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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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I saw your Poems, and then Wish'd them mine,
Reading the Richer Dressings of each Line;
Your New-born, Sublime Fancies, and such store,
May make our Poets blush, and Write no more:
Nay, Spencers Ghost will haunt you in the Night,
And Johnson rise, full fraught with Venom's Spight;
Fletcher, and Beaumont, troubl'd in their Graves,
Look out some Deeper, and forgotten Caves;
And Gentle Shakespear weeping, since he must
At best, be Buried, now, in Chaucers Dust:
Thus dark Oblivion covers their each Name,
Since you have Robb'd them of their Glorious Fame.
Such Metaphors, such Allegories fit,
Your Judgment weighing out your fresher Wit,

By Similizing to the Life so like,
Your Fancies Pencil's far beyond Vandike;
Drawing all things to all things, at your Pleasure,
Which shews, your Store-house is the Muses Treasure;
Your Head the Limbeck, where the Muses sit,
Distilling there the Quintessence of Wit;
Spirits of Fancy, Essences so Sweet,
In your just Numbers walk on Velvet Feet.
I thought to Praise you, but alas, my Way
To yours, is Night unto a Glorious Day.
W. Newcastle.

TO SIR CHARLS CAVENDISH, My Noble Brother-in-Law.

If you Dislike, and Rise to go away,
Pray do not Scoff, and tell what I did say:
But if you do, the Matter is not great,
For 'tis but Foolish words, you can repeat.
Pray do not Censure all you do not know,
But let my Atoms to the Learned go:
If y' Judge, and Understand not, you may take
For Non-sense that which Learning Sense will make.
But I may say, as Some have said before,
I'm not to fetch you Wit from Natures Store.

[But at all other things let Fancy fly]

But at all other things let Fancy fly,
And, like a Towring Eagle, mount the Sky;
Or like the Sun, swiftly the World to round,
Or like pure Gold, which in the Earth is found:
But if a Drossie Wit, let't Buried be
Under the Ruins of all Memory.

The Poetresses hasty Resolution.

Reading my Verses, I lik'd them so well,
Self-love did make my Judgement to Rebell;
And thinking them so Good, thought more to make,
Considering not how Others would them take.
I Writ so fast, thought, Liv'd I many a Year,
A Pyramid of Fame thereon to Rear;
Reason observing which way I was bent,
Did stay my Hand, and ask't me what I meant;
Will you, said He, thus waste your time in Vain,
On that which in the World small Praise shall gain?
For shame leave off, and do the Printer spare,
Hee'l lose by your Ill Poetry, I fear:
Besides, the World already hath great store
Of useless Books, wherefore do Write no more,
But pity take, do the World a good turn,
And all you Write cast into th'Fire, and Burn.
Angry I was, and Reason strook away,
When I did hear, what he to me did say;
Then all in haste I to the Press it sent,
Fearing Perswasion might my Book prevent:
But now 'tis done, repent with Grief do I,
Hang down my Head with Shame, Blush, Sigh, and Cry.
Take pity, and my drooping Spirits raise,
Wipe off my Tears with Handkerchiefs of Praise.

The Poetresses Petition.

Like to a Feavers pulse my Heart doth beat,
For fear my Book some great Repulse should meet:
If it be Naught, let it in Silence lye,
Disturb it not, let it in quiet Dye;

Let not the Bells of your Dispraise Ring loud,
But wrap it up in Silence as a Shrowd;
Cause Black Oblivion on its Hearse to lye,
Instead of Tapers, let Dark night stand by;
Instead of Flowers, on its Grave to strow,
Before its Hearse, Sleepy, dull Poppy throw;
Instead of Scutcheons, let my Tears be hung,
Which Grief and Sorrow from my Eyes out wrung:
Let those that bear its Corps, no Jesters be,
But Sober, Sad, and Grave Mortality:
No Satyr Poets by its Grave appear,
No Altars rais'd, to write Inscriptions there:
Let Dust of all Forgetfulness be Cast
Upon its Corps, there let it lye and waste:
Nor let it Rise again, unless some know,
At Judgements some good Merits it can show;
Then shall it Live in Heavens of high Praise,
And for its Glory, Garlands have of Bays.

An Apology for Writing so much upon this Book.

Condemn me not, I make so much ado
About this Book, it is my Child, you know;
Just like a Bird, when her Young are in Nest,
Goes in, and out, and hops, and takes no Rest;
But when their Young are Fledg'd, their Heads out peep,
Lord! what a Chirping does the Old one keep:
So I, for Fear, my Strengthless Child should fall
Against a Door, or Stool, aloud I call,
Bid have a Care of such a Dangerous place:
Thus Write I much, to hinder all Disgrace.


I. Part I.

Nature calls a Council, which is Motion, Figure, Matter, and Life, to advise about making the World.

When Nature first the World's Foundation laid.
She call'd a Council how it might be made;
Motion was first, which had a subtile Wit,
And then came Life, and Form, and Matter fit.
Nature began: My friends, if we agree,
We can and may do a fine Work, said she,
And make some things which us may Worship give,
Whereas now we but to our selves do Live.
Besides, it is my Nature things to make,
To give out Work, but you Directions take;
Wherefore, if you will pleasure have therein,
You'l breed the Fates in Huswifry to Spin,
And make strong Destiny to take the pains,
Lest she should Idle grow, to link some Chains;
Inconstancy and Fortune turn a Wheel,
Since both are wanton, cannot stand, but reel;


And as for Moisture, let it VVater give,
Which Heat suck up, to make things grow and live,
And let sharp Cold stay things that run about,
And Drought stop holes, to keep the water out;
Vacuum and Darkness they will Domineer,
If Motion's power make no Light appear;
VVherefore produce a Light, the World to see
My only Child from all Eternity,
Beauty my Love, my Joy, and Dear delight,
Else Darkness rude will cover her with spight.
Alas, said Motion, all the pains I take
VVill do no good, a Brain must Matter make,
And Figure draw a Circle round and small,
VVhere in the midst must stand a Glassy Ball,
VVithout Convex, but inwardly Concave,
And in its middle a round small Hole must have,
That Species may thorow pass, and Life
May view all things as through a Prospective.
Alas, said Life, what ever we do make,
Death, my great Enemy, will from us take,
And who can hinder his so mighty Power?
He with his Cruelty will all devour,
And Time his Agent bring all to decay,
Thus neither Death, nor Time will you Obey;
He cares for none of your Commands, nor will
Obey your Laws, but doth, what he likes still;
He knows his Power farr exceedeth Ours,
For whatsoe're we make he soon devours;
Let me advise you, ne're to take such pains
A World to make, since Death hath all the gains.
Figure's Opinion did agree with Life,
For Death, said she, will fill the VVorld with strife;


VVhat Form soever I do turn into,
Death finds me out, that Form he doth undo.
Then Motion spake, None hath such Cause, as I,
For to complain; for Death makes Motion Dye.
'Tis best to let alone this work, I think,
Says Matter, Death corrupts and makes me stink.
Says Nature, I am of another mind,
If we let Death alone, we soon shall find,
He warrs will make, and raise a mighty power,
If we divert him not, may us devour;
He is ambitious, will in triumph stand,
Envy my works he will, my state Command;
And Fates, though they upon great Life attend,
Yet fear they Death, and dare him not offend;
Though two be true, and Spin as Life them bids,
The third is false, and doth cut short the threads.
Let us agree, for fear we should do worse,
And make some work for to imploy his force.
Then all rose up, We do submit, said they,
And Nature's will in every thing Obey.
First, Matter, she Materials in did bring,
And Motion cut and carv'd out everything;
And Figure she did draw the forms and plots,
And Life divided all out into Lots;
And Nature she survey'd, directed all,
And with four Elements built the World's Ball:
The solid Earth, she as the Ground-work laid,
The Waters round about as Walls were made,
VVhere every drop lay close, as Stone or Brick,
VVhose moisture like to Mortar made them stick.
Air as the Seeling, did keep close each thing,
Lest some Materials out of place might spring,


And pressed down the Seas, lest they should rise,
And overflow the Earth, and drown the Skies:
For as a Roof is laid upon a Wall,
To keep it Steddy, that no side may fall,
So Nature in that place Air wisely staid,
And Fire like Tile or Slate the highest laid,
To keep out Rain or Wet, else it would rot,
And would the VVorld corrupt, if Fire were not.
The Planets like as Weather-fans turn round,
The Sun a Dial in the midst is found,
Where he doth Time within strict bounds confine,
And measures all, though round, by even Line.
But when the Earth was made, and Seed was sown,
Plants on the Earth, and Minerals were grown,
Then Creatures made, which Motion did give Sense,
Yet Reason none to have Intelligence.
But Nature found, when she to make Man came,
It was more difficult, than Worlds to frame;
For she did strive to make him long to last,
And so into Eternity him cast,
VVho in no other place could be kept long,
But in Eternity that Castle strong;
There, she was sure that Death would be kept out,
Although he is a VVarriour strong and stout.
Man she would make, but not like other kind,
Though not in Body, like a God in Mind.
Then she did call her Council once again,
Told them, the greatest work did yet remain:
For how can we Create our selves? said she,
Yet Man we must make like our selves to be,
Or else he never can escape Death's snare;
To make this Work, requires both skill and care;


Wherefore I'l mix his Mind, as I think fit,
With Knowledge, Understanding, and with Wit;
And, Motion, you your Servants must imploy,
Which Passions are, to wait still in the Eye,
To dress, and cloath this Mind in Fashions new,
Which none knows better how to do than you,
That though his Body Dye, the Mind may Live;
And a Free-will we must unto it give;
But, Matter, you from Figure form must take,
And Man from other Creatures different make,
For he shall upright go, the rest shall not;
And, Motion, you in him must tye a Knot
Of several Motions, there to meet in one,
Thus Man like to himself shall be alone.
You, Life, command the Fates a thread to Spin,
From which small thread the Body shall begin,
And while the thread doth last, not cut in twain,
The Body shall in Motion still remain;
But when the thread is broke, he down shall fall,
And for a time no Motion have at all:
But yet the Mind shall Live and never Dye,
Wee'l raise the Body too for Company;
Thus like our selves, we may make things to Live
Eternally, but no Past times can give.

Death's endeavour to hinder and obstruct Nature.

VVhen Death did hear what Nature did intend,
To hinder her, he all his Force did bend;
But finding all his Forces were too weak,
He always strives the Thread of Life to break,


And seeks to fill the Mind with black despair,
Lets it not rest in peace, nor free from care;
And since he cannot make it Dye, he will
Send Grief and Sorrow to torment it still:
With grievous pains the Body he displeases,
And binds it hard with Chains of strong Diseases.
His Servants, Sloth and Sleep, he doth imploy,
To get half of the time before they Dye:
But Sleep, a friend to Life, oft disobeys
His Masters will, and softly down her lays
Upon her weary Limbs, like Birds in Nest,
And gently locks her Senses up in rest.

A VVorld made by Atomes.

Small Atomes of themselves a World may make,
For being subtile, every Shape they take;
And as they dance about, they places find,
Of Forms, that best agree, make every Kind.
For when we Build an House of Brick or Stone,
VVe lay them even, every one by one,
And when we find a Gap that's big, or small,
VVe seek out Stones to fit that place withall;
For when as they too big, or little be,
They fall away, and cannot stay, 'we see;
So Atomes, as they dance, find places fit,
And there remaining close and fast will knit.
Those, which not fit, the rest, that rove about,
Do never leave, untill they thrust them out;
Thus by their Forms and Motions they will be,
Like work-men, which amongst themselves agree;
And so by chance may a new World create,
Or else predestinate may work by Fate.


Of the four Principal sorts of Atomes.

Atomes by Sympathy are fixed so,
As past some Principles they do not go,
Which Principles, if you in every kind
Of all their works do count, you few will find;
For when they do dissolve new Forms to make,
They still to their first Principles do take:
All Creatures howsoe're they may be nam'd,
Are of Long, square, flat, or sharp Atomes fram'd.

Of the Sympathy of these four Principal Figur'd Atomes.

In every Figure is such Sympathy,
As it makes every sort together fly;
As for example, Earth, Air, Water, Fire,
Which make each Element to be intire;
Not, but Loose Atomes stray like Sheep about,
And go to several places in and out,
And some, as Sheep and Goats do joyn together,
And when they mix, 'tis several change of weather;
But Motion as their Shepheard drives them so,
As not to let them out of Order go.

Long, Round, Sharp, and Flat.

The four Principal Figur'd Atomes make the four Elements.

The Square flat Atomes as dull Earth appear,
The Atomes round do make the Water clear;


The Long streight Atomes like as Arrows fly,
Mount next the Sharp, and make the Airy Skie;
The Sharpest Atomes into Fire do turn,
And by their peircing quality do burn:
That Figure makes them Active, active Light,
VVhich makes them get above the rest in flight;
And by this Figure they stick fast, and draw
Up other Atomes which are Round and Raw.
But Water is round drops, though ne're so small,
VVhich shews its Figure to be Sphærical;
That Figure makes it Spungy, spungy Wet,
And being hollow, softness doth beget,
And being soft, it makes it run about;
More solid Atomes thrust it in or out;
But sharper Atomes force it cannot shun,
For Cold doth nip it, and Heat makes it run.
Flat Atomes, they are heavy, dull, and slow,
And sinking downwards to the bottom go:
These Figur'd Atomes are not Active, Light,
Whereas the Long are like the Sharp in flight;
For as the Sharp do pierce, and get on high,
So do the Long shoot streight and evenly.
The Round are next the Flat, the Long next Round,
Those which are Sharp are still the highest found;
The Flat turn all to Earth, and lye most low,
The Round to Water clear, and Liquid flow;
The Long to Air, from whence the Clouds do grow,
The Sharp to Fire do turn, which hot doth glow.
Thus these four Figures th'Elements do make,
And as their Figures do incline, they take,
For they are perfect in themselves alone,
Not taking any Shape, but what's their own;


And whatsoever Form is elsewhere found,
Must take from Long, or Square, or Sharp, or Round:
For those that are like to Triangles cut,
Part of three Figures in one Form is put;
And those that bow, and bend like to a Bow,
Like to the Round and joyned Atomes shew;
In those that Branch'd, or those which Crooked be,
You may the Long and both sharp Figures see.
Thus several Figures several Tempers make,
But what is Mixt doth of the Four partake.

Of Aiery Atomes.

Long Atomes, which the streaming Air do make,
Are Hollow, Air from them doth softness take;
This makes that Air and Water near agree,
Because in Hollowness alike they be.
We Aiery Atomes to a Pipe compare,
And Watery Atomes round like Cymbals are;
Although the one is Long, and th'other Round,
Yet in the midst a Hollowness is found;
This makes us think that VVater turns to Air,
And Air runs often into VVater fair;
And like two Twins they are mistaken oft,
Because their Hollowness makes both them soft.

Of Air.

The reason, why Air is so equal spread,
Is Atomes long, at each end ballanced:
For being Long, their ends alike withall,
Make th'Air as VVeights into just Measures fall;
And let it move, joyn to what Form it will,
Yet lies in every Line that Figure still:


For Atomes long, their Forms as thread are spun,
And like a Cobweb interwoven run;
And thus Air being thin, so subtile grows,
That into every empty place it goes.

Of Earth.

VVhy's Earth not apt to move, but slow and dull?
Flat Atomes have no Vacuum, but are full;
That Form admits no empty place to bide,
All parts are fill'd, having no hollow side ;
And where no Vacuum is, there's Motion slow,
Having no empty places for to go.
Though Atomes all are small, as small may be,
Yet by their Forms doth Motion disagree:
For Atomes sharp do make themselves a Way,
Cutting through other Atomes as they stray;
But Atomes flat will dull and lazy lye,
Having no Edge nor Point a way to try.

As Round and Long Atomes have.

The numbers of Sharp Atomes do peirce and make way through greater numbers of other Atomes, as for example a Spark of Fire will kindle and burn up a House.

The weight of Atomes.

Though Atomes are as small, as small can be,
Yet they in Bulk of Matter all agree;
And if this Bulk be right, each Atome must
Be needs of such a Weight that's like and just:
Thus Quantity, Weight, Quality, do all
Together meet in every Atome small.


The Bigness of Atomes.

I mean by Atomes small, as small can be,
They do in Quantity, Weight, Quality agree,
Not in their outward Figure: for some may
Shew Bigger, and some others Less than they;
Take Water fluid and Ice, and you will see,
They do in Weight but not in Bulk agree.
So Atomes some are soft, others more knit,
According as each Atome's Figure's fit;
Atomes whose Form is Hollow, Long, and Round,
Bend more than Flat, or Sharp, wch close are bound,
And being Hollow, they are spread more thin
Than other Atomes, which are close within;
And Atomes which are thin, are softer much,
When Atomes close are of an harder touch.

Of Loose Atomes.

In every Brain there do Loose Atomes lye,
Those which are sharp, from them do Fancies fly;
Long Aiery Atomes nimble are and free,
But Round and Square ones dull and sleepy be.

Change is made by several Figur'd Atomes, and Motion.

If all the Atomes of one Matter be,
As Fire, Air, VVater, Earth, and these agree,
Then must their several Figures make all Change
By Motion's help, which orders, as they range.


Of Sharp Atomes.

Motion the Sharpest Atomes doth mount high,
And like to Arrows swift doth make them fly,
And being Sharp and Swift, so deep they fall,
As they pass through all those they meet withall;
By their swift Motion to bright Fire they turn,
And being Sharp, they peirce, which we call Burn.

Of Atomes that make Flame.

Those Atomes wch are Long, sharp at each end,

These Atomes are half Aiery Atomes, and half Fiery.

Stream forth like Air, in Flame, wch Light doth send;
For Flame doth shew as if it fluid were,
Which shews part of that Figure is like Air:
Thus Flame is joyn'd, two Figures into one;
But Fire without a Flame is Sharp alone.

Of Fire and Flame.

Although we at a distance stand, if great
A Fire there be, the Body through 'twill heat,
Yet those Sharp Atomes we do not perceive,
How they fly out, nor how they to us cleave;
Neither do flame, nor shine, they clear and bright,
When they fly out, and on our Bodies light;
The reason is, they loose and scatter'd fly,
And not in Troups, nor do they on heaps lye.
Like small dust rais'd, and scatter'd all about,
We see it not, nor doth it Light keep out;
But gather'd up thick to a Mountain high,
We then see, they in solid Earth do lye:


Just so do Atomes sharp look clear and bright,
When heaped up, or in a streaming flight.

Of Fire in the Flint.

The reason, Fire doth lye in Flint unseen,
Is, other Figur'd Atomes stick between:
For being bound, and over-power'd by
A Multitude, they do in Prison lye;
Unless Motion do come, and set them out,
With a strong power, and then they fly about.
But if that Flint be beat to Powder small,
The Grossest to divide, releas'd are all;
And when they once are out, they ne're come back,
But seek about another Form to make.

VVhat Atomes make Fire Burn, and what Flame.

VVhat makes a Spark of Fire to burn more quick
Than a great Flame? because 'tis small to stick;
For Fire it self is in its nature dry,
Falls into parts, as crowds of Atomes lye.
The Sharpest Atomes keep the Body hot,
To give out Heat some Atomes forth are shot.
Sometimes the Sparks for anger fly about,
Or want of room do thrust the VVeakest out,
They are so Sharp, that what they meet devour,
If other Atomes them not over-power:
As Ants, though small, will eat up a dead Horse,
So Atomes sharp use Bodies of less force;


And being Sharp, grow sharper by degrees,
As Stings in Flies are not so sharp as Bees;
And when they meet a Body, solid, flat,
The Weakest fly, the Sharpest work on that.
Those that are not so Sharp do fly about,
And seek to eat some lighter matter out,
Thus lighter Atomes Air do turn to Flame,
Because more Thin and Porous is the same;
And being light and weak fast hold to take,
Hotter a Burning Coal than Flame do make.
The Sharpest into Firmest Bodies fly,
But if their Strength be small, they quickly Dye:
Or if their Number be not great, but small,
The Blunter Atomes beat and quench out all.

This is, when some Atomes over-power others by their Numbers, for they cannot change their Forms.

Of a Spark of Fire.

A Spark of Fire, 'tis like a Mouse doth eat
Into a Cheese, although both hard and great:
For Sparks of Fire, although they be but small,
Yet where those Points take hold, they peirce through all.

The Sharp Atomes are like the Teeth of Mice.

Of a Burning Coal.

The cause, a Coal doth set an House on Fire,
Is, Atomes sharp are in that Coal entire,
Which being arm'd with Points quite thorow go,
And those flat Atomes with their Forms undo;
And Atomes sharp, whose Form is made for flight,
If Loose, do run to help the rest in fight:


Like unto Souldiers, which are of one side,
Seeing their Friends ingag'd, to rescue Ride;
But Atomes flat, where Motion is but slow,
They cannot Fight, but strait to Ashes go.

No: the Form of the Atomes, but the Form of what they Settle on.

Stragling loose Atomes, which we perceive not, do run to those which are united in the Coal.

Of Ashes.

Burnt wood is like unto an Armies rout ,
Their Forms undone, lye scatter'd all about;
When Atomes sharp unbind the Flat, then all
Those Loose flat Atomes we do Ashes call .

Wood is made most of flat Atomes.

For several Forms are according to the Composure of Atomes, which Forms are undone still by the Strongest party.

The Power of Fire.

Like as a Bee or Wasp hurts with her sting,
So Fire hath strength and power on every thing;
For all it meets, it doth fast to it stick,
Bee't ne're so close, hard, solid, strong and thick,
All things it doth dissolve, or bow, or break,
Keeping its strength by making others weak.

Of Burning, why it causes Pain.

The reason, why Fire burns, and burning smarts,
Is, that it hath so many little parts,
Which parts are Atomes sharp, and wound more fierce,
If they so far into our Skins do peirce;
And, like a Porcupine, do shoot about
Their fiery Quils, if nothing quench them out.
Their Figure makes their Motion nimble & quick,
And being Sharp, they do like Needles prick;


If they do peirce too deep , our Flesh will ake,
If they but touch the Skin , we pleasure take;
That kind of Pain we do a Burning call.
These Atomes numerous are, and very small,
And make from Needles points a different touch,
Which Points are gross, and numbers not so much,
And cannot lye so close, nor spread so thin,
All at one time to enter through our Skin.

When it Burns.

When it Warms.

The Increasing, and Decreasing of Visible Fire.

Fire being kindled, first appears but small,
But growing strong, it wasts and burns up all;
Just like a Crow, that on a dead Horse lights,
When other Crows perceive it in their flights,
They strait invite themselves unto that Feast,
And so from one to Numbers are increast:
So Atomes sharp which singly fly about,
Joyn with the rest to eat the Fuel out;
And as the Fuel doth increase, so they,
And as it wasts, so they do fly away.

When there is no Substance left for Sharp Atomes to work upon, they disperse, for they seek to undo the Composure of all other Atomes.

Fire compared to Stings.

Nothing is so like Fire as a Flies sting,
If we compare th'Effect, which both do bring:
For Flies, when they do sting, no blood they draw,
But Blisters raise, and make the Flesh all raw;
Were there as many Stings, as points in Fire,
They would consume each Body, that's entire;


Thus we find Flies do carry every where
Fire in their Tails, yet do their Breech not fear.

Flame compared to the Tide of the Sea.

Like as the Tide, so Flame doth ebb and flow:
For it will sink, and then strait higher grow;
And if supprest, it in a Rage breaks out,
Spreading it self in several parts about.
Some think Salt is the cause the Sea doth move;
If so, then Salt in Flame the like may prove;
And if it be that Salt all Motions makes,
Then Life, the chief, from Salt its Motion takes.

Of Quenching out Fire.

It is not Atomes round their Number great,
That put out Fire, quenching both light and heat,
But being Wet, they loosen and unbind
Those sharp dry Atomes, which together joyn'd;
For when they are dispers'd, their power is small,
Nor give they Light nor Heat, if single all.
Besides, these Atomes sharp will smother'd be,
Having no Vent, nor yet Vacuity:
For Fire if in a place it doth lye close,
Having no vent, but stop'd, strait out it goes.
There is no better Argument to prove
A Vacuum, than to see how Fire doth move;
For if Fire should not have the Liberty
To run about, how quickly would it Dye?

Round Atomes are Water, Sharp are Fire.


The Quenching out, and Smothering of Heat and Light, doth not change the Propriety nor Shape of sharp Atomes.

'Tis not, that Atomes sharp have altered
Their Form, when Fire's put out, but Motion's fled ,
Which being gone, sharp Atomes cannot prick,
Having no force in any thing to stick:
For as the Sun, if Motion mov'd it not,
Would neither Shine, nor be to us so Hot;
Just so, when Creatures dye, their Form's not gone ,
But Motion which gave Life, away is flown:
For Animal Spirits, which we Life do call,
Are only of the sharpest Atomes small.
Thus Life is Atomes sharp, which we call Fire,
When those are stopt or quench'd, Life doth expire.

By Fled is meant, Motion ceases.

Their Form doth not dissolve just at their Death.

Life is such kind of Motion, as sharp Atomes.

That is, when they are separated, or their Motion stopt. NB. Although every Figure hath proper Motions belonging to their Shape, yet they do not Move always alike, for they have one kind of Motion singly, and another kind when they are united, but when they are mixt with other Figures, their Motion is according to their several mixtures.

The reason Water quenches Fire.

The reason, Fire by Water is quench'd out,
Is, that Round Atomes do put to a rout
The Sharp; for when a House on Fire is set,
Then Atomes sharp are in great Armies met,
Where they themselves range into ranks and files,
And strive always to havock and make spoils,
Running about as nimble as may be,
From side to side, as in great Fires we see;


But Atomes round, lest Sharp should more increase,
Do like a rescue come , and make them cease;
For being separate they have no force;
Like to a Troop or Regiment of Horse,
Which, when great Canon-bullets are shot through,
They disunite, and quite their strength undo;
So Water that is thrown on flaming Fire,
Doth separate and make that strength expire.

That is, separate the sharp Atomes.

When Water is thrown on Fire.

Of the Sound of Water, Air, and Flame.

VVhen Crowds of Atomes meet, not joyned close,
By Motion quick they give each other blows ;
When they do strike, do make the greatest Sound;
Not that there's any thing that moves therein,
To make Rebounds, but that their Form's more thin ;
For being thin, they larger are and wide,
Which makes them apt to strike each others side.
In larger Bulks encounters are more fierce,
When they do strike, though not so quick to peirce:
This is the reason, Water, Air, and Flame,
Do make most noise when Motions move the same;
For Atomes loose are like to People rude,
And make great Noise, when in a Multitude.

The encounters of Bodies make all Sound.

Long and Round Atomes are more Thin, than Flat, or Sharp, by reason they are more Hollow, and their Hollowness makes their Bulk bigger, though not their Weight heavier.


The Agility of Water.

VVater is apt to move, since round like Balls,
Not points it hath, but trundles as it falls;
This makes the Sea, when like to Mountains high
The Waves do rise, it cannot steddy lye,
But falls again into a Liquid plain,
When Winds disturb it not, there to remain:
Thus watery Balls they are not intermixt,
But stick so close, as nothing is betwixt.

That is, the Drops, which joyn close and even.

