Anniversaries upon his Panarete continued: with her contemplations, penned in the languishing time of her sicknesse. The second yeeres annivers [by Richard Brathwait] |
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 | Anniversaries upon his Panarete |  |
Anniversaries upon his Panarete, continued.
Last yeare I wrote of my deare Panaret,
To pay my dearest Deare her duest debt;
But who is Hee knew her and knoweth not
How many things I in my Threnes forgot,
Which should have been exprest? but such as wee
Who share in griefes, fall short in memorie.
This to supply with teare-distilling eye,
Still to one Taske I must my selfe apply;
For wee an Anniversall meane to reare
In honour of her vertues ev'ry yeare:
Where though our Pencyle cannot well set forth
The riches of her goodnesse and true worth,
It shall appeare wee have desire to doe it,
By th' ceremonious zeale wee beare unto it.
To pay my dearest Deare her duest debt;
But who is Hee knew her and knoweth not
How many things I in my Threnes forgot,
Which should have been exprest? but such as wee
Who share in griefes, fall short in memorie.
This to supply with teare-distilling eye,
Still to one Taske I must my selfe apply;
For wee an Anniversall meane to reare
In honour of her vertues ev'ry yeare:
The riches of her goodnesse and true worth,
It shall appeare wee have desire to doe it,
By th' ceremonious zeale wee beare unto it.
First, in my weekely visit to her shrine,
I bathe those corps with teares which once were mine,
Once mine, now Earths: Nor doe I, trust me, stay
In any superstitious sort to pray
For her reposed Soule, which being at rest,
My Prayer would seeme superfluous at best:
Yea, I should injure her, whose boundlesse blisse
Is such, none can be happier then shee is.
I bathe those corps with teares which once were mine,
Once mine, now Earths: Nor doe I, trust me, stay
In any superstitious sort to pray
For her reposed Soule, which being at rest,
My Prayer would seeme superfluous at best:
Yea, I should injure her, whose boundlesse blisse
Is such, none can be happier then shee is.
Yet give me leave to eye her scatt'red dust,
Which in the resurrection of the just
Shall bee united to her better part,
And re-united never to depart
One from another, but must joyntly share
In those choise comforts which eternall are.
Which in the resurrection of the just
And re-united never to depart
One from another, but must joyntly share
In those choise comforts which eternall are.
O Earth, Earth, Earth! O triple style of man
Earth, for from Earth his first beginning came;
Earth affection too, because, heav'ns know,
What we should hate, wee're most affected to;
Earth by his dissolution, since hee must
Returne from whence he came, his mother dust.
Earth, for from Earth his first beginning came;
Earth affection too, because, heav'ns know,
What we should hate, wee're most affected to;
Earth by his dissolution, since hee must
Returne from whence he came, his mother dust.
Deare Dust! whose smallest atoms shall not be
Strain'd through the Crevet of my memorie
Without religious reverence! I will give
These pretious graines for reliques while I live
To such as honour her, whose vertuous fame
Before all Monuments, preserves her name.
Strain'd through the Crevet of my memorie
Without religious reverence! I will give
These pretious graines for reliques while I live
Before all Monuments, preserves her name.
In my diurnall sorrowes, I doe muse
Discoursing, as I many times doe use,
Of this unequall'd Subject, those that heare
My Scenes of griefe, should not afford a teare
To ev'ry accent: ev'ry trifling toy
Sprung from the ashes of consumed Troy
Can force distreaming passion, though this woe,
This feined woe, were many yeares agoe:
Yet in that great destruction shew me one,
Whose losse might really exact our mone
By her exemplar vertues, as this did,
Or ever strove to have her worth more hid.
Some were held faire, but they were vicious;
Others deform'd, though they were vertuous:
Scarce one of that pure temper should we finde,
Where beauty vy'de with graces of the minde:
But Mine was faire and good, chaste, choice and free
In all, save what she had ingag'd to mee;
A sacred-secret gage, which I still keepe.
