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Du Bartas

His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester

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Micro-cosmo-graphia: THE LITTLE-WORLDES DESCRIPTION; OR THE MAP OF MAN
  
  
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789

Micro-cosmo-graphia: THE LITTLE-WORLDES DESCRIPTION; OR THE MAP OF MAN

(From Latin Saphiks of that Famous, late, Preacher in London, Mr. Henry Smith.)

Translated; & Dedicated To the Right Honourable, Honoria, Lady Hay. By Iosvah Sylvester.


790

TO THE Right-RIGHT HONORABLE Honoria, Wife of Iames, Lord Hay, Sole Daughter and Heire of Edvvard Lord Denny.

Equally bound, in humble Gratitude,
To Two deer Equals (to You equall Deer);
Vnable (yet) with Both at once to cleer,
Vwilling yet, with Either to be rude:
Faine would I craue to haue my Bond renewd,
For a more Happy, or more Hopefull Year,
When gratious Heav'n shall daign to set me freer
From old cold Cares, which keep my Muse vnmew'd.
Would You be pleas'd (Madame) to interpose
Your gentle breath, I would not doubt to speed:
Such vertue hath Your Vertue still with Those.
Therefore in Hope of Your kinde Help (at need)
This simple Pledge I Offer at Your Feet;
Altar of Loue, Where both Their Vowes do meet.
Your Honorable Vertue's humble Votarie, Iosvah Sylvester.

791

THE MAP OF MAN.

I sing not, but (in Sighes abrupt)
Sob-out the State of Man, corrupt
By th'olde Serpent's banefull Breath;
Whose strong Contagion still extends
To euery Creature that descends
From th'old Little World of Death.
Drad-deer Creator, new-create
Thy Creature: Saviour expiate
This, and all our Owne Addition:
O Sacred Spirit, Our Spirits renew;
Informe, reforme, and tune Me trew,
To condole Our sad Condition.
In Earth, Man wanders (Pilgrim-wise)
Hopes, doubts, desires, faints, freezes, fryes;
Crossed, tossed to and fro:
Hee turnes, he windes; he findes no good:
He ay complaines that Evill's Flood
(Farre and wide) doth over-flowe.
His Birth (in Sinne) beginnes in Tears:
His Life is rife in Paines and Fears;
Will-Hee, nill-Hee, spoyling sport:
His Death with groans, in doubtfull case,
Sends him, God knowes, vnto what place:
Blest none rest, but in the Port.
The Flesh against the Spirit rebells:
The Spirit againe the Flesh repells;
Ever striving, never still:
And sodenly, while these contend,
Their common Foe, the cursed Fiend,
Findes advantage Both to kill.
Earth (Step dam-like) sharp Rods doth yield,
To scourge her Sonnes: the Sea is fild
(Both aboue and vnder too)
With hideous Horrors, past report:
Th'Aier whirling in Tempestuous sort,
Beats, and threats All to vndoo.

792

The Countrey's rude, and foe to Fame;
The Court more braue, and more to blame;
Painted Faces, graces fain'd:
The Citie (There, O! bad's the best)
Seat of Deceit, and Misers nest;
Gold their God, vngodly gain'd.
Iarre at the Barre: Stews at the Stage;
In Way-fare, Theeues: in War-fare, Rage:
Noyse abroad: Annoyes at home:
In Churches, Purchase, Profanation,
Fiends seeming Saints; Abhomination:
Euery-where, no Feare of Doome.
The Throne's not given vnto the Iust:
The Faithfull is not put in Trust:
Prophets are not held for true:
Nor loyall lov'd, nor learned grac't,
Nor weary eas'd, nor Worthy plac't:
Nor hath any heer his dew.
The impudent, the insolent,
The Foole, the Friend in complement,
And the sly, we see (by proofe)
Held eloquent, magnanimous,
Right pleasant, kinde, ingenious;
And the Wealthy, wise enough.
Reward is heard: words are but winde:
Each Art is long; Life short confin'd:
Might makes Right in every Cause.
Physicke is vile, and vilely vs'd;
Diuinity, disdain'd, abus'd:
Vnder-foot, men tread the Lawes.
The Rich with rage, the Poore with plaints,
With hate the Wise, with scorne the Saints,
Evermore are curstly crost:
With painfull toyle the Private-man,
The Nobler states with Enuy wan,
Without end are torne and tost.
If good, hee fares no better for't;
If bad, no worse they him support;
Fortune serueth all alike:
Though she simper, though she smile,
Though she laugh outright awhile,
She is alwayes slippery-sleeke.
Who lately serued, Lords-it now:
Who lately becked, now doth bow:
Valleyes swell, and Mountaines sink:
Who lately flourisht, now doth fade:
Who late was strong, now feeble made,
Feeding Worms, in Dust doth stink.

