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 |
 |
 | Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life |  |
The Description of the Violence of Love.
There was a Lady, Virtuous, Young, and Fair,
Unto her Father only Child and Heir:
In her Behaviour modest, sweet, and civil;
So innocent, knew only Good from Evil:
Yet in her Garb had a Majestick Grace,
And affable and pleasant was her Face.
Another Gentleman (whose House did stand
Hard by her Father's, and was rich in Land)
He had a Son whom Beauty did adorn,
As some might think, of Venus he was born:
His Spirit Noble, Generous, and Great;
By Nature Valiant, Dispositions sweet:
His Wit ingenious, and his Breeding such,
That his Sci'nces did not Pedantry t'uch.
This Noble Gentleman in love did fall
With this fair Lady, who was pleas'd withall:
He Courted her, his Service did address;
His Love by Words and Letters did express.
Though she seem'd Coy, his Love she did not slight,
But Civil Answers did in Letters write.
At last so well acquainted they did grow,
That but one Heart each other's Thoughts did know.
Mean time their Parents did their Love's descry,
And sought all ways to break that Unity:
Forbad each other's company frequent;
Did all they could Love's Meetings to prevent.
But Love regards not Parents, nor their Threats;
For Love, the more 'tis barr'd, more Strength begets.
Thus being cross'd, by stealth they both did meet,
And Privacy did make their Love more sweet;
Although their Fears did oft affright their Mind,
Lest that their Parents should their Walks out-find.
Then in the Kingdom did Rebellion spring,
Most of the Commons fought against their King:
And all the Gentry that then Loyal were,
Did to the Standard of the King repair.
Amongst the rest, this Noble Youth was one;
Love bade him stay, but Honour spurr'd him on:
When he declar'd his Mind, her Heart it rent;
Rivers of Tears out of her Eyes grief sent;
And every Tear, like Bullets, pierc'd his Breast,
Scatter'd his Thoughts, and did his Mind molest.
Silent long time they stood, at last spake he,
Why doth my Love with Tears so torture me?
Unto her Father only Child and Heir:
In her Behaviour modest, sweet, and civil;
So innocent, knew only Good from Evil:
Yet in her Garb had a Majestick Grace,
And affable and pleasant was her Face.
Another Gentleman (whose House did stand
Hard by her Father's, and was rich in Land)
He had a Son whom Beauty did adorn,
As some might think, of Venus he was born:
His Spirit Noble, Generous, and Great;
By Nature Valiant, Dispositions sweet:
His Wit ingenious, and his Breeding such,
That his Sci'nces did not Pedantry t'uch.
This Noble Gentleman in love did fall
With this fair Lady, who was pleas'd withall:
He Courted her, his Service did address;
His Love by Words and Letters did express.
41
But Civil Answers did in Letters write.
At last so well acquainted they did grow,
That but one Heart each other's Thoughts did know.
Mean time their Parents did their Love's descry,
And sought all ways to break that Unity:
Forbad each other's company frequent;
Did all they could Love's Meetings to prevent.
But Love regards not Parents, nor their Threats;
For Love, the more 'tis barr'd, more Strength begets.
Thus being cross'd, by stealth they both did meet,
And Privacy did make their Love more sweet;
Although their Fears did oft affright their Mind,
Lest that their Parents should their Walks out-find.
Then in the Kingdom did Rebellion spring,
Most of the Commons fought against their King:
And all the Gentry that then Loyal were,
Did to the Standard of the King repair.
Amongst the rest, this Noble Youth was one;
Love bade him stay, but Honour spurr'd him on:
When he declar'd his Mind, her Heart it rent;
Rivers of Tears out of her Eyes grief sent;
And every Tear, like Bullets, pierc'd his Breast,
Scatter'd his Thoughts, and did his Mind molest.
Silent long time they stood, at last spake he,
Why doth my Love with Tears so torture me?
Why do you blame my Eyes, said she, to weep,
Since they perceive you Faith nor Promise keep?
For, did you love but half so true as I,
Rather than part, you'ld chuse to stay and dye:
But you Excuses make, and take delight,
Like cruel Thieves, to rob and spoil by Night.
Now you have stole my Heart, away you run,
And leave a silly Virgin quite undone.
Since they perceive you Faith nor Promise keep?
42
Rather than part, you'ld chuse to stay and dye:
But you Excuses make, and take delight,
Like cruel Thieves, to rob and spoil by Night.
Now you have stole my Heart, away you run,
And leave a silly Virgin quite undone.
If I stay from the Warrs, what will Men say?
They'l say, I make excuse to be away:
By this Reproach, a Coward I am thought;
And my Disgrace will make you seem in fault,
To set your Love upon a Man so base;
Bring Infamy to us, and to our Race.
To sacrifice my Life for your content,
I would not spare; but (Dear) in this consent,
'Tis for your sake Honour I strive to win,
That I some Merit to your Worth may bring.
