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 |
 |
|
 |
|
The Description of the Fondness of Parents, and the Credulity of Youth.
|
 | Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life |  |
The Description of the Fondness of Parents, and the Credulity of Youth.
A Gentleman had liv'd long, and was old,
A Wife he had, which Fifty years had told:
Their Love was such, as Time could not decay;
Devout they were, and to the Gods did pray:
Yet Children they had none to bless their Life;
She happy in a Husband, h'in a Wife.
But Nature, in the World her Power to show,
From an old Stock caus'd a young Branch to grow:
At length this aged Dame a Daughter bore,
Got by her Husband when Threescore, and more.
They are so joy'd, they Nature's Bounty praise,
And thank the Gods that did the Issue raise.
They were so fond, that none this Child must t'uch,
Only themselves; their pains they thought not much.
She gave it suck, and dress'd it on her Lap,
The whilst he warm'd the Clouts, then cool'd the Pap.
They, when it slept, did by the Child abide,
Both sitting near the Cradle on each side.
But when it cry'd, he danc'd it on his Arm,
The whilst she sung, its Passion for to charm.
Thus did they strive to please it all they could,
And for its good yeeld up their Lives they would.
VVith pains and care they Nurs'd their Daughter well,
And with her Years her Beauty did excel.
A Wife he had, which Fifty years had told:
Their Love was such, as Time could not decay;
Devout they were, and to the Gods did pray:
Yet Children they had none to bless their Life;
She happy in a Husband, h'in a Wife.
But Nature, in the World her Power to show,
From an old Stock caus'd a young Branch to grow:
At length this aged Dame a Daughter bore,
Got by her Husband when Threescore, and more.
They are so joy'd, they Nature's Bounty praise,
And thank the Gods that did the Issue raise.
They were so fond, that none this Child must t'uch,
Only themselves; their pains they thought not much.
74
The whilst he warm'd the Clouts, then cool'd the Pap.
They, when it slept, did by the Child abide,
Both sitting near the Cradle on each side.
But when it cry'd, he danc'd it on his Arm,
The whilst she sung, its Passion for to charm.
Thus did they strive to please it all they could,
And for its good yeeld up their Lives they would.
VVith pains and care they Nurs'd their Daughter well,
And with her Years her Beauty did excel.
But when she came to Sixteen years of age,
Her Youth and Life by Love she did engage
Unto a Gentleman that liv'd hard-by
Close to her Father's House, who seem'd to dye
If he enjoy'd her not; yet did he dread
His Father's Curse to light upon his Head;
His Father to his Passion being cruel,
Although he was his only Son and Jewel;
Charging, upon his blessing, not to marry
This fairest Maid; nor Servants for to carry
Letters or Tokens, Messages by stealth;
Despising her, because of no great VVealth:
Yet she was Nobly born, not very poor,
But had not VVealth to equal his great store.
But he did woo his Love in secret guise,
Courting her privately for fear of Spies.
He strove to win her unto his embraces;
Muffle the Faults he would, and the Disgraces.
Her Youth and Life by Love she did engage
Unto a Gentleman that liv'd hard-by
Close to her Father's House, who seem'd to dye
If he enjoy'd her not; yet did he dread
His Father's Curse to light upon his Head;
His Father to his Passion being cruel,
Although he was his only Son and Jewel;
Charging, upon his blessing, not to marry
This fairest Maid; nor Servants for to carry
Letters or Tokens, Messages by stealth;
Despising her, because of no great VVealth:
Yet she was Nobly born, not very poor,
But had not VVealth to equal his great store.
But he did woo his Love in secret guise,
Courting her privately for fear of Spies.
He strove to win her unto his embraces;
Muffle the Faults he would, and the Disgraces.
75
Said he,
Why may not we our Senses all delight?Our Senses and our Souls Heaven unite.
That we call Honour, only Man creates,
For it was never destin'd by the Fates.
It is a word Nature ne're taught us, nay
It is a Precept she forbids t' obey.
