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 |
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A Dialogue between Melancholy and Mirth.
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 | Poems, and phancies |  |
A Dialogue between Melancholy and Mirth.
As I was Musing by my Self alone,
My Thoughts brought several things to work upon,
Some did large Houses build, and stately Towers,
And some made Orchards, Gardens, & fine Bowers;
Some did in Arts and Sciences delight,
And some in Contradiction, Reasons Fight;
Some Govern'd, like as Kings do Rule a State,
And some as Republicks, which Monarchs hate;
Some Privy-Counsellours and Judges were,
And some, as Lawyers, pleaded at the Barr;
Some Priests, wch do preach Peace, and godly Life,
Others Tumultuous were, and full of Strife;
Some were Debauch'd, did Swagger, Wench, and Swear,
And some poor Thoughts did tremble out of Fear;
Some Jealous were, and all things did Suspect,
And others Careless, every thing Neglect;
Some Thoughts turn'd Shepherds, Nymphs, and Shepherdesses,
So Kind, as they did give each other Kisses;
Th'express'd all sorts of Lovers, and their Passions,
And several ways of Courtship and fine Fashions;
Some took strong Towns, won Battels in the Field,
And those that lost, were forc'd to them to yield;
Some were Heroick, Generous and Free,
And some so Base, to crouch with Flattery;
Some Dying were, half in the Grave did lye,
And some Repenting did for Sorrow cry:
The Mind opprest with Grief, all Thoughts were Sad,
And Mourn'd in Black, no Light of Joy they had;
Some with Despair did Rage, were almost Mad,
And some so Merry, nothing made them Sad;
And many more, which were too long to tell;
For several Thoughts in several places dwell;
At last came two, which diversly were Dress'd,
One Melancholy, th'other Mirth express'd;
Melancholy was all in Black array,
And Mirth was all in Colours fresh and gay.
My Thoughts brought several things to work upon,
Some did large Houses build, and stately Towers,
And some made Orchards, Gardens, & fine Bowers;
Some did in Arts and Sciences delight,
And some in Contradiction, Reasons Fight;
Some Govern'd, like as Kings do Rule a State,
And some as Republicks, which Monarchs hate;
Some Privy-Counsellours and Judges were,
And some, as Lawyers, pleaded at the Barr;
Some Priests, wch do preach Peace, and godly Life,
Others Tumultuous were, and full of Strife;
Some were Debauch'd, did Swagger, Wench, and Swear,
And some poor Thoughts did tremble out of Fear;
Some Jealous were, and all things did Suspect,
And others Careless, every thing Neglect;
Some Thoughts turn'd Shepherds, Nymphs, and Shepherdesses,
So Kind, as they did give each other Kisses;
Th'express'd all sorts of Lovers, and their Passions,
And several ways of Courtship and fine Fashions;
Some took strong Towns, won Battels in the Field,
And those that lost, were forc'd to them to yield;
Some were Heroick, Generous and Free,
And some so Base, to crouch with Flattery;
94
And some Repenting did for Sorrow cry:
The Mind opprest with Grief, all Thoughts were Sad,
And Mourn'd in Black, no Light of Joy they had;
Some with Despair did Rage, were almost Mad,
And some so Merry, nothing made them Sad;
And many more, which were too long to tell;
For several Thoughts in several places dwell;
At last came two, which diversly were Dress'd,
One Melancholy, th'other Mirth express'd;
Melancholy was all in Black array,
And Mirth was all in Colours fresh and gay.
Mirth Laughing came, and running to me, flung
Her fat white Arms about my Neck, there hung,
Imbrac'd and Kiss'd me oft, and stroak'd my Cheek,
Saying she would no other Lover seek;
I'l Sing you Songs, and please you every Day,
Invent new Sports to pass the time away;
I'l keep your Heart, and guard it from that Thief,
Dull Melancholy, Care, or Sadder grief,
And make your Eyes with Mirth to overflow;
With springing Blood your Cheeks soon fat shall grow;
Your Legs shall nimble be, your Body light,
And all your Spirits like to Birds in flight;
Mirth shall digest your Meat, and make you strong,
Shall give you Health, and your short Days prolong:
Refuse me not, but take me to your Wife;
For I shall make you Happy all your Life.
