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 |  |
A Mock-Tale of the Lord Duke of Newcastle, which his Grace was pleased to say, out of his great Civility, That it would serve for Shadows to set off the rest; He loving Truth so well, that he was never good at telling Tales.
A Young and Lusty Cheshire-Lad did move
In Venus Sphere, and was so fill'd with Love
When first he saw a lovely Lass at Chester,
Whose badg of Christianity was Hester.
So beautiful and fair she did appear,
Fresh as the welcome Spring to the New Year;
And Odoriferous as Flower's birth;
As fair as new-born Lillies from the Earth.
This set the young Man's heart in Love's Flame Fire,
Struck dumb in Love, turn'd all now to admire.
In Venus Sphere, and was so fill'd with Love
When first he saw a lovely Lass at Chester,
Whose badg of Christianity was Hester.
So beautiful and fair she did appear,
Fresh as the welcome Spring to the New Year;
And Odoriferous as Flower's birth;
As fair as new-born Lillies from the Earth.
This set the young Man's heart in Love's Flame Fire,
Struck dumb in Love, turn'd all now to admire.
At last Love found a Tongue, which did not fail
To burst out violently, and thus to rail;
Cursing now partial Nature, that did give
More beauty to her than elsewhere doth live.
Bankrupt in Beauty, since her store is gone,
Mankind condemn'd to foul ones now, or none.
Was Nature lavish? or else made the Theft
Upon her self, since she hath nothing left
Of what is handsom? so I now do find,
He enjoys thee, enjoys all Womankind:
For Beauty, Favour, and what's height of Pleasure,
Since thou art Nature's Store-house, & her Treasure.
O love me then, since all my hopes are crost;
If I enjoy you not, I'm wholly lost.
For what I can call Happiness; nay worse,
My Life then to me's but a fatal Curse:
But if you yeeld, I'le bless Dame Nature's Gift,
And Bounty to you, since 'twas all her drift
To make her Master-piece in you, and vex
The envious Females, angring all your Sex:
And if her bounty to you, you give me,
I shall be Deifi'd in love by thee.
Here on my knees I beg thy Love thus low;
Until I have it, my Knees here shall grow:
Therefore be kind. She answer'd with sweet Eyes,
Which spoke, not speaking, for to bid him rise:
And then discours'd with modest blushes, so
As that did tell him all her heart did know.
Trembling and shaking with Love's Palsi'd Tung,
With broken Sighs, and half Words it was strung;
Love's Comma's, Full-Points, and Parenthesis,
And this Love's Rhetorick, Oratory is.
With Love's pale-difficulty then afraid,
She softly said, O I'm a tender Maid,
And never heard such language! you'l deceive me;
And now I wish, I could wish you would leave me.
To burst out violently, and thus to rail;
119
More beauty to her than elsewhere doth live.
Bankrupt in Beauty, since her store is gone,
Mankind condemn'd to foul ones now, or none.
Was Nature lavish? or else made the Theft
Upon her self, since she hath nothing left
Of what is handsom? so I now do find,
He enjoys thee, enjoys all Womankind:
For Beauty, Favour, and what's height of Pleasure,
Since thou art Nature's Store-house, & her Treasure.
O love me then, since all my hopes are crost;
If I enjoy you not, I'm wholly lost.
For what I can call Happiness; nay worse,
My Life then to me's but a fatal Curse:
But if you yeeld, I'le bless Dame Nature's Gift,
And Bounty to you, since 'twas all her drift
To make her Master-piece in you, and vex
The envious Females, angring all your Sex:
And if her bounty to you, you give me,
I shall be Deifi'd in love by thee.
Here on my knees I beg thy Love thus low;
Until I have it, my Knees here shall grow:
Therefore be kind. She answer'd with sweet Eyes,
Which spoke, not speaking, for to bid him rise:
And then discours'd with modest blushes, so
As that did tell him all her heart did know.
Trembling and shaking with Love's Palsi'd Tung,
With broken Sighs, and half Words it was strung;
120
And this Love's Rhetorick, Oratory is.
With Love's pale-difficulty then afraid,
She softly said, O I'm a tender Maid,
And never heard such language! you'l deceive me;
And now I wish, I could wish you would leave me.
Why d'ye inchant a silly Maid? alas,
I never saw such beauty in my Glass,
And yet I've heard of flatt'ring Glasses too;
But nothing flatters like you Men that woo:
Your Tongue's Love's Conjuration, without doubt;
Circles me here in Love, cannot get out,
By your Love's Magick whispering. Then did yield,
And said, You've conquer'd, and have won the field.
I never saw such beauty in my Glass,
And yet I've heard of flatt'ring Glasses too;
But nothing flatters like you Men that woo:
Your Tongue's Love's Conjuration, without doubt;
Circles me here in Love, cannot get out,
By your Love's Magick whispering. Then did yield,
And said, You've conquer'd, and have won the field.