They'l say, I make excuse to be away:
By this Reproach, a Coward I am thought;
And my Disgrace will make you seem in fault,
To set your Love upon a Man so base;
Bring Infamy to us, and to our Race.
To sacrifice my Life for your content,
I would not spare; but (Dear) in this consent,
'Tis for your sake Honour I strive to win,
That I some Merit to your Worth may bring.
She.
If you will go, let me not stay behind,But take such Fortune with you as I find:
I'le be your Page, attend you in the Field;
When you are weary, I will hold your Shield.
He.
Dear Love, that must not be; for Women areOf tender Bodies, and Minds full of Fear:
Besides, my Mind so full of Care will be,
For fear a Bullet should once light on thee,
43
Through feeble Limbs be subject to my Foe.
When thou art safe, my Spirits high shall raise,
Striving to get a Victory of Praise.
With sad Laments these Lovers did depart;
Absence, as Arrows sharp, doth wound each Heart:
She spends her time, to Heaven-high doth pray,
That Gods would bless, and safe conduct his way.
Absence, as Arrows sharp, doth wound each Heart:
She spends her time, to Heaven-high doth pray,
That Gods would bless, and safe conduct his way.
The whilst he fights, and Fortune's Favour had,
Fame brings this Honour to his Mistress sad:
All Cavaliers that in the Army were,
There was not one could with this Youth compare:
By Love his Spirits all were set on fire,
Love gave him Courage, made his Foes retire.
Fame brings this Honour to his Mistress sad:
All Cavaliers that in the Army were,
There was not one could with this Youth compare:
By Love his Spirits all were set on fire,
Love gave him Courage, made his Foes retire.
But, O ambitious Lovers, how they run
Without all guidance, like Apollo's Son ,
Run out of Moderation's Line; so he
Did through the thickest of the Army flee
Singly alone, amongst the Squadrons deep
Fighting, sent many one with Death to sleep.
But Numbers, with united strength, at last,
This Noble Gallant Man from Horse did cast:
His Body all so thick of wounds was set,
Safety, it seems, in fight he did forget,
But not his Love, who in his Mind still lyes;
He wish'd her there, to close his dying-Eyes.
Soul, said he, if thou wandrest in the Air,
Thy Service to my Mistress be thy care:
Attend her close, with her Soul Friendship make,
Then she perchance no other Love may take.
But if thou sink down to the Shades below,
And (being a Lover) to Elyzium go;
Perchance my Mistress Soul you there may meet,
So walk and talk in Love's Discourses sweet:
But if thou art like to a Light put out,
Thy Motion's ceas'd, then all's forgot no doubt.
With that a sigh, which from his Heart did rise,
Did mount his Soul up to the Airy Skies.
Without all guidance, like Apollo's Son ,
Run out of Moderation's Line; so he
Did through the thickest of the Army flee
Singly alone, amongst the Squadrons deep
Fighting, sent many one with Death to sleep.
But Numbers, with united strength, at last,
This Noble Gallant Man from Horse did cast:
His Body all so thick of wounds was set,
Safety, it seems, in fight he did forget,
But not his Love, who in his Mind still lyes;
He wish'd her there, to close his dying-Eyes.
Soul, said he, if thou wandrest in the Air,
Thy Service to my Mistress be thy care:
44
Then she perchance no other Love may take.
But if thou sink down to the Shades below,
And (being a Lover) to Elyzium go;
Perchance my Mistress Soul you there may meet,
So walk and talk in Love's Discourses sweet:
But if thou art like to a Light put out,
Thy Motion's ceas'd, then all's forgot no doubt.
With that a sigh, which from his Heart did rise,
Did mount his Soul up to the Airy Skies.
The whilst his Mistress being sad with care;
Her Knees were worn, imploring Gods with Prayer.
A Drowsie Sleep did all her Senses close,
But in her Dreams Fancy her Lover shows
With all his Wounds; which made her loud to cry,
Help, help, you Gods, said she, that dwell on high.
These fearful Dreams her Senses all did wake;
In a cold sweat, with fear, each Limb did shake.
Then came a Messenger as pale as Death,
With panting sides, swoln eyes, and shortned breath;
And by his looks, his sadder Tale did tell;
Which when she saw, straight in a swoun she fell:
At last her stifled Spirits had recourse
Unto their usual place, but of less force:
Then lifting up her Eyes, her Tongue gave way,
And thus unto the Gods did mourning say:
Her Knees were worn, imploring Gods with Prayer.
A Drowsie Sleep did all her Senses close,
But in her Dreams Fancy her Lover shows
With all his Wounds; which made her loud to cry,
Help, help, you Gods, said she, that dwell on high.
These fearful Dreams her Senses all did wake;
In a cold sweat, with fear, each Limb did shake.
