:
Despise not Beasts, nor yet be proud of Art,
But Nature thank, for Forming so each Part;
And since all Knowledge by your Form you gain,
Then let not Pride above your Reason Reign;
VVhen you find Motion in your Brain works best,
Then slight not Beasts, for being in them Deprest;
Nor Boast of Speech, 'cause Reason it can show,
For Beasts have Reason too, for ought we know:
Shape doth Inform the Mind of what we find,
VVhich being taught, Man's wiser than Beast kind.

Of Riches, or Covetousness.

VVhat will not Riches in abundance do,
And make the Mind of Man submit unto?
They Bribe out Virtue from her Strongest hold,
And make the Coward Valorous and Bold;
They corrupt Chastity, melt Thoughts of Ice,
And Bashfull Modesty they do Intice:
They make the Humble proud, and Meek to swell,
Destroy all Loyalty, make Hearts rebell;
They do untie the Knots of Friendship fast,
All natural Affections forth they cast;
They Kill the Innocent, do Hearts divide,
Buy Conscience out, and every Cause decide;
They make that Man doth venture Life and Health,
So much desir'd and dear to him is VVealth;
They buy out Heav'n, and do cast Souls to Hell;
For Man to get this Dross, his God will Sell.

Of Poverty.

My Dwelling is a low Thatcht House, my Cell
'S not big enough for Pride's great Heart to dwell;
My Rooms are not of Stately Cedars built,
No Marble Chimney-piece, no Wainscot Gilt;
No Statues Cut, or Carv'd, or Cast in Brass,
Which had they Life, would Nature's Art surpass;
No Painted Pictures which Apelles drew,
There's nothing else but Lime and Hair to View;
No Agath-Table with a Tortoise frame,
Nor Stools stuft with Birds feathers, Wild or Tame;
But a Stump of an Old decayed Tree,
And Stools that have three Leggs, and half Lame be,
Cut with a Hatchet from some broken Boughs;
And this is all which Poverty allows:
Yet is it free from Cares, no Thieves doth fear,
The Door is Open, all are Welcome there;
Not like the Rich, who Guests do entertain
With Cruelty, when Birds and Beasts are Slain,
Who Oyl their Bodies with their melted Grease,
And by their Flesh their Bodies Fat increase:
We need no Cook, nor Skil to Dress our meat;
For Nature Dresses most of what we Eat;
As Roots and Herbs, not such as Art doth sow,
But which in Fields do Naturally grow:
Our wooden Cups we from the Spring do fill,
VVhich is the VVine-press of great Nature still;
Rich men, when they for to delight their Taste,
Suck out the Juice from th'Earth, her Strength they waste;
For bearing oft she'l grow so Lean and Bare,
That like a Sceleton she will appear;
Into their Drink the subtile Spirits they
From Barley and the Full-ripe Grape convey:
Thus by their Luxury their Life they waste,
And their Delight is still to please their Taste;
This heats the Mind with an ambitious Fire;
None Happy is, but in a Low desire;
Their Longings do run out, and fix no where;
For what they have, or can have, nought they Care,
But Long for what they have not, this th'admire,
Oft Sick for want; so Restless is Desire.
VVhen we from Labours come, we quiet Sleep,
No restless Thoughts our Sense awake doth keep;
All's still and silent in our House and Mind,
Our Thoughts are chearfull and our Hearts are kind;
And Life, although 't in Motion still does dwell,
Yet Rest in Life a Poor man Loveth well.

Of Tranquillity.

That Mind, which would in Peace and Quiet be,
Must cast off Cares and foolish Vanity;
VVith right Honest desires an House 't must Build
Upon the Ground of Honour, which being Seel'd
VVith Constant Resolutions, will last long,
If it on Pillars stands of Justice strong;
Let nothing dwell there, but Thoughts truly holy,
Turn out dull Ignorance, and rude rash Folly;
There will the Mind injoy it Self in pleasure;
For to it Self it is the greatest Treasure:
But they are Poor, whose Mind is discontent,
VVhat Joy they have, it is to them but Lent.
The World is like unto a troubled Sea,
Life like a Barque made of a rotten Tree,
VVhere every Wave indangers it to Split,
And Drown'd it is, if 'gainst a Rock it hit;
But if this Barque be made with Temp'rance strong,
It mounts the Waves, and Travels far and long;
If Prudence it doth as a Pilot guide,
It 'scapes all Rocks, and goes with Wind and Tide;
There Love, the Merchant, Trafficks up to Heav'n,
And for his Prayers Mercies him hath given;
Conscience, as Factor, sets the Price of things,
Tranquillity, as Buyer, Money brings.

