University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Poems, and phancies

written By the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, And Excellent Princess The Lady Marchioness of Newcastle [i.e. Margaret Cavendish]. The Second Impression, much Altered and Corrected

collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionI. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionII. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A Dialogue between Earth and Cold.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionIII. 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
collapse sectionIV. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionV. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  

A Dialogue between Earth and Cold.

Earth.
O cruel Cold, to Life an Enemy,
Troubler of Man, and Man's Posterity;
Most envious Cold, to stupifie Man's Brain,
And spoil that Monarchy where Wit should Reign;
Tyrant you are, and make the Waters clear
In Chains of Ice lye Fetter'd half the year,
Imprisoning each thing that dwells in me,
Shutting my porous Doors no Light can see;
I smother'd am, and almost at Death's Door,
Each Hole is stopt, and I can Breathe no more;
Congeal the Air to Massie Clouds of Snow,
And like great Mountains on my Body throw;
And all my Plants, and strong, great, Fruitful Trees,
You nip to Death, or Cloath them in course freez;
My fresh green Robes, which make me fine and gay,
You strip me of, or change to Black or Gray;
For fear of Cold, my Moisture shrinks so low,
My Head wears Bald, no Hair thereon will grow;

78

You break the Sun-beams, do their Heat destroy,
And take away my Comfort and my Joy;
You make my Body stiff, and Numb it so,
That nothing Fluid in my Veins can go.

Cold.
VVhy do you thus complain, poor Earth, and grieve?
I give you Strength and make you long to Live;
I shelter you from the Sun's scorching Heat,
I give you breath, by me your strength grows great;
I cloath you from the Cold with Milk white Snow,
Send down your Sap to Nourish you below;
If Heat with you should dwell, and long time stay,
His thirst would drink your Moisture all away;
I take nought from you, nor do make you poor,
But like a Husband good, do keep your store;
My Ice are Locks and Barrs, all safe to keep,
From busie Motion 't gives you quiet Sleep:
For Heat is active, and doth you molest,
Does make you work, and never lets you rest;
Heat spends your Spirits, makes you crackt and dry,
Drinks all himself, with Thirst you almost Dye;
VVith sweating Labour you grow weak and faint,
I wonder, why you make such great Complaint.

Earth.
Both Heat and Cold, each in extreme degree,
Two Hells they are, though contrary they be;
Two Devils they are, and Vex me with great pains,
One shoots hot Arrows, th'other ties in Chains.