Such Joy between them, such new Passions rais'd,
Which made the God of Love himself amaz'd;
Since by no Tongue or Pen can be exprest;
Cupid and Hymen ne're hop'd such a Feast.
But see the Fate of business, which doth move
So cross, For Business hath no sense of Love.
O thou dull Bus'ness! Yet some States-men pry
Into Love's Secrets with a glancing Eye.
But here our Lover was arraign'd to stand
Condemn'd to Bus'ness, that in Ireland
Necessity doth urge him: That word Part,
So cruel was, it struck each other's heart,
Which inwardly did bleed with sorrow's grief,
Since nothing now but hopes were their relief.
Which made the God of Love himself amaz'd;
Since by no Tongue or Pen can be exprest;
Cupid and Hymen ne're hop'd such a Feast.
But see the Fate of business, which doth move
So cross, For Business hath no sense of Love.
O thou dull Bus'ness! Yet some States-men pry
Into Love's Secrets with a glancing Eye.
But here our Lover was arraign'd to stand
Condemn'd to Bus'ness, that in Ireland
Necessity doth urge him: That word Part,
So cruel was, it struck each other's heart,
Which inwardly did bleed with sorrow's grief,
Since nothing now but hopes were their relief.
121
Sadly he goes aboard, Love fills his Sails,
And Cupid with his wings fanns gentle Gales
To waft him over; he thus thought to please
His wounded Lover o're those Rocky Seas;
Love would not leave him: nor was he content,
Unless this dangerous passage with him went.
And Cupid with his wings fanns gentle Gales
To waft him over; he thus thought to please
His wounded Lover o're those Rocky Seas;
Love would not leave him: nor was he content,
Unless this dangerous passage with him went.
In the mean time, his Mistress did commit
Her self to sorrow, and with her to sit
As her close Prisoner, this was all her end,
And grieved more than Widows do pretend.
Her self to sorrow, and with her to sit
As her close Prisoner, this was all her end,
And grieved more than Widows do pretend.
Safely is landed now our Lover o're,
And Cupid with him, on the Irish shore.
Love is so various, which some Lovers see;
Now Love an Irish Cupid's turn'd to be:
And takes all memory thus from our Lover,
Of his first Mistress, and doth now discover
Love's new Plantation in the Irish Pale,
In Love's rich Island there, which doth not fail
To take our Lover, and inflame him more
Under an Irish Mantle, than what's store
Of Gowns of Cloth of Gold. Curls, painted Art,
Cheats Love, when simple Nature wounds Love's Heart.
And Cupid with him, on the Irish shore.
Love is so various, which some Lovers see;
Now Love an Irish Cupid's turn'd to be:
And takes all memory thus from our Lover,
Of his first Mistress, and doth now discover
Love's new Plantation in the Irish Pale,
In Love's rich Island there, which doth not fail
To take our Lover, and inflame him more
Under an Irish Mantle, than what's store
Of Gowns of Cloth of Gold. Curls, painted Art,
Cheats Love, when simple Nature wounds Love's Heart.
This change of Love is blown so up and down,
By Fame's loud Trumpet, through all Chester Town:
The Women gossip'd it, and could not hold
Till to his former Mistress they it told.
This was the first time that she smil'd to see
Impossible Reports of him to be:
They might as well say, Phœbus gives no light,
Or Starrs to fall, or make a Day of Night,
As he inconstant was: yet Love doth doubt,
Not doubting, yet enquires all about,
And sets her Love-spies to enquire a-new:
But those reports each minute stronger grew:
So she resolv'd her self to know the truth,
And was disguis'd in Clothes now like a Youth,
And went in Cavalier: The gentle Wind
Did favour her, and landed to her mind.
The Port was Dublin, and could not forbear
To make enquiries for her Love, and there
She found him at an Inn. He then began
To take such liking to his Countrey-man,
All his Discourse enquiring for his Ends,
To know the welfare of his English Friends:
Which she so fully satisfied, as he
Was now enamour'd of her company;
And was so fond, in her took such delight,
As supp'd, and lay together too that night.
Never suspecting her, his Mistress, then
Blindly went on, and took her for a Man;
So full of Love and Friendship, could not hold,
But to her all his Irish Love he told,
Desiring her to go along and see
This Miracle of Beauty, which was she;
And so she did. Her Love turn'd now disdain,
To see his Falshood, and no love remain:
So base, unworthy, and unconstant too,
As now began to think what she should do.
She quench'd her Passion, which is wise and better
Than Love's Complaints: so writ to him a Letter
Of her whole Voyage, and Love's constant Hist'ry,
All her Designs, disguises in Love's Myst'ry;
And left this Letter in the Window: so
Three or four days it was 'fore he did know,
Or found it out. In the mean time she's gone,
And shipp'd for England, leaving him alone.
By Fame's loud Trumpet, through all Chester Town:
The Women gossip'd it, and could not hold
Till to his former Mistress they it told.