But Melancholy, she will make you Lean,
Your Cheeks shall Hollow grow, your Jaws be seen;
Your Eyes shall Buried be within your Head,
And look as Pale, as if you were quite Dead;
She'l make you start at every Noise you hear,
And Visions strange shall in your Eyes appear;
Your Stomack cold and raw, Digesting nought,
Your Liver dry, your Heart with Sorrow fraught;
Shriveled your Skin, Brows cloudy, and Blood thick,
Your Sides be Lank, your Back to th'Belly stick:
Thus would it be, if you to her were Wed;
Nay, better farr it were, that you were Dead.
Her Voice is Low, and gives an Hollow sound,
She hates the Light, and is in Darkness found;
Or sits with blinking Lamps, or Tapers small,
Which various Shadows make against a Wall.
She loves nought else but Noise, wch discord makes,
As Croaking Frogs, whose dwelling is in Lakes;
The Ravens hoarse, and so the Mandrakes groan,
And Shreeking Owls, which fly i'th' Night alone;
The Touling Bell, which for the Dead Rings out;
A Mill, where Rushing Waters run about;
The Roaring Winds, which shake the Cedars Tall,
Plow up the Seas, aud beat the Rocks withall.
She loves to walk in the still Moon-shine Night,
And in a thick Dark Grove she takes delight;
In hollow Caves, thatch't Houses, and low Cells
She loves to Live, and there alone she Dwells.
Her Ears are stopt with Thoughts, her Eyes purblind;
For all she Hears, or Sees, is in the Mind:
But in her Mind Luxuriously she Lives,
Imagination several Pleasures gives.
Then leave her to her Self alone to dwell,
Let you and I in Mirth and Pleasure swell,
And Drink long Lusty Draughts from Bacchus's Bowl,
Untill our Brains on Vaporous Waves do Roul;
Lets Joy our selves in Amorous delights;
There's none so Happy as the Carpet Knights.
Her fat white Arms about my Neck, there hung,
Imbrac'd and Kiss'd me oft, and stroak'd my Cheek,
Saying she would no other Lover seek;
I'l Sing you Songs, and please you every Day,
Invent new Sports to pass the time away;
I'l keep your Heart, and guard it from that Thief,
Dull Melancholy, Care, or Sadder grief,
And make your Eyes with Mirth to overflow;
With springing Blood your Cheeks soon fat shall grow;
Your Legs shall nimble be, your Body light,
And all your Spirits like to Birds in flight;
Mirth shall digest your Meat, and make you strong,
Shall give you Health, and your short Days prolong:
Refuse me not, but take me to your Wife;
For I shall make you Happy all your Life.
But Melancholy, she will make you Lean,
Your Cheeks shall Hollow grow, your Jaws be seen;
Your Eyes shall Buried be within your Head,
And look as Pale, as if you were quite Dead;
95
And Visions strange shall in your Eyes appear;
Your Stomack cold and raw, Digesting nought,
Your Liver dry, your Heart with Sorrow fraught;
Shriveled your Skin, Brows cloudy, and Blood thick,
Your Sides be Lank, your Back to th'Belly stick:
Thus would it be, if you to her were Wed;
Nay, better farr it were, that you were Dead.
Her Voice is Low, and gives an Hollow sound,
She hates the Light, and is in Darkness found;
Or sits with blinking Lamps, or Tapers small,
Which various Shadows make against a Wall.
She loves nought else but Noise, wch discord makes,
As Croaking Frogs, whose dwelling is in Lakes;
The Ravens hoarse, and so the Mandrakes groan,
And Shreeking Owls, which fly i'th' Night alone;
The Touling Bell, which for the Dead Rings out;
A Mill, where Rushing Waters run about;
The Roaring Winds, which shake the Cedars Tall,
Plow up the Seas, aud beat the Rocks withall.