Then follow Nature, for that follows God,
And not the Arts of Men, they're vain and odd.
Let every Sense lye steep, not drown'd, in pleasure:
Let us keep up their height in balanc'd measure.
First, let our Eyes all Beauteous Objects view;
Our Ears all Sounds, which Notes and Times keep true.
Then Scent all Odours to refresh the Brain;
With Tastes delicious Palates entertain.
Touch things most pleasing, that all Parts may feel
Expansion of the Soul, from Head to Heel:
Thus we shall use what Nature to us gave;
For by restraint, in Life we dig our Grave:
And in the Grave our Senses useless lye;
Just so is Life, if Pleasures we deny.
Thus Heav'n, that gave us Sense, may take it ill,
If we refuse what's offered to us still:
Then let our Sense and Souls take all delight,
Not to surfeit, but feed each Appetite.
Come Pleasure, Circle me within thy Arms,
Inchant my Soul with thy delightful Charms.
76
Said she, It is not always in our Power
To feed Delight, nor Pleasure to devour.
Man no free Power hath of any thing;
Only himself can to destruction bring:
Can kill his Body, and his Soul can damn,
Although he cannot alienate the same;
Nor can he make them always to remain,
Nor turn them to what they were first again.
Thus can we cross and vex our selves with pain,
But being sick, cannot be well again:
We can Disturb great Nature's work at will;
But to Restore and Make, is past our skill.
To feed Delight, nor Pleasure to devour.
Man no free Power hath of any thing;
Only himself can to destruction bring:
Can kill his Body, and his Soul can damn,
Although he cannot alienate the same;
Nor can he make them always to remain,
Nor turn them to what they were first again.
Thus can we cross and vex our selves with pain,
But being sick, cannot be well again:
We can Disturb great Nature's work at will;
But to Restore and Make, is past our skill.
But he did plead so hard, such Vows did make,
Such large Professions, and such Oaths did take,
That he would constant be, and that his Bride
He would her make, when that his Father dy'd:
Such large Professions, and such Oaths did take,
That he would constant be, and that his Bride
He would her make, when that his Father dy'd:
She, young and innocent, knew no deceits,
Nor thought that Words and Vows were us'd as baits.
So yeelded she to all he did desire,
Thinking his Vows as much as Laws require.
But they so oft did meet, till it befell,
She sick did grow, her Body big did swell;
Which she took care to hide, and would not be,
As she was wont, in other Company:
But to her Parents she would often cry,
And said she swell'd so, with a Tympany.
They did believe her, and did make great moan,
Their only Child was now so sickly grown.
His Father old, the Marriage to prevent,
Now, in all haste, his Son to travel sent;
Gave him no time nor warning to be gone;
Nor, till he saw him ship'd, left him alone.
But he, to ease his Mistress of her fear,
For to return, he only now took care.
But she no sooner heard that he was gone,
But in her Chamber lock'd her self alone;
Complain'd against her Destiny and Fate,
And all her Love to him was turn'd to Hate.
Nor thought that Words and Vows were us'd as baits.
So yeelded she to all he did desire,
Thinking his Vows as much as Laws require.
But they so oft did meet, till it befell,
She sick did grow, her Body big did swell;
Which she took care to hide, and would not be,
As she was wont, in other Company:
But to her Parents she would often cry,
And said she swell'd so, with a Tympany.
They did believe her, and did make great moan,
Their only Child was now so sickly grown.
77
Now, in all haste, his Son to travel sent;
Gave him no time nor warning to be gone;
Nor, till he saw him ship'd, left him alone.
But he, to ease his Mistress of her fear,
For to return, he only now took care.
But she no sooner heard that he was gone,
But in her Chamber lock'd her self alone;
Complain'd against her Destiny and Fate,
And all her Love to him was turn'd to Hate.
You Gods, said she, my Fault's no wilful sin;
For I did think his Vows had Marriage been:
But by his stealth, so privately to leave me,
I find my Crime, and that he did deceive me:
For which, said she, you Gods torment him more
Than ever any Man on Earth before.