The reason of the Roaring of the Sea.

All waters Sphærical, when Tides do flow,
Beat all those Sphærical drops as they go;
So Winds do strike those Watery drops together,
Which we at Sea do call Tempestuous weather;
And being Sphærical and Cymbal like,
They make a Sound when each 'gainst other strike.

What is Liquid.

All that doth Flow, we cannot Liquid name,
Or else would Fire and Water be the same;
But that is Liquid which is moist and wet;
Fire that propriety can never get:
Then 'tis not Cold that doth the Fire put out,
But 'tis the Wet, that makes it dye, no doubt.

Of Fire and Moisture.

If Hay be not quite dry, but stack'd up wet,
That Moisture will in time a Fire beget;


This gives a proof that Fire from Moisture grows,
But we have none, that from Fire Moisture flows;
Besides it shews Fire in it self is free,
No other Element in it can be:
For Fire is pure, and still doth keep the same;
Where oyly Moisture's not, no Fire can flame.

Air begot by Heat and Moisture.

When Heat & Moisture joyn with equal merit,
They get a Body thin of Air or Spirit,
Which is a Smoak or Steam begot from both;
If Mother Moisture rule, 'tis full of sloth;
But if the Father Fire predominates,
Then it is active, quick, and Elevates:
This Aiery Child is sometimes good, or bad,
According to the Nourishment it had.

The Temper of the Earth.

The Earth, we find, is very cold and dry,
And must therefore have Fire and VVater nigh,
To wash and bathe, then dry her self without,
Else she would useless be without all doubt.

VVhat Atomes make Vegetables, Minerals, and Animals.

The Branched Atomes form each planted thing,
The hooked points pull out & make them spring,
Sharp Atomes do give heat, the Round give juice,
And these do Flowers, Herbs, and Fruits produce.
Those that are Square and Flat, not rough withall,
Make those which Stone and Minerals we call;


But in all Stones and Minerals (no doubt)
Sharp points do lye, which Fiery sparks strike out.
Thus Vegetables and Minerals do grow,
According as the several Atomes go.
In Animals all Figures do agree,
But in Mankind the best of Atomes be.
And thus for ought we know, the World's whole frame
May last unto Eternity the same.

What Atomes make Life.

The pointed Atomes they to Life do tend,
Whether all pointed or but at one end,
Or whether they be set round like a Ring,
Or whether long, and roul'd as on a String;
Those which are pointed, streight, quick Motion give,
But those that bow and bend, more dull do Live;
Wherefore according as sharp Atomes be,
You will Life either dull or merry see:
And thus the only Cause why things do Dye
Or Live, is as the mixed Atomes lye.

What Atomes make Death.

Life is like as a Fire, that burns full hot,
But when round, wat'ry Atomes power have got
On it, then do they quench Life's Atomes out,
Blunting their Points, and kill their Courage stout.
Thus they sometimes thrust out each other quite,
When equal mixt, do quietly unite;
The only cause why things do live and dye,
'S according as the mixed Atomes lye.


What Atomes cause Sickness.

When sick the Body is, and well by fits,
Atomes do fight, but none the better gets;
If they agree, then Health returns again,
And lasts as long as they in Peace remain.

What Atomes make a Dropsie.

When Atomes round do joyn into one Ball,
Then they swell high and grow Hydropical;
And joyning thus, they do so powerfull grow,
As they all other Atomes overflow.

What Atomes make a Consumption.

Sharp Atomes when they meet, do get such Heat,
Power, and Strength, as they all others beat;
And being hot, become so very dry,
Drink up Life's Moisture and make Motion dye.

What Atomes make the Wind-colick.

Long Aiery Atomes when they are combin'd,
Do spread themselves abroad and cause a Wind,
Making a length and breadth that extends so,
As all the rest can neither stir nor go;
Which since they cannot in their places lye,
As press'd too hard, Man in great pain doth Dye.

What Atomes make a Palsie, or Apoplexie.

VVhen dull flat Atomes do together joyn,
And with each other in a heap combine,
This Body thick doth stop all passage so,
Keeps Motion out, and makes the Body grow


Numb'd; for sharp Atomes in which heat doth live,
Being close and smother'd up no heat can give;
But if these Atomes flat meet in the Brain,
The Spirits are choak'd, and can no heat obtain.

In all other Diseases Atomes are mixed, taking Parts and Factions.

In all other Diseases they are mix'd,
And not in one united Body fix'd,
But do in Factions part, and when they rise,
Striving to beat each other out, Man dyes.

All things are Govern'd by Atomes.

Thus Life and Death, and Young and Old,
Are, as the several Atomes hold;
Wit, Understanding in the Brain,
Are, as the several Atomes reign;
And Disposition good, or ill,
Are as the several Atomes still;
And every Passion which doth rise,
Is, as each sort of Atomes lies:
Thus Sickness, Health, and Peace and Warr,
Are, as the several Atomes are.

A Warr betwixt Atomes.

Some Factious Atomes 'mongst themselves combine,
And strive some formed Body to disjoyn;
Round Atomes do beat out the Sharp; the long
With flat Atomes do Fight; thus all go wrong.
Those which make Motion General in their Warr,
By his Directions much stronger are.


Atomes and Motion fall out.

When Motion and all Atomes disagree,
Thunder i'th' Air, and Sickness in Men be;
Earth-quakes & Winds, which make disorder great,
Are, when as Motion doth all Atomes beat;
And they great Noise in this confusion make,
For Motion lets them not their places take:
Like frighted Flocks that do together keep,
Which Motion worries, as a Woolf doth Sheep.

An agreement of some Kind of Motion with some Kind of Atomes.

Some Motion with some Atomes doth agree,
Fitting them to their place, just as may be,
Where they by Motion's help so strong do grow,
As it shall hardly them again undo:
Motion's Inconstancy oft gives such power
To Atomes, as they may it self devour.

Motion directs while Atomes Dance.

Atomes will in just Measures dance, and joyn
All one by one in a round Circle line,
Run in and out, as we do dance the Hay,
Crossing about, yet keep just time and way,
Whilst Motion doth direct; and thus they dance,
And meet all by consent, not by meer chance:
This Consort's Health, which Life depends upon,
But when 'tis out, 'tis Death; So Dancing's done.


The difference of Atomes and Motion in Youth and Age.

In all young Creatures Motion swiftly goes,
But moving long 'tis tyr'd, and stiffer grows;
For Atomes are in Youth more nimble and strong
Than in old Age, when apter to go wrong.
Thus Youth by false notes, and wrong steps doth dye,
In Age, Atomes and Motion weary lye.
The ease of Motion's change, for soon it will
Grow tyr'd if in one Figure it goes still.

Motion makes Atomes a Bawd for Figure.

Motion makes Atomes by his subtile Skill,
His Bawds, to get new forms him to his will;
For they would still, as they themselves had plac't,
Be in one Figure, and so for ever last:
But Motion, he perswades new Forms to make,
Because he doth in Change great pleasure take;
And makes all Atomes run from place to place,
That Figures young he might have to imbrace.
For some short time he loves to make a stay,
But after he is tyr'd, hee'l run away;
And by his Change most Figures are undone,
For Young take place of th'Old when they are gone;
Yet 'tis but like a Batch of Bread, which still
Is of the same Flower and Seed. Thus will
Inconstant Motion a new Figure bake,
Only that he may have a new hot Cake.


Motion is according to the Figure.

A Figure Sphærical hath Motion round,
In streight ones is a darting Motion found;
As several Figures in small Atomes be,
So several Motions are, if we could see;
When to the making of new Forms they go,
Then Motion alters as the Figures do;
In Bodies great, and of much weightiness,
Is Motion slow, and all his weight grows less:
Out of a Shuttle-cock a Feather pull,
And flying strike it, as when it was full,
The Motion of it alters, which seems strange,
When th'Motion of the hand doth no ways change.
Motion and Matter can new Figures find,
And the Substantial Figures turn and wind;
Thus several Figures several Motions take,
And several Motions several Figures make;
But Figure, Matter, Motion, all is one,
Can ne're be separate nor be alone.

Of the Subtilty of Motion.

Could we the several Motions of Life know,
The subtile windings, and the ways they go,
We should of unknown things dispute no more,
How they be done, but the great God adore.
But we with Ignorance about do run,
To know the Ends, and how they first begun,
Spending that Life which God in us did raise
To Worship him, and in his Works to praise,
With fruitless, vain, impossible pursutes,
In Schools, Lectures, and Quarrelling disputes;


We never give Him thanks that did us make,
But proud, as petty Gods, our selves do take.

Motion is the Life of all things.

As Darkness a privation is of Light,
That's when the Optick Nerve is stopt from sight;
So Death is even a Cessation in
Those Forms and Bodies, wherein Motions spin;
As Light which cannot shine but in the Eye,
So Life doth only in a Motion lye:
Thus Life is out, when Motion leaves to be,
Like as an Eye that's shut, no Light can see.

Of the Motion of the Sea.

If, as we see, the Sea doth run about
The Earth, it leaves a space where first came out
The Tide, for Water, if't as much as Land
In Compass had, it would not stirr but stand;
Wch shews, that though the Water doth go round,
Yet is there still more Land than Water found.
But say, the Air, that's moveable without,
And thin, doth give it leave to run about;
Or as a VVheel doth make the VVater go,
So Air may cause the Sea to move and flow:
But, truly, if Air had not room to move,
It could not any other Body shove;
Besides, what drives, its strength must needs extend
Above what's driven, or else 'twere to no end;
If so, then Infinites of Strengths must lye
In Motion's power, to move Eternally.
But say, all things run in a Circle line,
And every part doth to another joyn,


They can out of their places where they are,
Not stir, unless some places be left bare:
For stop a VVheel's Circumference without,
Its Center too, it cannot turn about;
If Breadth and Depth were full, leaving no space,
Nothing could stir nor move out of its place.

Of the Ebbing and Flowing of the Sea.

The Sea which always constant Ebbs and Flows,
Is like the Hammer of a Clock that goes;
For as it, coming to the Notch, doth strike,
So VVater where 'tis empty doth the like:
For VVater when it Flows, is cast out still,
And when it Ebbs, runs back, that place to fill.

Of Vacuum.

Some think the World would fall, and not hang so,
If it had any empty place to go.
One cannot think that Vacuum is so vast,
That the great VVorld should in that Gulf be cast;
But Vacuum is like to a porous Skin,
Where Vapour doth go out, and Air comes in;
And since that Vapour fills those places small,
VVe cannot think but they were empty all:
For were they all fill'd up, they could not make
Room, for succeeding Atomes place to take.
Wherefore if Atomes pass and repass through,
They needs must empty places have to go.

Atomes do so.


Vacuum in Atomes.

If all the Atomes, long, sharp, flat and round,
Be only of one sort of Matter found,
The hollow Atomes must all empty be,
For there is nought to fill Vacuity;
And being several Bodies, though but small,
Betwixt those Bodies there is nought at all:
For as they Range about from place to place,
Between their Bodies there is left a space,
Else joyning close, and without space betwixt,
They'd seem as one great Lump together mixt;
Nor could they move into each other's room,
Unless there were some where a Vacuum:
For though like Time their Matter's Infinite,
Yet they must fix, if they all do unite.
And were all Matter fluid, as some say,
It could not move, having no empty way;
Like VVater that is stopt close in a Glass,
It cannot stirr, having no way to pass:
Nor could the Fishes swim in VVater thin,
Were Vacuum not to crowd these VVaters in;
For as they crowd, those Waters driv'n up high,
Must to some places rise that empty lye:
For though the Water's thin, wherein they move,
Yet none could stir, if Water did not shove.

Of Contracting and Dilating, whereby Vacuum must needs follow.

Contracting and Dilating of each part,
These are the chiefest works of Motion's Art;


But Motion can't Dilate, nor yet Contract
A Body, which is close, firm, and compact,
Unless at first an empty place be found,
Wherein to spread those compact Bodies round;
Neither can Matter fluid contract so close,
But by Contracting it some place must lose.

What Atomes the Sun is made of.

The Sun is of the sharpest Atomes made,
Close knit together, and exactly laid;
Its Fabrick is just like a Wheel made round,
And in the midst of all the Planets found;
Which Planets as they move about the Sun,
Their Motion makes the loose sharp Atomes run.

Of the Rays of the Sun.

The Rays are not so hot as is the Sun,
Because they do more loose and scatter'd run:
For when within a Glass those Beams unite,
They peirce, & sharp through every thing do bite ;
But being separate, they weaker grow,
And then like Cowards several ways do go.

Concaves draw to a Centre.

Of the Beams of the Sun.

Those Splendent Beams wch forth the Sun doth spread,
Are loose sharp Atomes ranged long like thread;
If streaming they on porous Bodies fall,
They peirce into, which touch we Heat do call.


The cause of the Breaking of the Sun-beams.

If porous Atomes by the Sharp are found,
They're born away on points, as Prisoners bound;
But as they mount, Atomes of their own Kind,
If chance to meet, strait help them to unbind:
For porous Atomes being soft and wet,
When numbers meet, do close together get,
And being glut, they joyn together, all
By one consent do pull, and backward fall;
If they be Round, in showring drops they joyn,
And so return, as Beads strung on a Line;
But if their Figures different be from those,
Then like a thick and foggy Mist it shows.

Whether the Sun doth set the Air on a Light, as some Opinions hold.

Some do the Sun just like a Candle make,
From which, they say, Air all its Light doth take,
Not by Reflection, but by Kindling all
That part, which we our Hemisphere do call;
If so, the Air whereon his Light is cast,
Would ne're go out, unless that Air did waste,
Or else the Sun Extinguishers did throw
Upon the Air, to cause Light out to go:
But sure the Sun's Reflection gives the Light ,
For when he's gone, to us it is Dark night.
And why? the Sun is Atomes sharp intire,
Which wedg'd in round do make a Wheel of Fire;


About this Wheel continually do flow
Sharp streaming Atomes, which like Flame do show,
And in this Flame the Earth it self doth see,
As in a Glass, as clear as e're may be;
But when the Earth doth turn aside its face,
It is not seen, but Darkness doth take place;
Or when the Moon doth come betwixt that Light,
Then is the Earth shut up as in Dark night.

No Atomes shine but sharp Atomes.

It seems like a Burning Coal.

Long Atomes, Sharp at each end.

That part of the Earth is dark which is from the Sun.

That part of the Earth which the Moon hides.

Of the Motion of the Sun.

Sometimes we find it Hot, and sometimes Cold,
Although the Sun equal degrees doth hold;
And in a Winters day more Heat is found,
Than Summer, when the Sun should parch the ground;
Wherefore if Heat doth make him gallop fast,
'T must ever equal be or stay his haste;
If so, then Seas which send up Vapour, may
His fiery Courage cool in the mid-way;
Besides, the middle Region which is Cold,
And full of Ice, will of his strength take hold:
Then 'tis not Heat that makes him run so fast,
But this fast running Heat on Earth doth cast;
And Earth sends Vapours cold to quench and break
His fiery strength, which makes his Beams so weak.

Of the Sun's Weakness.

The Sun doth not to the Earth's Centre go,
He cannot shoot his Beams so deep and low;
For a thick Wall will make his Arrows weak,
So that his Heat must needs against it break;


And Earth hath Arms so thick, to keep out all
His fiery Darts, which He on Her lets fall.

What Atomes make the Sun and the Sea go round.

The pointed Atomes all to Fire do turn,
And being Sharp, do peirce, which we call burn;
But by their Driness they become so light,
As they do get above the rest in Flight,
Where by consent a Wheel of Fire they make,
Which being Sphærical doth round Motion take,
This Motion makes round Atomes turn about,
Which Atomes round are VVater without doubt,
And makes the Sea go like a Water-mill;
For as the Sun, so Water turns round still.

The Traffick betwixt the Sun and the Earth.

'Tis thought an unctuous Matter from the Sun
Doth stream in Beams, wch Earth doth feed upon,
And that the Earth by them, when they ascend,
Unto the Sun a Nourishment doth send,
And so each Beam the Sun doth make a Chain,
Which brings down Food, and draws Food back again;
Or we may well those Beams to Ships compare,
Where each is Laden with the Richest ware,
For it is fraught with Heat, through Air it Sails,
And brings this Heat to th'Earth, which never fails
By Trafficks Laws equal returns to make,
And sends instead of Heat moist Vapour back:
But those Gilt Ships such Fates do often find,
They sink with too much Weight, or split with Wind.

When the Sun draws up more Moisture, than it can digest, it turns to Rain or Wind.


The Sun is Nurse to all the Earth bears.

Although the Earth to all gives Form and Feature,
Yet is the Sun the Nurse to every Creature;
For none could Live, unless the Sun give Heat,
Which is to them as Nourishing as Meat:
Just like a Child that's got and born of Man,
It must be Fed, or 'twill soon Dye agen.

Of the Attraction of the Sun.

When all those Atomes which in Rays do spread,
Are ranged long like to a slender thread,
They do not scatter'd fly, but joyn in length,
And being joyn'd, though small, add to their strength;
The further forth they stream, the more they waste
Their strength, though to the Sun they're tied fast:
For all those Rays, which Motion down doth send,
Sharp Atomes are, which from the Sun descend;
And as they flow in several Streams and Rays,
They stick their Points in all that stop their ways:
Like Needle points, whereon doth something stick,
No way they make, having no force to prick,
And being stopt, they straight ways back do run,
Drawing those Bodies with them to the Sun.

I mean all Rays in general, of all sorts of Atomes which move.

The Sun's Rays.

Although loose sharp Atomes have points to prick, yet they cannot peirce so forcibly, being loose and scatter'd, as when united.

Of the Attraction of the Earth.

Why Earth draws like the Sun, if you intend
To know the cause, Earth doth sharp Atomes send


From its Circumference, like Bees they rise,
When from a Swarm, dispers'd apart each flies;
Often with duller Forms they meet, and then
Having stuck in their Points go back agen:
For like a Bee that's Loaden on each thigh,
Hath a great weight, and cannot nimbly fly;
So when their Points are Loaden, then they grow
Heavy, can peirce no more, but backward go;
And, as their Hives, to Earth return again;
Thus by their Travel they the Earth maintain.

Of the Attraction of the Poles, and of Frost.

The North and South do with the Sun agree,
For in them all contracting Motions be;
The Sun as he with scorching Heat doth burn,
So Cold is sharp, where North and South-pole turn:
For Atomes there are like to Pincers small,
By which they do attract and pull withall,
When Motion from the Poles shoots them about,
Mixing with porous Bodies when they're out;
And with those Pincers they do nip so close
Those Bodies, as they can no ways get loose,
Unless some Sharp and Fiery Atomes get
Betwixt those Pincers small, and so do set
Those Bodies free, just like an Awl that bores,
Or like a Pick-lock which doth open Doors;
For when they're open'd by those fiery Awls,
They let them loose, which Man a Thaw strait calls,
If not, they pinch those Bodies close together,
And then we say 'tis Cold and Frosty weather.


Of Vapour.

Loose and sharp Atomes which do rove about,
To porous Atomes stick, and draw them out
From the more close, for they do highest lie;
Thus Vapour's drawn towards the Region high:
But since they of an equal weight are all,
For want of strength they cause them back to fall.

Which are fiery Atomes.

The fiery Atomes.

Of Dews and Mists coming from the Earth.

Some Atomes sharp thrust from the Earth some round,
And then a Pearled dew lies on the ground;
But if on their sharp Points they bear them high,
They being rais'd a Mist make in the Skie.
On the Circumference of th'Earth there lies
A number of loose Atomes, apt to rise,
Though not so high, as them the Sun may burn,
For being dull, they back to Earth return:
As water which is shov'd with force of strength,
Is not so apt to move as run at length.

Wind is made in the Air, not in the Earth.

How can we think Winds come from th'Earth below,
When from the Sky they down upon us blow?
If they came from the Earth, they must ascend,
And back again their strength against it bend;
They cannot freely blow, lest Earth were made
Like to a Bowling-green, and Level laid;


But there are Rocks, and Hills, and Mountains great,
Which stop their ways and make them soon retreat:
Then sure it is, the Sun draws Vapour out,
And makes it thin, then blows it all about;
By Heat condens'd it turneth into Rain,
And by Its Weight falls to the Earth again.

Of Cold Winds.

As water Rarified doth make Winds blow,
So winds when Rarified do Colder grow;
For if they much be Rarified, than they
Do further Blow, and spread out every way;
So Cold they are as they like Needles prick;
Through thinness they do break, and cannot stick,
But into Atomes fall, whose Figures be
Sharp, and peirce porous Bodies, as we see.
Yet some will think, if Air were parted so,
The winds could not have such strong force to blow:
True, Atomes could not peirce, if they were found
To be all Dull, Flat, Heavy, Blunt or Round;
But by Dividing they so Sharp do grow,
Shat through all porous Bodies they do go;
But when the Winds are soft, they intermix
As Water doth, and in one Body fix;
They rather wave than blow, as Fans are spread,
Which Ladies use to cool their Cheeks when red:
Or like as Water drops, that disunite,
Feel harder, than when mixt they on us light,
Unless such Streams upon our heads do run,
As we a shelter seek, the VVet to shun;
But when a Drop congealed is with Cold,
As Hail-stones are, then it more strength doth hold;


For Flakes of Snow may have more quantity
Than Hail-stones, yet they've no such force thereby;
They fall so Soft that they scarce strike our touch,
Hail-stones we feel and know their weight too much.
But Figures that are Flat are dull and slow,
Make weak Impressions wheresoe're they go;
For let ten times the quantity of Steel
Be beaten small, no hurt by that you I feel;
But if that one will take a Needle small,
Whose point is sharp, and prick the Flesh withall,
Strait it shall hurt, and put the Flesh to pain,
Which greater strength doth not of what is plain;
For though you press it hard against the Skin,
'T may heavy feel, but cannot enter in:
And so the VVind that's thin and rarifi'd
May press us down, but never peirce the side.
Or take a Blade that's Flat, though strong and great,
And with great strength upon ones Head it beat,
You'l break the Skul, but not knock out his Brains;
Which Arrows sharp soon do, and with less pains.
Thus what is small, is subt'ler and more quick;
For all small Points in porous Bodies stick.
VVinds broken small to Atomes, when they blow,
Are Colder much than when they streaming flow:
For all that's joyned and united close,
Is stronger much, and gives the harder Blows.
This shews what's closest in it self to be,
Although an Atome in its small degree;
Take Quantity for Quantity alike,
And Union more than Mixture hard shall strike.


Thunder is a VVind in the Middle Region.

VVho knows, but Thunders are great Winds, which lie
Within the middle Vault above the Skie?
Which Winds the Sun by Moisture cold begot,
When he was in his Region Cancer hot.
This Child is thin and subtile, made by heat,
Its Voice is strong, and makes a Noise that's great;
Its thinness makes it Agile, agile Strong,
And by its force doth drive the Clouds along,
And when the Clouds do meet, they each do strike,
Flashing out Fire, as Flints do, or the like.
Thus in the Summer Thunder's caus'd by wind,
For Vapour drawn up high, no way can find
To pass; In Winter time, when Clouds are loose,
Then doth the VVind on Earth keep Rendezvous.

The Wind.

Of Stars.

VVe find that i'th' East-Indies Stars there be,
Which we in our Horizon ne're did see,
Yet we do take great pains in Glasses clear,
To see what Stars do in the Skie appear;
But yet the more we search, the less we know,
Because we find our Work doth endless grow:
For who knows but those Stars we see by Night,
Are Suns, which to some other Worlds give Light?
But could our outward Senses pace the Skie,
As our Imaginations thither fly,
If we were there, we might as little know,
As those which stay, and never up do go.


Then let no Man in fruitless pains Life spend,
The most we know is, Nature Death will send.

Of the Centre of the World.

In Infinite no Centre can be laid ,
But if the World has Limits, Centre's made:
For all that with Circumference is fac'd,
A Centre in the midst must needs have plac'd;
This makes each Form that's limited and bound
To have a Centre and Circumference round,
And is the cause the World goes like a Bowl,
Because it doth about its Centre rowl;
The Centre's small, the Compass big without,
Which by the VVeight doth make it turn about.

Unless there be Infinite Worlds, then there may be Infinite Centres, but not a Centre in Infinite.

All sharp Atomes do run to the Centre, and those that settle not, by reason of the straightness of the place, fly out to the Circumference. Sharp Atomes running to the Centre make the Sun.

All Atomes sharp to every Centre fly,
And in the midst of th'Earth and Planets lye,
And in those Planets there are Centres too,
Where the sharp Atomes with quick Motion go,
And to the Centre of the Earth they run,
There gathering close, and so become a Sun.
This is the Ax whereon the Earth turns round,
And gives the Heat, which in the Earth is found,


A world of Fire; Thus may we guess the Sun,
If all sharp Atomes to the Centre run:
For why, the Sun amongst the Planets round,
Just as a Centre in the midst is found;
And fixed Stars, which give a twinkling Light,
Are Centre worlds of Fire, which do shine bright.

Some Opinions hold that there is a Sun in the Centre of the Earth.

A Fire is in the Centre of the Earth.

As Heat about the Heart always keeps nigh,
So doth a Fire near the Earth's Centre lye;
And as that Heat is through the Body round
Dispersed, but when gone, no Life is found;
So this Heat makes all things to bud and bear,
Although the Sun's hot Beams do ne're come there;
Yet doth the Sun nourish all things without,
Though Fire within the Earth gives Life no doubt:
Thus Heat within begets with Child the Earth,
And Heat without is Midwife to her Birth.

In the Centre Atomes never separate.

Just in the Centre is a point that's small,
Those Atomes that are there, are wedg'd in all,
They lye so close, and do so firmly bind,
As them no Form nor Motion can unwind;
For they are wreath'd so hard about that point,
As they become a Circle without joynt .

Without partition or separation, for it is but one.

If Infinite Worlds, there must be Infinite Centres.

If Infinites of VVorlds, they must be plac'd
At such a distance, as between lies waste;


If they were joyned close, Moving about,
By justling they would push each other out;
And if they Swim in Air, as Fishes do
In VVater, they would meet as they did go.
But if the Air doth every VVorld inclose
And compass all about, as VVater flows,
It keeps them equal in their proper seat,
That as they Move shall not each other beat:
Or if like VVheels which turn by VVater round,
So Air about these Worlds is running found,
Then by that Motion they do turn about,
No further, than that Motion's strength runs out;
Like to a Bowl, which will not further go,
But runs according as that strength did throw.
And thus like Bowls the Worlds do turn and run,
But still the Jack and Centre is the Sun .

Beat against each other.

They are stinted according to the several Strengths of their Motion.

Which is as the Jack and Mark of them all.

Of Infinite Matter.

If Matter be no more, than we do see
This World, I pray, what must beyond it be?
For sure this World is limited and bound,
And like a Ball is made in Compass round;
But Matter, out of which the World is made,
If Infinite, then more Worlds may be said;
Nay, Infinites of Worlds there may be found,
If Infinite of Matter has no bound.

A World made by four Kinds of Atomes.

Sharp Atomes make Fire subtile, quick, and dry,
The Long like shafts still into Air do fly,


The Round do turn to Water, which is wet,
The Square to Earth, a Figure firmly set;
Sharp Atomes, they hard Minerals do make,
Soft Vegetables of round Atomes take;
In Animals none singly lie alone,
But all four sorts do meet and joyn as one:
And thus these four the Substance are of all,
And with their Figures make a worldly Ball.