In lieu of Her, who now is falne asleepe.
Discoursing, as I many times doe use,
Of this unequall'd Subject, those that heare
My Scenes of griefe, should not afford a teare
To ev'ry accent: ev'ry trifling toy
Sprung from the ashes of consumed Troy
Can force distreaming passion, though this woe,
This feined woe, were many yeares agoe:
Yet in that great destruction shew me one,
Whose losse might really exact our mone
By her exemplar vertues, as this did,
Or ever strove to have her worth more hid.
Others deform'd, though they were vertuous:
Scarce one of that pure temper should we finde,
Where beauty vy'de with graces of the minde:
But Mine was faire and good, chaste, choice and free
In all, save what she had ingag'd to mee;
A sacred-secret gage, which I still keepe.
In lieu of Her, who now is falne asleepe.
A Modell of her feature yet I have,
Which I will carry with me to my Grave,
And this in private am I wont to eye,
And view't from top to toe, then set it by,
Then take it up againe to feed my sight,
Which cheeres, but cannot cloy mine appetite.
Sometimes opinion does delude conceite,
And makes me thinke Shee h'as dispenc'd with fate,
While sweet stolne blushes from her Cheekes appeares
Mixt with th' Elixer of pure Amber teares,
Which with a carefull hand I wipe the while,
And she requires me with a winning smile.
But what are these, but fancies that are bred
From the distempers of a troubled head?
Which I will carry with me to my Grave,
And this in private am I wont to eye,
And view't from top to toe, then set it by,
Then take it up againe to feed my sight,
Which cheeres, but cannot cloy mine appetite.
And makes me thinke Shee h'as dispenc'd with fate,
While sweet stolne blushes from her Cheekes appeares
Mixt with th' Elixer of pure Amber teares,
Which with a carefull hand I wipe the while,
And she requires me with a winning smile.
But what are these, but fancies that are bred
From the distempers of a troubled head?
Heav'ns blesse me! now, how melancholly seeme
Those shady walkes, and that Olympick Greene
Where nimble youths their exercises did,
And yeerely for her sake solemnized?
With what enwreathings would my Love and I
T'encourage young endevours there stand by,
While with a modest smile Shee'd deigne to grace
The blest Spectators of that happy place?
Blest by her presence! for I freely vow,
Nought but was gracefull what shee deign'd to doe.
Those shady walkes, and that Olympick Greene
Where nimble youths their exercises did,
And yeerely for her sake solemnized?
With what enwreathings would my Love and I
T'encourage young endevours there stand by,
The blest Spectators of that happy place?
Blest by her presence! for I freely vow,
Nought but was gracefull what shee deign'd to doe.
Oft have I seene her from her Dayry come
Attended by her Maids, and hasting home
To entertaine some Guests of quality,
Shee would assume a State so modestly
Sance affectation, as she struck the eye
With admiration of the Stander by:
That Hee who saw her from the Dayry passe
Would scarce beleeve her for the same Shee was.
So well Shee could upon the selfe-same day
Both Civile Courtier and the House-wife play.
Attended by her Maids, and hasting home
To entertaine some Guests of quality,
Shee would assume a State so modestly
Sance affectation, as she struck the eye
With admiration of the Stander by:
That Hee who saw her from the Dayry passe
Would scarce beleeve her for the same Shee was.
So well Shee could upon the selfe-same day
Both Civile Courtier and the House-wife play.
But to survey the passage of her life,
With Offices belonging to a wife,
A modest Matron, and a Courtly Bride,
Dispencer of a Family beside,
Heare but a little what I shall relate;
And you may finde one fit to imitate
In th' posture of all goodnesse! which may give
Example unto others how to live.
With Offices belonging to a wife,
Dispencer of a Family beside,
Heare but a little what I shall relate;
And you may finde one fit to imitate
In th' posture of all goodnesse! which may give
Example unto others how to live.