793

So, Lowely rests: so, Lofty rues.
Say that one might his fortune chuse,
Vnder Heav'n to haue his will;
'T would be a Doubt, among the Wise,
Whether it better were to Rise
To High state, or to Sit still.
Phant'sie conceiues, Reason receiues,
Passion repugns (and Patience reaues).
What I wish, What I desire,
I see: and Sense importunes so,
I couet, I commend it too:
Then againe it doth retire.
Sense, whither now? Tis griefe to see
What flits so fast, so suddenly.
Reason, whither roams thy reach?
What hurts, were better still be hid,
And still vnknowne; O! ill-bestid!
Poor in store, in Wealth a wretch.
When Fortune comes, she means our Wrack;
And when she goes, she breaks our back:
Comming, going, all is one.
For, What she gives she takes away,
Vnkinde and blinde, inconstant ay;
Frank to few, and firme to none.
Oft haue I canvas'd, whethers Case
Is Worst; the Fall'n, or th'ever-Base:
Yet, scarce can I it decide.
The Fall proues plainly for the first:
Want Pleads, that ever-Want is Worst;
Partial! to their proper side.
It irks the Fall'n to haue been High;
Th'ay-Poor could wish he had been By:
Either others state would glad.
If euen in gladness sadnesse growe,
Were not I somewhat glad also,
How extreame should I be sad!
If Care We take, it health impaires:
If not, it takes vs vn-awares:
Whether should we seek or shun?
Whether (to passe vnto the next)
The good or bad be most perplext,
Is another Question.
The Guilty suffers for his Fault:
The Guilt-less doubts no less assault
By Mis-fortune: both desire
To liue on Earth, to draw this breath:
Both feare to Die; and, after Death,
Torment of eternall Fire.

794

Hence, slowe Dayes labour wears vs thin:
Hence, lightly, Nightly fears begin:
Hence, rathe Rising and late Rest:
Hence, toughest storms, and roughest streams:
Hence, griping Cares, and ghastly Dreams,
Waking, sleeping, doo molest.
Winter's too-colde: Summer's too-hot;
Autumne too-moyst (which breeds the Rot)
All the hope is in the Spring.
The liuely Spring is louely faire:
But if keen Ice then chill the Aier,
Little pleasure dith it bring.
Seas drowne the Vales: the Windes do heaue
The Hils to Heav'n; the Rocks they cleaue.
Bolde Ambition stands amaz'd,
Expecting where to build a Fort
So strong, and rampyr'd in such sort,
That it never may be raz'd.
Peace is too-droun'd in Lust and Sloath:
Warre is too-drunk with Blood and Wrath:
That, too-gawdie; this, too-grim.
Mens mindes are all so delicate,
So soft, and so effeminate,
Small things, all things, grieuous seem.
Either the Head doth alwaies ake,
Or Palat slip, or Palsey shake,
Or our Belly roars within:
Or else with Choler we abound,
Or else with Phlegm, or else (vnsound)
Tumour's humours, scald our skin.
What dread of Death, What greedy Lust,
What Surfait, Sloath, and Deeds vniust,
Daily plunge in Perills rife;
What Sword consumeth every houre,
And what the Plague doth quick deuour,
Lengthens Physick, shortens Life.
Where's now Æneas? Where's his Son:
Where's Hercules? Where's Salomon?
Where is Dauid? Where is Saul?
Where's Cyrus, Cæsar, and the rest?
Ah! He and They are all deceast:
I must follow: so must all.
Hark: Thou, whom most the People hailes;
The wisest errs: the iustest failes:
Strongest limpeth now and than:
The humblest swells: the sobrest sips:
The holiest sins: the wariest slips:
God is fault-less: neuer, Man.