For I did think his Vows had Marriage been:
But by his stealth, so privately to leave me,
I find my Crime, and that he did deceive me:
For which, said she, you Gods torment him more
Than ever any Man on Earth before.
With that she rose, about her Neck she flung
A Silken String, and in that String she hung.
A Silken String, and in that String she hung.
Her Parents to her Chamber did repair,
Calling her forth to take the fresh sweet air;
Supposing it might do her Health some good;
And at her Chamber door long time they stood:
But when they call'd, and knock'd, no answer made,
She being sick, they 'gan to be afraid:
Their Limbs did shake with age, Nerves being slack't,
Those Nervous Strings with fear were now contract:
At last, though much a-do they had to speak,
They Servants call'd to open, or to break
The Lock: No sooner done, but with great fear
They entred in; and after they were there,
The horrid sight no sooner struck their Eyes,
But it congeal'd their Hearts, and straight both dyes.
The Fame of their sad Fates all round was spread,
The Lover heard his Mistress then was dead;
His Clothes, his Hair he tore, his Breast did beat,
His Spirits issu'd out in a cold Sweat.
Calling her forth to take the fresh sweet air;
Supposing it might do her Health some good;
And at her Chamber door long time they stood:
But when they call'd, and knock'd, no answer made,
She being sick, they 'gan to be afraid:
Their Limbs did shake with age, Nerves being slack't,
Those Nervous Strings with fear were now contract:
At last, though much a-do they had to speak,
They Servants call'd to open, or to break
78
They entred in; and after they were there,
The horrid sight no sooner struck their Eyes,
But it congeal'd their Hearts, and straight both dyes.
The Fame of their sad Fates all round was spread,
The Lover heard his Mistress then was dead;
His Clothes, his Hair he tore, his Breast did beat,
His Spirits issu'd out in a cold Sweat.
Said he, O cursed Death come kill me quick,
And in my Heart thy Spear or Arrow stick;
Because my Love in thy cold Arms doth lye,
I now desire, nay, am resolv'd to dye.
But O! Love is a powerless God; in vain
He strives with's Flame to melt Death's Icy Chain:
For though with Love my Heart so hot doth burn,
Yet cannot melt, I fear Death's Icy Urn.
Then he all in a rage to the Earth fell,
And there invoking up the Devils of Hell,
Saith he, Ye Powerful Terrors me assist,
For to command or force Death when I list,
That by your help and pow'r my Love may rise
From the dark Vault or Grave wherein she lies;
Or else by Death's cold hand alone,
Convert me into Marble-stone.
Then running, as distracted, in and out,
By Fancies, Visions strange saw all about:
And crying loud, My Mistress, she is there;
He seem'd to catch, but grasp'd nought else but air:
See, see her Ghost, how it doth slide away,
Her Soul is pure, and shines as glorious Day.
But my foul Soul, which is as black as Night,
Doth shadows cast upon the Soul that's bright;
Which makes her walk as in a gloomy shade,
Like Shadows which the Silver Moon hath made.
Hark how my Love sings sweetly in the Skye,
Her Soul is mounted up to Heavens high,
And there it shall be made a Deity,
And I a Devil in Hell tormented lye.
And in my Heart thy Spear or Arrow stick;
Because my Love in thy cold Arms doth lye,
I now desire, nay, am resolv'd to dye.
But O! Love is a powerless God; in vain
He strives with's Flame to melt Death's Icy Chain:
For though with Love my Heart so hot doth burn,
Yet cannot melt, I fear Death's Icy Urn.
Then he all in a rage to the Earth fell,
And there invoking up the Devils of Hell,
Saith he, Ye Powerful Terrors me assist,
For to command or force Death when I list,
That by your help and pow'r my Love may rise
From the dark Vault or Grave wherein she lies;
Or else by Death's cold hand alone,
Convert me into Marble-stone.