Draw hither then, ye Formalists of th' age,
Who make your life a Progresse to a Stage,
Your Chambers Tyring-houses, where to pray
Were such a tedious taske, as you delay
To take acquaintance of it; or decline
Your thoughts from heav'n, because you have no time
For such reserved vowes: no more you have,
Nor can you dainty-Ducks a moment save.
For all your pretious Morning-houres are given
For you to paint and decke you till eleven;
And then an houre or two must be the least
To jeere your foolish Lover, or to feast,
Or court your amorous {b}ringing Favorite
With a bare-bathed breast to feed delight,
And purchase more Spectators:—but time's lost
Till a Play-bill be sever'd from the Post
T'informe you what's to play; then comes your Coach,
Where numerous light-ones, like your selfe approach.
But where's Devotion all this while? asleepe,
And for her selfe sole-Centinall may keepe,
Who make your life a Progresse to a Stage,
Your Chambers Tyring-houses, where to pray
Were such a tedious taske, as you delay
To take acquaintance of it; or decline
Your thoughts from heav'n, because you have no time
For such reserved vowes: no more you have,
Nor can you dainty-Ducks a moment save.
For you to paint and decke you till eleven;
And then an houre or two must be the least
To jeere your foolish Lover, or to feast,
Or court your amorous {b}ringing Favorite
With a bare-bathed breast to feed delight,
And purchase more Spectators:—but time's lost
Till a Play-bill be sever'd from the Post
T'informe you what's to play; then comes your Coach,
Where numerous light-ones, like your selfe approach.
But where's Devotion all this while? asleepe,
And for her selfe sole-Centinall may keepe,
But now you'r seated, and the Musick sound
For th' Actors entry; pleasures doe abound
In ev'ry Boxe; sometimes your eye's on th' Stage,
Streight on a lighter Object, your loose Page,
Or some phantastike Gallant, or your Groome,
But when this Embleme of your life is done,
This piece of witty art, what doe you then?
To your sinne-shrouding Coaches streight againe
You make repaire, where you relaters bee
Of what your Eare did heare, or Eye could see.
Then to a luscious Supper, after this
To a reere banket, or to some quaint dish
To move a sensuall slumber, and delight
But never sate your boundlesse appetite.
Thus you in painted joyes mis-spend your dayes
More to your Suiters than your Makers praise.
For th' Actors entry; pleasures doe abound
Streight on a lighter Object, your loose Page,
Or some phantastike Gallant, or your Groome,
But when this Embleme of your life is done,
This piece of witty art, what doe you then?
To your sinne-shrouding Coaches streight againe
You make repaire, where you relaters bee
Of what your Eare did heare, or Eye could see.
Then to a luscious Supper, after this
To a reere banket, or to some quaint dish
To move a sensuall slumber, and delight
But never sate your boundlesse appetite.
Thus you in painted joyes mis-spend your dayes
More to your Suiters than your Makers praise.
But thinke not, Faire Ones, that I am too bitter,
For I doe hold no Recreation fitter
Than Morall Enterludes; but have a care
You doe not make them too familiar;
For that were to invert a Recreation,
And by day-practice make it a Vocation:
Though Some have writ that I doe hate a Scene,
Their judgements erre, nor know they what I meane;
I'm no Stage-Stinger, nor will ever be,
But doe preferre a pleasant Comedie
Before a Taverne, where so many sit
To drench downe care without a drop of wit.
For I doe hold no Recreation fitter
Than Morall Enterludes; but have a care
You doe not make them too familiar;
For that were to invert a Recreation,
And by day-practice make it a Vocation:
Though Some have writ that I doe hate a Scene,
Their judgements erre, nor know they what I meane;
I'm no Stage-Stinger, nor will ever be,
But doe preferre a pleasant Comedie
Before a Taverne, where so many sit
To drench downe care without a drop of wit.