She loves to walk in the still Moon-shine Night,
And in a thick Dark Grove she takes delight;
In hollow Caves, thatch't Houses, and low Cells
She loves to Live, and there alone she Dwells.
Her Ears are stopt with Thoughts, her Eyes purblind;
For all she Hears, or Sees, is in the Mind:
But in her Mind Luxuriously she Lives,
Imagination several Pleasures gives.
Then leave her to her Self alone to dwell,
Let you and I in Mirth and Pleasure swell,
And Drink long Lusty Draughts from Bacchus's Bowl,
Untill our Brains on Vaporous Waves do Roul;
96
There's none so Happy as the Carpet Knights.
Melancholy with sad and sober Face,
Complexion Pale, but of a Comely grace,
With modest Countenance thus softly spake:
May I so Happy be, your Love to take?
True, I am Dull, yet by me you shall know
More of your Self, and so much Wiser grow;
I search the depth and bottom of Mankind,
Open the Eye of Ignorance that's Blind;
I Travel farr, and View the World about,
I walk with Reason's Staff to find Truth out;
All Dangers to avoid, I watch with Care,
And do 'gainst Evils that may come, prepare;
I Hang not on Inconstant Fortune's Wheel,
Nor yet with unresolving Doubts do Reel;
I Shake not with the Terrours of Vain fears,
Nor is my Mind fill'd with unusefull Cares;
I do not Spend my time like Idle mirth,
Which only Happy is just at her Birth;
And seldome Lives so long as to be Old,
But if she doth, can no Affections hold:
For in short time she Troublesome doth grow,
Though at the first she makes a pretty show.
She loves to make a Noise, and keep a Rout,
And with Dislike most commonly goes out.
Mirth good for nothing is, like Weeds doth grow,
Or such Plants as cause Madness, Reason's Foe.
Her Face with Laughter crumples on a heap,
Wch makes great Wrinkles & plows Furrows deep;
Her Eyes do water, and her Skin turns red,
Her Mouth doth gape, Teeth bare, like one that's Dead;
Her Sides do stretch, as set upon a Last,
Her Stomack's heaving up, as if she'ld Cast;
Her Veins do swell, her Joynts seem as unset,
Her Pores are open, whence streams out a Sweat;
She Fulsome is, and Gluts the Senses all,
Offers her Self, and comes before a Call;
Seeks Company, and hates to be alone,
Though on Unsent-for Guests affronts are thrown;
Her House is Built upon the Golden Sands,
Yet no Foundation has whereon it stands;
A Palace 'tis, and of a great Resort,
It makes a Noise, and gives a Loud report,
Yet underneath the Roof Disasters lye,
Beat down the House, and many Kill'd thereby:
I Dwell in Groves, that Gilt are with the Sun,
Sit on the Banks by which clear Waters run;
In Summers hot, down in a Shade I lye,
My Musick is the Buzzing of a Fly,
Which Flys do in the Sun-beams Dance all day,
And harmlesly do pass their time away:
I walk in Meadows, where grows fresh green Grass,
In Fields, where Corn is high, I often pass;
Walk up the Hills, where round I Prospects see,
Some brushy Woods, and some all Champains be;
Returning back, I in fresh Pastures go,
To hear how Sheep do Bleat, and Cows do Low;
They gently Feed, and do no Evil know,
Have no Designs each other Wrong to do.
In Winter Cold, when Nipping Frosts come on,
Then I do Live in a small House alone,
Which being Little and Close doth make it warm,
No VVind or VVeather cold can do it harm;
Although 'tis Plain, yet Cleanly 'tis within,
Like to a Soul that's pure and clear from Sin,
And there I dwell in quiet and still Peace,
Not fill'd with Cares, how Riches to Increase:
I wish nor seek for vain and fruitless Pleasures,
No Riches are, but what the Mind intreasures.