Of the Shortness of Man's Life, and his Foolish Ambition.

Walking in Gardens sweet, each Flow'r when I
Mark'd, how't did Spring, Bud, Blow, VVither and Dye,
I Contemplating was of Man's short stay,
Since like those Flow'rs I saw him pass away;
Yet Builds he Houses thick, and strong, and high,
As if he should Live to Eternity;
Hoards up a Mass of Wealth, yet cannot fill
His empty Mind, but Covet he will still.
To gain and keep, such falshood Men do use,
'Gainst Right and Truth no base ways they refuse.
I would not blame them could they Death out-keep,
Or ease their Pains, or cause a quiet Sleep;
Or purchase Heav'n, there like the Gods to Live,
And to the Sun, Moon, Stars, could Orders give,
Command the VVinds to Blow, Seas to Obey,
And Level all their VVaves, cause VVinds to stay;
But they no Power have unless to Dye,
And Care in Life is a great Misery;
This Care's but for a Word, an empty Sound,
In which is neither Soul nor Substance found;
Yet as their Heir they make it to Inherit,
And all they have, they leave unto this Spirit;
To get this Child of Fame, and this bare Word,
They fear no Dangers, neither Fire nor Sword;
All horrid Pains and Deaths they will indure,
Or any thing, can it but Fame procure:
O man, O man! What high Ambition grows
Within his Brain, and yet how Low he goes!
To be Contented only with a Sound,
Where neither Life nor Body can be found!

A Moral Discourse of Man and Beast.

Of the Ant.

Mark but the little Ant how she doth run,
In what a busie Motion she goes on,
As if she Order'd all the VVorld's affairs,
VVhen 'tis but only one small Straw she bears;
And when a Fly doth on the Ground lye Dead,
Lord! How they stir, how full is every Head!
Some it along with Feet and Mouths do Trail,
And some thrust on with Shoulder and with Tail;
And if a stranger Ant comes on that way,
She helps them strait, ne're asketh if she may,
Nor stays to have Rewards, but is well pleas'd
T' have Labour for her Pains, so they be Eas'd.
They Live as the Lacedæmonians did,
For all is Common, nothing is forbid,
No private Feast, but altogether meet,
And wholsome Food, though plain, in publick Eat;
They have no Envy, all Ambition's down,
There is neither Superiour nor Clown:
No Palaces for Pride erect they will,
Their House is common, called the Ants Hill;
All help to Build and Keep it in Repair,
No special VVork-men, but all Lab'rers are;
No Market's Kept, no Meat have they to Sell,
But what each Eats, all welcome is, and well;
No Jealousie, each takes his Neighbour's VVife
VVithout offence, which never breedeth strife;
They Fight no Duels, nor do give the Lie,
Their greatest Honour is to Live, not Dye:
For they to Keep up Life through Dangers venture,
To get Provisions in against the VVinter;
But many lose their Life as chance doth fall,
None is perpetual, Death devoureth all.

A Moral Discourse of Corn.

The Yellow-bearded Corn bows down each Head,
Like Gluttons, when their Stomack's over-fed;
Or like as those whose Wealth makes heavy Cares,
So doth the Full-ripe Corn hang down their Ears;
For Plenty makes Oppression, gives small Ease,
And Superfluity is a Disease;
Yet all that Nature makes doth still aspire
Forward to get, never doth Back retire,
Untill the Sithe of Death doth lay them low
Upon the Earth, from whence they first did Grow.
Then who would Hoard up Wealth, and take such pains,
Since nothing but the Earth has all the gains?
No Riches are, but what i'th' Mind is found,
They are but Poor, who seek them under Ground;
For Time that Feeds on Life, makes all things fall,
Is never Satisfy'd, but Eats up all:
Then let the Minds of Men in Peace take rest,
And count a Moderation still the best;
And do not Grumble, or Covet Nature's store;
For those that are Content, can ne're be Poor;
But bless the Gods, submit to their Decree,
Think all things best, what they are pleas'd, must be:
He that doth Grumbl' at what he cannot mend,
Is one, that takes a thing at the wrong end.