Thus the fancy of my Atomes is, that the four Principal Figures, as Sharp, Long, Round and Square, make the four Elements; not that they are of several Matters, but all of one Matter, only their several Figures do give them several Proprieties; so likewise do the mixt Figures give them mixt Proprieties, and their several Composures give them other Proprieties, according to their Forms they put themselves into by their several Motions. This I do repeat, that the Ground of my Opinion may be understood.


The several Elements are all of one Matter.

Of the Elements.

Some hold four perfect Elements there be,
Which do surmount each other by degree;
And some Opinions think that One is all,
The rest from that and to that One do fall;
And that this Element it self doth turn
To several qualities, as Fire to burn,
Then Water moist to quench that heat, and then
To subtile Air, and so to Earth agen:


Like fluid Water, which when turn'd with Frost
To Snow or Ice, its outward form has lost,
But when as Heat doth melt that Icy chain,
Then into Water it doth turn again;
Or like as Vapour thick, which doth ascend
From th'Earth, and to thin Air it self doth spend,
Or else it self condenseth into Rain,
And by its weight falls to the Earth again;
So what is very Thin, doth Subtile grow,
Turns into Fire and a bright Flame doth show;
But what is Dull, Heavy, and Slow to move,
Of a Cold quality doth often prove.
Thus by Contracting and Dilating parts,
Is all the Skil of Nature's working Arts.

The Joyning of several Figur'd Atomes make other Figures.

When several Figur'd Atomes, well agreeing,
Do joyn, they give an other Figure being;
For as those Figures joyn in several ways,
So they the Fabrick of each Creature raise.

What Atomes make Change.

'Tis several Figur'd Atomes that make Change,
When several Bodies meet, as they do range;
For if they Sympathize, and do agree,
They joyn togeth'r and as one Body be;
But if they meet, like to a Rabble rout,
Without all Order running in and out,
Then Disproportionable things they make,
Because they did not their right places take.


What Atomes make Heat and Cold.

Such kind of Atomes as make Heat make Cold,
Like Pincers sharp that nip and do take hold;
For sharply pointed Atomes thorow go,
And Atomes which are Sharp and Hookt pull to;
Yet all must into pointed Figures turn;
For Atomes blunt will never freeze nor burn,
Because to a soft Form blunt Figures bend,
And soft doth unto Wet or Liquid tend.

All things last or dissolve according to the Composure of Atomes.

Atomes , which loosely joyn, do not remain
So long, as those, which closeness do maintain;
Those make all things i'th' VVorld to ebb and flow,
According as the moving Atomes go;
Others in Bodies they do joyn so close,
As in long time they never stir nor loose;
And some will joyn so close, and knit so fast,
As if unstirr'd they would for ever last.
Loose Atomes in small Vegetables lye,
Which is the reason, they so quickly Dye;
In Animals much closer they are laid,
Which is the cause, their Life is longer staid.
Some Vegetables and Animals do joyn
In equal strength, if Atomes so combine;
But Animals, where Atomes close lye in,
Are stronger, than some Vegetables thin;
And Vegetables, wherein Atomes fast
Do stick, as in strong Trees, they longer last.


In Minerals they so together cleave,
As they not any space for Motion leave,
Being pointed all the closer they do lye,
Which makes them not like Vegetables dye.
Those Bodies which loose Atomes most move in,
Are Soft and Porous and many times thin,
And those soft Bodies never do Live long,
Why so? loose Atomes never can be strong;
For Motion's power tosseth them about,
And from their places keeps; so Life goes out.

Of Light.

Some think no Light would be without the Eye;
'Tis true, a Light our Brain could not descry:
But if the Eye makes Light, it may be said
As well, that burning Fire by touch is made.

Of Light and Sight.

Some Learned men, which think to reason well,
Say Light and Colour in the Brain do dwell;
That Motion in the Brain all Light doth give,
And if no Brain the World in dark would Live;
But be it, that the Brain hath Eyes to see,
Then Eyes and Brain would make the Light to be;
If so, poor Donn was out, when he did say,
If all the World were Blind, 'twould still be Day:
Say they, then there no Light i'th' Air would reign,
Unless you'l grant, the World were one great Brain.
Some Age in some Opinions doth agree,
The next doth strive to make them false to be;
For what is New doth all so pleasing sound,
That reasons Old are as meer Non-sense found:


But all Opinions are by Fancy fed,
And truth lies under those Opinions Dead.

Of the Sound and Eccho.

Eccho seems nothing, yet a while it Lives,
And like a wanton Ladmock-answers gives,
Not like the Souls, that from the Bodies go,
For Eccho's Body is of Air, we know;
But strange it is, that Sounds so strong and clear,
Resisting Bodies have, and not appear;
Yet Air, which Subtile is, encounter may;
Thus Words as Sounds may with Self-Eccho play.
But they grow weary soon, hold not out long,
Seem out of Breath, and faulter with the Tongue.

What makes Eccho.

That Motion, which doth from the Mouth proceed,
Runs through the Air and doth an Eccho breed;
As several Letters in one Word do joyn,
So several Figures through the Air combine.
The Air is Wax, Words Seal and give the Print,
And so an Eccho in the Air do mint;
And while those Figures last, they Life maintain,
When Motion wears them out, is Eccho slain:
As Sugar in the Mouth doth melt with taste,
So Eccho in the Air it self doth waste.

VVhat makes Eccho rebound.

When two hard Bodies 'gainst each other move,
And cause Rebounds, they must resisting prove;
For yielding Bodies which do bow or break,
Can ne're Rebound, nor like an Eccho speak:


Wherefore each Word i'th' Air is like a Ball,
And every Letter like a Ball doth fall;
Words are condensed Air, which heard, do grow
As Water, which by Cold doth turn to Snow;
And like as Snow, when press'd, hard Balls doth make,
So Words as Balls their course do backwards take.

Of Shadow and Eccho.

Pale Shadow once in Love fell with bright Light,
Which makes Her still walk always in His sight,
And when He's absent, then, poor Soul, she Dies,
But when He shews himself, Her Life revives.
She Sister is to Eccho loud and clear,
Whose Voice is heard, no Body doth appear;
She hates to see or shew Her self to men,
Unless Narcissus could revive agen:
But these two Souls (for they no Bodies have)
Do wander in the Air to seek a Grave;
Silence would Bury one, the other Night,
But was denied by Repercussion's spight;
And both are subject to the Eye and Ear;
For one we see, and th'other we do hear.

The Objects of every Sense are according to their Motions in the Brain.

We should those Men think Mad, which us should tell
That they did see a Sound, or taste a Smell:
Yet reason proves a Man doth not err much,
When as he says his Senses all are Touch.
If Actions in a Picture lively told,
The Brain strait thinks the Eye doth them behold;


When hungry Folks their Noses meat do smell,
Their Brains do think that smell the Tongue tasts well;
If we a Thief do see, and do him fear,
We strait do think, breaking of Doors we hear.
Imaginations just like Motions make,
That every Sense is struck with a mistake.

According as the Motions of the Heart or Brain are, such Passions are produced.

The Eights in Musick, when they equal are,
If one be struck, the other seems to jarr:
So the Heart-strings, if equally all stretch'd,
Like those of Musick, Love from thence is fetch'd;
For when one's struck, the other moves just so,
And with delight as Evenly doth go.

The Motion of Thoughts.

Musing one time alone, mine Eyes were fixt
Upon the Ground, my Sight with Gravel mixt;
My Feet did walk without Direction's guide,
My Thoughts did travel far, and wander wide;
At last they chanc'd up on a Hill to climb,
And being there, saw things that were Divine.
First when they saw, a Glorious Light did blaze,
Whose Splendour pain'd their Sight upon't to gaze,
No Shadows it, nor Separations made,
No Darkness did obstruct this Light with shade;
This Light had no Dimension, nor no bound,
No Limits, but it fill'd all places round;
Always in Motion 'twas, yet fixt did prove,
Like to the twinkling Stars which never move;


This Motion working, running several ways,
Seem'd as if Contradictions it would raise;
For with it Self it seem'd not to agree,
Like to a Skein of Thread if't Knoted be;
For some did go strait in an even Line,
But some again did Cross, and some did Twine;
Yet at the last all several Motions run
Into the first prime Motion, which begun.
In various Forms and Shapes did Life run through,
Which was Eternal, but the Shapes were new;
And these not sooner made, but pass'd away,
Yet while they were, they did desire to stay:
But Motion, which is Life, can never be
Constant to one, but loves Variety.
And as first Motion every thing can make,
But cannot add unto it Self nor take;
So it could not another Matter frame,
It self was all, and in it self the same.
Perceiving now this fixed point of Light,
I spied a Union, Knowledge, Power and Might,
Wisdome, Truth, Justice, Providence all One,
No attribute was by it self alone;
Not like as several Lines drawn to one point,
For what doth meet, may be again Disjoynt;
But this same point, from whence all Lines did flow,
Nothing can Diminish nor make it Grow;
'Tis its own Centre and Circumference round,
Yet neither has a limit nor a bound,
But fix'd Eternally, and so will last,
All present is, nothing to come, nor past.
A fix't Perfection, nothing can add more,
All things is It, and doth It self adore.


My thoughts then wond'ring at what they did see,
Found at the last themselves the same to be,
Yet were so small a Branch, as they could not
Know whence they sprung, nor how they were begot.
Some say, all what we know of Heav'n above,
Is, we shall have a perfect Joy and Love;
But who can tell that? for what we do call
Below here Joy and Love, these Passions all
May by excess such other Passions grow,
None in the VVorld is capable to know;
Just like our Bodies, although they shall rise,
And, as Saint Paul says, see God with our Eyes,
Yet may we in the Change such difference find,
Both in our Bodies and also in Mind,
As if we never had been of Mankind,
And that those Eyes we see with now, were blind.
Say, we can measure all the Planets high,
And number every Star that's in the Skie,
And we can Circle all the VVorld about,
And can find all th'Effects of Nature out:
Yet all the Wise and Learned cannot tell,
What's done in Heav'n, or how we there shall dwell.

The reason why the Thoughts are only in the Head.

Each Sinew is a small and slender string,
Which to the Body all the Senses bring,
And they like Pipes or Gutters hollow be,
Where Animal Spirits run continually;
Though small, yet they such Matter do contain,
As in the Skul doth lye, which we call Brain;


That makes, if any one doth strike the heel,
The thought of that Sense in the Brain doth feel;
It is not Sympathy, but all one thing,
Which causes us to think, and pain doth bring;
For had the Heel such quantity of Brain,
As doth the Head and Skul therein contain,
Then would such Thoughts, wch in the Brain dwell high,
Descend into our Heels, and there would lye.
In Sinews small Brain scatter'd lies about,
It wants both Room and Quantity no doubt;
For if a Sinew so much Brain could hold,
Or had so large a Skin it to Infold,
As hath the Skul, then might the Toe or Knee,
Had they an Optick Nerve, both hear and see;
Had Sinews room Fancy therein to breed,
Copies of Verses might from th'Heel proceed.

Of the Motion of the Blood.

Some by their Industry and Learning found,
That all the Blood like to the Sea runs round;
From two great Arteries it doth begin,
Runs through all Veins, and so comes back again.
The Muscles like the Tides do ebb and flow,
According as the several Spirits go;
The Sinews as small Pipes come from the Head,
And they are all about the Body spread,
Through which the Animal Spirits are convey'd
To every Member, as the Pipes are laid;
And from those Sinews pipes each Sense doth take
Of those pure Spirits, as they us do make.


Of many Worlds in this World.

Just like as in a Nest of Boxes round,
Degrees of Sizes in each Box are found;
So in this World may many others be,
Thinner and less, and less still by degree;
Although they are not subject to our Sense,
A World may be no bigger than Two-pence.
Nature is curious, and such works may shape,
Which our dull Senses easily escape:
For Creatures, small as Atomes may be there,
If every one a Creature's Figure bear.
If four Atomes a World can make, then see,
What several Worlds might in an Ear-ring be:
For millions of those Atomes may be in
The head of one small, little, single Pin.
And if thus small, then Ladies may well wear
A World of Worlds as Pendents in each Ear.

A World in an Ear-ring.

An Ear-ring may well a Zodiack be,
Wherein a Sun goes round, which we not see,
And Planets seven about that Sun may move,
And he stand still, as Learned men would prove;
And fixed Stars, like twinkling Diamonds plac'd
About this Ear-ring, which a World is vast;
That same which doth the Ear-ring hold, the hole,
Is that, we call the North and Southern-pole;
There nipping Frosts may be, and Winters cold,
Yet never on the Ladies Ear take hold;
And Lightning, Thunder, and great VVinds may blow
Within this Ear-ring, yet the Ear not know;


Fish there may swim in Seas, which ebb and flow,
And Islands be wherein do Spices grow;
There Crystal Rocks hang dangling at each Ear,
And Golden Mines as Jewels may they wear;
Earth-quakes may be, which Mountains vast down fling,
And yet ne're stir the Ladies Ear nor Ring;
Meddows may be, and Pastures fresh and green,
And Cattel feed, and yet be never seen;
And Gardens fine, and Birds, which sweetly sing,
Although we hear them not, in an Ear-ring:
There may be Night and Day, and Heat and Cold,
As also Life and Death, and Young and Old;
And Youth may spring, and several Ages dye,
Great Plagues may be, and no Infection nigh;
Great Cities there may be, and Houses built,
Whose inside Gay and finely may be Gilt;
Churches may they've, wherein Priests teach and sing,
And Steeples too, yet hear the Bells not Ring;
From thence may pious Tears to Heav'n up run,
And yet the Ear not know, which way they're gone:
Markets may be, where things are bought and sold,
Though th'Ear not knows the price their Markets hold.
There Governours may rule, and Kings may reign,
And Battels may be fought, and many slain,
And all within the Compass of this Ring,
Whence they no Tidings to the Wearer bring.
Within this Ring wise Counsellours may fit,
And yet the Ear not one wise word may get;
There may be Dancing all Night at a Ball,
And yet the Ear be not Disturb'd at all:
Rivals may Duels fight, where some are slain,
And Lovers mourn, yet hear them not complain;


And Death may dig a Lover's Grave, Thus were
A Lover dead in a fair Ladies Ear;
But when the Ring is broke the World is done,
Then Lovers are into Elysium gone.

It is hard to believe that there may be other Worlds in this World.

Nothing doth seem so hard to Nature's Eyes,
As to believe Impossibilities;
Not that they're not, but that they do not clear
Unto our Reason, and to Sense appear:
For Reason cannot find them out, since they
Seem wrought beyond all Nature's course and way;
But many things our Senses do escape;
For they're too Gross to know each Form and Shape;
As that another World in this may be,
Which we do neither touch, nor hear, nor see,
Nor taste, nor smell; What Eye's so clear, that saw
Those little Hooks, that in the Load-stone draw
Hard Iron? or what Brain can reason, why
The Needle's point still in the North will lye?
As for example, Atomes in the Air
We ne're perceive, although the Light be fair:
For whatsoever can a Body claim,
Though ne're so small, Life may be in the same;
And what hath Life may Understanding have,
Though 't be to us as Buried in a Grave.
Then probably may Men and Women small
Live in the World, which we not know at all;
May Build them Houses to dwell in, and make
Orchards and Gardens where they pleasure take;


Have Birds which sing, and Cattel in the field,
And plowed Grounds, which them small Corn may yield;
They may have Common-wealths, and Kings to reign,
Make Warrs and Battels, where are many slain;
And all without our Hearing, or our Sight,
Or any of our other Senses light;
And other Stars, and Suns, and Moons may be,
Which our dull Eyes shall never come to see.
But we are apt to Laugh at Tales so told;
For our gross Senses Reason back do hold:
Yet things which are 'gainst Nature, we think true,
That Spirits change, and can take Bodies new;
That Life may be, yet in no Body live,
For which no Sense nor Reason we can give;
And Incorporeal Spirits Fancy feigns,
Yet Fancy cannot be without some Brains;
And if it without Substance cannot be,
Then Souls are more than Reason well can see.

Several Worlds in several Circles.

There may be many VVorlds like Circles round,
And many more in After-ages found;
If we by Art of Shipping could into
Each Circle slip, we might perhaps it know.
This VVorld compar'd to some may be but small,
No doubt, for Nature made degrees of all;
If not, Drake ne're had made so quick a skip
About the largest Circle with his Ship:
But some may be so Big, as none can swim,
Had they the Life of Old Methusalem;
Or had they Lives to number with each day,
They would want Time to compass half the way:


But if that Drake had liv'd in Venus's Star,
His Journey might have shorter been by far.

The Clasp.

When I did write this Book, I took great pains;
For I did walk, and think, and break my Brains;
My thoughts run out of breath, then down did lye,
And panted with short Wind, like those that Dye;
When time had given them but some ease and strength,
Then up they'ld get and run another length;
Sometimes I kept them to a stricter Diet,
And made them Fast with ease, and rest, and quiet,
That they might run again with swifter speed,
And by this course new Fancies they did breed:
But I do fear they're not so Good to please;
Yet now they're out, my Brain is more at ease.

The Circle of the Brain cannot be Squared.

A Circle round divided in four parts
Hath been great Study 'mongst the Men of Arts;
Since Archimed's or Euclid's time, each Brain
Hath on a Line been stretch'd, yet all in vain;
And every Thought hath been a Figure set,
Doubts Cyphers were, Hopes as Triangles met;
There was Division and Substraction made,
And Lines drawn out, and Points exactly laid,
But none hath yet by Demonstration found
The way, by which to Square a Circle round:
For while the Brain is round, no Square will be,
While Thoughts divide, no Figures will agree.
And others did upon the same account,
Doubling the Cube to a great number mount;


But some the Triangles did cut so small,
Till into equal Atomes they did fall:
For such is Man's curiosity and mind,
To seek for that, which hardest is to find.

The Circle of Honesty Squared.

VVithin the Head of Man's a Circle round
Of Honesty, in which no end is found;
Some think it fit this Circle should be squar'd,
Though to make Honesty take sides is hard;
Yet try, do Fortitude and Prudence take,
Justice and Temperance, four Lines they make;
If Temperance do prove too short a Line,
Then do the Figure of Discretion joyn,
Which Wisdome's point draw up, and you will find
Them make an even Line, when well Combin'd;
'Twixt Fortitude and Prudence Truth must point
Justice's Line towards that Corner-joynt
Of Fortitude, which Line do make agree
With Prudence, Temperance must also be
Of equal length with Justice, both must stand
'Twixt Fortitude and Prudence on each hand.
At every Corner must a Point be laid,
Where Lines do meet, that Angles may be made,
And when those Points too high or low do fall,
Then must the Lines be stretch'd to make them all
Even; And thus the Circle round, you'l find,
Is Squar'd with the four Virtues of the Mind.


The Arithmetick of Passions.

VVith Numeration Moralists begin
Upon the Passions, putting Quotients in;
Numbers divide with Figures, and Substract,
And in their Definitions are exact;
As for Substracting, take but one from three,
Add it to four, and it makes five to be:
Thus the odd Numbers to the even joyn'd,
Will make the Passions rise within the Mind.


II. Part II.


A Dialogue between two Supernatural Opinions Concerning Fame.

1 Opin.
Who know's, but that man's Soul with Fame is pleas'd,
When from the Bodie's prison it is eas'd?
If we alow the Soul shall live, not die,
Although the Body in the grave doth lie,
And that some Knowledge still it doth retain,
Why may not then some love of Fame remain?

2 Opin.
There doth no vanity in Souls then dwell
When separate, they goe to Heaven or Hell.

1 Opin.
Fame's Virtues Ofspring, or else ought to be,
What comes not from Her, is an Infamy.

2 Opin.
Souls of the World remember nought at all,
Things that are past into oblivion fall.

1 Opin.
Why may not Souls, as well as Angels, know,
And hear and see, what's done i'th' world below?

2 Opin.
Souls neither have ambition nor desire,
When once in heav'n, nor after Fame inquire.

1 Opin.
Who can tell that? since Heav'n doth love good deeds,
And Fame of Piety from Grace proceeds.

Another Dialogue of Fame between two Natural Opinions.

1 Opin.
Fame to desire, is a most noble thought,
Wch Nature in the best of minds hath wrought.

2 Opin.
Alas when men do dye, all Motion's gone,
If Motion none, all thought of Fame is done.


1 Opin.
What if the Motion of the Body dye?
The Motion of the Mind may live on high,
And in the airy Elements may lye,
There though we know it not, about may flye.
And thus by Nature may the Mind aspire
Its Fame to hear, its Pyramid desire,
Or grieve and mourn when she doth see and know
Her acts and Fame do to oblivon go.

A Simple Natural Opinion of the Mind.

Nature a Talent gives to every one,
As Heav'n gives Grace to work Salvation,
The Talent Nature gives, 's a Noble Mind,
Where Actions good a Current Coyn you find,
On which each Virtue stamps its Image so,
That all the world each several piece may know;
If man be lazie, let this Talent lye,
Seek no occasion to improve it by,
Who knows, but Nature's punishment may be,
To make his Mind to grieve eternally?
That, when his Spirit's fled, and Body rot,
He know himself of friends and world forgot.
But when he hath us'd all his Industry,
Yet cannot get a Fame to live thereby,
Then may his Mind rest fully satisfy'd,
That he hath left no means or way's untry'd.

The Purchase of Poets, or a Dialogue betwixt the Poets and Fame, and Homer's Marriage.

A company of Poets strove to buy
Parnassus Hill, upon which Fame doth lye,


And Helicon, a VVell that runs below,
Of which all those that drink strait Poets grow:
But Money they had none, for they're all poor,
And Fancy which is Wit, is all their store.
Thinking which way this purchase they might make,
They all agreed they would some Counsel take;
Knowing that Fame was Owner to the Well,
And that she always on the Hill did dwell,
They did conclude to tell her their desire,
That they might know what price she did require.
Then up the Hill they got, a Jorney long,
Some had nimbler feet and a breath more strong,
Which made them get before by going fast,
But all did meet upon the Hill at last.
And when she heard them all, what they could say,
She ask'd them, where their Money was to pay?
They told her, Money they had none to give,
But they had Wit, by which they all did live;
And though they knew somtimes she bribes would take,
Yet Wit in Honours Court did Greatness make.
Said she, This Hill I'l neither sell nor give,
But they that have most Wit, shall with me live;
Then go you down, and get what friends you can,
That will be bound or plead for every man.
Then every Poet was twixt Hope and Doubt,
And envy strove to put each other out.
Homer the first of Poets did begin,
For him was Greece and Troy bound; then came in
Virgil who brought Æneas, He all Rome;
For Horace all the Countrey-men did come:


For Juv'nal and Catull all Satyrs Joynd,
And in firm bonds they all themselves did bind;
Tibullus Venus and her Son did bring
For him, 'cause wanton verses he did Sing.
Pythagoras his Transmigration brings
For Ovid, sealing's bond with several things.
Lucan brought Pompey, th'Senate all in arms,
And Cæsar's Army with his hot alarms,
Who mustred all i'th' Parthian fields, their Hand
And Seal did freely set to Lucan's band.
Poets which Epitaphes o'th' dead had made,
Their Ghosts did rise, & would fair Fame perswade
To take their bonds, that they might live, though dead,
To after ages, when their names were read.
The Muses nine came at the barr to plead,
But partial were, according as th'were fee'd.
At last all Poets were cast out but three,
Who did dispute, wch should Fame's husband be;
Pythagoras for Ovid thought it meet
To speak, whose numbers Smooth and words were Sweet,
Ladies, said He, are for varieties,
And change as oft as he makes beasts, birds, trees;
As many several shapes and forms they take
Some Goddesses and some do devils make,
Then let fair Fame sweet Ovid's Lady be,
Since change doth please that sex, none's fit but he.
Then spoke Æneas on brave Virgil's side,
Declar'd he was the Glory and the Pride
Of all the Romans, who from him did spring,
And whose high praise he in his Verse did sing;
Then let him speed even for Venus sake,
Let him your Husband be, none other take.


Then wise Ulysses in a Rhet'rick stile
Began his speech, his tongue was smooth as oyl;
He bow'd his head, and thus to Fame did speak:
I Come to plead, although my Wit is weak,
But since my Cause is Just, and Truth my Guide,
The way is plain, I shall not err aside;
Homer his lofty strain to heav'n flyes high,
And brings the Gods down from the airy sky,
And makes them side in factions for mankind,
He's now for Troy, then Greece, as pleas'd his mind;
Then walks he down to the Infernals deep,
And wakes the Furies out of their dead sleep,
With Fancy's Candle seeks about all Hell,
Where every place and corner he knows well,
Opening the Gates where sleepy Dreams do lye,
VValking into th'Elysian Fields hard by;
Tells you how Lovers there their time imploy,
And how pure Souls in one another joy;
As Painters shadows make by mixing Colours,
So do the Souls mix of Platonick Lovers;
Shews how Heriock Spirits there do play,
Th'Olympick Games to pass the time away:
As how they run, leap, wrestle, swim and ride,
VVith many other Exercises beside.
VVhat Poet ever did before him tell
The Gods in Heav'n, and Devils names in Hell?
Their Mansions and their Pleasures he describes,
Their Powers and Autorities divides;
Their Chronologies, elder much than time,
And their Adulteries he puts in Rhime:
Besides, great Fame, thy Court he hath fill'd full
Of brave reports, which as an empty Skul


Else would appear, and not like Heaven's Throne,
Nor like the Firmament with Stars thick strown;
Makes Hell appear with a Majestick face,
Because there are so many in that place:
Fame never could so great a Queen have been,
If VVits Invention had not Arts brought in;
Your Court by Poets Fire is now made light,
Which quench'd, you'ld dwell as in perpetual Night;
It heats men's Spirits, and inflames their Blood,
And makes them seek for Actions great and good:
Then be you just, since you the Ballance hold,
Let not the Leaden weights weigh down the Gold;
It were Injustice, Fame, for you to make
A Servant low his Master's place to take;
Or you should Thieves, that pick the Purse, preferr
Before the Owner, when Condemn'd they were:
His are not Servant-lines, but what he leaves,
Each from him Steals, and so the World deceives;
If so, great Fame, 'twill be a Hainous fact
To worship you, if you from Right detract;
Then let the best of Poets find such Grace,
In your fair Eyes, to chuse him first in place;
Let all the rest come Offer at your shrine,
And shew your Self a Goddess that's Divine.
Then at your word, I'l Homer take, said Fame,
And if he prove not good, be you too blame.
Ulysses bow'd, and Homer kiss'd her Hands,
And they were joyn'd in Matrimonial bands;
And Mercury from all the Gods was sent,
To give her Joy, and wish her much Content.


And all the Poets were Invited round,
All that were Known, or in the World but found;
In measure and in time they Danc'd about,
Each in their turn the Muses nine took out;
In Numbers smooth did run their Nimble Feet,
Whilst Musick plaid, and Songs were sung most sweet:
At last the Bride and Bridegroom went to Bed,
And there did Homer get Fame's Maiden-head.



Because all Poets imitate Homer.

