Miscellaneous works of George Wither

A Parlie, unto thee disdainful WORLD,
I found; and have to thee this Paper hurl'd.
Yet, neither for a Treaty or Compliance,
But, rather, still, to bid to thee Defiance;
For, what thou wer't, thou art; and I yet am
And will be, whilst I live, to thee the same.

Thou art become the Mistress of the Field;
Hast me beleaguer'd, summond me to yield
My Fortress, and thou so proceedest on,
As if thou wert assur'd, it should be wonn:
But, thereon thou perhaps, mayst yet attend
As long as did th'Infanta for Ostend;
And as she nothing had at last but Stones,
Get nothing but dead flesh, and rottenbones.
I see thine insolence, and every day
Hear what thy favourites are pleas'd to say,
How they extol thy Power, how they debase
My succours, and my helpers would disgrace.

I well observe, thou round begirt me hast;
That, having all my Outworks quite laid waste,
Thou, to compleat a Conquest, dost begin
A fierce assault to ruine all within.
That, to prevent the sending of supplies,
Thou fright'st my friends with slanders and with lies.
My Accusatrix too, become thou art;
And, justly (I acknowledge) in some part,
But, not in all: for, chiefly, thy temptations
Inducements were to those prevarications
Whereby, my Talents were sometime abus'd:
Though therefore, I seem worthily reduc'd
To what I am; thou undeservedly
Hast me pursued with malignity;
Because the love which I once bore to thee
Was more, than thou deservedest it should be;
Thou most injuriously requited hast
That love, which in my youth on thee I plac't;
For, though I never totally was thine,
Thou had'st (when least) more of me then was mine:
And, him, of his right, to whom all was due
I robbed then, thy service to pursue.
But, he, now gives me grace, thy wiles to hate,
And to observe them ere it is too late,
That what thou by thy falshoods dost intend,
Shall cross thine own Designments in the end.

Thou, having into many errors run me,
Thought'st by undoing me, to have undone me,
But art deceiv'd: for, that which thou hast done
Hath brought me to the knowledge of that Stone,
Which turneth dross to gold; and from offences
Instructs me to extract those Quintessences,
Which will preserve my Freedome in all places,
Supply all Wants; Convert all my Disgraces

To honours; and in every estate,
With all things needful, me accommodate.

The Devil by thine aid, hath long time sought
How, he his ends upon me might have wrought;
But, neither Thou nor He, nor both conjoyn'd,
Had power to bring to pass what was design'd,
Untill the FLESH, my Dalilah, you got
To be a third Associate in the Plot;
And then, both to her damage, and to mine
You, such progression made in your design,
That by deluding her, you soon prevail'd,
In that, whereof you otherwise had fail'd;
So, by her Frailty, more than by your Power,
(I, being in your clutches at this hour)
Am openly exposed (in some sort)
Like Sampson for a while, to make you sport;
But, stretched your malignity so far
That your own Actings, your own works will mar:
For, though my Dalilah your Vassal be,
And you by her means have surprized me,
Your Cords and Chains will off again be flung,
So that, we shall redeemed be ere long
From our Captivities, and in conclusion
Your own contrivements will be your confusion.

When thou pretendedest kindnesses to me
(And by them, didst intend to ruine me)
Thou gav'st me then, one of Pandora's Boxes,
Which, I return thee full of Paradoxes
That shall uncharm thy Witchcrafts, and destroy
Those Gins which thou against me dost employ:
For, if thou open it, (as it is sed
Prometheus opened what shee's fabuled
To have bestow'd on him) from thence will flow
Those Truths, which will thy falshoods overthrow,

And make some who admire them, to contemn
Those Juglings wherewithall thou foolest them:
As likewise all those Bugbear-Tyrannies,
Which thy oppressing-Instruments devise
To fright us from our duties, and adhere
To thy allurements, out of love or fear.

To batter down my petty single Sconce,
Thy three great'st Engines thou hast rais'd at once,
And so surrounded me within my Fort,
That, I have scarce one little Sally-port
Whereby I may have egress to offend
My Foes, or to give ingress to a friend.
Thy Ragged Regiment of POVERTY,
(And they which by RESTRAINT of LIBERTY,
Commanded are) enclose me so about
With double Trenches, that, here can to nought
For my Relief, admittance now be given,
Except it comes immediately from Heaven:
Moreover, at the four Winds, raised high,
Are four Mounts, whereupon thy Batteries lie
So diligently man'd by Major SLANDER
(An old and well experienced Commander
In such like services) that, several wayes
His great Artillery upon me playes.
At me perpetually his tongue-shot flies,
And his whole Culverings charg'd full with Lies,
Send poysoned Bullets, which I often hear,
Making loud cracks, or whizzing by mine ear.

But, I, at last, shall rout all this Brigade,
Quite frustrate those attempts which thou hast made
And raise again thy seige, or do as well
By dying nobly in my Citadel,
And, that it will to thee (when batter'd down)
Prove like the House by Sampson overthrown.

Then, those things, plainly will to thee appear,
Which thou at present, wilt not see nor hear;
And I shall be the same to thee and thine,
Which thou hast lately been to me and mine;
For, then, my Ghost, arrayed in white sheets
Shall haunt thy houses, walk about thy streets,
And fright thee day and night with repetition
Of what is hasting on, for thy perdition,
And will descend upon thee at those times
Wherein thou fill'st the measure of thy Crimes.

Mean while, to comfort others, and prevent
The tediousness of my Beleagurement,
Ile draw a Map, wherein Ile so express
The vanity of thy maliciousness,
That, they who list shall know how much I slight
Thy Triple-Forces, and contemn thy spight;
And I to thee, their weaknesses apart
Will so declare, that, unless blind thou art
Thou shalt perceive, I cannot be destroy'd,
By those whom thou against me hast employ'd
Although in one united: for, these three
SLANDER, IMPRISONMENT and POVERTY,
To fall upon me, all at once began
Before, thou didst repute me for a Man;
And though they charge me all at once agen,
Grown weaker by old age, than I was then,
My Helper is the same; and suffring long
Hath by his Grace, now made my power more strong.

I know thy pride this Confidence contemns:
For, faith and hope, are now thought but the dreams
Of those men, whom thou dost Phanaticks call:
But, whatsoev'r thou thinkst, proceed I shall.
And, if thou heedst what follows, thou shalt hear
How little, either thee, or thine I fear.

With that part of thy Forces Ile begin
Which, with the first Trench hath now shut me in.
Thou knowst, what outwardly, thou hast bereft;
Now, thou shalt know, what is within me left
But, never shalt attain to apprehend
How far my hidden store-house doth extend.

University of Virginia Library

For an INTRODUCTION, the AUTHOR flings this Express to the WORLD.