Of the Knowledge of Beasts.

Who knoweth, but that Beasts as they do lye
In Meadows low, or else on Mountains high,
May Contemplations have upon the Sun,
And how his Daily, Yearly Circles run?
VVhether the Sun about the Earth doth Rove,
Or else the Earth on its own Poles doth move;
And in the Night, when twinkling Stars they see,
Like Man, imagine them all Suns to be;
And may the Stars and Planets number well,
And, could they Speak as Men, their Motions tell;
And how each Planet in its Orb doth move,
Against all Man's Astrology may prove;
For they may know the Stars and their Aspects,
VVhat Influence they cast, and their Effects.

Of Fish.

Who knows, but Fish which in the Sea do Live,
Can a good Reason of its Saltness give?
And how it Ebbs and Flows, perchance they can
Shew Reasons more than ever yet could Man.

Of Birds.

Who knows, but Birds, which under th'Azure Skies
Do fly, know whence the blustring Winds do rise?
And what a Thunder is, which no Man knows,
And what a blazing Star, or where it goes;
VVhether it be a Chip fall'n from the Sun,
And Vanish when its Aliment is done;
Or a Sulphureous Vapour drawn up high,
And when the Sulphur's spent, the Flame doth Dye;
Or whether 't be a Jelly set on Fire,
And wasting like a Candle doth expire;
Or whether 't be a Star whole and intire,
The Birds perhaps might tell, could we inquire.

Earths Complaint.

O Nature, Nature! Hearken to my Cry,
I'm VVounded sore, but yet I cannot Dye;
My Children which I from my Womb did bear,
Do dig my Sides, and all my Bowels tear,
They Plow deep Furrows in my very Face,
From Torment I have neither time nor place;
No other Element is so abus'd,
Or by Mankind so Cruelly is us'd.
Man cannot reach the Skys to Plow and Sow,
Nor can they Set or make the Stars to grow,
But they are still as Nature did them Plant,
Neither Maturity nor Growth they want;
They never Dye, nor do they yield their place
To younger Stars, but still run their own Race:
The Sun doth never Groan, young Suns to bear,
For he himself is his own Son and Heir;
He in the Centre sits just like a King,
Round him the Planets are as in a Ring;
The largest Orbs over his Head turn slow,
And underneath the swiftest Planets go;
All several Planets several Measures take,
And with their Motions do sweet Musick make:
Thus all the Planets round about him move,
And he returns them Light for their kind Love.

A Discourse of a Knave.

A prosperous Knave, that Mischief still doth Plot,
Swells big with Pride, since he has Power got;
His Conscience like a Purse open and wide,
False Hands do cast in Bribes on every side;
And as his Guts are stuft with Excrement,
So is his Head with Thoughts of ill Intent;
No Pitty shews to Men opprest with Grief,
But yet is apt to Pitty much a Thief;
He thinks them Fools that VVickedness do shun,
Esteems them VVise that Evil ways do run;
The Noble he doth Scorn, if they be Poor,
The Rich, though ne're so Base, he doth Adore;
He always Smiles as if he Peace still meant,
When all the while his Heart to Evil's bent;
He'l Friendship shew, and large Professions make,
VVhere he doth think Advantages to take:
Thus doth a Glossing Knave the VVorld abuse,
To work his end, the Devil his Friend he'l chuse.

Of a Fool.

I do hate Fools, for they my Brains do Crack,
And when they Speak my Patience's on the Rack;
Their Actions all from Reason quite do run,
Their Ends prove Bad, 'cause ill they first begun;
They fly from VVisdome, do her Counsels fear,
As if some Ruine near their Heads there were;
They seek the Shadow, let the Substance go,
And what is Good, or Best, they do not know:
Yet stiff in their Opinions are always,
Although you do them Bray, as Salomon says.
As in a Spiders VVeb a little Fly,
So Fools wrapt up in VVebs of Errours lye;
And as the Spider Flies with Poison fills,
So Mischief, after Errours, Fools oft Kills.

Of Melancholy.