A Dialogue betwixt Man and Nature.

It is most strange,
How we do Change;
First to Live, and then to Dye,
Is the greatest misery.
To give us Sense, for nought but Pains to feel,
To makes our Lives only to be Death's Wheel;
To give us Reason, and yet not to know
What we are made for, or what we must do,
Whether to Atomes turn, or to Heav'n fly,
Or change into new Forms and never Dye;
Or else to the prime Matter fall again,
Thence take new Forms and so always remain:
Nature gives no such Knowledge to Mankind,
But strong Desires, which do torment his Mind;
And Senses, which like Hounds do run about,
Yet never can the perfect Truth find out.
O Nature, Nature, Cruel to Mankind,
Gives Knowledge none, but Misery to find.

Why doth Mankind complain, and make such moan,
May not I work my will with what's my own?
But men amongst themselves Contract, and make
A Bargain for my Tree, that Tree they take,


Which cruelly they chop in pieces small,
And form it as they please, then Build withall:
Although that Tree by me, to stand, was grac'd,
Just as it grows, by none to be Defac'd.

O Nature, Trees are Dull, and have no Sense,
And therefore feel no Pain, nor take Offence.

But Beasts have Life, and Sense, and Passions strong,
Yet cruel Man doth Kill, and doth them VVrong;
To take that Life before the time, which I
Ordain'd for them, 's to me an Injury.

What ill Man doth, Nature did make him do,
And he by Nature is prompt thereunto;
For it was in great Nature's power and will,
To make him as She pleased, good or ill.
Though Beasts have Sense, feel pain, yet whilst they Live
They Reason want, for to dispute, or grieve.
Beasts have no pain but what in Sense doth lye,
Nor troubled thoughts to think how they shall Dye.
Reason doth stretch Man's mind upon the Rack,
With Hopes & Joys pull'd up, with Fear pull'd back;
Desire doth Whip and makes him run amain;
Despair doth Wound, and pulls him back again:
For Nature, thou mad'st Man betwixt extremes,
VVants perfect Knowledge, though thereof he Dreams;
For had he been like to a stock or stone,
Or like a Beast to Live with Sense alone,
Then might he Eat and Drink, and all be well,
Ne're troubled be, neither for Heav'n nor Hell;
Man Knowledge hath enough for to inquire;
Ambition great enough for to aspire;
He hath this Knowledge, that he knows not all,
And of himself his Knowledge is but small,


Which makes him wonder, and think there are mixt
Two several qualities in Nature fixt,
The one like Love, the other like to Hate,
And striving both they do shut out wise Fate;
And then sometimes man thinks as one they be,
Which makes that Contraries so well agree,
That though the VVorld was made by Love and Hate,
Yet all is rul'd and governed by Fate.
These are man's Fears, man's Hopes run smooth and high,
VVho thinks his mind is some great Deity,
For though the body is of low degree,
In Sense like beasts, their Soul's like Gods shall be.

Says Nature, Why doth man complain and cry,
If he believes his Soul shall never Dye?

A Dialogue betwixt the Body and the Mind.

What Bodies els but Man's did Nature make,
To joyn with such a Mind, no rest can take?
That ebbs and flow's with full and falling tide,
As minds dejected fall or swell with Pride;
In waves of passion roul to billows high,
Always in Motion, never quiet lye;
Where thoughts like Fishes swim the Mind about,
And Greater thoughts the Smaller thoughts eat out;
My Bodie's Barque rows in Mind's ocean wide,
VVhich VVaves of Passion beat on every side.
VVhen that dark Cloud of Ignorance hangs low,
And VVinds of vain Opinions strong do blow,
Then showrs of Doubts into the Mind rain down,
And Studies deep my Barque of flesh do drown.

VVhy doth the Body thus Complain, when I
Do help it forth of every misery?


Your barque must in this VVorld swim, for 't has been
By Nature thus rigg'd out, to traffick in;
Against hard rocks you'ld break in peeces small,
If my Invention help'd you not in all.
The Loadstone of Attraction I find out,
The Card of observation guides about,
The Needle of discretion points the way
Which makes that Barque get safe into each Bay.

If I escape Drowning in th'VVat'ry main,
Yet in great mighty battels I am slain;
By your ambition I am forc'd to Fight,
VVhen many VVounds upon my body light;
For you Care not, so you a Fame may have
To live, if I be buried in a grave.

If bodies fight and Kingdom's win, then you
Take all the pleasure that belongs thereto.
Upon that head a glorious Crown you bear,
And on that body you rich Jewels wear,
All things are sought to please your Senses five,
No drugg unpractis'd to keep you alive,
And I to set you up in high degree,
Invent all Engines, us'd in wars to be;
'Tis I that do you make in Triumph great,
Above all other Creatures t'have your seat;
By the Industrious Arts which I do find,
You other Creaturs in Subjection bind;
You eat their Flesh, and then you use their Skin,
VVhen winter comes, to lap your bodies in;
And so in every thing, Nature doth make,
By my direction you great pleasure take.

VVhat though my Senses all do take delight,
Yet you upon my Entrals always bite?


My fleshy eat up, and leave my bones all bare
VVith the sharp teeth of Sorrow, Grief and Care;
You draw my blood from th'Veins with envious spight,
Decay my strength with Shame, or extreme Fright;
Often with Love extremely Sick I lie,
And with a Cruel hate you make me dye.

Care keeps you from all hurt or falling low,
Sorrow and Grief are debts to friends we owe,
Fear makes man Just, to give each one his own,
Shame makes Civility, without there's none;
Hate makes good Laws, that all may live in peace,
Love brings Society, and gets increase;
Besides with Joy I make the Eyes look gay,
VVith pleasing smiles they dart forth every way;
With Mirth the cheeks are Fat, Smooth, Rosie-red,
Speech flows with Wit, when Fancies fill the head.
If I were gone, you'ld miss my Company,
VVish we were Joyn'd again, or you might dye.

A Complaint of VVater, Earth and Air against the Sun, by way of Dialogue.

Moisture to the Earth.
There's none hath such an Enemy, as I,
The Sun doth drink me up, when he is dry,
He Sucks me out of every hole I lye;
Draws me up high, from whence I down do fall,
In showers of rain I'm broke in pieces small,
Where I am forc'd to you for help to call.
You strait your precious Doors set open wide,
And take me in with hast on every side,
Then Joyn my Limbs fast in a Flowing tide.


Earth to Moisture.
Alas, dear Friend, the Sun's my greatest Foe,
Doth blast my tender Buds as they do grow;
He burns my Face, and makes it parch't and dry,
He sucks my Breast, and starves my Young thereby:
Thus I and all my Young for Thirst were slain,
But that with Wet you fill my Breast again.

Air to Earth and Moisture.
The Sun doth use me ill, as all the rest;
For his Hot sultry Beams do me molest;
Melts me into a thin and flowing Flame,
To make him Light, when Men it Day do name;
Corrupts me, makes me full of Plaguy sores,
And Putrefaction on Men's Bodies pours;
Or else with subtile Flame Men's Spirits fills,
Which them almost with Rage or Madness kills;
Draws me into a Length and Breadth, till I
Become so thin, with windy Wings do fly;
He never leaves, till all my Spirits spent,
And then I Dye, and leave no Monument.

The Sun to Earth.
O most unkind, and most ungratefull Earth,
I am thy Midwife, bring thy Young to Birth;
I with my Heat do cause thy Young to grow,
And with my Light I teach them how to go:
My shining Beams are Strings, whereon to hold,
For fear they fall and break their Limbs on Cold;
All to Maturity I bring, and give
Youth, Beauty, Strength, and make Old Age to Live.

The Sun to Water.
Dull Moisture I do Light and Active make,
And from it all Corrupt gross Humours take;
All Superfluities I dry up clean,
That nothing but pure Crystal Water's seen;
The hard-bound Cold I loosen and untye,
When you in Icy Chains a Prisoner lye:


Your Limbs when nipt with Frost and bit with Cold,
Your smooth and glassie Face grows wrinkled, old,
Then I do make you nimble, soft, and fair,
Liquid, and Nourishing, and Debonair.

The Sun to Air.
Air I do purge, and make it clear and bright,
Black clouds dissolve, wch make the day seem night;
The Crude raw Vapours I digest, and strain
The thicker part all into Showers of Rain;
The thinnest part I turn all into Wind,
Which like a Broom sweep out all Dirt, they find;
The clearest part I turn to Azure Sky,
Hang'd all with Stars; Thus next the Gods you lye.

A Dialogue between Earth and Cold.

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;


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.

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.

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.

A Dialogue betwixt Earth and Darkness.

O horrid Darkness, and you powers of Night,
You direful shades made by Obstructed Light,
Why so Cruel? what evil have I done,
To part me from my Husband, the bright Sun?


I do not part you, he me hither sends,
Whilst he Rides round to Visit all his Friends;
Besides, he hath more Wives to Love than you,
He never constant is to one, nor true.

You do him wrong, for though he Journeys makes
For Exercise, yet Care he for me takes,
He leaves his Stars, and's Sister in his place,
To comfort me, whilst he doth run his Race;
But you do come, most wicked Thievish Night,
And Rob me of that fair and silver Light.

The Moon and Stars they are but Shadows thin,
Small Cob-web Lawn they from his Light do spin,
Which they in Scorn do make, you to disgrace,
As a thin Veil to cover your ill Face:
For Moon and Stars have no strong Light to show
A Colour true, nor how you Bud or Grow,
Only some Ghosts do rise, and take delight
To walk about, when as the Moon shines bright.

You are deceiv'd, they cast no such disguise,
But strive to please me, twinkling in the Skies;
The Ghosts my Children are, which being weak
And tender Ey'd, help from the Moon do seek;
For why? her Light is gentle, moist and cold,
Doth ease their Eyes, when they do it behold;
But you with Shadows fright, delude the Sight,
Like Ghosts appear in Gloomy shades of Night,
And you with Clouds do cast upon my back
A mourning Mantle of the deepest Black,
Which covers me with dark Obscurity,
That none of my dear Children I can see,


Their lovely Faces you hide from my sight,
Which shew most Beautifull in the Day-light;
They take Delight each other's Face to see,
And with each other's Form in Love they be,
By which kind Sympathy they bring me store
Of children young, wch when grown up, bring more;
But you are Spightfull to those Lovers kind,
Muffle up their Faces, and their Eyes quite Blind.

Is this my Thanks for all my love and care,
And for that great Respect to you I bear?
I am your faithfull, kind, and constant Lover,
I all your Faults and Imperfections cover,
I take you in my gentle Arms of rest,
With cool fresh Dews I bathe your dry hot Breast;
The Children which you by the Sun did bear,
I lay to Sleep, and make them rest from Care,
In Beds of Silence, where they take no harm,
With blankets soft, though black, I keep them warm;
Then shut them close from the disturbing Light,
And yet you Rail against your Lover, Night.
Besides, if you had Light through all the year,
Though Beauty great, 'twould not so well appear:
For what is common, has not such respect,
Nor such regard; for use doth bring neglect;
Nought is admir'd, but what is seldome seen,
And Black, for Change, delights as well as Green.
Yet I should constant be, if I might stay,
But the bright Sun doth beat me quite away:
For he is Active, and Runs all about,
Ne're dwells with one, but seeks new Lovers out;
He spightfull is to other Lovers, since
He by his Light doth give Intelligence;


I am Love's confident, and shady Bow'r,
Where Lovers meet and whisper many a Hour:
Thus am I faithfull, kind to Lovers true,
And all is for your Sake and Love to you.
I'm Melancholy, yet my Love's as true,
As that great Light's, which is so dear to you;
Then slight me not, nor do my Sute disdain,
But when the Sun is gone, me entertain;
Take me, sweet Love, with Joy into your Bed,
And on your fresh Green breast lay my Black head.


There may be more Earths, for ought we know, and yet but one Sun.

A Dialogue between an Oak, and a Man Cutting it down.

Why cut you off my Bows, which largely bend,
And from the scorching Sun you do defend?
Which did refresh your fainting Limbs from sweat,
And kept you free from Thund'ring Rains and Wet;
When on my Bark your weary Head you'ld lay,
Where quiet Sleep did take all Cares away;
The whilst my Leaves a gentle Noise did make,
And blew cool Winds that you fresh Air might take?
Besides, I did invite the Birds to Sing,
That their sweet Voice might you some pleasure bring,
Where every one did strive to do their best,
Oft chang'd their Notes and strain'd their tender Breast;
In Winter time my Shoulders broad did hold
Off blustering Storms, that wounded with sharp Cold;
And on my Head the Flakes of Snow did fall,
Whilst you under my Bows sat free from all:
And shall thus be requited my good will,
That you will take my Life, and Body kill?


For all my Care and Service I have past,
Must I be Cut and laid on Fire at last?
See how true Love you Cruelly have slain,
And try'd all ways to Torture me with pain;
First you do peel my Bark, and flay my Skin,
Chop off my Limbs, and leave me nak'd and thin,
With wedges you do peirce my Sides to wound,
And with your Hatchet knock me to the ground;
I minc'd shall be in Chips and Pieces small,
And this doth Man reward good Deeds withall.

Why grumble you old Oak, when you have stood
This hundred Years, as King of all the Wood?
Would you for ever Live, and not resign
Your place to one that is of your own Line?
Your Acorns young, when you grow big and tall,
Long for your Crown, and wish to see your fall,
Think every Minute lost, whilst you do Live,
And grumble at each Office you do give;
Ambition doth fly High, and is above
All sorts of Friendship and of Nat'ral Love:
Besides, all Subjects do in Change delight,
When Kings grow Old, their Government they slight,
Although in ease, and peace, and wealth they Live,
Yet all those Happy times for Change they'l give,
Grow discontent, and Factions still do make,
What Good so'ere he doth, as Evil take;
Were he as wise, as ever Nature made,
As pious, good, as ever Heav'n has Sav'd,
Yet when he Dyes, such Joy is in their Face,
As if the Devil had gone from that place;
With shouts of Joy they run a new to Crown,
Although next day they strive to pull him down.


Why, said the Oak, because that they are mad,
Shall I rejoyce, for my own Death be glad?
Because my Subjects all Ingratefull are,
Shall I therefore my Health and Life impair?
Good Kings, who Govern justly at all times,
Examine not Men's Humours but their Crimes;
For when their Crimes appear, 'tis time to strike,
Not to examine Thoughts what they do like;
Though Kings are never Lov'd till they do Dye,
Nor wisht to Live, till in the Grave they lye,
Yet he that Loves himself the less, because
He cannot get every Man's high Applause,
Shall by my Judgement be Condemn'd to wear
The Asses Ears, and Burdens for to bear:
But let me Live the Life that Nature gave,
And not to please my Subjects, Dig my Grave.

But here, poor Oak, you Live in Ignorance,
And never seek your Knowledge to advance,
I'l Cut you down, that Knowledge you may gain,
Shalt be a Ship to traffick on the Main;
There shall you Swim and Cut the Seas in two,
And trample down each Wave as you do go,
Though they do rise, and big are swell'd with pride,
You on their Shoulders broad and Back shall Ride,
And bow their lofty Heads, their Pride to check,
Shall set your steddy Foot upon their Neck;
They on their Breast your stately Ship shall bear,
Till your sharp Keel the wat'ry Womb doth tear:
Thus shall you round the World, new Land to find,
That from the rest is of another Kind.

O! said the Oak, I am contented well,
VVithout that Knowledge in my Wood to dwell;


For I had rather Live, and Simple be,
Than run in Danger, some strange Sight to see;
Perchance my Ship against a Rock may hit,
Then am I strait in sundry pieces Split:
Besides, no rest nor quiet shall I have,
The Winds will toss me on each troubled Wave,
The billows Rough will beat on every side,
My Breast will ake, to swim against the Tide;
And greedy Merchants may me Over-fraight,
Then should I Drowned be with my own weight;
With Sails and Ropes men will my Body tye,
And I a Prisoner have no Liberty,
And being always wet, such Colds shall take,
My Ship may get a Pose, through Holes, and Leak,
Which they to mend, will put me to great pain,
Besides all patch'd and piec'd I shall remain;
I care not for that VVealth, wherein the Pains
And Troubles are far greater than the Gains;
I am contented with what Nature gave,
I'l not repine, but one poor wish I'ld have,
VVhich is, that you my Aged Life would save.

To Build a stately House, I'l cut you down,
Wherein shall Princes Live of great Renown,
There shall you Live with the best Company,
All their Delight and Pastime you shall see;
Where Plays, and Masques, and Beauties bright will shine,
Your wood all Oyl'd with smoak of Meat & Wine;
There shall you hear both Men and VVomen sing,
Far pleasanter than Nightingales i'th' Spring;
Like to a Ball there Echoes shall rebound
Against the VVall, and yet no Voice be found.


Alas, what Musick shall I care to hear,
VVhen on my Shoulders I such Burdens bear?
Both Brick and Tiles upon my Head are laid,
Of this preferment I am sore afraid;
VVith Nails and Hammers they will often wound,
And peirce my Sides to hang their Pictures round;
My Face is Smutch'd with smoak of Candle lights,
In danger to be Burnt in VVinter Nights.
No, let me here a poor Old Oak still grow,
Such vain Delights I matter not to know;
For fruitless Promises I do not care,
More honour 'tis, my own green Leaves to bear;
More honour 'tis, to be in Natures dress,
Than any Shape that Men by Art express:
I am not like to Men would praises have,
And for Opinion make my Self a Slave.

VVhy do you wish to Live, and not to Dye,
Since you no Pleasure have, but Misery?
Here you the Sun with scorching Heat doth burn,
And all your Leaves so Green to Driness turn;
Also with Winters Cold you quake and shake,
And in no Time or Season rest can take.

I'm happier far, said th'Oak, than you Mankind,
For I Content in my Condition find;
Man nothing Loves, but what he cannot get,
And soon doth Surfet of one Dish of Meat,
Dislikes all Company, Displeas'd alone,
Makes Grief himself, if Fortune gives him none;
And as his Mind is restless, never pleas'd,
So is his Body Sick and oft Diseas'd;
His Gouts and Pains do make him sigh and cry,
Yet in the midst of them would Live, not Dye.


Alas, poor Oak, you do not know, nor can
Imagine half the Misery of Man;
All other Creatures only in Sense joyn,
But man has something more which is Divine;
He hath a Mind, and doth to Heav'n aspire,
For Curiosities he doth inquire;
A Wit, that nimble is, and runs about
In every Corner, to seek Nature out;
For she doth hide her Self, afraid to show
Man all her Works, lest he too powerfull grow;
Like as a King, his Favourite waxing great,
May well suspect, that he his Pow'r will get;
And what Creates desire in a Man's breast,
That Nature is Divine, which seeks the best;
For no Perfection he at all doth prize,
Till he therein the Gods doth Equalize:
If you, as Man, desire like Gods to be,
I'l spare your Life, and not Cut down your Tree.

A Dialogue betwixt Birds.

As I abroad in Fields and VVoods did walk,
I heard the Birds of several things did talk;
And on the Boughs would Gossip, Prate, and Chat,
And every one Discourse of this and that.
I, said the Lark, before the Sun do rise,
And take my Flight up to the highest Skies,
There sing some Notes to raise Apollo's Head,
For fear that he might lye too long in Bed;
And as I mount, or as I come down low,
Still do I Sing which way soe're I go;
My Body, as 't winds up, just like a Screw,
So doth my Voice wind up a Trillo too.


What Bird, besides my Self, both Flies and Sings?
My Trilloes keep Tune to my Flutt'ring wings.
I, said the Nightingale, all Night do watch,
For fear a Serpent should my Young ones catch;
To keep back Sleep, I several Tunes do Sing,
VVhich are so Pleasant, that they Lovers bring
Into the Woods, who Listning sit and mark,
When I begin to Sing, they Cry, Hark, hark;
Stretching my Throat to raise my Trilloes high,
To gain their Praises, makes me almost Dye.
Then comes the Owl, which says, Here's such a do
With your sweet Voice, through spite crys Wit-a-woo.
In VVinter, said the Robin, I should Dye,
But that I in a good warm House do fly,
And there do pick up Crums which make me fat,
But oft I'm scar'd away with the Puss-cat;
If they molest me not, then I grow bold,
And stay so long, whilst Winter Tales are told:
Man Superstitiously dares not hurt me;
For if I'm kill'd or hurt, ill Luck shall be.
The Sparrow said, Would our case were no worse,
But men do with their Nets us take by force;
With Guns and Bows they shoot us from the Trees,
And by small Shot we oft our Lives do leese,
Because we pick a Cherry here and there,
VVhen God knows we do eat them in great fear;
But Men will eat untill their Bellies burst,
And Surfets take; if we eat, we are Curst;
Yet we by Nature are Revenged still,
For Eating over-much themselves they Kill.
And if a Child do chance to Cry and Brawl,
They do us Catch, to please that Child withall;


With threads they tye our Legs almost to crack,
And when we Hop away, they pull us back;
And when they Cry, Fip, Fip, strait we must come,
And for our pains they'l give us one small Crum.
I wonder, said Mag-pye, you Grumble so,
Dame Sparrow, we are us'd much worse, I trow;
For they our Tongues do Slit, their words to Learn,
And with this Pain our Food we dearly Earn.
Why, said the Finches, and the Linnets all,
Do you so Prate, Mag-pye, and so much Bawl?
As if no Birds besides were wrong'd but you,
When we by Cruel men are Injur'd too;
For we to Learn their Tunes are kept awake,
That with their VVhistling we no rest can take;
In Darkness we are kept, no Light must see,
Till we have Learn'd their Tunes most perfectly:
But Jack-daws, they may dwell their Houses nigh,
And Build their Nests in Elms, that do grow high,
And there may Prate and Fly from place to place;
For why? they think they give their House a grace.
Lord! said the Patridge, Cock, Puet, Snite & Quail,
Pigeons and Larks, My Masters why d'ye Rail?
You're kept from Winters cold, and Summers heat,
Are taught new Tunes, and have good store of Meat;
You have your Servants, yet give them no wages,
Which do make Clean your foul and dirty Cages,
When we poor Birds are by the Dozens kill'd,
Luxurious Men us Eat, till they be fill'd,
And of our Flesh do make such Cruel waste,
That but some of our Limbs will please their Taste;
In Wood-cocks Thighs they only take delight,
And Patridge wings, wch swift were in their Flight;


The smaller Lark they eat all at one bite,
But every part is good of Quail and Snite;
The murth'rous Hawk they keep, us for to catch,
And teach their Dogs to Crouch, and Creep, and Watch,
Untill they spring us into Nets & Toils,
And thus, poor Creatures, we are made man's Spoils.
O! Cruel Nature made us Tame and Mild,
They happy are, which are more Fierce and VVild;
O would our Flesh had been like Carrion Coarse,
VVhich to eat only Famine might inforce;
But now, when th'eat us, may they Surfeits take,
May they be Poor, when they Feasts of us make;
The more they eat, the Leaner may they grow,
Or else so Fat, as not to stirr nor go.
O, Said the Swallow, let me mourn in Black,
For of Man's Cruelty I do not lack;
I am the Messenger of Summer VVarm,
Neither pick Fruit nor Corn, nor do I harm,
Yet Men will take us, when alive we be,
I Shake to tell, O horrid Cruelty!
Beat us alive till we an Oyl become;
Can there to Birds be a worse Martyrdome?
O Man, O Man! if we should serve you so,
You would against us your great Curses throw.
But Nature she is good, do not her blame,
VVe ought to give her Thanks, and not Exclame;
For Love is Nature's chiefest Law in Mind,
Hate but an Accident to Love we find.
'Tis true Self-preservation is the chief,
But Luxury to Nature is a Thief;
Corrupted manners always do breed Vice,
VVhich by Persuasion doth the Mind intice;


No Creature doth usurp so much as Man,
VVho thinks himself like God, because he can
Rule other Creatures, and make them Obey;
Our Souls did never Nature make, say they,
VVhat ever Comes from Nature's stock and Treasure,
Created is only to serve their Pleasure;
Although the life of Bodies comes from Nature,
Yet still the Souls come from the Great Creator,
And they shall Live, when we to Dust do turn,
Either in Bliss, or in hot Flames to burn.
Then came the Parrot with her painted Wing,
Spake like an Oratour in every thing.
Sister Jay, Neighbour Daw, and Gossip Pye,
We taken are not like the rest to Dye,
Only to Talk and Prate, the best we can,
To imitate to th'life the Speech of Man;
And Just like Men, we pass our time away,
For many, but not one Wise word we say,
And speak as gravely Non-sense as the best,
As full of Empty words as all the rest;
Then Nature we will praise, because we have,
Tongues given us like to Men, our Lives to save.
Mourn not, my Friends, but Sing in Sun-shine gay,
And while you've time, Joy in your selves you may:
What, though your lives be Short, yet Merry be,
Do not Complain, but in Delights agree.
Strait came the Tit-mouse with a frowning face,
And hopt about as in an angry pace,
My Masters all, what's matter? are you mad?
Is no regard unto the Publick had?
Are Private home affairs cast all aside?
Your Young ones Cry for meat, 'tis time to chide;


For shame disperse your selves, some pains do take
Both for the Publick and your Young ones sake,
And sit not murmuring against great Man,
Unless some way revenge our selves we can;
Alas, alas! we want their Shape, for they
By it have power to make us all Obey;
They can lift, bear, strike, pull, thrust, turn and wind
What ways they will, which makes, new arts they find;
'Tis not their Wit, that doth Inventions make,
But 'tis their Shape, wch height, breadth, depth can take;
Thus they can measure this great Worldly Ball,
And Numbers set, to prove the Truth of all.
What Creature else has Arms, or goes Upright,
Or has all sorts of Motion so unite?
Man by his Shape can Nature imitate,
Can govern, rule, and can new Arts create:
Then come away, since Talk no good can do,
And what we cannot Help, Submit unto.
Then some their Wives, some did their Husbands call,
To gather Sticks to Build their Nests withall;
Some Shrews did scold; Winds had destroy'd their Nest,
They had no place where to abide, or rest;
For all they'd gather'd with great Pains and Care,
Those sticks & straws were blown they knew not where.
But none did Labour like the little Wren,
To Build for her Young ones her Nest agen;
For she doth lay more Eggs than all the rest,
And with much Art and Skil doth Build her Nest.
The Young made Love, and Kiss'd each others Bill,
The Cock catch'd Flies to give his Mistress still;
The Yellow-Hammer cried, 'tis Wet, 'tis Wet,
For it will Rain before the Sun doth set;


Taking their Flight as each Mind thought it best,
Some flew Abroad, and some Home to their Nest;
Some gather'd Corn which out of Sheaves was strew'd,
And some did pick up Seed that new was Sow'd;
Some courage had a Cherry Ripe to take,
Others catch'd Flies when they a Feast would make;
And some did pick up Ants, and Eggs, though small,
And brought them Home to feed their Young withall;
When every Crop was fill'd, and Night drew nigh,
Then did they stretch their VVings, fast home to fly:
For like as Men, when they from Markets come,
Set out Alone, but every Mile adds some,
Untill a Troop of Neighbours get together,
So do a Flight of Birds in Sun-shine weather.
VVhen to their Nest they got, Lord! how they Bawl'd,
And every one to his next Neighbour call'd,
Asking each other if they Weary wear,
Rejoycing at past Dangers and great Fear.
When they their Wings had prun'd, and Young ones fed,
Sate Gossiping before they went to Bed;
The Blak-bird said, Let us a Carol sing,
Before we Sleep in this fine Evening;
The Thrushes, Linnets, Finches taking parts,
A Consort made by Nature, not by Arts:
But all their Songs were Hymns to God on high,
Praising his Name, blessing his Majesty;
And when they ask'd for Gifts, to God did pray,
He would be pleas'd to give them a fair Day.
At last they Drowsie grew, ready to Sleep,
And then instead of Singing, cried Peep, peep;
As th'Eye, when Sense is Locking up to rest,
Is neither open wide, nor yet shut fast;


So by degrees a Voice is falling found;
For as a Shadow, so doth waste a Sound:
Thus went to rest each Head under each Wing;
For Sleep brings Peace to every Living thing.