This was the first time that she smil'd to see
Impossible Reports of him to be:
122
Or Starrs to fall, or make a Day of Night,
As he inconstant was: yet Love doth doubt,
Not doubting, yet enquires all about,
And sets her Love-spies to enquire a-new:
But those reports each minute stronger grew:
So she resolv'd her self to know the truth,
And was disguis'd in Clothes now like a Youth,
And went in Cavalier: The gentle Wind
Did favour her, and landed to her mind.
The Port was Dublin, and could not forbear
To make enquiries for her Love, and there
She found him at an Inn. He then began
To take such liking to his Countrey-man,
All his Discourse enquiring for his Ends,
To know the welfare of his English Friends:
Which she so fully satisfied, as he
Was now enamour'd of her company;
And was so fond, in her took such delight,
As supp'd, and lay together too that night.
Never suspecting her, his Mistress, then
Blindly went on, and took her for a Man;
So full of Love and Friendship, could not hold,
But to her all his Irish Love he told,
Desiring her to go along and see
This Miracle of Beauty, which was she;
And so she did. Her Love turn'd now disdain,
To see his Falshood, and no love remain:
123
As now began to think what she should do.
She quench'd her Passion, which is wise and better
Than Love's Complaints: so writ to him a Letter
Of her whole Voyage, and Love's constant Hist'ry,
All her Designs, disguises in Love's Myst'ry;
And left this Letter in the Window: so
Three or four days it was 'fore he did know,
Or found it out. In the mean time she's gone,
And shipp'd for England, leaving him alone.
When found her Letter was, such Passions grew
Stronger upon him than e're Lover knew;
Resolv'd the foaming Billows to embrace,
Those liquid steps of hers he meant to trace,
And lay himself in pickled tears of Love,
Now at her feet, to see what that would move:
But all in vain, he thought too long had tarri'd,
When landed, found the same day she was marri'd:
Fell in such extasies, cursing his Fate,
The Ship and Winds, that made him come so late.
With Love's new hopes, his Sails he fill'd, and then
Invok'd God Neptune to go back again:
And all the passage as he went along,
Challeng'd the Mermaids in a loving Song;
With Love's assurances so over-joy'd,
As now his loving heart was not annoy'd,
But fill'd with Pleasure, and with all Delight,
Thinking t' embrace his Irish Love that night.
No sooner landed so—he thought to woo
His Mistress, but he found her marri'd too.
Cursing the Starrs of his Nativity,
Thus short of Wedlock at both ends to be;
Made him grow desperate; and, as they say,
Then in despair he made himself away
Upon a Wench, and some swear without doubt,
That there he knock'd the Brains of's Cupid out;
So murther'd Love, and there he did enroul
Each one a Fool, with a Platonick Soul:
And so despis'd and scorn'd the old God Hymen,
That with so easie words so long did tye men,
To make them Galley-slaves in Marriage, so
Ti'd in his Chains, condemn'd for life to row
In Wedlock's Galley—Give me freedom then,
Thy Godhead I invoke, whilst foolish Men
To Love and Hymen's Prisons there do sit,
Justly committed for their want of Wit:
For he's a Fool that's ti'd when might be free:
And thus he rav'd and talk'd Non-sense you see,
As he that writ this Story, you may mend it;
So for his sake, and yours, and mine, I'le end it.
Stronger upon him than e're Lover knew;
Resolv'd the foaming Billows to embrace,
Those liquid steps of hers he meant to trace,
And lay himself in pickled tears of Love,
Now at her feet, to see what that would move:
But all in vain, he thought too long had tarri'd,
When landed, found the same day she was marri'd:
Fell in such extasies, cursing his Fate,
The Ship and Winds, that made him come so late.
With Love's new hopes, his Sails he fill'd, and then
Invok'd God Neptune to go back again:
And all the passage as he went along,
Challeng'd the Mermaids in a loving Song;
With Love's assurances so over-joy'd,
As now his loving heart was not annoy'd,
But fill'd with Pleasure, and with all Delight,
Thinking t' embrace his Irish Love that night.
124
His Mistress, but he found her marri'd too.
Cursing the Starrs of his Nativity,
Thus short of Wedlock at both ends to be;
Made him grow desperate; and, as they say,
Then in despair he made himself away
Upon a Wench, and some swear without doubt,
That there he knock'd the Brains of's Cupid out;
So murther'd Love, and there he did enroul
Each one a Fool, with a Platonick Soul:
And so despis'd and scorn'd the old God Hymen,
That with so easie words so long did tye men,
To make them Galley-slaves in Marriage, so
Ti'd in his Chains, condemn'd for life to row
In Wedlock's Galley—Give me freedom then,
Thy Godhead I invoke, whilst foolish Men
To Love and Hymen's Prisons there do sit,
Justly committed for their want of Wit:
For he's a Fool that's ti'd when might be free:
And thus he rav'd and talk'd Non-sense you see,
As he that writ this Story, you may mend it;
So for his sake, and yours, and mine, I'le end it.
| Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life | |