Then running, as distracted, in and out,
By Fancies, Visions strange saw all about:
And crying loud, My Mistress, she is there;
He seem'd to catch, but grasp'd nought else but air:
79
Her Soul is pure, and shines as glorious Day.
But my foul Soul, which is as black as Night,
Doth shadows cast upon the Soul that's bright;
Which makes her walk as in a gloomy shade,
Like Shadows which the Silver Moon hath made.
Hark how my Love sings sweetly in the Skye,
Her Soul is mounted up to Heavens high,
And there it shall be made a Deity,
And I a Devil in Hell tormented lye.
His spirit being spent, fell to the ground;
And lying there a while, as in a swound,
At last he rose, and with a sober pace
He bent his steps, as to her burying-place;
And with his Cloak he muffled him about,
His Hat pull'd o're his Brows, his Eyes look't out
To guide his way; but far he had not gone,
That straight he saw the Funerals coming on:
Three Hearses all were born, as on a breast,
Black cover'd two, with white the third was drest:
A Silver Crown upon that Hearse did stand,
And Myrtle-boughs young Virgins bore in hand:
The graver sort did Cypress-branches bear,
The mournful Parents death for to declare.
With solemn Musick to the Grave them brought;
With Tears in-urn'd their Ashes in a Vault:
But he, before the People did return,
Did make great haste to get close to the Urn;
His Hat pulls off, then bows, lets loose his Cloak;
With dropping Eyes, & countenance sad, thus spoke:
And lying there a while, as in a swound,
At last he rose, and with a sober pace
He bent his steps, as to her burying-place;
And with his Cloak he muffled him about,
His Hat pull'd o're his Brows, his Eyes look't out
To guide his way; but far he had not gone,
That straight he saw the Funerals coming on:
Three Hearses all were born, as on a breast,
Black cover'd two, with white the third was drest:
A Silver Crown upon that Hearse did stand,
And Myrtle-boughs young Virgins bore in hand:
The graver sort did Cypress-branches bear,
The mournful Parents death for to declare.
With solemn Musick to the Grave them brought;
With Tears in-urn'd their Ashes in a Vault:
But he, before the People did return,
Did make great haste to get close to the Urn;
80
With dropping Eyes, & countenance sad, thus spoke:
You charitable Friends, whoe're you be,
To see the Dead thus buri'd solemnly;
The like to me your Favour I do crave,
Stay all, and see me buri'd in this Grave.
Giving himself a private wound, there fell
Into the Grave; and dying, there did tell
Of his sad Love; but now, said he,
Our Souls nor Bodies ne're shall parted be.
With that he sighs, and breathing out his last,
About his Mistress Corps his Arms he cast.
The Urn seal'd up, his Friends a Tomb did build;
Famous it was, such Love therein it held.
To see the Dead thus buri'd solemnly;
The like to me your Favour I do crave,
Stay all, and see me buri'd in this Grave.
Giving himself a private wound, there fell
Into the Grave; and dying, there did tell
Of his sad Love; but now, said he,
Our Souls nor Bodies ne're shall parted be.
With that he sighs, and breathing out his last,
About his Mistress Corps his Arms he cast.
The Urn seal'd up, his Friends a Tomb did build;
Famous it was, such Love therein it held.
Most Parents do rejoyce, and Offerings bring
Of thankful Hearts, or Pray'rs for their Off-spring.
These thought their Age was blest; but they were blind
With Ignorance, and great affections kind,
More than with Age; but who knows Destiny?
Or thinks that Joy can prove a Misery?
Of thankful Hearts, or Pray'rs for their Off-spring.
These thought their Age was blest; but they were blind
With Ignorance, and great affections kind,
More than with Age; but who knows Destiny?
Or thinks that Joy can prove a Misery?
Some Parents love their Wealth more than their Breeds,
Hoording up more than Love or Nature needs:
And rather than poor Virtue they will take,
By crossing Love, Childless themselves will make.
Hoording up more than Love or Nature needs:
And rather than poor Virtue they will take,
By crossing Love, Childless themselves will make.
| Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life | |