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.


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.


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.

A Dialogue betwixt Joy and Discretion.

Give me some Musick, that my Spirits may
Dance a fair Galliard whilst Delight doth play;
Let every Voice sing out, both Loud and Shril,
And every Tongue run too, what way it will:
For Fear is gone away with her Pale Face,
And Pain is Banish't out of every place.

O Joy, take Moderation by the hand,
Or else you'l be so Drunk as hardly stand;
Your Tongue doth run so fast, no time can keep,
High as a Mountain many Words you heap.
Your Thoughts in Multitudes the Brain do throng,
That Reason is cast down and must go wrong.

O wise Discretion, do not angry grow,
Great Dangerous Fears, alas! you do not know;


Fear being past, the Spirits soon are slack't,
For Fear's a string, binds hard, but when once crack't,
Spirits get Liberty and Run about,
VVhich being stopt do suddenly burst out,
And to Recover what they had before,
VVhen once unti'd, take Liberty the more;
Like VVater that is Pen't, when't passage finds,
Breaks out in Fury, like the Northern winds;
VVhat gathers on a Heap, so strong doth grow,
That when 'tis Loose it doth far swifter go.
But, dear Discretion, do not with me Scold,
Whilst you do feel great Fears, your Tongue pray hold;
For Joy cannot contain it Self in rest,
It never leaves untill it be exprest.

A Dialogue betwixt Wit and Beauty.

Mixt Rose and Lilly why are you so proud,
Since Fair is not in all Minds like allow'd?
Some do like Black, some Brown, and some like White,
Some Eys in all Complexions take delight;
Nor doth one Beauty in the VVorld still Reign;
For Beauty is Created in the Brain.
But say there were a Body perfect made,
Complexion pure, by Nature's Pencil laid,
A Countenance where all sweet Spirits meet,
A Hair that's Thick, and Long, Curl'd to the Feet;
Yet were it like a Statue made of Stone,
The Eye would weary grow to Look upon;
Had it no VVit, the Mind still to delight,
It soon would weary be as well as Sight;
For VVit is fresh and new, doth sport and play,
And runs about the Humour every way;


VVith all the Passions Wit can well agree,
Wit tempers them, and makes them pleas'd to be;
Ingenious 'tis, doth new Inventions find,
To ease the Body and divert the Mind.

When I appear, I strike the Optick Nerve,
I wound the Heart, and make the Passions serve;
Souls are my Pris'ners, yet do Love me well;
My company is Heav'n, my absence Hell;
Each Knee doth Bow to me, as to a Shrine,
And all the World accounts me as Divine.

Beauty, you cannot long Devotion keep,
The Mind grows weary, Senses fall asleep;
As those which in the House of God do go,
Are very Zealous in a Pray'r or two;
But if they must an Hour-long kneel to Pray,
Their Zeal grows Cold, nor know they what they say;
So Admirations are, they do not last,
After Nine days the greatest Wonder's past;
The Mind, as th'Senses all, delights in Change,
They nothing Love, but what is new and strange:
But subtile Wit can please both long and well;
For to the Ear Wit a new Tale can tell,
And for the Taste doth dress Meat several ways,
To th'Eye it can new Forms and Fashions raise;
And for the Touch, Wit spins both Silk and Wool,
Invents new ways to keep Touch warm and cool:
For Sent, Wit mixtures and compounds doth make,
That still the Nose a fresh new Smell may take.
I by Discourse can represent the Mind
VVith several Objects, though the Eyes be Blind;
I'th' Brain I can Create Ideas, and
Those make to th'Mind seem Real, though but Feign'd;


The Mind's a Shop, where sorts of Toys I Sell,
VVith fine Conceits I fit all Humours well:
I can the VVork of Nature imitate,
And in the Brain each several Shape Create.
I Conquer all, am Master of the Field,
And make fair Beauty in Love's VVarrs to yield.

A Dialogue between Love and Hate.

Both Love and Hate fell in a great Dispute,
And hard it was each other to Confute,
VVhich did most Good, or did most Evil shun,
At last with frowning Brows Hate thus begun:
I Fly, said she, from wicked and base Acts,
And tear all unjust Bonds and ill Contracts;
I do abhorr all Murther, VVarr, and Strife,
Inhuman Actions and Disorder'd Life,
Ungratefull and Unthankfull minds, that shun
All those, from whom they have receiv'd a Boon;
From harsh and rude Discords my Ears I stop,
And what is Bad I from the Good do Lop;
I perjur'd Lovers brand with foul Disgrace,
And from ill Objects do I hide my Face;
Things that are Bad I hate, or what Seems so;
But Love is contrary to this, I know.
Love loves Ambition, as the Mind's hot Fire,
VVould ruine Worlds only to rise up higher;
You love to please your Appetite and VVill,
To Glut your Gusto, you delight in still;
You love to Flatter, and be Flatter'd too,
And for your Lust, poor Virgins would undo;
You love the Ruine of your Foes to see,
And of your Friends if they but Prosperous be;


You nothing love besides your Self, though ill,
And with Vain-glorious Wind your Brain do fill:
You love no ways, but where your Bias tends,
And love the Gods only for your own ends.

But, Love, in VVords as sweet as Nature is,
Said, Hate was false, and always did amiss;
For she did Canker-fret, the Soul destroy,
Disturb the Pleasure wherein Life takes Joy;
Ruin the World with Wars, wch Peace would make,
Torment the Head and Heart, Revenge to take;
She never rests till she Descends to Hell;
For she amongst the Devils loves to dwell:
But I, said Love, Unite and Concords make,
All Musick was Invented for my Sake;
I Men by Laws in Common-wealths do joyn,
And 'gainst a common Foe do them Combine:
To th'Sick, Lame, Weak and Aged I'm a Friend,
I Watch, Guard, Keep, and do them Safe defend;
For Honour's Sake I do high Courage raise,
And bring to Beauty's Shrine Off'rings of Praise;
Compassion's Bowels I the World throughout
Do carry, and Distribute all about;
I to the Gods shew Rev'rence, Bow and Pray,
And in their Heav'nly Mansions bear great sway:
Thus Love and Hate in some things Equal be,
Yet in Disputes they always Disagree.

A Dialogue betwixt Learning and Ignorance.

Thou busie Forester, that seek'st about
The World, to find the Heart of Learning out;
Or Perseus like, foul Monsters thou dost Kill,
Rude Ignorance, which nothing dost but Ill.


Proud Learning, thou that stands on Tip-toes high,
Yet canst not reach to know the Deity,
Nor where the Cause of any one thing lies,
But fill'st Man full of Care and Miseries.
Learning inflames the Thoughts to take great pains,
Doth nought but make an Alms-tub of the Brains.

Learning doth seek about, new things to find,
In that Pursute doth Recreate the Mind;
It is a Perspective, Nature to Spy,
Can all her Curiosity descry.

Learning's a useless Pain, unless it have.
Some ways or means to keep us from the Grave;
For what is all the World if understood,
If we it do not Use, nor Taste its good?
Learning may come to know the Use of things,
Yet not receive the Good which from them Springs;
For Life is short, and Learning long; Ere we
May come to Use what's Learned, Dead we be.

O Ignorance, thou Beast, which Lazy liest,
And only Eat'st and Sleepest, till thou Diest.

The Lesson, Nature taught, is, Most delight
To please the Senses and the Appetite.
I Ignorance am still the Heav'n of Bliss;
For in me lies the truest Happiness:
Give me but Ignorance, that harmless 'state,
That Paradise that's free from Envious hate;
Learning that Tree was, whereon Knowledge grew,
Tasting that Fruit, Man nought but Misery knew;
Had Man to Ignorance but had more Love,
He Happy would have been, as th'Gods above.

O Ignorance, how Foolish doest thou Talk?
Is't Happiness in Ignorance to walk?


Can there be Joy in Darkness more than Light?
Or Pleasure more in Blindness than in Sight?

A Dialogue betwixt Riches and Poverty.

I wealth, can make all Men of each Degree,
To Crouch, and Flatter, and to Follow me;
I many Cities Build, High, Thick, and Large,
And Armies raise, against each other Charge;
I make them lose their Lives for my dear Sake,
Though when they're Dead, they no Rewards can take;
I trample Truth under my Golden feet,
And tread down Innocence, that Flower sweet;
I gather Beauty, when 'tis newly blown,
Reap Chastity before 'tis Over-grown:
I Root out Virtue with a Golden Spade,
I Cut off Justice with a Golden Blade.
Pride and Ambition are my Vassals low,
And on their Heads I tread as I do go;
And by Mankind much more Ador'd am I,
Although but Earth, than the bright Sun that's high.

Riches, thou art a Slave, and Run'st about
On every Errant, thou Comest in, Goest out,
And Men of Honour set on thee no price,
Their Honesty or Virtue to Intice.
Some foolish Gamesters, which do love to play
At Cards and Dice, Corrupt perchance you may;
A Silly Virgin gather here and there,
That does Gay Cloaths and Jewels love to wear:
The Poor, which hate their Neighbour brave to see,
Perchance may seek and love your Company;
And those, that strive to please their Senses all,
If they want Wealth, and you pass by, may Call.


On Age, 'tis true, you have a great strong power;
For they Imbrace you, though they Dye next hour.

You speak, poor Poverty, meer out of spight,
Because there's none with you doth take delight;
If you into Man's Company will thrust,
They call that Fortune ill, and most accurst;
Men are asham'd of you, you are so mean,
You are so Ragged, Torn, and so Unclean:
When I come in, much welcome do I find,
Great Joy there is, and Mirth in every Mind;
And every Door is Open set and wide,
And all within is busily Imploy'd;
There Neighbours all Invited are to see,
So proud they are in my dear Company.

'Tis Prodigality, you Brag so on,
Which never lets you Rest till you are gone;
Calls in for help to beat you out of Doors
His dear Companions, Drunkards, Gamesters, Whores.
What, though you're Brave, and Gay in outward show?
Within you're Foul and Beastly, as you know;
Besides, Debauchery is like a Sink,
And you are Father to that filthy Stink.
True, I am Thread-bare, and am very Lean,
Yet I am Decent, Sweet, and very Clean;
I Healthfull am, my Diet being spare,
You're full of Gouts, and Pains, and Surfeits fear:
I am Industrious, new Arts to find,
To ease the Body, and to please the Mind:
The World like to a Wilderness would be,
If it were not for the Poors Industry;
For Poverty doth set awork the Brains,
And all the Thoughts to labour and take pains;


The Mind ne're idle Sits, but is imploy'd,
Riches breed Sloth, and fill it full of Pride:
Riches, like Swine, in its own Mire doth lye,
Light Poverty, like Birds, on high doth Fly.

A Dialogue betwixt Anger and Patience.

Anger , why are you Hot and Fiery red?
Or else so Pale, as if you were quite Dead?
Your Spirits are disturb'd, you Senses lack,
Your Joynts unset, Flesh shakes, your Nerves grow slack;
Your Tongue doth move, but Speaks no word that's plain,
Or else they flow like Torrents caus'd by Rain.

Lord, what a Bead-roul of Dislikes you tell!
If you were stung with Wrong, your Mind would swell:
Your Spirits would be set on Flame with Fire;
Or else grow Chil with Cold, and back retire.

Alas, 'tis but your own Suspicion,
Sometimes you have no Ground to Build upon;
Suspicion is Deceitfull, runs about,
And often for a Truth takes VVrong, no doubt.
If you take Falshood up, ne're search things through,
You do great Wrong to Truth, and your Self too;
Besides, you Blind and Undiscerning fly,
On every Thing, though Innocence be by.

O Patience, you are strict and seem precise,
And Counsels give, as if you were so Wise;
But you are Cruel, and fit times will take
For your Revenge, though you no shew do make;
Your Brows unknit, your Heart seems not to burn,
Yet on Suspicion will do a shrewd turn:
But I am Sudden, and do all in haste,
Yet in short time my Fury all is past.


Though Anger be not right, but sometimes wrong,
The greatest Mischief lies but in the Tongue;
But you do Mischief, and your time will find
To work Revenge, though Quiet in your Mind.

If I take time, I clearly then can see,
To view the Cause, and seek for Remedy;
If I have wrong, my Self I well may right,
But I do wrong, if Innocence I Smite;
The Knot of Anger by degrees unties,
Then falls that Muffler from Discretion's Eyes:
My Thoughts run clear and smooth, as Crystal brooks,
That every Face may see which therein Looks;
Though I run Low, yet wisely do I wind,
And many times through Mountains passage find;
When you Swell high, like to a flowing Sea,
For windy Passions ne're in Rest can be,
Where you are Roul'd in Waves, and Tost about,
Tormented, and can find no passage out.

Patience, your Mouth with good Words you do fill,
And preach Morality, but you Act ill;
Besides, you seem a Coward full of Fear,
Or like an Ass, which doth great Burthens bear;
Let every Poultron strike and give you blows,
And every Fool in Scorn to wring your Nose:
Most of the World do think you have no Sense,
Because not Angry, nor do take Offence;
When I am thought right Wise, & of great Merit,
Heroick, Valorous, and of great Spirit:
For every one doth fear me to Offend,
And for to Please me, all their Forces bend;
I Flatter'd am, make Fear to run away:
Thus am I Master wheresoe're I stay.


Away you Foolish Patience, give me Rage,
That I in VVarrs may all the VVorld ingage.

O Anger, you are Mad, there's none will Care
For your great Brags, but such as Cowards are;
Fear doth in VVomen and small Children dwell;
That you more Talk than Fight, VVisdome knows well;
Besides, great Courage takes me by the hand,
That whilst he Fights, I close by him must stand:
I want no Sense, Misfortunes to espy,
Although I Silent am, and do not Cry;
Ill Accidents and Grief I strive to Cure,
VVith Courage, what I cannot help, indure;
VVhilst you do Vex your Self with grievous Pains,
And nothing but Disturbance have for gains:
Let me advise you, Anger, take't not Ill,
That I do Offer you my Patience still;
For you in Danger live still all your Life,
And Mischief do, when you are hot in Strife.

A Dialogue between a Bountifull Knight and a Castle Ruin'd in Warr.

Alas, poor Castle, how great is thy Change
From thy first Form! to me thou doest seem strange;
I left thee Comely, and in perfect Health,
Now thou art Wither'd and Decay'd in Wealth.

O Noble Sir, I from your Stock was Rais'd,
Flourish'd in Plenty, and by all Men prais'd;
For your most Valiant Father did me Build,
Your Brother furnish'd me, my Neck did Gild;


Towers upon my Head like Crowns were plac'd,
VValls, like a Girdle, went about my VVaste;
And on this pleasant Hill he set me high,
To view the Vales below, as they do lye,
VVhere like a Garden is each Field and Close,
VVhere fresh green Grass, and yellow Cowslip grows;
There did I see fat Sheep in Pastures go,
And hear the Cows, whose Bags were full, to Low.
By Warrs I'm now Destroy'd, all Right's o're-powr'd,
Beauty and Innocency are Devour'd;
Before these VVarrs I was in my full Prime,
And held the greatest Beauty in my Time:
But, noble Sir, since I did see you last,
VVithin me has a Garrison been plac'd;
Their Guns and Pistols all about me hung,
And in despight their Bullets at me flung,
VVhich through my Sides those passages you see,
Made, and Destroy'd the Walls that Circled me,
And left my Rubbish on huge Heaps to lye;
VVith Dust I'm Choak'd, for want of Water dry:
For those small Leaden Pipes, which winding lay
Under the Ground, the Water to convey,
VVere all Cut off, the Water murmuring,
Run back with Grief to tell it to the Spring.
My Windows broke, the Winds blow in, and make,
That I with Cold like Shivering Agues shake:
O pitty me, dear Sir, release my Band,
Or let me Dye by your most Noble hand.

Alas, poor Castle, I small help can bring,
Yet shall my Heart supply the former Spring,
From whence the Water of fresh Tears shall rise,
To quench thy Drought, I'l spout them from mine Eyes.


That VVealth I have, for to release thy Woe,
I'l offer for a Ransome to thy Foe;
But to restore thy Health, and build thy VVall,
I have not Means enough to do't withall;
Had I the Art, no Pains then I would spare,
But all what's Broken down I would Repair.

Most noble Sir, you that me Freedome give,
May your great Name in After-ages Live;
This your great Bounty may the Gods requite,
And keep you from such Enemies and Spight;
And may great Fame your Praises sound aloud;
Gods give me Life to shew my Gratitude!


Bolsover Castle.

A Dialogue betwixt Peace and VVarr.

Warr makes the Vulgar multitude to Drink
In at the Ear, the Foul and Muddy sink
Of Factious Tales, by which they Dizzy grow,
That the clear Sight of Truth they do not know,
But Reeling stand, know not what way to take,
And when they chuse, 'tis wrong, so War they make.

Thou Flattering and most Unjust Peace, which draws
The Vulgar by thy Rhet'rick to hard Laws,
VVhich makes them Silly, and Content to be
To take up Voluntary Slavery,
Thou mak'st great Inequalities beside,
Some Bear like Asses, some on Horse-back Ride.

O Warr, thou Cruel Enemy to Life,
Unquiet Neighbour, breeding always Strife;
Tyrant thou art, to Rest wilt give no time,
And blessed Peace thou Punish'st as a Crime;
Factions thou mak'st in every Publick weal,
From Bonds of Friendship tak'st off Wax and Seal;


All Natural Affections are by thee
Massacred, none escapes thy Cruelty;
The Root of all Religion thou pull'st up,
Dost every Branch of Ceremony Lop;
Civil Society to Manners base
Thou turn'st, no Laws nor Customs can get place;
Each Mind within it Self cannot agree,
But all do strive for Superiority:
In the whole World thou dost Disturbance make,
To save themselves none knows what ways to take.

O Peace, thou idle Drone, which Lov'st to dwell,
If it but keep thee Safe, in a poor Cell;
Thy Life thou Sleep'st away, Thoughts lazy lye:
Sloth buries Fame, makes all great Actions dye.

I am the Bed of Rest, and Couch of Ease,
My Conversation doth all Creatures please;
The Parent I'm of Learning and of Arts,
Religion's Nurse, and Comfort to all Hearts;
I am the Guardian Virtue safe do keep,
Under my Roof she may securely Sleep;
I am Adorn'd with Pastimes and with Sports,
Each several Creature still to me Resorts.

A School am I, where all Men may grow VVise;
For prudent VVisdome in Experience lies;
A Theatre, where Noble Minds do stand,
A Mint of Honour, Coyn'd for Valour's Hand:
I am a Throne, which is for Valour fit,
And a great Court, where Royal Fame may Sit;
A Field, in which Ambition much doth run;
Courage still seeks me, Cowards do me shun.



A Discourse of Love, the Parent of Passions.

No Mind can think, nor Understanding know,
To what a Height and Vastness Love can grow:
Love as a God all Passions doth Create,
Besides it Self, and those Determinate:
To Love bows down, and Prays devoutly, Fear;
Sadness and Grief Love's heavy Burthens bear;
Anger makes Rage, and Envy, Splene and Spight,
Like Thunder Roar, and in Love's Quarrels Fight.
Th'Informing Spie of Love is Jealousie,
And Doubt its Guide, to Search where th'Foes do lye;
Pity, Love's Child, whose Eyes with Tears do flow,
On every Object misery doth show:
Hate is Love's Champion, which opposeth all
Love's Enemies; their Ruine and their Fall.

A Discourse of Love Neglected, and Burnt up with Grief.

Love is the Cause, and Hate is the Effect,
Wch is produc'd, when Love doth find neglect;
For Love's like Fire, which doth on Fuel burn,
And Grief as Coals, wch quench'd to Blackness turn;


Whence Pale and Melancholy Ashes grow,
Which every Wind, though weak, about doth blow;
For Life and Strength from thence is gone, and past
With th'Species, which did cause the Form to last;
Which Form, as it was first, comes ne're again:
Thus Love in Melancholy adust is Slain.

A Discourse of Man's Pride, or seeming Prerogative.

What Creature's in this World besides Mankind,
That can such Arts and new Inventions find?
Or has such Fancies as to Similize,
Or can so Rule and Govern as the Wise?
Or that can by his Wit his Mind indite,
Can Numbers set, and subtile Letters write?
What Creature else but Man can Speak true Sense,
At Distance give and take Intelligence?
VVhat Creature else by Reason can abate
All Passions, can raise Doubts, Hopes, Love and Hate?
And can so many Countenances show,
Which are the Ground by which Affections grow?
They're several Dresses which the Mind puts on,
Some serve as Veils, which over it are thrown.
What Creature is, that has such peircing Eyes,
That mingles Souls, and in fast Friendship ties?
VVhat Creature else but Man has such delights,
So Various, and such Strong, Odd appetites?
Man can Distill, and is a Chymist rare,
Divides and Sep'rates Water, Fire, and Air;
He can Divide, and doth Asunder take
All Nature's Works, what ever she doth make;


Can take the Breadth, Depth, Length, & Height of things,
And know the Virtue of each Plant that Springs;
Make Creatures all Submit unto his will,
And Live by Fame, though Death his Body Kill:
VVhat else, but Man, can Nature imitate,
VVith th'Pen and Pencil can new Worlds create?
There's none like Man; for like the Gods is he;
Then let the World his Slave and Vassall be.

Of Foolish Ambition.

Ten thousand Pounds a Year will make me Live,
Fortune then must a Kingdome to me give;
I'l Conquer all, like Alexander Great,
And, like to Cæsar, my Opposers beat:
Give me a Fame, that with the VVorld may last,
Let all Tongues tell of my great Actions past;
Let every Child, that Learns to Speak, my Name
Repeat, to keep the Memory of my Fame;
And then great Fortune, give to me thy Power,
To ruine Man, and raise him in an Hour;
Let me Command the Fates, and Spin their Thread,
And Death to stay his Sith, when I forbid;
And Destiny, give me your Chains to tye,
Effects from Causes to produce thereby;
And let me like the Gods be high alone,
That nothing may but by my VVill be done.

Of Humility.

When with returning Thoughts I do behold
My self, I find all Creatures of that Mould,
And for the Mind, which some say is like Gods,
I do not find 'twixt Man and Beast such Odds,


Only the Shape of Man is fit for use,
Which makes him seem much wiser than a Goose;
For had a Goose, which seems of Simple Kind,
A Shape to form and fit things to her Mind,
To make such Creatures as her would Obey,
Could hunt and shoot those that would 'scape away,
As Wise she'ld seem as Man, be as much Fear'd,
And when the Goose comes near, the Man be Scar'd.
Who knows, but Beasts may Wiser than Men be?
VVe no such Errours or Mistakes can see;
Like quiet Men they do Injoy their rest,
To Eat and Drink in Peace, they think it best;
Their Food is all they seek, the rest think Vain,
If they not to Eternity remain:
Despise not Beasts, nor yet be proud of Art,
But Nature thank, for Forming so each Part;
And since all Knowledge by your Form you gain,
Then let not Pride above your Reason Reign;
VVhen you find Motion in your Brain works best,
Then slight not Beasts, for being in them Deprest;
Nor Boast of Speech, 'cause Reason it can show,
For Beasts have Reason too, for ought we know:
Shape doth Inform the Mind of what we find,
VVhich being taught, Man's wiser than Beast kind.

Of Riches, or Covetousness.

VVhat will not Riches in abundance do,
And make the Mind of Man submit unto?
They Bribe out Virtue from her Strongest hold,
And make the Coward Valorous and Bold;
They corrupt Chastity, melt Thoughts of Ice,
And Bashfull Modesty they do Intice:


They make the Humble proud, and Meek to swell,
Destroy all Loyalty, make Hearts rebell;
They do untie the Knots of Friendship fast,
All natural Affections forth they cast;
They Kill the Innocent, do Hearts divide,
Buy Conscience out, and every Cause decide;
They make that Man doth venture Life and Health,
So much desir'd and dear to him is VVealth;
They buy out Heav'n, and do cast Souls to Hell;
For Man to get this Dross, his God will Sell.

Of Poverty.

My Dwelling is a low Thatcht House, my Cell
'S not big enough for Pride's great Heart to dwell;
My Rooms are not of Stately Cedars built,
No Marble Chimney-piece, no Wainscot Gilt;
No Statues Cut, or Carv'd, or Cast in Brass,
Which had they Life, would Nature's Art surpass;
No Painted Pictures which Apelles drew,
There's nothing else but Lime and Hair to View;
No Agath-Table with a Tortoise frame,
Nor Stools stuft with Birds feathers, Wild or Tame;
But a Stump of an Old decayed Tree,
And Stools that have three Leggs, and half Lame be,
Cut with a Hatchet from some broken Boughs;
And this is all which Poverty allows:
Yet is it free from Cares, no Thieves doth fear,
The Door is Open, all are Welcome there;
Not like the Rich, who Guests do entertain
With Cruelty, when Birds and Beasts are Slain,
Who Oyl their Bodies with their melted Grease,
And by their Flesh their Bodies Fat increase:


We need no Cook, nor Skil to Dress our meat;
For Nature Dresses most of what we Eat;
As Roots and Herbs, not such as Art doth sow,
But which in Fields do Naturally grow:
Our wooden Cups we from the Spring do fill,
VVhich is the VVine-press of great Nature still;
Rich men, when they for to delight their Taste,
Suck out the Juice from th'Earth, her Strength they waste;
For bearing oft she'l grow so Lean and Bare,
That like a Sceleton she will appear;
Into their Drink the subtile Spirits they
From Barley and the Full-ripe Grape convey:
Thus by their Luxury their Life they waste,
And their Delight is still to please their Taste;
This heats the Mind with an ambitious Fire;
None Happy is, but in a Low desire;
Their Longings do run out, and fix no where;
For what they have, or can have, nought they Care,
But Long for what they have not, this th'admire,
Oft Sick for want; so Restless is Desire.
VVhen we from Labours come, we quiet Sleep,
No restless Thoughts our Sense awake doth keep;
All's still and silent in our House and Mind,
Our Thoughts are chearfull and our Hearts are kind;
And Life, although 't in Motion still does dwell,
Yet Rest in Life a Poor man Loveth well.

Of Tranquillity.

