Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life Being several Feigned Stories, Comical, Tragical, Tragi-comical, Poetical, Romancical, Philosophical, Historical, and Moral: Some in Verse, some in Prose; some Mixt, and some by Dialogues. Written by the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, and most Excellent Princess, The Duchess of Newcastle [i.e. Margaret Cavendish]. The Second Edition |
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 | Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life |  |
Sir, You may wonder much that I do send
This Letter, which by Love doth recommend
It self and suit unto your judging-ear,
And that it was not stopt by bashful fear:
But let me tell you, This pure Love of mine
Is built on Virtue, not on base Design.
It hath no dross, nor proudly doth aspire;
A Flame inkindled by immac'late Fire,
Which I to th' Altar of your Merits bring,
From whence the Flame to Heaven high may spring.
Your glorious Fame within my Heart, though young,
Did plant a Slip of Honour, from whence sprung
Pure Love, and Chast Desires; for I do crave,
Only within your Heart a place to have.
I do not plead, hoping to be your Wife,
Nor 'twixt you and your Mistress to breed strife;
Or wish I that her Love you should forsake,
Or unto me a Courtly Friendship make:
But only, when I'm dead, you would inshrine
Within your Memory, this Love of mine;
Which Love to all the World I may proclame
Without a blush, or check, or spotted-fame:
'Tis not your Person I do so admire,
Nor yet your Wealth or Titles I desire:
But your Heroick Soul, and Generous Mind,
Your Affability and Nature kind;
Your honest Heart, where Justice still doth raign;
Your prudent Thoughts, and a well-temper'd Brain;
Your helping Hand, and your industrious Life,
Not to make broils, but to decide all strife;
And to advance all those are in distress,
To help the weak, and those are powerless;
For which my Heart and Life to Love is bound,
And every thought of you with Honour crown'd.
These are not feigning Lines that here I write,
But Truths as clear and pure as Heaven's Light.
Nor is it Impudence to let you know,
Love of your Virtues in my Soul doth grow.
This Letter, which by Love doth recommend
It self and suit unto your judging-ear,
And that it was not stopt by bashful fear:
But let me tell you, This pure Love of mine
Is built on Virtue, not on base Design.
It hath no dross, nor proudly doth aspire;
A Flame inkindled by immac'late Fire,
Which I to th' Altar of your Merits bring,
From whence the Flame to Heaven high may spring.
Your glorious Fame within my Heart, though young,
Did plant a Slip of Honour, from whence sprung
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Only within your Heart a place to have.
I do not plead, hoping to be your Wife,
Nor 'twixt you and your Mistress to breed strife;
Or wish I that her Love you should forsake,
Or unto me a Courtly Friendship make:
But only, when I'm dead, you would inshrine
Within your Memory, this Love of mine;
Which Love to all the World I may proclame
Without a blush, or check, or spotted-fame:
'Tis not your Person I do so admire,
Nor yet your Wealth or Titles I desire:
But your Heroick Soul, and Generous Mind,
Your Affability and Nature kind;
Your honest Heart, where Justice still doth raign;
Your prudent Thoughts, and a well-temper'd Brain;
Your helping Hand, and your industrious Life,
Not to make broils, but to decide all strife;
And to advance all those are in distress,
To help the weak, and those are powerless;
For which my Heart and Life to Love is bound,
And every thought of you with Honour crown'd.
These are not feigning Lines that here I write,
But Truths as clear and pure as Heaven's Light.
Nor is it Impudence to let you know,
Love of your Virtues in my Soul doth grow.
| Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life | |