A sad and Solemn Verse doth please the Mind,
With Chains of Passions doth the Spirits bind.
As Pencil'd Pictures drawn present the Night,
VVhose Darker Shadows give the Eye delight;
A Melancholy Object draws the Eye,
And always hath a seeming Majesty;
By its Converting qualities there grows
A perfect Likeness, when it Self it shows:
Then let the VVorld in Mourning sit and weep,
Since only Sadness we are apt to keep;
In Light and Toyish things we seek for change,
The Mind grows weary, and about doth Range;
VVhat Serious is, there Constancy will dwell,
Which shews that Sadness Mirth doth far excell.
VVhy should Men grieve, when they think on their Grave,
Since they no Settlement in Mirth can have?
The Grave, though Sad, in quiet still they keep,
VVithout Disturbing Dreams they lye Asleep;
No rambling Thoughts do vex their restless Brains,
No Labour hard doth dry and scorch their Veins;
No Care to Search for that they cannot Find,
VVhich is an Appetite in every Mind:
Then wish, good Man, to Dye in quiet Peace,
Since Death in Misery is a Release.

A Discourse of the Devils Power.

VVomen and Fools fear in the Dark to be,
Lest they the Devil in some Shape should see;
As if like silly Owls he took delight
To sleep all Day, and go abroad at Night;
Beat Pots and Pans, and Candles do Blow out,
And all the Night do keep a Revel-rout;
Do make the Sow to grunt, the Pigs to squeak,
The Dogs to bark, Cats mew, as if they Speak.
Alas, poor Devil, his Power is but small,
Only to make a Cat or Dog to Bawl;
To make with Pewter, Tin, and Brass a noise,
To stew with fearfull Sweat poor Girles and Boys.
Why should we fear him, since he doth no harm?
For we may Bind him Fast within a Charm.
Then what a Devil ails a Woman old,
To play such Tricks, whereby her Soul is Sold?
Can he destroy Mankind, or new Worlds make,
Or alter States for an Old Woman's Sake?
Can he the Day benight, or stop the Sun,
Or make the Planets from their Course to run?
And yet me thinks 'tis Odd, and very Strange,
That since the Devil cannot Bodies change,
He should have Power over Souls, to draw
Them from their God, and from his Holy Law,
Perswading Conscience to do more Ill,
Than the sweet Grace of God to Rule the will;
To cut off Faith, by which our Souls should clime
On high, and leave all Folly and all Crime;
Destroying honesty, Disgracing truth,
When he can neither make Old Age nor Youth;
He cannot add nor make a Minute short,
And yet keep many Souls from Heaven's Court;
It seems his Power shall for ever last,
Because 'tis over Souls which never Waste:
And thus hath God the Devil power lent,
To punish Man, unless he doth Repent.

THE CLASP

[Give me a free and noble Style, that goes]

Give me a free and noble Style, that goes
In an Uncurbed Strain, though Wild it shows;
For though it Runs about it cares not where,
It shews more Courage than it doth of Fear:
Give me a Style that Nature frames, not Art,
For Art doth seem to take the Pedants part;
And that seems Noble, which is easie, free,
And not bound up with o're nice Pedantry.

The Hunting of the Hare.