795

Too-curious or too-carelesly,
Too-lavish or too-slavishly,
By the Foole or by the Knaue;
Too-craking or too-cravenly,
Too-hatefull, or too-gratefully:
Haste or waste marrs all we haue.
Ambition's end is Rule and Raigne:
Crueltie's, Conquest: Guile's, is Gaine,
To growe Rich by hook or crook:
Iuggling, and struggling, strife in all:
No Triumph without Fight will fall;
War-less, none for Peace may look.
We think, but never can intend,
Good thoughts well to begin; or end
If perhaps they be begun:
Or, if we end them, never finde
(How-ever rare, in any kinde)
Recompence when we haue done.
Our heart it hath an in-borne Guest,
Will-ill (it hight): it posteth prest
To the Tongue, ill Words to vent:
Desire, then, rushes to ill Deeds:
Vengeance anon the Fact succeeds.
Thus comes Ill to Punishment.
If safe, this Snake we choak or charm;
Within, againe We hug it Warm,
Daring, doubting, vp and down;
Till Lust, as lighter, vp doth surge;
And th'horror of the fearfull Scourge,
Fall, as heavier, to the ground.
Come flesh, be frolike, take delight,
Let's revell now: 't will once be night:
Shall a little Gout, or Colick,
Or sudden Qualm, or sullen Care,
Or addle Fit of idle Feare
Mar thy Mirth? Come Flesh, be frolick.
What seeks, we shun; What shuns, we seek:
What helps, we loath; What hurts, we like:
Bird in-hand we leaue, for bush.
For, What we Want we panting craue;
And loosely lavish what We haue;
Brag, of that should make vs blush.
With-childe with mirth, we bring-forth Scorn,
We bring-vp Furie; over-born
(Moov'd and mooving) either way;
Too-sorry, or too-merry-mad:
The happy Meane is never had,
While we Wretches heer doo stay.

796

We reigne and serve: we want and flowe:
We ioy and mourne: wee freez and glowe:
Vowes we make and break (together):
We build and batter; ioyne and iarre:
We heap and scatter; make and marre:
And we flourish, and we wither.
We look to Heaven, and leap to Hell:
Our Hope and Fear (by turnes) rebell;
Plunging down, or puffing-vp:
Please would we faine, but finde demurre;
Please might we well, did Will concurre:
Sloath doth stay, and Lust doth stop.
So, still we stand, and whine the while;
Nought Labour boots, nor Ioue, nor wile:
All is lost, when 'tis too-late.
Euills to th'euill and the good
Are daily sent: and if with-stood,
We but faster foster Fate.
I will at once give-ouer quight
Both to be Wicked and Vpright;
To doe either Right, or Wrong:
For, Goods well-gotten, growe but thin,
Get hardly vp, come slowely in:
And th'ill-gotten last not long.
What shall I doe? If I forbear
My Cause-less Foe, I blush, I fear
His Despight, and my Disparage.
If, to revenge me, I resolue;
It satisfies, when I revolue
None's all-Fault-less, in all Cariage.
When I haue spar'd, I wish t'haue spoke:
And when I speak, I would revoke;
Better pleas'd t'haue held my peace:
Would God I could (as Wiser-ones)
Both speake and holde my peace at once;
So to liue at Quietness.
Deare Minde, how doost Thou? Frayle and sick,
My Flesh implores thy Succour quick:
Canst? O! canst Thou cure her griefe?
O! daign (I pre-thee) then with speed
To helpe thy Servant now at need;
Send her Reason for reliefe.
For, Faithfull Minde's firm Resolution
Cures often-times th'ill Constitution
Of a Bodie sick-inclin'd:
But, then the Bodie (late deplored
For weake estate) to Health restored,
Growes a Burthen to the Minde.

797

O Sin-bred Hurt! O in-bred Hell!
Nor full, nor fasting, never well;
Never found? What shall I say?
Once all was well, and would be now
Better then ever, if that Thou
Cursed Sin wert quight away.
But now (alas!) all Mischiefe lies
In Ambush with all Miseries,
Mans Confusion to conspire:
Desire and Feare at-once torment:
Feare is a Tyrant; Mal-content,
And insatiate is Desire.
Who fears? who mourns? who wants? who wanders?
Ah! only Men (Wils ill-Commanders).
Man alone abounds therein.
Lowd Lamentations, Lasting Terrors,
Hart-wounding Wants, and wilfull Errors,
Had not been, had Man not been.
Heer Pestilence, there Hungers Iawe,
Heer Drink, there Duel, there the Lawe,
Snatches one or other hence.
Heer Crosse, there Care: or (better blest)
Who hap These Haps to scape the best,
Age devours with-out Dispense.
Perpending This in minde perplext,
The Miserable (Envie-vext)
Cryes, O Beasts, O Foules, O Fish!
You happy, harm-less, storm-less things,
Precise in Natures Lessonings,
Liue You long: You Life may wish.
But, I think, better not be born;
Or, born, hence quickly to return
To our Mothers dusty Lap;
Then living, daily heer to die,
In Cares, and Feares, and Miserie,
By Miss-heed, or by Miss-hap.
While Hunger gripes mee gut and gall,
While burning Thirst for Drink doth call,
While for Cold I quake: alas!
In languor long I linger-on.
O! happy Those, whose Woes, whose Mone,
Ridding quick doth quickly passe.
The Stout, the Coward, and the Meek,
All skirmish vnder Fortune like,
Stryking all with Mischiefs aye;
The Stout repugns, the Patient prayes,
The Hare-like Coward runnes his wayes;
Fortune differs not, but They.