Then came a Messenger as pale as Death,
With panting sides, swoln eyes, and shortned breath;
And by his looks, his sadder Tale did tell;
Which when she saw, straight in a swoun she fell:
At last her stifled Spirits had recourse
Unto their usual place, but of less force:
Then lifting up her Eyes, her Tongue gave way,
And thus unto the Gods did mourning say:
Why do we pray, and offer to high Heaven,
Since what we ask, is seldom to us given?
If their Decrees are fix'd, what need we pray?
Nothing can alter Fates, nor cross their way.
If they leave all to Chance, who can apply?
For every Chance is then a Deity.
But if a Power they keep to work at will,
It shews them cruel to torment us still.
When we are made, in Pain we always live;
Sick Bodies, Grieved Minds, to us they give:
With Motions which run cross, compos'd we are,
Which makes our Reason and our Sense to jar.
When they are weary to torment us, must
We then return, and so dissolve to Dust?
But if I have my Fate in my own Power,
I will not breathe, nor live another hour:
Then with the Gods I shall not be at strife,
If my Decree can take away my Life.
Then on her feeble Legs she straight did stand,
And took a Pistol charg'd in either hand:
Here, Dear, (said she) I give my heart to thee,
And by my Death, divulg'd our Loves shall be;
Then Constant Lovers, Mourners be; when dead,
They'l strew our Graves, which is our Marriage-Bed:
Upon our Hearse a weeping-Poplar set,
Whose moistning-drops our Death's-dri'd Cheeks may wet.
Two Cypress Garlands at our Head shall stand,
That were made up by some fair Virgin's hand:
And on our cold pale Corps such Flowers strow,
As hang their Heads for grief, and downward grow.
Then shall they lay us deep in quiet Grave,
Wherein our Bones long Rest and Peace may have.
Let no Friends Marble-Tombs erect upon
Our Graves, but set young Mirtle-trees thereon:
Those may in time a shady Grove become,
Fit for sad Lovers Walks, whose Thoughts are dumb:
For Melancholy Love seeks place obscure,
No Noise nor Company it can endure:
And when to ground they cast a dull sad Eye,
Perhaps they'l think on us who therein lye:
Thus, though w'are dead, our Memory remains;
And, like a Ghost, may walk in moving-Brains;
And in each Head Love's Altars for us build,
To sacrifice some Sighs, or Tears distill'd.
Then to her Heart the Pistol set, she shot
A Bullet in, and so her Grief forgot.
Fame with her Trumpet blew in every Ear;
The sound of this great Act spread every where:
Lovers from all parts came, by the report;
Unto her Urn, as Pilgrims did resort:
There offer'd Praises of her Constancy,
And vow'd the like unto Love's Deity.
Since what we ask, is seldom to us given?
45
Nothing can alter Fates, nor cross their way.
If they leave all to Chance, who can apply?
For every Chance is then a Deity.
But if a Power they keep to work at will,
It shews them cruel to torment us still.
When we are made, in Pain we always live;
Sick Bodies, Grieved Minds, to us they give:
With Motions which run cross, compos'd we are,
Which makes our Reason and our Sense to jar.
When they are weary to torment us, must
We then return, and so dissolve to Dust?
But if I have my Fate in my own Power,
I will not breathe, nor live another hour:
Then with the Gods I shall not be at strife,
If my Decree can take away my Life.
Then on her feeble Legs she straight did stand,
And took a Pistol charg'd in either hand:
Here, Dear, (said she) I give my heart to thee,
And by my Death, divulg'd our Loves shall be;
Then Constant Lovers, Mourners be; when dead,
They'l strew our Graves, which is our Marriage-Bed:
Upon our Hearse a weeping-Poplar set,
Whose moistning-drops our Death's-dri'd Cheeks may wet.
Two Cypress Garlands at our Head shall stand,
That were made up by some fair Virgin's hand:
And on our cold pale Corps such Flowers strow,
As hang their Heads for grief, and downward grow.
46
Wherein our Bones long Rest and Peace may have.
Let no Friends Marble-Tombs erect upon
Our Graves, but set young Mirtle-trees thereon:
Those may in time a shady Grove become,
Fit for sad Lovers Walks, whose Thoughts are dumb:
For Melancholy Love seeks place obscure,
No Noise nor Company it can endure:
And when to ground they cast a dull sad Eye,
Perhaps they'l think on us who therein lye:
Thus, though w'are dead, our Memory remains;
And, like a Ghost, may walk in moving-Brains;
And in each Head Love's Altars for us build,
To sacrifice some Sighs, or Tears distill'd.
Then to her Heart the Pistol set, she shot
A Bullet in, and so her Grief forgot.
Fame with her Trumpet blew in every Ear;
The sound of this great Act spread every where:
Lovers from all parts came, by the report;
Unto her Urn, as Pilgrims did resort:
There offer'd Praises of her Constancy,
And vow'd the like unto Love's Deity.
| Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life | |