Betwixt two Ridges of Plowd-land sat Wat,
Whose Body press'd to th'Earth, lay close, and squat,
His Nose upon his two Fore-feet did lye,
With his gray Eyes he glared Obliquely;
His Head he always set against the Wind,
His Tail when turn'd, his Hair blew up behind,
And made him to get Cold; but he being Wise,
Doth keep his Coat still down, so warm he lies:
Thus rests he all the Day, till th'Sun doth Set,
Then up he riseth his Relief to get,
And walks about, untill the Sun doth Rise,
Then coming back in's former Posture lies.
At last poor Wat was found, as he there lay,
By Huntsmen, which came with their Dogs that way
Whom seeing, he got up, and fast did run,
Hoping some ways the Cruel Dogs to shun;
But they by Nature had so quick a Sent,
That by their Nose they Trac'd what way he went,
And with their deep wide Mouths set forth a Cry,
Which answer'd was by Echo in the Sky;
Then Wat was struck with Terrour and with Fear,
Seeing each Shadow thought the Dogs were there,
And running out some Distance from their Cry,
To hide himself, his Thoughts he did imploy;
Under a Clod of Earth in Sand-pit wide
Poor Wat sat close, hoping himself to hide,
There long he had not been, but strait in's Ears
The winding Horns and crying Dogs he hears;
Then starting up with fear, he Leap'd, and such
Swift speed he made, the Ground he scarce did touch;
Into a great thick Wood strait ways he got,
And underneath a broken Bough he Sat,
Where every Leaf, that with the Wind did shake
Brought him such Terrour, that his Heart did Ake;
That place he left, to Champain Plains he went,
Winding about, for to deceive their Sent,
And while they Snuffling were to find his Track,
Poor Wat being weary, his swift Pace did slack;
On his two hinder Legs for ease he Sat,
His Fore-feet rubb'd his Face from Dust and Sweat,
Licking his Feet, he wip'd his Ears so clean,
That none could tell that Wat had Hunted been;
But casting round about his fair gray Eyes,
The Hounds in full Career he near him 'Spies,
To Wat it was so Terrible a Sight,
Fear gave him Wings and made his Body light;
Though he was Tyr'd before by Running long,
Yet now his Breath he never felt more Strong;
Like those that Dying are, think Health returns,
When 'tis but a faint Blast which Life out-burns;
For Spirits seek to Guard the Heart about,
Striving with Death, but Death doth quench them out.
The Hounds so fast came on, and with such Cry,
That he no hopes had left, nor help could 'spy;
With that the Winds did pitty poor VVat's Case,
And with their Breath the Sent blew from that place;
Then every Nose was busily imploy'd,
And every Nostril was set Open wide,
And every Head did seek a several way,
To find the Grass or Track where the Sent lay;
For Witty Industry is never Slack,
'Tis like to Witch-craft, and brings lost things back:
But though the VVind had tied the Sent up close,
A busie Dog thrust in his snuffling Nose
And drew it out, with that did fore-most run,
Then Horns blew Loud, the rest to follow on:
The great slow Hounds their Throats did set a Base,
The Fleet, swift Hounds, as Tenours next in place,
The little Beagles did a Treble Sing,
And through the Air their Voices round did Ring,
VVhich made such Confort as they Ran along,
That, had they Spoken words, 't had been a Song;
The Horns kept time, the Men did shout for Joy,
And seem'd most Valiant, poor Wat to Destroy;
Spurring their Horses to a full Career,
Swom Rivers deep, Leap'd ditches without fear,
Indanger'd Life and Limbs, so fast they'ld Ride;
Only to see how patiently VVat Dy'd;
At last the Dogs so near his Heels did get,
That their sharp Teeth they in his Breech did set;
Then Tumbling down he fell, with weeping Eyes
Gave up his Ghost; and thus poor Wat he Dyes.
Men hooping Loud, such Acclamations made,
As if the Devil they Imprisoned had,
When they but did a shiftless Creature Kill;
To Hunt, their needs no Valiant Souldiers Skill:
But Men do think that Exercise and Toil,
To keep their Health, is best, which makes most Spoil,
Thinking that Food and Nourishment so good,
Which doth proceed from others Flesh and Blood.
When they do Lions, Wolves, Bears, Tigres see
Kill silly Sheep, they say, they Cruel be,
But for themselves all Creatures think too few,
For Luxury, wish God would make more New;
As if God did make Creatures for Mans meat,
And gave them Life and Sense for Man to Eat,
Or else for Sport or Recreations sake
For to Destroy those Lives that God did make,
Making their Stomacks Graves, which full they fill
With Murther'd Bodies, which in Sport they Kill;
Yet Man doth think himself so Gentle and Mild,
When of all Creatures he's most Cruel, Wild,
Nay, so Proud, that he only thinks to Live,
That God a God-like Nature him did give,
And that all Creatures for his Sake alone
Were made, for him to Tyrannize upon.

The Hunting of a Stag.