798

Too-peeuish This, too-pleasant That,
(Too-fierce, or too-effeminate)
Golden Mean can hardly stand
Betwixt these Two Extreams, vpright;
'Tis worne so weak, and waigh'd so light:
Error playes on either hand.
Wedlock, with Wife and Children cloggs:
The Single-Life, Lusts heavier Loggs
(Rare's the Gift of Continence).
The Young-man stalks, the Old-man stoops,
That over-dares, This ever droops:
Th'Infant craules through Impotence.
Masters taxe Servants, proud, slut, slowe;
Servants, Churle Master, Mistress Shrowe:
Either Others Fault can finde.
The Daughter thinks her Mother froward;
Mother her Daughter deems vn-toward:
Kit (they say) will after Kinde.
Princes doe enuy Subiects Wealth:
Subiects doe enuy Princes Health:
Each doth enuy Others Good:
All, all doe enuy Learnings Honour
(If any be conferd vpon her)
O! ô wicked, wretched Mood!
The Souldier likes the Rusticks Calm;
The Clowne affects the Souldiers Palme:
Thus doth Enuy inly fret-her:
Our Pastures parch, our Heards be poore;
Our Neighbour thriues in every store:
Others Crop is ever better.
Fond Lovers languish at their Eyes:
The Wrathfull fosters and defies
Frenzies, Furies, (wayward Elues):
What need we call for Whip or Scourge?
Their punishment what need we vrge?
Their Selfs Errors scourge themselues.
Feare hunts the Coward at the heel;
The Cruell, still Revenging steel;
Ruine Him that Ruine seeks;
Heauy Revenge on haynous Crimes:
Yea, in the Sin, the Plague some-times;
Heavens iust hand so iustly strikes.
Sorrow and Shame, for what is past;
Care, of the present; Feare (fore-cast)
Of the danger yet to-come;
Make all false Pleasures shorter seem,
And sharper too in pain extreame,
Then euen Paine it selfe to some.

799

If I be merry, I am mad
(Say the Severe): if Sober-sad,
Merry Greeks me Meacok call.
Is't possible for any-Man,
At-once to please (doe what hee can)
God, Himselfe, the World, and all?
Who Greatnesse hautily affects,
Who Great Things happily effects;
That is hated, This enuy'd:
But, hoping Greatnesse, who so haps
To faile (or fall in After-Claps)
Him the Vulgar dare deride.
Vertve is vanquisht by her Foes,
Whose Triumph euen their Fore-head showes,
'Tis a shame to be ashamed
But shall I tell (and tell thee trew)
Thy Fate (the Fruit that shall ensew
Shame-less shamefull life vntamed)?
This Fate then falls to be Thine owne,
Such shalt thou reap as thou hast sowne:
Wages like thy Work expect.
Who heer their Dayes in Euill spend,
Shall suffer Euills, with-out End;
Such is Minos Doom direct.
Then, swagger, stagger, spend and spoile;
Steale and conceale, and keep a coile;
Quickly shalt thou all forgoe:
Kill, conquer, triumph; down againe
Shalt thou bee cast: bouz, beat, disdaigne;
Th'End's at hand, and comes not slowe.
The Wise bewaile Mens Follies rife,
And faine would cure their Vitious life
With Receits of heavenly Skill:
But Sin-sick Fooles (what-ever prick,
Benumbd by Custome) lethargike,
Care not, feare not, feele no ill.
Who knoweth much, much ill he knowes:
Who little reaks, much good forgoes.
Hence, perplexed Doubts hee casts;
What is great Knowledge? What so much
Of Learning? or of Book-skill such?
But great Blazes, and light Blasts?
While Plato, sportiue, doth despise,
The sullen Cyniks Sloven-guise;
Hee, as fast (on th'other side)
Doth Plato's Pomp as much condemn
And trample-on: Were both of them
(Who can tell me?) VVise, or VVide?