That Mind, which would in Peace and Quiet be,
Must cast off Cares and foolish Vanity;
VVith right Honest desires an House 't must Build
Upon the Ground of Honour, which being Seel'd


VVith Constant Resolutions, will last long,
If it on Pillars stands of Justice strong;
Let nothing dwell there, but Thoughts truly holy,
Turn out dull Ignorance, and rude rash Folly;
There will the Mind injoy it Self in pleasure;
For to it Self it is the greatest Treasure:
But they are Poor, whose Mind is discontent,
VVhat Joy they have, it is to them but Lent.
The World is like unto a troubled Sea,
Life like a Barque made of a rotten Tree,
VVhere every Wave indangers it to Split,
And Drown'd it is, if 'gainst a Rock it hit;
But if this Barque be made with Temp'rance strong,
It mounts the Waves, and Travels far and long;
If Prudence it doth as a Pilot guide,
It 'scapes all Rocks, and goes with Wind and Tide;
There Love, the Merchant, Trafficks up to Heav'n,
And for his Prayers Mercies him hath given;
Conscience, as Factor, sets the Price of things,
Tranquillity, as Buyer, Money brings.

Of the Shortness of Man's Life, and his Foolish Ambition.

Walking in Gardens sweet, each Flow'r when I
Mark'd, how't did Spring, Bud, Blow, VVither and Dye,
I Contemplating was of Man's short stay,
Since like those Flow'rs I saw him pass away;
Yet Builds he Houses thick, and strong, and high,
As if he should Live to Eternity;
Hoards up a Mass of Wealth, yet cannot fill
His empty Mind, but Covet he will still.


To gain and keep, such falshood Men do use,
'Gainst Right and Truth no base ways they refuse.
I would not blame them could they Death out-keep,
Or ease their Pains, or cause a quiet Sleep;
Or purchase Heav'n, there like the Gods to Live,
And to the Sun, Moon, Stars, could Orders give,
Command the VVinds to Blow, Seas to Obey,
And Level all their VVaves, cause VVinds to stay;
But they no Power have unless to Dye,
And Care in Life is a great Misery;
This Care's but for a Word, an empty Sound,
In which is neither Soul nor Substance found;
Yet as their Heir they make it to Inherit,
And all they have, they leave unto this Spirit;
To get this Child of Fame, and this bare Word,
They fear no Dangers, neither Fire nor Sword;
All horrid Pains and Deaths they will indure,
Or any thing, can it but Fame procure:
O man, O man! What high Ambition grows
Within his Brain, and yet how Low he goes!
To be Contented only with a Sound,
Where neither Life nor Body can be found!

A Moral Discourse of Man and Beast.

Man is a Creature by himself alone;
For in him joyn all Qualities as one;
When he is Injur'd and sustains a Wrong,
He seems a Lion, Furious, Feirce and Strong;
He's Greedy, Covetous like Wolves and Bears,
Right he Devours and Truth in pieces Tears;
Or like as Crafty Foxes lye in wait,
To catch Young Novice Kids by their Deceit;


So subtile Knaves do watch, Errours to make,
That they thereby Advantages may take;
Not for Examples them to Rectifie,
But that much Mischief they can make thereby:
Others like Crouching Spaniels close will Set,
Creeping about, the Patridge to In-net;
Some Humble seem, and Lowly bend the Knee,
To Men of Power and Autority,
Not out of Love to Honour and Renown,
But to Insnare, and so to Pull them down:
For as a Mastiff flies at every Throat,
So Spight will Fly at all that are of Note;
With slanderous Words, as Teeth, good Deeds they Tear,
No Power, Strength, nor Greatness do they spare;
And so Mischievous they're, Love not to see
Any to Live without an Infamy.
Most do like Ravenous Beasts in Blood delight,
And only to do Mischief, Love to Fight;
But some are like to Horses, strong and free,
Will Gallop over Wrong and Injury:
For as they fear no Foe, nor Enemies dread,
But Fight in Battels till they fall down Dead;
Their Heart with noble Rage so hot will grow,
That from their Nostrils Clouds of Smoak do blow,
And with their Hoofs they'l strike the Ground, and bite
For anger, that they cannot go to Fight;
Their Eyes like Flints will shoot out Sparks of Fire,
They'l Neigh out Loud, when Combats they desire;
So Valiant Men their Foe aloud will Call,
To try their Strength, and grapple Arms withall;
And in their Eyes such Courage doth appear,
As if God Mars did Rule that Hemisphere.


Some like to slow, dull Asses, full of fear,
Contented are heavy Burdens to bear,
And every Clown doth beat his Back and Side,
Because he's Slow, when faster he could Ride;
Then will he Bray out Loud, but dare not Bite,
Why so? 'cause he no Courage has to Fight;
Base Minds will yield their Heads under the Yoak,
Offer their Backs to every Tyrant's stroak;
Like Fools they'l Grumble, but yet dare not Speak,
Nor strive for Liberty, their Bonds to break;
So Dull will those, that Live in Slavery, grow;
Dejected Spirits make the Body slow.
Others, as Swine lye Grovelling in the Mire,
Have no Heroick Thoughts to rise up higher,
And from their Birth do never Sport nor Play,
But Eat and Drink, and Grunting run away:
And Cruel are, as of a Boarish brood;
Of Grumbling Natures, never doing good.
So Gluttons, Sluggards, care for nought but ease,
In Conversations seek no Man to please;
Ambition they do Slight to make them Live,
Nor have they Generosity to give;
But are so Churlish, that if any Pray
To help their Wants, they'l Cursing go away;
So Cruel, and so far from Death to save,
As they'l take Life away, that others have.
Some, as the fearfull Hart, or frighted Hare,
Shun every Noise, and their own Shadows fear:
So Cowards, which when sent in Warrs to Fight,
Think not to Beat, but how to make their Flight;
The Trumpet, when to Charge the Foe it Calls,
Then with that Sound the Heart of th'Coward falls.


Others, as harmless Sheep, in Peace do Live,
Contented are, no Injury will give,
But on the tender Grass do gently Feed,
And neither Spight, nor Rankled malice breed;
Which never in the ways of Mischief stood,
To set their Teeth in Flesh, or Drink up Blood;
But Grieve to walk alone, and Pine away,
Grow Fat in Flocks, and with each other Play;
Which do the Naked Cloath with their soft Wool,
The Ews do feed the hungry Stomacks full:
So gentle Natures, and sweet Dispositions,
Contented Live, and shun Foolish ambitions;
Full of Compassion, pitying the Distrest,
And with their Bounty helping the Opprest;
They Swell not with the Pride of Self-conceit,
Nor for their Neighbour's Life do lye in wait;
Nor Innocence by their Extortions tear,
Nor fill the Widow's Heart with Grief or Care;
Nor any Bribes do take with Cov'tous hands,
Nor set they back the Mark of th'Owner's Lands,
But gratefully all Courtesies requite,
Free from all Envy, Malice, Splene and Spight;
In all their Conversations meek and mild,
Without Lascivious words, or actions Wild;
And those are Fathers to a Common-wealth,
Where Justice is Alive, and Truth in Health.
Others, as Apes do imitate the rest,
And when they Mischief do, seem but to Jest;
So are Buffoons, which seem for Mirth to Sport,
Whose Liberty makes Factions in a Court;
Those that delight in Fools, must in good part
Take what they say, although their Words are Smart;


And many times they Rankled thoughts beget
In Hearts of Princes, and much Envy set
By praising Rivals, or else do reveal
Those faults they should with privacy Conceal:
For when a Fool unpleasing Truth doth tell,
Or be it False, if but like Truth it Smell,
It gets such hold, e'n in a wise Man's Brain,
That hardly it will ever out again.
Some are like Worms, upon which others tread,
And some like Ven'mous Vipers do sting Dead;
For like as subtile Serpents wind about,
To compass their Designs, crawl in and out,
And never leave untill some Nest they find,
Suck out the Eggs, and leave the Shells behind;
So Flatterers with Praises wind about
A noble Mind, to get a Secret out;
And Flattery through every Ear will glide
Down to the Heart, and there some time abide,
And in the Breast with feigned Friendship lye,
Till to the Death it Stings it Cruelly.
Thus some like Beasts, and some like Worms, are such;
But some do Flying Birds resemble much:
Some like a Soaring Eagle mount up high,
Wings of Ambition bear them to the Sky;
And some like Hawks fly round to catch their Prey;
Some like to Puttocks bear the Chick away;
Some are like Ravens, which on Carrion feed,
Feeding on Spight, wch Spight doth Slanders breed;
And like as Pea-cocks proud their Tails do show,
So some, that Followers have, will Haughty grow:
Some Melancholy Owls, that hate the Light,
And like as Bats fly in the Shades of Night;


So envious Men their Neighbours hate to see,
When as they Shine in great Prosperity;
Keep home in Discontent, Repine at all,
Untill some Mischief on the Good do fall:
Others, like chearfull Larks Sing as they fly,
So they are Merry, and have no Envy;
And some, like Nightingals do sweetly Sing,
As Messengers, when they good News do bring.
Thus Men, Beasts, Birds in Humours much agree,
Though in them all several Proprieties be;
'Tis proper for a Lively Horse to Neigh,
And for a slow, dull, foolish Ass to Bray;
For Doggs to bark, Bulls roar, Wolves howl, Pigs squeak;
For Men to Frown, to Weep, to Laugh, to Speak:
Proper for Flies to Buzz, Birds Sing and Chatter,
Only for Men to Promise, Swear and Flatter.
Thus can Man's Shape their Properties express,
Yet they have some, which all his Skill surpass;
For Men want Wings to fly up to the Sky;
Nor can they like the Fish in Waters lye:
No Man like Roes can run so swift and long;
Nor are they like to Horse or Lions strong;
Nor have they Sent like Dogs, a Hare to find,
Nor Sight like Swine to see the subtile Wind:
Thus several Creatures, by their several Sense,
Have better far, than Man, Intelligence;
And several Creatures, several Arts know well,
But Man in gen'ral doth them far Excell;
For Nature Arts as well to Man did give,
As other Qualities to Beasts to Live;
And from Man's Brains such fine Inventions flow,
As in his Head all other Heads do grow.


What Creature Builds, like Man, a stately Tower,
And makes such things, as Time cannot devour?
What Creature makes such Engines, as Man's hand,
To Traffick, and to Use at Sea and Land?
To Kill or Spoil, or else Alive to take,
Destroying all that other Creatures make;
This makes Man seem of all the World a King,
Because he Power hath of every thing;
He'l teach Birds words, in measure Beasts to go,
Makes Passions in the Mind to Ebb and Flow;
And though he cannot fly as Birds with wings,
Yet can he take the Height and Breadth of things;
He knows the course and number of the Stars,
When Birds and Beasts are no Astrologers.
And though he cannot Swim like Fish, he'l make
Angles and Nets, those Fish withall to take;
And with his Ships the World he'l Circle round;
What Beast or Bird, that doth so, is yet found?
He'l fell down Woods, with Axes sharp he'l strike,
Whole Herds of Beasts can never do the like.
What Beast can Plead to save anothers Life,
Or by his Eloquence can end a Strife?
Or Counsels give, how Dangers may be shun,
Or tell the Cause of the Eclipsed Sun?
He'l turn the Current of the Waters clear,
And make that they do like new Seas appear;
Where Fish do only in Old waters Glide,
He'l cut new Rivers out on any Side;
He'l Mountains make, which Clouds almost do touch,
Small Hills of Moles or Ants scarce do so much.
What Creature like to Man can Reason show,
Which makes him sure, that he thereby doth know?


And who but Man makes use of every thing?
For Goodness out of Poyson he can bring.
'Tis only Man that's fill'd with strong desire,
And by his Rhetorick sets the Soul on Fire.
Beasts no Ambition have to get a Fame,
Nor Build they Tombs t'Eternalize their Name;
They never VVarr, Honour and Fame to get,
But to secure themselves, their Meat to Eat:
In short, Men like to Gods, for ever shall
Live; but Beasts like themselves to Dust must fall.

Of the Ant.

Mark but the little Ant how she doth run,
In what a busie Motion she goes on,
As if she Order'd all the VVorld's affairs,
VVhen 'tis but only one small Straw she bears;
And when a Fly doth on the Ground lye Dead,
Lord! How they stir, how full is every Head!
Some it along with Feet and Mouths do Trail,
And some thrust on with Shoulder and with Tail;
And if a stranger Ant comes on that way,
She helps them strait, ne're asketh if she may,
Nor stays to have Rewards, but is well pleas'd
T' have Labour for her Pains, so they be Eas'd.
They Live as the Lacedæmonians did,
For all is Common, nothing is forbid,
No private Feast, but altogether meet,
And wholsome Food, though plain, in publick Eat;
They have no Envy, all Ambition's down,
There is neither Superiour nor Clown:
No Palaces for Pride erect they will,
Their House is common, called the Ants Hill;


All help to Build and Keep it in Repair,
No special VVork-men, but all Lab'rers are;
No Market's Kept, no Meat have they to Sell,
But what each Eats, all welcome is, and well;
No Jealousie, each takes his Neighbour's VVife
VVithout offence, which never breedeth strife;
They Fight no Duels, nor do give the Lie,
Their greatest Honour is to Live, not Dye:
For they to Keep up Life through Dangers venture,
To get Provisions in against the VVinter;
But many lose their Life as chance doth fall,
None is perpetual, Death devoureth all.

A Moral Discourse of Corn.

The Yellow-bearded Corn bows down each Head,
Like Gluttons, when their Stomack's over-fed;
Or like as those whose Wealth makes heavy Cares,
So doth the Full-ripe Corn hang down their Ears;
For Plenty makes Oppression, gives small Ease,
And Superfluity is a Disease;
Yet all that Nature makes doth still aspire
Forward to get, never doth Back retire,
Untill the Sithe of Death doth lay them low
Upon the Earth, from whence they first did Grow.
Then who would Hoard up Wealth, and take such pains,
Since nothing but the Earth has all the gains?
No Riches are, but what i'th' Mind is found,
They are but Poor, who seek them under Ground;
For Time that Feeds on Life, makes all things fall,
Is never Satisfy'd, but Eats up all:
Then let the Minds of Men in Peace take rest,
And count a Moderation still the best;


And do not Grumble, or Covet Nature's store;
For those that are Content, can ne're be Poor;
But bless the Gods, submit to their Decree,
Think all things best, what they are pleas'd, must be:
He that doth Grumbl' at what he cannot mend,
Is one, that takes a thing at the wrong end.

Of the Knowledge of Beasts.

Who knoweth, but that Beasts as they do lye
In Meadows low, or else on Mountains high,
May Contemplations have upon the Sun,
And how his Daily, Yearly Circles run?
VVhether the Sun about the Earth doth Rove,
Or else the Earth on its own Poles doth move;
And in the Night, when twinkling Stars they see,
Like Man, imagine them all Suns to be;
And may the Stars and Planets number well,
And, could they Speak as Men, their Motions tell;
And how each Planet in its Orb doth move,
Against all Man's Astrology may prove;
For they may know the Stars and their Aspects,
VVhat Influence they cast, and their Effects.

Of Fish.

Who knows, but Fish which in the Sea do Live,
Can a good Reason of its Saltness give?
And how it Ebbs and Flows, perchance they can
Shew Reasons more than ever yet could Man.

Of Birds.

Who knows, but Birds, which under th'Azure Skies
Do fly, know whence the blustring Winds do rise?


And what a Thunder is, which no Man knows,
And what a blazing Star, or where it goes;
VVhether it be a Chip fall'n from the Sun,
And Vanish when its Aliment is done;
Or a Sulphureous Vapour drawn up high,
And when the Sulphur's spent, the Flame doth Dye;
Or whether 't be a Jelly set on Fire,
And wasting like a Candle doth expire;
Or whether 't be a Star whole and intire,
The Birds perhaps might tell, could we inquire.

Earths Complaint.

O Nature, Nature! Hearken to my Cry,
I'm VVounded sore, but yet I cannot Dye;
My Children which I from my Womb did bear,
Do dig my Sides, and all my Bowels tear,
They Plow deep Furrows in my very Face,
From Torment I have neither time nor place;
No other Element is so abus'd,
Or by Mankind so Cruelly is us'd.
Man cannot reach the Skys to Plow and Sow,
Nor can they Set or make the Stars to grow,
But they are still as Nature did them Plant,
Neither Maturity nor Growth they want;
They never Dye, nor do they yield their place
To younger Stars, but still run their own Race:
The Sun doth never Groan, young Suns to bear,
For he himself is his own Son and Heir;
He in the Centre sits just like a King,
Round him the Planets are as in a Ring;
The largest Orbs over his Head turn slow,
And underneath the swiftest Planets go;


All several Planets several Measures take,
And with their Motions do sweet Musick make:
Thus all the Planets round about him move,
And he returns them Light for their kind Love.

A Discourse of a Knave.

A prosperous Knave, that Mischief still doth Plot,
Swells big with Pride, since he has Power got;
His Conscience like a Purse open and wide,
False Hands do cast in Bribes on every side;
And as his Guts are stuft with Excrement,
So is his Head with Thoughts of ill Intent;
No Pitty shews to Men opprest with Grief,
But yet is apt to Pitty much a Thief;
He thinks them Fools that VVickedness do shun,
Esteems them VVise that Evil ways do run;
The Noble he doth Scorn, if they be Poor,
The Rich, though ne're so Base, he doth Adore;
He always Smiles as if he Peace still meant,
When all the while his Heart to Evil's bent;
He'l Friendship shew, and large Professions make,
VVhere he doth think Advantages to take:
Thus doth a Glossing Knave the VVorld abuse,
To work his end, the Devil his Friend he'l chuse.

Of a Fool.

I do hate Fools, for they my Brains do Crack,
And when they Speak my Patience's on the Rack;
Their Actions all from Reason quite do run,
Their Ends prove Bad, 'cause ill they first begun;
They fly from VVisdome, do her Counsels fear,
As if some Ruine near their Heads there were;


They seek the Shadow, let the Substance go,
And what is Good, or Best, they do not know:
Yet stiff in their Opinions are always,
Although you do them Bray, as Salomon says.
As in a Spiders VVeb a little Fly,
So Fools wrapt up in VVebs of Errours lye;
And as the Spider Flies with Poison fills,
So Mischief, after Errours, Fools oft Kills.

Of Melancholy.

A sad and Solemn Verse doth please the Mind,
With Chains of Passions doth the Spirits bind.
As Pencil'd Pictures drawn present the Night,
VVhose Darker Shadows give the Eye delight;
A Melancholy Object draws the Eye,
And always hath a seeming Majesty;
By its Converting qualities there grows
A perfect Likeness, when it Self it shows:
Then let the VVorld in Mourning sit and weep,
Since only Sadness we are apt to keep;
In Light and Toyish things we seek for change,
The Mind grows weary, and about doth Range;
VVhat Serious is, there Constancy will dwell,
Which shews that Sadness Mirth doth far excell.
VVhy should Men grieve, when they think on their Grave,
Since they no Settlement in Mirth can have?
The Grave, though Sad, in quiet still they keep,
VVithout Disturbing Dreams they lye Asleep;
No rambling Thoughts do vex their restless Brains,
No Labour hard doth dry and scorch their Veins;
No Care to Search for that they cannot Find,
VVhich is an Appetite in every Mind:


Then wish, good Man, to Dye in quiet Peace,
Since Death in Misery is a Release.

A Discourse of the Devils Power.

VVomen and Fools fear in the Dark to be,
Lest they the Devil in some Shape should see;
As if like silly Owls he took delight
To sleep all Day, and go abroad at Night;
Beat Pots and Pans, and Candles do Blow out,
And all the Night do keep a Revel-rout;
Do make the Sow to grunt, the Pigs to squeak,
The Dogs to bark, Cats mew, as if they Speak.
Alas, poor Devil, his Power is but small,
Only to make a Cat or Dog to Bawl;
To make with Pewter, Tin, and Brass a noise,
To stew with fearfull Sweat poor Girles and Boys.
Why should we fear him, since he doth no harm?
For we may Bind him Fast within a Charm.
Then what a Devil ails a Woman old,
To play such Tricks, whereby her Soul is Sold?
Can he destroy Mankind, or new Worlds make,
Or alter States for an Old Woman's Sake?
Can he the Day benight, or stop the Sun,
Or make the Planets from their Course to run?
And yet me thinks 'tis Odd, and very Strange,
That since the Devil cannot Bodies change,
He should have Power over Souls, to draw
Them from their God, and from his Holy Law,
Perswading Conscience to do more Ill,
Than the sweet Grace of God to Rule the will;
To cut off Faith, by which our Souls should clime
On high, and leave all Folly and all Crime;


Destroying honesty, Disgracing truth,
When he can neither make Old Age nor Youth;
He cannot add nor make a Minute short,
And yet keep many Souls from Heaven's Court;
It seems his Power shall for ever last,
Because 'tis over Souls which never Waste:
And thus hath God the Devil power lent,
To punish Man, unless he doth Repent.



[Give me a free and noble Style, that goes]

Give me a free and noble Style, that goes
In an Uncurbed Strain, though Wild it shows;
For though it Runs about it cares not where,
It shews more Courage than it doth of Fear:
Give me a Style that Nature frames, not Art,
For Art doth seem to take the Pedants part;
And that seems Noble, which is easie, free,
And not bound up with o're nice Pedantry.

The Hunting of the Hare.

Betwixt two Ridges of Plowd-land sat Wat,
Whose Body press'd to th'Earth, lay close, and squat,
His Nose upon his two Fore-feet did lye,
With his gray Eyes he glared Obliquely;
His Head he always set against the Wind,
His Tail when turn'd, his Hair blew up behind,
And made him to get Cold; but he being Wise,
Doth keep his Coat still down, so warm he lies:
Thus rests he all the Day, till th'Sun doth Set,
Then up he riseth his Relief to get,
And walks about, untill the Sun doth Rise,
Then coming back in's former Posture lies.


At last poor Wat was found, as he there lay,
By Huntsmen, which came with their Dogs that way
Whom seeing, he got up, and fast did run,
Hoping some ways the Cruel Dogs to shun;
But they by Nature had so quick a Sent,
That by their Nose they Trac'd what way he went,
And with their deep wide Mouths set forth a Cry,
Which answer'd was by Echo in the Sky;
Then Wat was struck with Terrour and with Fear,
Seeing each Shadow thought the Dogs were there,
And running out some Distance from their Cry,
To hide himself, his Thoughts he did imploy;
Under a Clod of Earth in Sand-pit wide
Poor Wat sat close, hoping himself to hide,
There long he had not been, but strait in's Ears
The winding Horns and crying Dogs he hears;
Then starting up with fear, he Leap'd, and such
Swift speed he made, the Ground he scarce did touch;
Into a great thick Wood strait ways he got,
And underneath a broken Bough he Sat,
Where every Leaf, that with the Wind did shake
Brought him such Terrour, that his Heart did Ake;
That place he left, to Champain Plains he went,
Winding about, for to deceive their Sent,
And while they Snuffling were to find his Track,
Poor Wat being weary, his swift Pace did slack;
On his two hinder Legs for ease he Sat,
His Fore-feet rubb'd his Face from Dust and Sweat,
Licking his Feet, he wip'd his Ears so clean,
That none could tell that Wat had Hunted been;
But casting round about his fair gray Eyes,
The Hounds in full Career he near him 'Spies,


To Wat it was so Terrible a Sight,
Fear gave him Wings and made his Body light;
Though he was Tyr'd before by Running long,
Yet now his Breath he never felt more Strong;
Like those that Dying are, think Health returns,
When 'tis but a faint Blast which Life out-burns;
For Spirits seek to Guard the Heart about,
Striving with Death, but Death doth quench them out.
The Hounds so fast came on, and with such Cry,
That he no hopes had left, nor help could 'spy;
With that the Winds did pitty poor VVat's Case,
And with their Breath the Sent blew from that place;
Then every Nose was busily imploy'd,
And every Nostril was set Open wide,
And every Head did seek a several way,
To find the Grass or Track where the Sent lay;
For Witty Industry is never Slack,
'Tis like to Witch-craft, and brings lost things back:
But though the VVind had tied the Sent up close,
A busie Dog thrust in his snuffling Nose
And drew it out, with that did fore-most run,
Then Horns blew Loud, the rest to follow on:
The great slow Hounds their Throats did set a Base,
The Fleet, swift Hounds, as Tenours next in place,
The little Beagles did a Treble Sing,
And through the Air their Voices round did Ring,
VVhich made such Confort as they Ran along,
That, had they Spoken words, 't had been a Song;
The Horns kept time, the Men did shout for Joy,
And seem'd most Valiant, poor Wat to Destroy;
Spurring their Horses to a full Career,
Swom Rivers deep, Leap'd ditches without fear,


Indanger'd Life and Limbs, so fast they'ld Ride;
Only to see how patiently VVat Dy'd;
At last the Dogs so near his Heels did get,
That their sharp Teeth they in his Breech did set;
Then Tumbling down he fell, with weeping Eyes
Gave up his Ghost; and thus poor Wat he Dyes.
Men hooping Loud, such Acclamations made,
As if the Devil they Imprisoned had,
When they but did a shiftless Creature Kill;
To Hunt, their needs no Valiant Souldiers Skill:
But Men do think that Exercise and Toil,
To keep their Health, is best, which makes most Spoil,
Thinking that Food and Nourishment so good,
Which doth proceed from others Flesh and Blood.
When they do Lions, Wolves, Bears, Tigres see
Kill silly Sheep, they say, they Cruel be,
But for themselves all Creatures think too few,
For Luxury, wish God would make more New;
As if God did make Creatures for Mans meat,
And gave them Life and Sense for Man to Eat,
Or else for Sport or Recreations sake
For to Destroy those Lives that God did make,
Making their Stomacks Graves, which full they fill
With Murther'd Bodies, which in Sport they Kill;
Yet Man doth think himself so Gentle and Mild,
When of all Creatures he's most Cruel, Wild,
Nay, so Proud, that he only thinks to Live,
That God a God-like Nature him did give,
And that all Creatures for his Sake alone
Were made, for him to Tyrannize upon.


The Hunting of a Stag.