There was a Stag, did in the Forest lye,
Whose Neck was long, whose Horns were Branch'd up high,
His Haunch was broad, Sides large, and Back was long,
His Legs were Nervous, and his Joynts were Strong;
His Hair lay Sleek and Smooth, he was so Fair,
None in the Forest might with him Compare.
In Summer's Heat he in Cool Brakes him lay,
VVhich being High did keep the Sun away;
In Evenings Cool, and Dewy Mornings he
VVould early Rise and all the Forest see;
Then was he VValking to some Crystal brook,
Not for to Drink, but on his Horns to Look,
Taking such pleasure in his stately Crown,
His Pride forgot that Dogs might pull him down;
From thence he to a Shady VVood did go,
VVhere streightest Pines and talest Cedars grow;
Olives upright, imbrac'd by th'Loving Vines,
Birches which Bow their Heads to Golden Mines;
Small Aspen stalk, which shakes like Agues cold,
That from perpetual Motion never hold;
The sturdy Oak, which on the Seas doth Ride;
Firr which tall Masts doth make, where Sails are tied;
The weeping Maple, and the Popler green,
Whose cooling Buds in Salves have Healing been;
The fatting Chestnut, and the Hasle small,
The smooth-rind Beech, which groweth Large and Tall;
The loving Mirtle fit for Amorous kind,
The yielding Willow for Inconstant Mind;
The Cypress Sad, which makes the Funeral Hearse,
And Sicomors, where Lovers write their Verse;
And Juniper, which gives a pleasant Smell,
With many more, which were too Long to tell,
Which from their Sappy Roots sprout Branches small,
Some call it Under-wood, that's never Tall;
There walking through the Stag was hinder'd much,
The bending Twigs his Horns did often Touch;
While he on tender Leaves and Buds did brouse,
His Eyes were troubled with the broken Boughs;
Then strait he sought this Labyrinth t'unwind,
Though hard it was his first way out to find;
Unto this Wood a Rising Hill was near,
The sweet wild Thyme and Marjoran grew there,
And Winter-Sav'ry which was never Set,
Of which the Stag took great delight to Eat;
But looking down into the Vallies low,
He saw, there Grass and Cowslips thick did grow,
And Springs, which Digg'd themselves a passage out,
Much like as Serpents, wind each Field about;
Rising in Winter high, they'ld over-flow
The flow'ry Banks, but make the Soil to grow;
And as he went thinking therein to Feed,
He 'spied a Field, which Sow'd was with VVheat-seed,
The Blades were grown a handfull high and more,
VVhich Sight to Taste did soon Invite him o're;
In haste he went, Fed full, then down did lye;
The Owner coming there, did him Espy,
Strait call'd his Dogs to Hunt him from that place;
At last it prov'd to be a Forest chase;
The Chase grew hot, the Stag apace did run,
The Dogs pursu'd, more Men for Sport came on;
At last a Troop of Men, Horse, Dogs did meet,
Which made the Hart to try his Nimble feet;
Full swift he was, his Horns he bore up high,
The Men did Shout, the Dogs ran Yelping by,
And Bugle Horns with several Notes did blow,
Huntsmen, to cross the Stag, did Side-ways go;
The Horses beat their Hoofs against dry Ground,
Raising such Clouds of Dust, their ways scarce found,
Their Sides ran down with Sweat, as if they were
New come from Watering, so dropt every Hair;
The Dogs their Tongues out of their Mouths hung long,
Their Sides did like a Feaverish Pulse beat strong,
Their short Ribs heav'd up high, and then fell low,
As Bellows draw in Wind that they may Blow;
Men Tawny grew, the Sun their Skins did turn,
Their Mouths were Dry, their Bowels felt to Burn;
The Stag so Hot as glowing Coals may be,
Yet swiftly Ran when he the Dogs did see.
Coming at length unto a Rivers side,
VVhose Current flow'd as with a falling Tide,
There he Leap'd in, thinking some while to stay
To wash his Sides, his burning Heat t'allay,
In hope the Dogs could not in VVater swim,
But was deceiv'd, for they did follow him
Like Fishes, which do Swim in VVaters deep;
He Duck'd, but Out, alas! his Horns did Peep;
The Dogs were cover'd over Head and Ear,
Nothing did of them but their Nose appear;
The Stag and River like a Race did show,
He striving still the River to Out-go,
VVhilst Men and Horses down the Banks did run,
Encouraging the Dogs to follow on,
Where in the Water, like a Looking-glass,
He by Reflexion saw their Shadows pass;
Fear did his Breath cut short, his Limbs did shrink,
Like those which the Cramp makes to th'Bottom sink:
Thus out of Breath no longer could he stay,
But Leap'd on Land, and swiftly Run away;
For Change brings Ease, ease Strength, in Strength Hope lives,
Hope Joys the Heart, and Joy light Heels still gives.
His Feet did like a Feather'd Arrow fly,
Or like a winged Bird that mounts the Sky;
The Dogs like Ships, that Sail with Wind and Tide,
Do Cut the Air, and VVaters deep Divide;
Or like as Greedy Merchants, which for gain
Venture their Life, and Traffick on the Main;
The Hunters like to Boys, which without fear,
To see a Sight, will hazard Life, that's Dear:
For they are Sad when Mischief takes no place,
And out of Countenance as with Disgrace,
But when they see a Ruine and a Fall,
They come with Joy, as if they'd Conquer'd all:
And thus did their three several Passions meet;
First the desire to Catch the Dogs made Fleet,
Then Fear the Stag made Run, his Life to save,
Whilst Men for love of Mischief digg'd his Grave.
The angry Dust flew in each Face about,
As if't would with Revenge their Eyes put out,
Yet they all fast went on, with a huge Cry;
The Stag no hope had left, nor help did 'spy,
His Heart so heavy grew with Grief and Care,
That his small Feet his Body scarce could bear,
Yet loath to Dye, or yield to Foes was he,
And to the last would strive for Victory;
'Twas not for want of Courage he did Run,
But that an Army was 'gainst him alone;
Had he the Valour had of Cæsar stout,
Yet Yield he must to them, or Dye, no doubt;
Turning his Head, as if he Dar'd their spight,
Prepar'd himself against them all to Fight;
Single he was, his Horns were all his helps,
To Guard him from a Multitude of Whelps;
Besides, a Company of Men were there,
If Dogs should fail, to strike him every where;
But to the last his Fortune he'ld try out,
Then Men and Dogs did Circle him about,
Some Bit, some Bark'd, all Ply'd him at the Bay,
Where with his Horns he Tossed some away:
But Fate his Thread had Spun, he down did fall,
Shedding some Tears at his own Funeral.