800

Democritus heer laughes a-good:
Heraclitus there weeps a Flood.
Glad and sad would mend vs faine:
But now, so stubborn-stiffe is Man,
That Teares, nor Tunes, nor Ought else can
Faults restore, nor Fates restraine.
Sloath never wanteth Want, for Mate;
Thrift, Sweat and Labour macerate;
Either in their issue languish:
So, Health is never without Sin,
Nor Sickness without Paine with-in:
Outward Ache, or inward Anguish.
Service is to the Lofty minde
A Curb, a Spur to th'abiect Hinde;
Seld or never stoops the Will:
The Vulgar voyce, the Common Cry
Is, Welcome, Welcome LIBERTY;
Good for good, but ill for ill.
A Griefe it is alone to bee;
But more, to haue ill companie:
More or lesse (alas!) by This,
Appeareth plaine, when all is donne,
(As Proofe hath found) that vnder Sunne,
Heer's no full, no perfect Blisse.
Who never yet himselfe could please,
What can content? What vse? What Ease?
What availeth Wealth at will?
Needy and naked heer I liue:
To die, it doth me nothing grieue;
But to perish, and liue still.
I looke to Heaven, and there (alas!)
With Feare I see my Iudges Face,
Auditing my Summes of Sin:
I think of Hell, and then I burne
Like Ætna: then to Earth returne,
Cares and Feares there never lin.
This feele I, thus I iustly fare:
O Man! learne quickly, and have care
Sacred Duties to obserue.
This Life is rife in Troubles sore:
But yet (alas!) a Million more
Our Rebellion doth deserue.
Much like, or worse then former Age,
The futures Face we may presage:
Better seldome comes, they say.
Now Right, now Wrong; now Good, now Ill;
Now Fiend, now Friend; now God, now Will,
Seem to haue alternate Sway.

801

Nothing is gratis given nor got:
Each labours more or lesse (God wot)
With the hand or with the head:
None without Art or Vertue thriue;
Nor Art, nor Vertue all atchieue:
Onely, these, not alwaies sped.
What should I seek or sue for much,
To liue at Rest? Content is Rich.
Fortune often is too-free,
And often kils where shee's too-kinde:
But, had we once an equall Minde,
Wee should all contented bee.
But every one is too-secure
In sunny Dayes; and in obscure,
Too-deiected in Desire:
Hence, ouer-faint, or ouer-full;
Too-pyned, or too-plentifull,
Fry we all with inward Fire.
Now, Dust her dustie Brood expects:
Come, Earth to Earth (of either Sex).
Pleasure trembles at her Call;
Cryes-out of Haste, complaines of Heaven:
But Paine and Sorrow (narrow-driven)
Are well pleas'd, and eas'd withall.
Who gives me grace to gush-out Teares,
And lends me space to poure forth Prayers;
Yet, both seeming to neglect?
'Tis God the dreadfull, Sinners Scourge;
The gracious God, which oft doth purge
Ills with Pils, in his Elect.
Behold me, Thou that didst bestow
Thy Son on Mee; Forgiue me, Thou
That didst suffer for my Sin:
Assist and stay me evermore
Thou, Thou that heer so oft before,
In my brest a Guest hast bin.
Regarde vs, Lord, vnworthy though;
Thy Glory seek, thy Mercy showe;
Enemies approach apace:
We faile, we fall, we cannot stand,
Our Foes will haue the vpper hand
But Thou helpe vs with thy Grace.
Witness my Selfe that heer lie slain,
But by Thy Touch reviv'd again;
Glad to liue, to liue to Thee:
And yet desire to be dissolv'd
(When my due Date shall be revolv'd)
As more happy farre for Mee.

802

Shew me the Holy Land, which flowes
With Milke and Hony (Saints Repose).
Traine mee in the new Commerce,
In the New Art of Better Life:
Then fare-well Muses, fare-well Strife:
In Thy Courts I will converse.
I cannot strike Appollo's string,
Study for Heav'n and timely ring
Sacred Aaron's golden Bell;
Nor sing at-once the Thespian Songs,
And serue my Countrey, as belongs:
Therefare, Mvses heer Fare-well.
FINIS.