But see th' effect of griefe! how glad would I
To any forc'd Digression rather fly
Than to our teare-swolne Subject, where reliefe
Hath made it selfe a Stranger to our griefe?
But now I haste to thee, my Dearest Deare,
To shew what precious treasures stored were
In thy religious bosome: nor shall love
Cause me speake more than I can duely prove.
To any forc'd Digression rather fly
Hath made it selfe a Stranger to our griefe?
But now I haste to thee, my Dearest Deare,
To shew what precious treasures stored were
In thy religious bosome: nor shall love
Cause me speake more than I can duely prove.
First, for her nursing care; Shee held no state
Fitter for Mothers than to educate
Those they brought forth, and make their life a line
To teach their children how to spend their time.
And this shee did; for ev'n her Nurserie
Appear'd a private Schoole of industrie,
Where th' Elder taught and taskt the younger sort,
As th' Mother taught the Elder; none fell short
In their Endevours: but if so they did,
They were by Her so sweetly chastized,
(And rare is such discretion to be knowne)
Both Love and awe were foulded in her frowne,
Yea, such a lovely reverence did attend her,
They'd rather be corrected than offend her.
But no delitious fare could she endure
Her Children to be us'd to, but inure
Their youth to timely Moderation now
T' enable them when they should riper grow.
For she was wont to say, “When God shall call
“On us, Heav'n knows in whose hands they may fall.
“Let's then so breed them as may best become them,
“And to endure whats'ere may fall upon them.
With wholesome temperate dyet shee'd supply
The luscious fruits of Mothers vanity.
Fitter for Mothers than to educate
Those they brought forth, and make their life a line
To teach their children how to spend their time.
And this shee did; for ev'n her Nurserie
Appear'd a private Schoole of industrie,
Where th' Elder taught and taskt the younger sort,
As th' Mother taught the Elder; none fell short
They were by Her so sweetly chastized,
(And rare is such discretion to be knowne)
Both Love and awe were foulded in her frowne,
Yea, such a lovely reverence did attend her,
They'd rather be corrected than offend her.
But no delitious fare could she endure
Her Children to be us'd to, but inure
Their youth to timely Moderation now
T' enable them when they should riper grow.
For she was wont to say, “When God shall call
“On us, Heav'n knows in whose hands they may fall.
“Let's then so breed them as may best become them,
“And to endure whats'ere may fall upon them.
The luscious fruits of Mothers vanity.
Observe this, Mothers, for 'tis unto you
I speake, who so much delicacy shew
To your too tender off-spring, and like th' Ape,
Annoy them most of whom you most doe make.
Where be these native Arguments of love
Which you expresse? Or, wherein doe you prove
Your selves true Mothers? none can gather this
From pleasing of your Younglings with a kisse,
Or indiscreetest dandling on your knee,
Or cockring them with your indulgencie,
That you are naturall Mothers, unlesse wee
By naturall meane foolish; so't may bee
You may be tender Ones, I'l not deny,
Who, when they put their finger in the eye
For such a forraine Fashion, or a Feather,
Rather than grieve them you'l deny them neither,
But cloath them in their folly: but are these
Expressions of Parentall Offices?
Oh no; while you are thus indulgent to them;
Through too much love you utterly undoe them.
For when they are attyred gorgeously,
Their formall habits crave more liberty;
Their eyes must have new Objects, which impart
Secrets of love unto a wanton heart.
Dinah must roame abroad, but ten to one
She looseth honour ere she visit home.
Prevent this, modest Matrons, let no staine
Impeach their youth; vessels, you know, retaine
A taste of their first liquor; season them
With that at first which may accomplish them.
All this my Deare One did, and so must yee
That hope to live in your posteritie.
I speake, who so much delicacy shew
To your too tender off-spring, and like th' Ape,
Annoy them most of whom you most doe make.