A Description of an Island.

There was an Island Rich by Nature's Grace,
In all the World it was the Sweetest place,
Surrounded with the Seas, whose VVaves not miss'd
To do her Homage, and her Feet they Kiss'd;
Each Wave did seem by turn to Bow down low,
And proud to Touch her, when as they did Flow;
Armies of VVaves in Troops high Tides brought on,
Whose wat'ry Arms did Glister as the Sun,
And on their Backs burthens of Ships did bear,
Placing them in her Havens with great Care,
Not Mercenary, for no Pay they'ld have,
But as her Guard did Watch, to keep her Safe,
And in a Ring they Circled her about,
Strong as a Wall, to keep her Foes without;
The Winds did Serve her, and on Clouds did Ride,
Blowing their Trumpets loud on every side,
Serving as Scouts, they Search'd in every Lane,
And Gallop'd in the Forests, Fields and Plain;
While she did please the Gods, she did Live safe,
And they all kind of Pleasures to her gave;
For all this Place was Fertile, Rich and Fair,
Both Woods, and Hills, and Dales in Prospects were;
Birds pleasure took, and with delight did Sing,
In Praises of this Isle the VVoods did Ring;
Trees thriv'd with Joy, for she their Roots well fed,
And Tall with Pride, their Tops did Over-spread;
Danc'd with the Winds, when they did Sing and Blow,
Play'd like a wanton Kid, or a swift Roe;
Their several Branches several Birds did bear,
Which Hop'd and Skip'd, and always Merry were;
Their Leaves did Wave, and Rushing make a Noise,
And many ways striv'd to express their Joys;
All Flowers there look'd fresh, and gay with Mirth,
Whilst they were Danc'd upon the Lap of Earth;
Th'Isle was their Mother, they her Children sweet,
Born from her Loins, got by Apollo great,
Who Dress'd and Prun'd them often with great Care,
And wash'd their Leaves with Dew to make them Fair;
Which being done, he wip'd those Drops away
With Webs of Heat , which he Weaves every Day;
Paint them with several Colours Intermixt,
Veil'd them with Shadows every Leaf betwixt;
Their Heads he Dress'd, their Hairy Leaves spread out,
Wreath'd round their Crowns his Golden Beams about:
For he this Isle esteem'd above the rest;
Of all his Wives he had he Lov'd her best;
Daily he did present her with some Gift,
Twelve Ells of Light to make her Smocks for Shift;
Which every time he came, he put on Fair,
That Lovely she and Handsome might appear,
And when he from her went, the World to see,
He left his Sister her for Company,
Whose name is Cynthia, though Pale yet Clear,
Which makes her always in Dark Clouds appear;
Besides, he left his Stars to wait on her,
Lest she should Grieve too much, when he's not there,
And from his bounty Cloath'd them all with Light,
Which makes them Twinkle in a frosty Night;
He never brought Hot beams to do her harm,
Nor let her take a Cold, but Lap'd her warm;
He Mantles Rich of equal Heat o'respread,
And cover'd her with Colour Crimson Red;
He gave another o're her Head to lye,
The Colour is a pure bright Azure Sky;
And with soft Air did Line them all within,
Like Furs in Winter, in Summer Satin thin;
With Silver Clouds he Fringed them about,
And Spangled Meteors Glist'ring hung without:
Thus gave he Change, lest she should weary grow,
Or think them Old, and so away them throw.
Nature adorn'd this Island all throughout
With Landskips, Riv'lets, Prospects round about;
Hills over-top'd the Dales, which Level were,
And cover'd all with Cattel, Feeding there;
Grass grew up even to the Belly high,
Where Beasts that Chew their Cud lay Pleasantly,
Whisking their Tails about, the Flies to beat,
Or else to Cool them from the Sultry heat;
Nature, her Love to th'Gods willing to show,
Sent Plenty in, like Nile's great Overflow,
And temperate Seasons gave, and equal Lights,
Warm Sun-shine Days, and Dewy Moon-shine Nights;
And in this pleasant Island Peace did dwell,
No noise of VVarr, or sad Tale could it tell.