There was a Stag, did in the Forest lye,
Whose Neck was long, whose Horns were Branch'd up high,
His Haunch was broad, Sides large, and Back was long,
His Legs were Nervous, and his Joynts were Strong;
His Hair lay Sleek and Smooth, he was so Fair,
None in the Forest might with him Compare.
In Summer's Heat he in Cool Brakes him lay,
VVhich being High did keep the Sun away;
In Evenings Cool, and Dewy Mornings he
VVould early Rise and all the Forest see;
Then was he VValking to some Crystal brook,
Not for to Drink, but on his Horns to Look,
Taking such pleasure in his stately Crown,
His Pride forgot that Dogs might pull him down;
From thence he to a Shady VVood did go,
VVhere streightest Pines and talest Cedars grow;
Olives upright, imbrac'd by th'Loving Vines,
Birches which Bow their Heads to Golden Mines;
Small Aspen stalk, which shakes like Agues cold,
That from perpetual Motion never hold;
The sturdy Oak, which on the Seas doth Ride;
Firr which tall Masts doth make, where Sails are tied;
The weeping Maple, and the Popler green,
Whose cooling Buds in Salves have Healing been;
The fatting Chestnut, and the Hasle small,
The smooth-rind Beech, which groweth Large and Tall;
The loving Mirtle fit for Amorous kind,
The yielding Willow for Inconstant Mind;


The Cypress Sad, which makes the Funeral Hearse,
And Sicomors, where Lovers write their Verse;
And Juniper, which gives a pleasant Smell,
With many more, which were too Long to tell,
Which from their Sappy Roots sprout Branches small,
Some call it Under-wood, that's never Tall;
There walking through the Stag was hinder'd much,
The bending Twigs his Horns did often Touch;
While he on tender Leaves and Buds did brouse,
His Eyes were troubled with the broken Boughs;
Then strait he sought this Labyrinth t'unwind,
Though hard it was his first way out to find;
Unto this Wood a Rising Hill was near,
The sweet wild Thyme and Marjoran grew there,
And Winter-Sav'ry which was never Set,
Of which the Stag took great delight to Eat;
But looking down into the Vallies low,
He saw, there Grass and Cowslips thick did grow,
And Springs, which Digg'd themselves a passage out,
Much like as Serpents, wind each Field about;
Rising in Winter high, they'ld over-flow
The flow'ry Banks, but make the Soil to grow;
And as he went thinking therein to Feed,
He 'spied a Field, which Sow'd was with VVheat-seed,
The Blades were grown a handfull high and more,
VVhich Sight to Taste did soon Invite him o're;
In haste he went, Fed full, then down did lye;
The Owner coming there, did him Espy,
Strait call'd his Dogs to Hunt him from that place;
At last it prov'd to be a Forest chase;
The Chase grew hot, the Stag apace did run,
The Dogs pursu'd, more Men for Sport came on;


At last a Troop of Men, Horse, Dogs did meet,
Which made the Hart to try his Nimble feet;
Full swift he was, his Horns he bore up high,
The Men did Shout, the Dogs ran Yelping by,
And Bugle Horns with several Notes did blow,
Huntsmen, to cross the Stag, did Side-ways go;
The Horses beat their Hoofs against dry Ground,
Raising such Clouds of Dust, their ways scarce found,
Their Sides ran down with Sweat, as if they were
New come from Watering, so dropt every Hair;
The Dogs their Tongues out of their Mouths hung long,
Their Sides did like a Feaverish Pulse beat strong,
Their short Ribs heav'd up high, and then fell low,
As Bellows draw in Wind that they may Blow;
Men Tawny grew, the Sun their Skins did turn,
Their Mouths were Dry, their Bowels felt to Burn;
The Stag so Hot as glowing Coals may be,
Yet swiftly Ran when he the Dogs did see.
Coming at length unto a Rivers side,
VVhose Current flow'd as with a falling Tide,
There he Leap'd in, thinking some while to stay
To wash his Sides, his burning Heat t'allay,
In hope the Dogs could not in VVater swim,
But was deceiv'd, for they did follow him
Like Fishes, which do Swim in VVaters deep;
He Duck'd, but Out, alas! his Horns did Peep;
The Dogs were cover'd over Head and Ear,
Nothing did of them but their Nose appear;
The Stag and River like a Race did show,
He striving still the River to Out-go,
VVhilst Men and Horses down the Banks did run,
Encouraging the Dogs to follow on,


Where in the Water, like a Looking-glass,
He by Reflexion saw their Shadows pass;
Fear did his Breath cut short, his Limbs did shrink,
Like those which the Cramp makes to th'Bottom sink:
Thus out of Breath no longer could he stay,
But Leap'd on Land, and swiftly Run away;
For Change brings Ease, ease Strength, in Strength Hope lives,
Hope Joys the Heart, and Joy light Heels still gives.
His Feet did like a Feather'd Arrow fly,
Or like a winged Bird that mounts the Sky;
The Dogs like Ships, that Sail with Wind and Tide,
Do Cut the Air, and VVaters deep Divide;
Or like as Greedy Merchants, which for gain
Venture their Life, and Traffick on the Main;
The Hunters like to Boys, which without fear,
To see a Sight, will hazard Life, that's Dear:
For they are Sad when Mischief takes no place,
And out of Countenance as with Disgrace,
But when they see a Ruine and a Fall,
They come with Joy, as if they'd Conquer'd all:
And thus did their three several Passions meet;
First the desire to Catch the Dogs made Fleet,
Then Fear the Stag made Run, his Life to save,
Whilst Men for love of Mischief digg'd his Grave.
The angry Dust flew in each Face about,
As if't would with Revenge their Eyes put out,
Yet they all fast went on, with a huge Cry;
The Stag no hope had left, nor help did 'spy,
His Heart so heavy grew with Grief and Care,
That his small Feet his Body scarce could bear,
Yet loath to Dye, or yield to Foes was he,
And to the last would strive for Victory;


'Twas not for want of Courage he did Run,
But that an Army was 'gainst him alone;
Had he the Valour had of Cæsar stout,
Yet Yield he must to them, or Dye, no doubt;
Turning his Head, as if he Dar'd their spight,
Prepar'd himself against them all to Fight;
Single he was, his Horns were all his helps,
To Guard him from a Multitude of Whelps;
Besides, a Company of Men were there,
If Dogs should fail, to strike him every where;
But to the last his Fortune he'ld try out,
Then Men and Dogs did Circle him about,
Some Bit, some Bark'd, all Ply'd him at the Bay,
Where with his Horns he Tossed some away:
But Fate his Thread had Spun, he down did fall,
Shedding some Tears at his own Funeral.

Golden Mines are found out by the Birches bowing.

A Description of an Island.

There was an Island Rich by Nature's Grace,
In all the World it was the Sweetest place,
Surrounded with the Seas, whose VVaves not miss'd
To do her Homage, and her Feet they Kiss'd;
Each Wave did seem by turn to Bow down low,
And proud to Touch her, when as they did Flow;
Armies of VVaves in Troops high Tides brought on,
Whose wat'ry Arms did Glister as the Sun,
And on their Backs burthens of Ships did bear,
Placing them in her Havens with great Care,
Not Mercenary, for no Pay they'ld have,
But as her Guard did Watch, to keep her Safe,
And in a Ring they Circled her about,
Strong as a Wall, to keep her Foes without;


The Winds did Serve her, and on Clouds did Ride,
Blowing their Trumpets loud on every side,
Serving as Scouts, they Search'd in every Lane,
And Gallop'd in the Forests, Fields and Plain;
While she did please the Gods, she did Live safe,
And they all kind of Pleasures to her gave;
For all this Place was Fertile, Rich and Fair,
Both Woods, and Hills, and Dales in Prospects were;
Birds pleasure took, and with delight did Sing,
In Praises of this Isle the VVoods did Ring;
Trees thriv'd with Joy, for she their Roots well fed,
And Tall with Pride, their Tops did Over-spread;
Danc'd with the Winds, when they did Sing and Blow,
Play'd like a wanton Kid, or a swift Roe;
Their several Branches several Birds did bear,
Which Hop'd and Skip'd, and always Merry were;
Their Leaves did Wave, and Rushing make a Noise,
And many ways striv'd to express their Joys;
All Flowers there look'd fresh, and gay with Mirth,
Whilst they were Danc'd upon the Lap of Earth;
Th'Isle was their Mother, they her Children sweet,
Born from her Loins, got by Apollo great,
Who Dress'd and Prun'd them often with great Care,
And wash'd their Leaves with Dew to make them Fair;
Which being done, he wip'd those Drops away
With Webs of Heat , which he Weaves every Day;
Paint them with several Colours Intermixt,
Veil'd them with Shadows every Leaf betwixt;
Their Heads he Dress'd, their Hairy Leaves spread out,
Wreath'd round their Crowns his Golden Beams about:


For he this Isle esteem'd above the rest;
Of all his Wives he had he Lov'd her best;
Daily he did present her with some Gift,
Twelve Ells of Light to make her Smocks for Shift;
Which every time he came, he put on Fair,
That Lovely she and Handsome might appear,
And when he from her went, the World to see,
He left his Sister her for Company,
Whose name is Cynthia, though Pale yet Clear,
Which makes her always in Dark Clouds appear;
Besides, he left his Stars to wait on her,
Lest she should Grieve too much, when he's not there,
And from his bounty Cloath'd them all with Light,
Which makes them Twinkle in a frosty Night;
He never brought Hot beams to do her harm,
Nor let her take a Cold, but Lap'd her warm;
He Mantles Rich of equal Heat o'respread,
And cover'd her with Colour Crimson Red;
He gave another o're her Head to lye,
The Colour is a pure bright Azure Sky;
And with soft Air did Line them all within,
Like Furs in Winter, in Summer Satin thin;
With Silver Clouds he Fringed them about,
And Spangled Meteors Glist'ring hung without:
Thus gave he Change, lest she should weary grow,
Or think them Old, and so away them throw.
Nature adorn'd this Island all throughout
With Landskips, Riv'lets, Prospects round about;
Hills over-top'd the Dales, which Level were,
And cover'd all with Cattel, Feeding there;


Grass grew up even to the Belly high,
Where Beasts that Chew their Cud lay Pleasantly,
Whisking their Tails about, the Flies to beat,
Or else to Cool them from the Sultry heat;
Nature, her Love to th'Gods willing to show,
Sent Plenty in, like Nile's great Overflow,
And temperate Seasons gave, and equal Lights,
Warm Sun-shine Days, and Dewy Moon-shine Nights;
And in this pleasant Island Peace did dwell,
No noise of VVarr, or sad Tale could it tell.


There would be no Colours if no Light.

Those Smocks are the Days.

The Ruine of this Island.

This Island Liv'd in Peace full many a Day,
So long as she unto the Gods did Pray;
But she grew Proud with Plenty and with Ease,
Ador'd her Self, and did the Gods displease,
She flung their Altars down, and in their stead
Set up her Own, and would be VVorshipped:
The Gods grew angry, and commanded Fate
To Alter and to Ruine quite the State,
For they had Chang'd their Mind of late, they said,
And did Repent, unthankfull Man th'had made;
Fates wondred much to hear what said the Gods,
That they and mortal Men were at great Odds,
And found them apt to Change, thought it did show,
As if the Gods did not poor Men fore-know;
For why, said they, if Men do Evil grow,
The Gods, fore-seeing all, Men's hearts did know
Long, long before they did Man first Create;
If so, what need they change or alter Fate?
'Twas in their Power to make them Good or Ill,
Wherefore Men cannot do just what they will;


Then why do Gods complain against them so,
Since Men are made by them such ways to go?
If Evil power hath Gods to oppose,
Two equal Deities it plainly shows;
The one Pow'r cannot keep Obedience long,
If Disobedient power be as Strong;
And being Ignorant how Men will prove,
Know not how Strong or Long will last their Love:
But may't not be the Course of God's Decree,
To love Obedience, wheresoe're it be?
They from the first a Changing power Create,
And for that Work make Destiny and Fate;
It is the Mind of Man that's apt to Range,
The Minds of Gods are not subject to Change.
Then did the Fates unto the Planets go,
And told them they Malignity must throw
Into this Island, for the Gods would take
Revenge on them, who did their Laws forsake;
VVith that the Planets drew like with a Screw
Bad Vapours from the Earth, and then did View
What place to Squeeze that Poyson on, which all
The Venom had, got from the VVorld's great Ball;
Then through Mens Veins like Molten Lead it came,
And did like Oyl their Spirits all Inflame,
VVhere Malice boyl'd with Rancor, Spleen and Spight,
In VVarr and Fraud, Injustice took delight,
Thinking which way their Lusts they might fulfill,
Committed Thefts, Rapes, Murthers at their will;
Parents and Children did Unnat'ral grow,
And every Friend was turn'd a Cruel Foe;
Nay, Innocency no Protection had,
Religious Men were thought to be stark Mad;


In Witches, Wizzards, they did put their trust,
Extortions, Bribes were thought to be most Just;
Like Titan's Race all did in Tumults rise,
And 'gainst the Heavens utter Blasphemies;
The Gods in Rage unbound the Winds, to blow
In a strange Nation, formerly their Foe,
Where they themselves did Plant, the Natives all
Were by them Kill'd, for th'Gods had Sworn their fall;
Compassion wept, and Virtue wrung her hands,
To see that Right was Banish'd from their Lands:
Thus Winds, and Seas, the Planets, Fates and all
Conspir'd to work her Ruine and her Fall;
But those that keep the Laws of God on high,
Shall Live in Peace, i'th' Grave rest Quietly;
And ever after like the Gods shall be,
Injoy all Pleasure, know no Misery.


III. The Third Part

To Poets


Of Poets, and their Theft.

As Birds, to Hatch their Young ones, sit i'th' Spring,
So do some Ages Broods of Poets bring,
Which to the World in Verse do sweetly Sing;
And as their Notes, not Art, but Nature taught,
So Fancies in the Brain by Nature wrought
Are Best; what Imitation makes is Naught:
For though these Sing as well, as well may be,
And make their Notes of what they Learn, agree;
Yet he that Teaches, has the Mastery,
And ought to have the Crown of Praise and Fame,
In the long Role of Time to Write his Name;
But those that Steal from him are much to blame.
There's none, should places have in Fame's High Court,
But those that first do Win Invention's Fort:
Not Messengers which only make Report.


To Messengers rewards of Thanks are due
For their great Pains, telling their Message true;
But not the Honour of Invention new.
Many there are, that Suits will make to wear,
Of several Patches, stolen both here and there;
That to the World they Gallants might appear:
And the poor Vulgar, which but little know,
Do Reverence all, that makes a Glist'ring show;
Examine not, how it comes to be so:
Then do they call their Friends, and all their Kin,
And Factions make, the Ignorant to win;
VVith whose help they to Fame's High Court crowd in.

Upon the same Subject.

Some will a Line or two from Horace take,
And pick his Fancies, wch their own they make;
And some of Homer, Virgil, Ovid sweet,
Will steal, and make them in their Books to meet,
Yet make them not in their right Shapes appear,
But like as Spirits in dark Shades to err:
Thus as Magicians Spirit-troublers they're,
And may the Name of Poet-Juglers bear,
Which th'Ignorant by Sorcery delude,
Shewing false Glasses to the Multitude,
And with a small and undiscerned Hair,
Do pull great Truth out of her place she were:
These should by th'Poets Laws be Hang'd, and so
Into the Hell of Condemnation go.


Wherein Poetry chiefly Consists.

Most of our Modern Writers now adays,
Consider not the Fancy, but the Phrase;
As if fine Words were Wit, or one should say,
A Woman's Handsome, if her Cloaths be Gay,
Regarding not what Beauty's in the Face,
Nor what Proportion doth the Body grace;
As when her Shoos be high, to say she's Tall,
And when she is strait Lac'd, to say she's Small;
When Painted, or her Hair is Curl'd with Art,
Though of it Self but Plain, and her Skin swart,
We cannot say, that from her thanks are due
To Nature, nor those Arts in Her we View,
Unless she them Invented, and so Taught
The World to set forth that, which is stark naught;
But Fancy is the Eye, gives Life to all,
Words, the Complexion, as a whited Wall;
Fancy the Form is, Flesh, Blood, Skin and Bone,
Words are but Shadows, Substance they have none:
But Number is the Motion, gives the Grace,
And is the Count'nance of a Well-form'd Face.



The several Keys of Nature, which Unlock the several Boxes of her Cabinet.

A Bunch of Keys did Hang by Nature's side,
Which She, to open her five Boxes try'd;
The first was Wit, which Key unlock'd the Ear,
Open'd the Brain, to see what things were there;
The next was Beauty's Key unlock'd the Eyes,
Open'd the Heart, to see what therein lies;
The third was Appetite, which quick did go,
Opening the Stomack, to put Meat into;
The Key of Sent unlock'd the Brain, though hard,
For of a Stink the Nose is much afear'd;
The Key of Pain did open Touch, but slow,
For Nature's loath any Disease to show.

The five Boxes are the five Senses, and the Cabinet is the Brain.

Nature's Cabinet.

In Nature's Cabinet, the Brain, you'l find
Many a Toy, which doth delight the Mind;
Several Colour'd Ribbonds of Fancies new
To tye in Hats or Hair of Lovers true;


Imagination's Masques, where nothing's shown
But th'Eyes of Knowledge, all the rest unknown;
Fans of Opinion, which do Waft the Wind,
According as the Heat is in the Mind;
Gloves of Remembrance, to draw off and on,
For Thoughts i'th' Brain are sometimes there, then gone;
Veils of Forgetfulness the Thoughts do hide,
Which when turn'd up, then is their Face espy'd;
Pendants of Understanding heavy there
Are found, but do not Hang in every Ear;
Patches of Ignorance to stick upon
The Face of Fools. This Cabinet is shown.

Love Verses.

Nature's Dress.

The Sun Crowns Nature's Head with Beams so fair,
The Stars do hang as Jewels in her Hair;
Her Garment's made of pure Bright watchet Sky,
VVhich round her VVaste the Zodiack doth tye;
The Polar Circles, Bracelets for each Wrist,
The Planets round about her Neck do twist;
The Gold and Silver-mines Shoes for her Feet,
And for her Garters are the Flowers sweet;
Her Stockings are of Grass that's fresh and green,
The Rain-bow is like Colour'd Ribbonds seen;
The Powder for her Hair is Milk-white Snow,
And when she comes her Locks the Winds do blow;
Light, a thin Veil, doth Hang upon her Face,
Through which her Creatures see in every place.

Nature's Cook.

Death is the Cook of Nature, and we find
Creatures drest several ways to please her Mind;


Some Death doth Roast with Feavers burning hot,
And some he Boyls with Dropsies in a Pot;
Some are Consum'd for Jelly by degrees,
And some with Ulcers, Gravy out to Squeeze;
Some, as with Herbs, he stuffs with Gouts and Pains,
Others for tender Meat he hangs in Chains;
Some in the Sea he Pickles up to keep,
Others he, as Sous'd Brawn, in Wine doth Steep;
Some Flesh and Bones he with the Pox chops small,
And doth a French Fricassee make withall;
Some on Grid-ir'ns of Calentures are Broil'd,
And some are trodden down, and so quite spoil'd:
But some are Bak'd, when Smother'd they do Dye,
Some Meat he doth by Hectick Feavers fry;
In Sweat sometimes he stews with Savory smell,
An Hodge-podge of Diseases he likes well;
Some Brains he Dresseth with Apoplexy,
Or Sawce of Megrims, Swimming plenteously;
And Tongues he Drys with Smoak from Stomacks ill,
Which, as the second Course he sends up still;
Throats he doth Cut, Blood Puddings for to make,
And puts them in the Guts, which Colicks Rack;
Some Hunted are by him for Deer, that's Red,
And some as Stall-fed Oxen knock'd o'th' Head;
Some Singd'd and Scall'd for Bacon, seem most rare,
When with Salt Rhume & Phlegm they Powder'd are.

Nature's Oven.

The Brain is like an Oven, Hot and Dry,
Which Bakes all sorts of Fancies low and high;
The Thoughts are Wood, which Motion sets on Fire,
The Tongue a Peel, the Hand which draws, desire;


By thinking much the Brain too Hot will grow,
And Burn them up, if Cold, Fancies are Dough.

A Posset for Nature's Breakfast.

Life Scums the Cream of Beauty with Times Spoon,
And draws the Claret-wine of Blushes soon,
Then Boyls it in a Skillet clean of Youth,
And thicks it well with crumbled Bread of Truth;
Sets it upon the Fire of Life, which does
Burn clearer much, when Health her Bellows blows;
Then takes the Eggs of Fair and Bashfull Eyes,
And puts them in a Countenance that's VVise,
Cuts in a Lemmon of the Sharpest Wit,
Discretion, as a Knife, is us'd for it.
A Handfull of Chast Thoughts, double Refin'd,
Six Spoonfulls of a Noble 'nd Gentle mind,
A Grain of Mirth to give 't a little Taste,
Then takes it off for fear the Substance waste,
And puts it in a Bason of good Health,
And with this Meat doth Nature please her Self.

An Olio Drest for Nature's Dinner.

Life takes a young and tender Lover's heart,
That hunted was, and struck by Cupid's Dart,
Sets it upon the Fire of Love, and Blows
That Fire with Sighs, by which the Flame high grows;
And Boyls it with the Water of fresh Tears,
Flings in a Bunch of Hope, Desires, and Fears;
More Sprigs of Passions throws into the Pot,
Then takes it off, when it is Seething hot,
And puts it in a clean Dish of delight,
That Scowred was from Envy and from Spight;


Then doth she press and squeeze in Juice of Youth,
And casts therein some Sugar of sweet Truth;
Sharp Melancholy gives a quickning Taste,
And Temperance doth cause it long to last;
Then she with Smiles doth Garnish it and Dress,
And serves it up a Fair and Beauteous mess:
But Nature's apt to Surfeit of this Meat,
Which makes, that she doth seldome of it Eat.

A Bisk for Nature's Table.

Afore-head which is high, broad, smooth, and sleek,
A large great Eye, that's black and very quick;
A Brow, which Arch'd, or like a Bow is bent,
A Rosie Cheek, and in the midst a Dent;
Two Cherry Lips, whereon the Dew lies wet,
A Nose between the Eyes, that's even Set;
A Chin that's neither short, nor very long,
A sharp and quick, and ready pleasing Tongue;
A Breath of Musk and Amber, Breasts which Silk
In softness do resembl', in whiteness Milk;
A Body plump, white, of an even growth,
That's active, lively, quick, and void of Sloth;
A Heart that's firm and sound, a Liver good,
A Speech that's plain and easie understood;
A Hand, that's fat and smooth, and very white,
Whose Inside moist and red, like Rubies bright;
A brawny Arm, a Wrist that's round and small,
And Fingers long, and Joynts not big withall;
A Stomack strong, and easie to digest,
A Swan-like Neck, and an Out-bearing Chest;
All these when mixt with Pleasure and Delight,
And strew'd upon with Eyes most quick of Sight,


Are put into a Dish of Admiration,
And so Serv'd up with praises of a Nation.

A Hodge-podge for Nature's Table.

A Wanton Eye, that seeks but to allure,
Dissembling Countenance, that looks demure;
A griping Hand, that holds what's none of his,
A jealous Mind, which thinks all is amiss;
A purple Face, where Mattery pimples stood,
A slandering Tongue, that still dispraiseth Good;
A frowning Brow, with Rage and Anger bent,
A Good, proceeding from an ill Intent;
Large promises, which for performance staid,
And profer'd Gifts, which no acceptance had;
Affected words that signifie no thing,
And feigned Laughter which no Mirth doth bring;
Thoughts idle, foolish, unusefull and vain,
Which are Created in a Lover's Brain;
Such Antick postures, where no Grace in is,
Well-meaning Minds, which always do amiss;
A Voice that's Hoarse, where Notes cannot agree,
And Squinting Eyes, that no true Shape can see;
Wrinkles which Time hath set in every Face,
Vain-glory brave, that falls in full Disgrace;
A Self-conceited Pride without a cause,
A painfull, desperate Act without applause;
Verses wherein's no Fancy, Sense, nor Rhime,
Ambitions falls, when highest Hopes do climb;
All these Life i'th' Pot of Dislike boyls fast,
And stirs them with the Ladle of Distast,
She makes therein the Fat of Gluttons flow,
And Roots of several Vices throws into,


With several Herbs, as aged Thyme that's dry,
Heart-burning Parsly, Funeral Rosemary;
Then pours it out into Repentant Dishes,
And sends it up by Shadows of Vain wishes.

A Heart Drest.

Life takes a Heart, and Passions puts therein,
And covers it with a Dissembling Skin;
Takes Anger, which like Pepper keen doth Bite,
And Vinegar that's Sharp, and made of Spight,
Ginger of Revenge grated in is flung,
To which she adds a Lying Cloven Tongue,
A lazy flake of Mace, which lies down flat,
Some Salt of Slander she doth put to that;
Then serves it up with Sawce of Jealousie,
In Dishes of most carefull Industry.

Head and Brain Dress'd.

A Brain, wherein no Dulness doth appear,
From gross Opinions wash'd with Reasons clear,
A Judgment hard and sound grated therein,
Quick wit squeez'd into it, with Fancies thin;
A Bunch of Sent, Sounds, Colours tied up fast
With threads of Motion, and strong Nerves to last,
Stew'd with long Time in Memory close shut,
Spirits instead of VVine into it put,
And then pour'd forth into a Dish of Touch,
'Tis good and wholesome Meat, although not much.

A Tart.

Life took some Flowr of white Complexions made,
Churn'd Nourishment, as Butter, she did add,


And Knead it well, then on a Board it plac'd,
And rould it oft, untill a Pye was Rais'd;
Then did she take some Lips like Cherries Red,
And Sloe-black Eyes from a fair Virgin's Head,
And Strawb'ry Teats from th'Banks of each white Breast,
And Fingers ends like Juice from Raspes prest;
These she put in the Pye, and did it Bake
Within a Heart, which she strait Hot did make;
Then drew it out with Reason's Peel, to send
It up; This Meat did Nature much commend.

Nature's Dissert.

Sweet Marmalade of Kisses newly gather'd,
Preserved Children, which were never Father'd;
Sugar of Beauty, which away Melts soon,
Marchpane of Youth, and Childish Macaroon;
Sugar-Plum-words, which fall Sweet from the Lips,
And Wafer-promises Mould'ring like Chips;
Biskets of Love, which crumble all away,
Gelly of Fear, which shak'd, and quivering lay:
Then was a fresh Green-sickness Cheese brought in,
And tempting Fruit, like that which Eve made Sin,
With Cream of Honour, which was thick and good,
Firm Nuts of sincere Friendship by it stood;
Grapes of Delight, dull Spirits to revive,
Whose Juice, 'tis said, doth Nature keep alive:
All this Dissert did Nature might'ly please,
She Eat and Drank, then went to rest in Ease.

Nature's Officers.

Eternity as Usher goes before,
And Destiny, as Porter, keeps the Door


Of the great World, who lets Life out and in;
The Fates, her Maids, the Thread of Life do Spin,
Change Orders all with Industry and Care,
Motion, her Foot-boy, runneth every where;
Time, as her Page doth carry up her Train,
But in his Service he doth little gain;
The Days are the Surveyors, which do view
All Nature's works, that are both Old and New;
The Seasons four by turns their Circuits take,
Like Judges sit, and Distributions make;
The Months as Pen-clerks write down every thing,
Make Deeds of Gifts, and Bonds of all that spring;
Life's Office is to Pay, and give out all
To her Receiver, Death, when he doth Call.

Nature's House.

The Ground, on which this House is Built so Strong,
Is Honesty, that hates to do a wrong;
Foundations deep were Laid, and very sure,
By Love, which to all times doth firm indure;
The Walls, strong Friendship, Hearts for Brick lay thick,
And Constancy as Mortar made them stick;
Free-stones of Obligations Pillars raise,
To bear High-roofed Thanks, Seiled with Praise;
VVindows of Knowledge let in Light of Truth,
Curtains of Joy are drawn by Pleasant Youth;
Chimnies of th'Touch-stone of Affection made,
Wherein is Beauty, as Love's Fuel, laid;
The Harth is Innocent and Marble white,
On which Love's Fire burns clear and flames most bright;
The Doors are Cares, Misfortunes out to keep,
Lest Poverty that's Cold might thorow Creep:


Besides, there Rooms of several Passions stand,
Some on the Right, and some on th'other Hand.
This House's Out-side's Tyl'd with noble Deeds,
With high Ambition cover'd, as with Leads;
Turrets of Fame are Built on every side,
And in this Palace Nature takes great Pride;
It is best Furnish'd of all Nature's Courts,
For it is Hung with Virtues of all sorts,
With Moral Virtues, and with those of Art,
The last from Acts, the first come from the Heart.