Where be these native Arguments of love
Which you expresse? Or, wherein doe you prove
Your selves true Mothers? none can gather this
From pleasing of your Younglings with a kisse,
Or indiscreetest dandling on your knee,
Or cockring them with your indulgencie,
That you are naturall Mothers, unlesse wee
By naturall meane foolish; so't may bee
Who, when they put their finger in the eye
For such a forraine Fashion, or a Feather,
Rather than grieve them you'l deny them neither,
But cloath them in their folly: but are these
Expressions of Parentall Offices?
Oh no; while you are thus indulgent to them;
Through too much love you utterly undoe them.
For when they are attyred gorgeously,
Their formall habits crave more liberty;
Their eyes must have new Objects, which impart
Secrets of love unto a wanton heart.
Dinah must roame abroad, but ten to one
She looseth honour ere she visit home.
Impeach their youth; vessels, you know, retaine
A taste of their first liquor; season them
With that at first which may accomplish them.
All this my Deare One did, and so must yee
That hope to live in your posteritie.
Next, Fame reares to her Name a monument
For house-affaires and private Government,
While her well-guided Family might seeme
A Patterne unto others to demeane
Their actions by; since all desires were bent
To close in one harmonious consent.
No spleenefull Waspe might lodge within her roofe,
All discontented Spirits stood aloofe.
With willing care her pleasure all attend,
Fearing nought more than that they should offend
For she with mildnesse did her Servants win,
Sweetning th' endevours they were busied in.
Yea, so much had her candid nature wonne,
The Ev'ning joy'd ith' Day-works they had done.
For house-affaires and private Government,
While her well-guided Family might seeme
A Patterne unto others to demeane
Their actions by; since all desires were bent
To close in one harmonious consent.
No spleenefull Waspe might lodge within her roofe,
All discontented Spirits stood aloofe.
Fearing nought more than that they should offend
For she with mildnesse did her Servants win,
Sweetning th' endevours they were busied in.
Yea, so much had her candid nature wonne,
The Ev'ning joy'd ith' Day-works they had done.
How far swerve ye from th' Patterne instanc'd here,
Who o're your Servants use to domineere,
As if they were your Slaves? which is no way
To make your people cheerefully obey.
This but begets Eye-service at the best,
And makes an Holy-Day when you'r at rest.
Who o're your Servants use to domineere,
As if they were your Slaves? which is no way
To make your people cheerefully obey.
This but begets Eye-service at the best,
And makes an Holy-Day when you'r at rest.
Others there be, who have occasion sought
To beate their Servants, though it were for nought,
Like Vedio, who for breaking of a glasse
Would drowne his Page: let such Examples passe
Unworthy your Observance: better farre,
And to discretion farre more regular,
To imitate Architas, who in's field
Finding his Servant loyt'ring, would not yeeld
Forthwith to Passion, but intreats him thus,
Which may be presidentall unto us:
“Sure I would beat thee, were I not in anger,
“But that secures thee for this time from danger.
But other vertues now I hasten to,
Which did my late endeared Spouse endow.
To beate their Servants, though it were for nought,
Would drowne his Page: let such Examples passe
Unworthy your Observance: better farre,
And to discretion farre more regular,
To imitate Architas, who in's field
Finding his Servant loyt'ring, would not yeeld
Forthwith to Passion, but intreats him thus,
Which may be presidentall unto us:
“Sure I would beat thee, were I not in anger,
“But that secures thee for this time from danger.
But other vertues now I hasten to,
Which did my late endeared Spouse endow.
Next, to the Love she to her Neighbours bare
Than which no Creature ever had more share;
Were they infirme, she would not nicely stand,
But to their griefes apply her helping hand,
And dresse their wounds her selfe, for she was rare
Both for her happy cure and holy care.
Herbals Shee'd read, but timorous to erre,
With men of choice Experience Shee'd conferre,
Which so enabled her, as she was still
By doing good, improving of her skill.