The Ruine of this Island.

This Island Liv'd in Peace full many a Day,
So long as she unto the Gods did Pray;
But she grew Proud with Plenty and with Ease,
Ador'd her Self, and did the Gods displease,
She flung their Altars down, and in their stead
Set up her Own, and would be VVorshipped:
The Gods grew angry, and commanded Fate
To Alter and to Ruine quite the State,
For they had Chang'd their Mind of late, they said,
And did Repent, unthankfull Man th'had made;
Fates wondred much to hear what said the Gods,
That they and mortal Men were at great Odds,
And found them apt to Change, thought it did show,
As if the Gods did not poor Men fore-know;
For why, said they, if Men do Evil grow,
The Gods, fore-seeing all, Men's hearts did know
Long, long before they did Man first Create;
If so, what need they change or alter Fate?
'Twas in their Power to make them Good or Ill,
Wherefore Men cannot do just what they will;
Then why do Gods complain against them so,
Since Men are made by them such ways to go?
If Evil power hath Gods to oppose,
Two equal Deities it plainly shows;
The one Pow'r cannot keep Obedience long,
If Disobedient power be as Strong;
And being Ignorant how Men will prove,
Know not how Strong or Long will last their Love:
But may't not be the Course of God's Decree,
To love Obedience, wheresoe're it be?
They from the first a Changing power Create,
And for that Work make Destiny and Fate;
It is the Mind of Man that's apt to Range,
The Minds of Gods are not subject to Change.
Then did the Fates unto the Planets go,
And told them they Malignity must throw
Into this Island, for the Gods would take
Revenge on them, who did their Laws forsake;
VVith that the Planets drew like with a Screw
Bad Vapours from the Earth, and then did View
What place to Squeeze that Poyson on, which all
The Venom had, got from the VVorld's great Ball;
Then through Mens Veins like Molten Lead it came,
And did like Oyl their Spirits all Inflame,
VVhere Malice boyl'd with Rancor, Spleen and Spight,
In VVarr and Fraud, Injustice took delight,
Thinking which way their Lusts they might fulfill,
Committed Thefts, Rapes, Murthers at their will;
Parents and Children did Unnat'ral grow,
And every Friend was turn'd a Cruel Foe;
Nay, Innocency no Protection had,
Religious Men were thought to be stark Mad;
In Witches, Wizzards, they did put their trust,
Extortions, Bribes were thought to be most Just;
Like Titan's Race all did in Tumults rise,
And 'gainst the Heavens utter Blasphemies;
The Gods in Rage unbound the Winds, to blow
In a strange Nation, formerly their Foe,
Where they themselves did Plant, the Natives all
Were by them Kill'd, for th'Gods had Sworn their fall;
Compassion wept, and Virtue wrung her hands,
To see that Right was Banish'd from their Lands:
Thus Winds, and Seas, the Planets, Fates and all
Conspir'd to work her Ruine and her Fall;
But those that keep the Laws of God on high,
Shall Live in Peace, i'th' Grave rest Quietly;
And ever after like the Gods shall be,
Injoy all Pleasure, know no Misery.