Thus am I Solitary, Live alone,
Yet better Lov'd, the more that I am Known;
And though my Face b' Ill-favour'd at first Sight,
After Acquaintance it will give delight;
For I am like a Shade, who sits in me,
He shall not Wet, nor yet Sun-burned be;
I keep off blustering Storms from doing hurt,
VVhen Mirth is often Smutch'd with Dust and Durt:
Refuse me not, for I shall Constant be,
Maintain your Credit and your Dignity.
Complexion Pale, but of a Comely grace,
With modest Countenance thus softly spake:
May I so Happy be, your Love to take?
True, I am Dull, yet by me you shall know
More of your Self, and so much Wiser grow;
I search the depth and bottom of Mankind,
Open the Eye of Ignorance that's Blind;
I Travel farr, and View the World about,
I walk with Reason's Staff to find Truth out;
All Dangers to avoid, I watch with Care,
And do 'gainst Evils that may come, prepare;
I Hang not on Inconstant Fortune's Wheel,
Nor yet with unresolving Doubts do Reel;
I Shake not with the Terrours of Vain fears,
Nor is my Mind fill'd with unusefull Cares;
I do not Spend my time like Idle mirth,
Which only Happy is just at her Birth;
And seldome Lives so long as to be Old,
But if she doth, can no Affections hold:
For in short time she Troublesome doth grow,
Though at the first she makes a pretty show.
She loves to make a Noise, and keep a Rout,
And with Dislike most commonly goes out.
Mirth good for nothing is, like Weeds doth grow,
Or such Plants as cause Madness, Reason's Foe.
Her Face with Laughter crumples on a heap,
Wch makes great Wrinkles & plows Furrows deep;
Her Eyes do water, and her Skin turns red,
Her Mouth doth gape, Teeth bare, like one that's Dead;
97
Her Stomack's heaving up, as if she'ld Cast;
Her Veins do swell, her Joynts seem as unset,
Her Pores are open, whence streams out a Sweat;
She Fulsome is, and Gluts the Senses all,
Offers her Self, and comes before a Call;
Seeks Company, and hates to be alone,
Though on Unsent-for Guests affronts are thrown;
Her House is Built upon the Golden Sands,
Yet no Foundation has whereon it stands;
A Palace 'tis, and of a great Resort,
It makes a Noise, and gives a Loud report,
Yet underneath the Roof Disasters lye,
Beat down the House, and many Kill'd thereby:
I Dwell in Groves, that Gilt are with the Sun,
Sit on the Banks by which clear Waters run;
In Summers hot, down in a Shade I lye,
My Musick is the Buzzing of a Fly,
Which Flys do in the Sun-beams Dance all day,
And harmlesly do pass their time away:
I walk in Meadows, where grows fresh green Grass,
In Fields, where Corn is high, I often pass;
Walk up the Hills, where round I Prospects see,
Some brushy Woods, and some all Champains be;
Returning back, I in fresh Pastures go,
To hear how Sheep do Bleat, and Cows do Low;
They gently Feed, and do no Evil know,
Have no Designs each other Wrong to do.
In Winter Cold, when Nipping Frosts come on,
Then I do Live in a small House alone,
Which being Little and Close doth make it warm,
No VVind or VVeather cold can do it harm;
98
Like to a Soul that's pure and clear from Sin,
And there I dwell in quiet and still Peace,
Not fill'd with Cares, how Riches to Increase:
I wish nor seek for vain and fruitless Pleasures,
No Riches are, but what the Mind intreasures.
Thus am I Solitary, Live alone,
Yet better Lov'd, the more that I am Known;
And though my Face b' Ill-favour'd at first Sight,
After Acquaintance it will give delight;
For I am like a Shade, who sits in me,
He shall not Wet, nor yet Sun-burned be;
I keep off blustering Storms from doing hurt,
VVhen Mirth is often Smutch'd with Dust and Durt:
Refuse me not, for I shall Constant be,
Maintain your Credit and your Dignity.
| Poems, and phancies | |