Not like blind Herbists, whereof there be store,
Who have but one bare cure for every sore:
These, if they kill, they kill, and if they cure,
Th' effect is farre above their reason sure.
Than which no Creature ever had more share;
But to their griefes apply her helping hand,
And dresse their wounds her selfe, for she was rare
Both for her happy cure and holy care.
Herbals Shee'd read, but timorous to erre,
With men of choice Experience Shee'd conferre,
Which so enabled her, as she was still
By doing good, improving of her skill.
Not like blind Herbists, whereof there be store,
Who have but one bare cure for every sore:
These, if they kill, they kill, and if they cure,
Th' effect is farre above their reason sure.
Now, to the last not least, for it is this
Which gives us speedy Convoy unto blisse;
And that was, Strangers Hospitality:
Where her Provision ever would supply
Their necessary wants; nor all her time
(Wherein her thoughts did ever close with mine)
Would she avert her eare from any one
Who for reliefe did to her Portell come.
Her Cruse was ever open to the poore,
Calling them Schollers of our Saviour:
If they were old, or feebly impotent,
An Almes with more bounty might be sent.
No Stranger ere did to her gate repaire
Confin'd to anguish, or surpriz'd with care,
Shee would not comfort, and with dropping eye
Afford compassion to their miserie.
None hungry but Shee'd feed; no thirsty wretch
But Shee'd refresh; Nor naked but shee'd fetch
Garments to cover them. How farre be yee
From these expressive Acts of Charitie,
Who fed with Amber broaths, delitious fare,
Have of your starved Sisters little care?
Their rags are your contempt; their shreekes & cryes
Are boulted from your Eares, fann'd from your eyes.
But how should you take pitty of these Elves,
Who have no greater pitty on your selves?
How should you couer them whom Colds molest,
Who will not cover your loose-bared Brest
In sharpest ayres, but rather starve your skin,
Than shroud th' occasion of alluring sin?
O doe not so; let gracious thoughts appeare
To mould you to that Patterne you have heere.
Which gives us speedy Convoy unto blisse;
Where her Provision ever would supply
Their necessary wants; nor all her time
(Wherein her thoughts did ever close with mine)
Would she avert her eare from any one
Who for reliefe did to her Portell come.
Her Cruse was ever open to the poore,
Calling them Schollers of our Saviour:
If they were old, or feebly impotent,
An Almes with more bounty might be sent.
No Stranger ere did to her gate repaire
Confin'd to anguish, or surpriz'd with care,
Shee would not comfort, and with dropping eye
Afford compassion to their miserie.
But Shee'd refresh; Nor naked but shee'd fetch
Garments to cover them. How farre be yee
From these expressive Acts of Charitie,
Who fed with Amber broaths, delitious fare,
Have of your starved Sisters little care?
Their rags are your contempt; their shreekes & cryes
Are boulted from your Eares, fann'd from your eyes.
But how should you take pitty of these Elves,
Who have no greater pitty on your selves?
How should you couer them whom Colds molest,
Who will not cover your loose-bared Brest
In sharpest ayres, but rather starve your skin,
Than shroud th' occasion of alluring sin?
To mould you to that Patterne you have heere.
But I must leave; but never leave to love
My glorious Saint, which now is sphear'd above;
Who, if shee daigne t'accept this Sacrifice
Dipt in a throbbing heart, and streaming eyes,
I've got my Gole, and shee a treble rest,
In Heav'n, in Earth, and in my naked brest.
My glorious Saint, which now is sphear'd above;
Who, if shee daigne t'accept this Sacrifice
Dipt in a throbbing heart, and streaming eyes,
I've got my Gole, and shee a treble rest,
In Heav'n, in Earth, and in my naked brest.
When Just ones die, then they to live begin,
“They live to Sion, when they die to Sin.
“They live to Sion, when they die to Sin.
FINIS.
| Anniversaries upon his Panarete | |