Nature's Cellar.

The Head is like a Barrel, which will break
If th'Liquor be too Strong, but if't be weak,
It will the Riper grow by Lying long;
For kept from Vent, the Spirits grow more Strong:
So Wit, which Nature Tuns up in the Brain,
Never leaves VVorking, if it close remain,
'Twill through Discretion burst and run about,
Unless a Pen and Ink do Tap it out:
But if the VVit be Small, then let it lye;
For Broach'd too soon, the Spirits quickly Dye.

Nature's Wines.

Malago Wits, which Pens do broach or peirce,
If strong, run strait into Heroick Verse;
Sharp Claret Satyr searching runs about
The Veins of Vice, before it passes out,
And makes the Blood of Virtue fresh to spring
In noble Minds, fair Truths Complexions bring;


But all high Fancy is in Brandy Wits ,
A Fiery heat in Understanding sits.


Nature's Wardrope

In Nature's Wardrope, there hangs up great store
Of several Garments, some are Rich, some Poor;
Some made of Beauty's Stuff, with Smiles well Lac'd,
With lovely Favour is the Out-side Fac'd;
Some fresh and new, by Sicknesses were Rent,
Not taking any Care them to prevent,
But Physick and good Diet had again
Sow'd up the Slits, that none did yet remain;
Some worn so Bare with Age, that none could see
What Stuff't had been, or what it yet might be;
Others were so Ill-shap'd, their Stuff so Coarse,
As none would wear unless it were by force;
And several Mantles, Nature made, were there,
To keep her Creatures warm from the Cold Air,
As Sables, Martins, and black Fox good store,
Ermins, and fierce wild Cats, and many more;
Most of her Creatures she hath Clad in Furr,
Which need no Fire at all, if they but stir;
And some in Wool she Clads, as well as Hair,
And some in Scales, others do Feathers wear:
But Man, his Skin she made so smooth and fair,
He doth not need Feathers, Scales, Wool nor Hair.
The out-side of all things Nature keeps there,
For several Creatures, which she makes them wear,
Death pulls them off, Life puts them on, but Nature
Takes care to fit each Garment for each Creature.


'Tis true, there are but two Sorts, and no more
Of Stuffs , whereof are Garments made in Store;
But yet these of such several Fashions are,
That seldome any two alike appear;
And Nature several Trimmings for them makes,
And several Colours for each Trimming takes.

Flesh and Fish.

The Soul's Garment.

Great Nature Cloaths the Soul, which is but thin,
With fleshly Garments, which the Fates do Spin,
And when these Garments are grown Old and Bare,
With Sickness torn, Death takes them off with Care,
Doth Fold them up in peace and quiet rest,
And lays them Safe within an Earthly Chest,
Then Scours them well, and makes them sweet and clean,
Fit for the Soul to wear those Cloaths again.

Nature's Grange.

Grounds of great Loss with Sorrows were deep Plow'd,
VVherein the fertil Seed of Care was Sow'd;
Horses of Hopes did draw the Cart of Pains,
VVith Expectations fill'd, to th'Barn of Brains;
Cows of Content did give the Milk of Ease,
Curds prest with Love did make a friendship Cheese;
Cream of Delight, put into Pleasure's Churn,
In a short time to Butter of Joy did turn;
Sweet VVhey of Tears from Laughing Eyes did flow:
Thus all her Huswifry did Nature show.
Eggs of Revenge were laid by some design,
Chickens of Mischief hatch'd by words Divine;


Life's Nourishment the Poultry fat doth Cram,
And so all Creatures else, both Wild and Tame;
The Fates doth Nature make to Sit and Spin,
And Destiny lays out and brings Flax in;
In this her Huswifry doth Nature take
Such great delight, the Cloath of Life to make,
That every Garment she her Self cuts out,
Giving them to her Creatures all about,
VVhere some wear them so Long, till they be Torn,
And some do Cast them off before half worn:
Thus busie Nature doth her Self imploy
On every Creature small, untill they Dye;
And when one Dyes, that Work is at an end,
Then to a new she doth her Study bend.

Nature's Wheel.

The Tongue's a VVheel, to Spin words from the Mind,
A Thread of Sense by th'Understanding's twin'd;
The Lips a Loom, these Words of Sense to Weave
Into Discourse, which to the Ears they leave.
This Cloath i'th' Chest of Mem'ry up is shut,
Till into Shirts of Judgements it be Cut.

Nature's Garden.

The Brain's a Garden full of Sweet delight,
Wherein the Sun of Knowledge shineth Bright;
Where Fancy flows, and Runs in Bubbling streams,
Where Flowers grow upon the Banks of Dreams,
VVhereon the Dew of Sleepy Eyes doth fall,
Bathing each Leaf, and every Flower small;
VVhere various Thoughts, as several Flowers grow,
VVhere Innocence doth, like white Lillies, show;


Fancies as Painted Tulip's Colours fixt,
By Nature's Pencil neatly Intermixt;
Some as sweet Roses, which are newly blown,
Others as tender Buds, not yet full grown;
Some, as small Violets, much Sweetness bring:
Thus many Fancies from the Brain still spring.
Wit is like Butter-flies, which Love do make,
And on each several Flower pleasure take,
Which Dance about each Leaf in pleasant sort,
And pass their Time away in amorous Sport;
Like Cupids Young, their painted Wings display,
And with Apollo's Golden Beams do Play.
Industrious pains, like Bees, suck out the Sweet,
Gath'ring Wax of Invention with their Feet;
Then on the Wings of Fame fly to their Hive,
VVhich from the VVint'r of Death keeps them Alive.
There Birds of Poetry sweet Notes still Sing,
Which through the World as through the Air do Ring;
And on the Branches of Delight they Sit,
Pruning their Wings which are with Study wet;
Then to the Cedars of high Honour fly,
Yet rest not there, but mount up to the Sky.

Nature's Musical Instruments.

The Heart unto a Harp compare I may,
Passions to Strings, on which the Mind doth Play;
'Tis Harmony, when they just Time do keep;
With Notes of Peace they bring the Soul to Sleep.
The Head unto an Organ I compare,
The Thoughts, as several Pipes, make Musick there;


Imagination's Bellows drawn, do blow
Windy Opinions, which the Thoughts make go;
The little Virg'nal Jacks, which Skip about,
Are several Fancies that run in and out.
The Tongue's a Lute, strung with the Strings of Breath,
The Words as Fingers play, the Pegs are Teeth;
These moving all, a sweet soft Musick make,
Wise Sentences the Ground of Musick take;
Witty light Airs are pleasant to the Ear,
Strains of Description all delight to hear;
In Similizing Quavers lies great Art,
Flour'shes of Eloquence are a sweet part;
Stops of Reproof are used with great Skill,
Flatt'ring Division doth the Mind please still;
The Thoughts are several Tunes, which they do Play:
And thus the Mind doth pass its Time away.

Nature's Musick.

No Musick's better than the Winds do make,
If all their several Notes right places take;
The full, the half, the quarter Note they set,
The Tenor, Base, and Treble there are met;
The Northern Wind a strong big Base doth Sing,
The East is Sweet, like a small Treble-string;
The South and West the Tenor's Parts do take,
And so all Joyn'd a fine sweet Consort make;
All that this Musick meets it moves to Dance,
If Bodies yielding be with Compliance;
The Clouds do Dance in Circle hand in hand,
And in the midst the Worldly Ball doth stand;


The Seas do Dance with Ships upon their Back,
Where Cap'ring high they many times do Wrack;
As Men, which venture on the Ropes to Dance,
Oft tumble down, if they too high advance;
Dust doth like Country-clowns no measure keep,
But rudely runs together on a Heap;
Trees Grave and Civil first Bow down their Head
Towards the Earth, then every Leaf out-spread,
And every Twig each other will Salute,
Embracing oft they Kiss each other's Root;
And so all Plants besides, and Flowers gay
Will sweetly Dance, when as the Winds do Play;
But when they're out of Tune, they Discord make,
Disorder all, nothing its place can take,
Untill Apollo with his Beams doth Play,
VVho places all again in the Right way.

A Picture hung in Nature's House.

A painter, who would draw the Firmament,
Did with a round plump Face the same present;
His Pencils were the Beams shot from fair Eyes,
Where some of them he in Red blushes Dies,
Which, as the Morning when the Heaven's clear,
Shew just so Red before the Sun appear;
The Veins he draws for a Blew Azure Sky,
And for the Sun a great and fair Gray Eye;
The Rain-bow like a Brow he Pencils out,
VVhich Circles half a weeping Eye about;
From pale Complexions taking a White,
Mixt with a Count'nance Sad, he Shades the Night:
Thus Heav'n he doth with such a Face present,
That is adorn'd with Beauty Excellent.


Nature's Exercise and Pastime.

Great Nature doth by Variations Live,
For she to none a Constant Course doth give;
We find, in Change she swiftly Runs about,
To keep her Health, and get long Life (no doubt)
And we for Nature are the only Food,
Her Meat's our Flesh, and her strong Wine our Blood;
The Trees, and Herbs, Fruits, Roots, and Flowers sweet,
Are but her Sallets, or such Cooling meat;
The Sea's her Bathe, to wash and cleanse her in,
VVhen weary she hath on a Journey been;
The Sun's her Fire, which serves her many ways,
His Light her Looking-glass and Beauty's praise;
The Winds, her Horses, Pace as she doth please,
The Clouds her Chariot, where she Sits with ease;
The Earth's her Ball, which she oft Trundles round,
She in this Exercise much good hath found;
Night is her Bed, her Rest therein to take,
Silence doth watch lest Noise might her awake;
The Spheres her Musick, and the Milky way
Is, where she Dances, whilst those Spheres do Play.

Nature's City.

Nature did of great Rocks and Mountains build
A City, with all sorts of Creatures fill'd;
The Citizens are VVorms, which stir not far,
But sit within their Shops and Sell their Ware;
The Moles, as Magistrates, do Mine about
Each ones Estate to find their Riches out,
And with Extortions do high Houses make,
Called Mole-hills, wherein they Pleasure take;


The lazy Dormouse in her House doth keep
The Gentry, which doth Eat, and Drink, and Sleep,
Unless it be to Hunt about for Nuts,
VVherein the Sport is still to fill their Guts;
The Peasant-Ants with their Industrious feet,
Provisions get, made by hard Labours sweet;
They Dig, they Draw, they Plow, and Reap with Care,
And what they get they to their Barns do bear:
But after all their Husbandry and Pains,
Extortion comes and Eats up all their Gains.
All sorts of Bugs, as several Merchants, do
In all things Trade, and each place Travel to;
But Vapours, they are Artisans with Skill,
And make strong Winds to send which way they will;
They do round Balls of VVild-fire make to Run,
Which spreads about when that round Form's undone:
This is the City, which great Nature makes,
And in this City she great Pleasure takes.

Nature's Market.

In Nature's Market you may all things find,
Of several Sorts, in every several Kind;
Carts of Sickness bring Pains and Weakness in,
Of Surfeits many Baskets full are seen;
Fruits of Green-sickness there are to be Sold,
And Colick-herbs, which are both Hot and Cold;
Of Lemmons of sharp Pain there is great store,
Sowr Orange Sores, and many many more.

Nature's Fields and Meadows.

There were two Hearts, an hundred Acres wide,
Hedg'd round about, and Ditch'd on every side;


The one was very Rich and fertile Ground,
The other Barren, where small Good was found.
In Pastures Grass of Virtue grew up high,
Where noble Thoughts did feed Continually;
Some grew like Horses, nimble, strong, and large,
Fit for the Manage, or in Warr to Charge;
Others like Kine, did give the Milk of Wit,
And Cream of Wisdome, for Grave Counsels fit;
The Sheep of Patience had Wool thick and long
Upon their Backs and Sides to keep out wrong.
Meadows of Grace, where Hay of Faith did grow,
Which Hay the Sithes of Reason down did Mow;
Devotion Stackt it up on Hay-cocks high,
Lest in the Wint'r of Death the Soul should Dye.
The Barren Ground nothing but VVeeds did bear,
No Fruit, no Corn, no Seed that's Good grew there;
But sowr Rye of ill Nature up did Spring,
Which doth the Colick of Displeasure bring;
And Cruel Hemp-seed, Hanging Ropes to make,
And Treacherous Lin-seed, little Birds to take:
These and such many other Seeds grew there,
As Cole black Brank, and Melancholy Tare;
Nay, some Parts so Insipid were and Dry,
That neither Furze nor Ling would Grow but Dye.
The Rich Ground, by good Education Plow'd,
Deep Furrows of Discretion had allow'd,
And then of several sorts Seeds thrown into,
Crops of good Actions in full Ears made Grow.
The Wheat of Charity, a fruitfull Seed,
Making the Bread of Life, the Poor to Feed;


Barley, whose Spirits strong do Courage make,
For he that Drinks them no affront will take;
Pease Hospitable which firm Friendship breed,
And gratefull Oats restoring a good Deed:
This Corn by Fames sharp Sithe is Reap'd and Cut,
And into Large great Barns of Honour put,
Where Truth doth Thresh it out from Gross abuse,
And Honesty doth Grind it fit for use.

Nature's Horses.

The Airy Clouds do swiftly run a Race,
Each other following as in a Chase,
Like Horses, some are Sprightfull, Nimbl' and Fleet,
Others swell'd Big with wat'ry Spavin'd Feet;
Some lag behind as Tyr'd in the Mid-way,
And some like Resty Jades stock-still will stay;
They all of several Shapes and Colours be,
Of several Tempers, seldome well agree;
And as those Horses which are highly Fed,
Do proudly Snort, their Eyes look Fiery red,
So Clouds exhal'd, and by the Sun fed, do
Feirce with Salt-peter and with Sulphur grow,
Flash out Fire when they on each other Light,
And with those Flames the World with Terrour fright;
Meeting each other, they Encounters make,
And do with strong Assaults each other break,
Falling upon each other's Head and Back,
Never do part till they with Thunder crack,
Then pouring down some Showrs of Rain, they do
Strong Gusts of Wind with their long Breath out-blow;
Boreas doth whip them up, and makes them Run,
Till all their Breath is spent, and Spirits gone;


Apollo breaks and backs them, fit to Ride,
Bridling with his hot Beams, their Strength to Guide;
He gives them Heats untill they Foam and Sweat,
And wipes them Dry lest they a Cold should get;
Leads them into the middle Region Stable,
VVhere are all Sorts, Dull, Quick, Weak, Strong and Able;
But when they Loose do get, having no fears,
Then fall they all together by the Ears.

Nature's Ships.

Birds from the Cedars Tall do take a Flight
On stretched Wings, to bear their Bodies light;
As Ships do Sail over the Ocean wide,
So do they Sail, and through the Air do Glide;
Their Bodies are the Keel, Feet Cabl' and Rope,
The Head the Steers-man which doth Guide the Poop;
Their Wings as Sails, with Wind are stretch'd out wide;
But it is hard to Fly against the Tide:
For when the Clouds do Flow against their Breast,
They weary grow, and on a Bough do rest.

Clouds in the Air do move as Water doth in the Sea, and Flow and Ebb according to Dry and Moist Weather.

A Bough is their Haven.

Nature's Traffick.

The Mind's a Merchant, Trafficking about
The Brain, as th'Ocean, t'find Opinions out;
Remembrance is the VVare-house, where are laid
Goods, by Imaginations Ships conveigh'd,
VVhich every Tradesman of belief still Buys,
Gaining by Truth, but Losing all by Lies;
Thoughts as the Journey-men and Prentice Boys,
Do help to Sort the VVares, and Sell the Toys.


Nature's Prospect.

Once at Imaginations Windows I
Standing, a Prospect in the Mind did Spy;
The Eye of Ignorance I shut up close,
Lest th'Eye of Knowledge should this Prospect lose;
Drawing a Circle round of fine Conceit,
Extravagant Speeches Contracting strait,
The more I View'd, my Eye the farther went,
Till Understanding's Sight was almost Spent.
An Isle of Thoughts within a Church I View'd,
Fill'd full of Fancies light to me it shew'd,
Pillars of Judgement thick stood on a Row,
And in this Isle Motion walk'd to and fro;
Fear, Love, Humility Kneel'd down to Pray,
Desires did beg of all that pass'd that way;
Poor Doubts did Shake as if they had some harm,
Yet Mantles of good Hope did keep them warm;
But generous Faith seem'd bountifull and free,
She gave to all that ask'd her Charity;
All sorts of Sects in Pulpits seem'd to Preach,
Fables for Truth, no doubt, did many Teach:
But I heard not what their Opinions were;
For Prospect's in the Eye, none in the Ear.

Nature's Landskip.

I standing on a Hill of Fancies high,
And viewing round with Curiosity's Eye,
Under my Thoughts saw several Landskips lye.
In Champains of delight, I saw, did Feed
Pleasures, as Weathers fat, and Ews to breed;


And Cows of Probability, which went
In Hope's green Pastures, gave Milk of Content;
Some Fields, though Plow'd with care, Unsow'd did lye,
VVanting the fruitfull Seed of Industry;
In other Fields full Crops of Joys there grow'd,
VVhere some of them Fruition down had Mow'd;
Some by Ill accidents were Blasted found,
Some blown with Sorrow down, lay on the Ground;
Then I Inclosures View'd, which close did lye,
Hearts Hedg'd about with Thoughts of Secrecy;
Meadows of Youth did pleasant shew and Green,
Innocency, as Cowslips, grew therein:
Some ready with Old age to cut for Hay,
Some Hay cock'd high for Death to take away;
Clear Rivulets of Health ran here and there,
No sign of Sickness in them did appear;
No Stones or Gravel stopt their passage free,
No Weeds of Pain or slimy Gouts could see.
VVoods did present my View on the left side,
VVith Trees of high Ambition and great Pride;
There shades of Envy were made of Dark Spight,
VVhich did Eclipse the Fame of Honour's Light;
Faults stood so close, that but few Beams of Praise
Could enter, and Spight stopt up all the ways;
But Leaves of pratling Tongues I did espy,
VVhich sometimes Truth, for th'most part tell a Lye.
Then I a Garden did of Beauty view,
Where sweet Complexion's Rose and Lilly grew;
And on the Banks of Breasts most perfect there
Did Violets of Azure-Veins appear;
Lips of fresh Gilly-flowers grew up high,
VVhich oft the Sun did Kiss as he pass'd by;


Hands of Narcissus shew'd most perfect white,
Whose Palms fine Tulips were streak'd with Delight.
Close by this Gard'n a lovely Orchard stood,
Wherein was Fruit of Pleasure rare and good;
All Colour'd Eyes grew there, as Bullice gray,
And Damsons black, which do Taste best, some say;
Others there were of the pure blewest Grape,
And Pear-plum Faces of an Oval shape;
And Cheeks of Apricotes made Red with heat,
And Cherry-lips, which most delight to Eat:
But having View'd this Landskip round about,
And left this Fancy's Hill, Wit's Sight went out.

Thoughts Similized.

Thoughts as a Pen do Write upon the Brain,
The Letters wch wise Thoughts do write, are plain;
The foolish Scribl' and Scrable, make many a Blot,
Wch makes them sometimes Speak they know not what.
Some Thoughts like Pencils draw to please the Sight,
And Fancies mixt as Colours, give delight;
The Sadder Thoughts are for the Shadows plac'd,
By which the Lighter Fancies are more Grac'd;
Like as through Dark and Wat'ry Clouds, more bright
The Sun breaks forth with his Resplendent Light;
Or like as Nights black Mantle, where each Star
Doth clearer seem, so Lighter Fancies are;
And like as Rain-bows various Colours show,
So round the Brain Fantastick Fancies grow.

The Actions of the Mind Similized.

Imaginations high like Cedars show,
Where Leaves of new Inventions thick do grow;


Which thoughts, as gentle Winds do Blow about,
And Contemplation makes those Leaves to Sprout;
And Pleasures with Delight, as Birds, do Sing
On every Bough, to think what Fame they bring.

Of Navigation.

The Sea's like Deserts that are wide and long,
Where Ships, as Horses run, whose Breath is strong;
The Stern-man holds the Rains, thereby to guide
The sturdy Steed on Foamy Seas to Ride;
The Wind's his Whip, to make it forward run,
And on each Side for Stirrops serves a Gun;
The Sails as Saddles, spread upon the Back,
The Ropes as Girts, which in a Storm will Crack;
The Pump the Breech, where Excrements come out,
The Needle, as the Eye, guides it about.

The Sea Similized to Meadows and Pastures, the Mariners to Shepherds, the Mast to a May-pole, the Fish to Beasts.

The Waves like Ridges of Plow'd-Land are high,
Whereat the Ship oft Stumbling down doth lye;
But in a Calm the Sea's like Meadows, seen
Level, its Saltness makes it look as Green;
When Ships thereon a slow Soft pace do walk,
Then Mariners as Shepherds Sing and Talk;
Some Whistle, and some on their Pipes do Play;
And thus with Mirth they pass their time away:


And every Mast is like a May-pole high,
Round which they Dance, though not so merrily
As Shepherds do, when they their Lasses bring
Garlands, to May-poles ty'd with a Silk-string;
Instead of Garlands they hang on their Mast
Huge Sails, and Ropes, to tye these Garlands fast;
Instead of Lasses they do Dance with Death,
And for their Musick they have Boreas breath;
Instead of Wine and Wassals drink Salt tears,
And for their Meat they Feed on nought but fears:
For Flocks of Sheep great Sholes of Herrings swim,
The Whales as Ravenous Wolves do feed on them;
As sportfull Kids skip over Hillocks green,
So Dancing Dolphins on the Waves are seen:
The Porpoyse, like their watchfull Dog espies,
And gives them warning when great VVinds will rise;
Instead of Barking, he his Head doth show
Above the Waters when they Roughly flow;
And like as Men in time of showring Rain
And Wind, do not in open Fields remain,
But quickly run for shelter to a Tree,
So Ships at Anchor lye upon the Sea.

Here the Ship is compared to a Horse.

A Storm upon the Seas compared to a Rebellion.

Thus the Rough Seas, which Boisterous winds inrage,
Assault a Ship, and in fierce VVarr ingage;
Just like rude Multitudes with Factions swell,
Caus'd by a rankled Spleen, and so Rebell
Against their Governour, thronging about
VVith hideous Noise, to throw his Power out;
And if their Power gets the upper-hand,
Do make him Sink, and then in Triumph stand,


Foaming at Mouth, as if great Deeds th'had done,
When they were Multitudes, and he but One:
So Waves about a Ship do Foam and Fret,
And each doth strive which shall the better get;
But Wisdome, like Skill'd Mariners, through wide
And gaping Jaws of Death, the Ship doth Guide,
And brings it to a Haven safe, or home;
And thus it did through many Dangers come.

Man's Head Similized to the Globe of the World.

The Head of Man is like the World made round,
And all the Elements are in it found;
The Brain's the Earth, from whence all Plants do Spring,
And from the Womb it doth all Creatures bring;
Fore-head and Nose are Hills which do rise high,
And over-top the Dales that Level lye;
The Hair like Trees, which much in length do grow,
And like their Leaves which Wind wave to and fro;
Wit, like to several Creatures, wild doth run
On several Subjects, which each other shun;
The Blood, as Seas, doth through the Veins run round,
The Sweat as Springs, by which fresh Water's found;
As Winds, which from the Hollow Caves do blow,
So through the Mouth the winded Breath doth go;
The Eyes are like the Sun, and do give Light,
When Senses are asleep it is dark Night;
When after Sleep half Open are the Eyes,
'Tis dawning Light, when first the Sun doth rise;
When they do Drowsie grow, then Sets the Sun,
And when the Lids are shut it is quite gone;


When Heavy they're and Dull, like Mist it seems,
Or a dark Cloud which hides the Sun's bright Beams,
Which shews, that there some Showr of Tears will fall,
And moisten th'Cheeks, as flowry Banks withall;
As twinkling Stars shew in dark Clouds most Clear,
So Fancies quick do in the Brain appear;
Imaginations like the Orbs move round,
VVhereof some quick, others are slower found:
But solid Thoughts like the twelve Signs do prove,
And round the Zodiack of Wisdome move,
Where they as constantly in Wisdome run,
As in the Line Ecliptick doth the Sun.
I to th'Ecliptick Line the Head compare,
Illustrious Wit unto the Sun's bright Sphere;
The Brain I liken to the solid Earth,
From whence all Wisdome hath its Life and Birth;
And as the Earth, so is the Head's round Ball,
For it is Crown'd with Orbs Celestial:
And thus the Head and World as one agree;
For Nature made the Head a World to be.

The five Senses.

The Head of Man compared to a Hive of Bees.

The Head of Man just like a Hive is made;
The Brain is like a Comb exactly laid,
Where every Thought just like a Bee doth dwell,
Each by it Self, within a parted Cell;
The Soul doth Govern all, as doth their King,
Imploys each Thought upon each several thing;
And like as Bees swarm in the Hottest weather,
Hanging in great and round Heaps all together,


As if they kept wise Counsels for their Lives;
For when they Fly away they seek new Hives:
So Men, when they have any great Design,
Their Thoughts do gather, and in heaps Combine,
But when they are Resolv'd, each one takes Flight,
And striveth which first on Desire shall Light;
And thus Thoughts meet and fly about, till they
For their Subsistence can find out a way:
But Doubting Thoughts, like Droans, live on the rest
Of Hoping Thoughts, which Honey bring to Nest;
For like as Bees, by their Stings industry
Get Honey, which the stingless Drones live by;
So Men without Ambition's Stings do live
Upon th'Industrious Stock their Fathers give;
And some do Steal another Poets VVit,
And Dress it up in their own Language fit:
But Fancy into every Garden flies,
And sucks the Flowers sweet from Lips and Eyes;
Sometimes it Lights on those that are not Fair,
Like Bees on Herbs, that Dry and VVither'd are;
As purest Honey on sweet Flowers lies,
So finest Fancies from young Beauties rise.

The Prey of Thoughts.

If Thoughts be the Mind's Creatures, as some say,
Then, like the rest, they on each other Prey;
Ambitious Thoughts, like to a Hawk, fly high,
In Circles of Desires mount to the Sky,
And when a Covy of young Hopes up Springs,
They strive to Catch them with their swiftest Wings:
Thus, as the Hawk on Patridges doth Eat,
So Hopefull Thoughts are for Ambition's Meat:


Thoughts of Self-love do Swim in Self-conceit,
Imaginary Thoughts on Praises bait,
Which baits the Thoughts of Pride do catch and eat,
Thinking it high and most delicious Meat;
Thoughts of Revenge are like to Lions strong,
Which whet the Appetite with Thoughts of Wrong;
With Subtile Thoughts they Couch and Leap for Prey;
But Bloody Thoughts carry the Flesh away.
The Spightful Thoughts, like Cats, which Mice do catch,
At each Corner of Imperfections watch;
When Spight perceives Detracting Thoughts do speak,
It strait Leaps on, no other Meat doth seek;
Suspicious Thoughts like Hounds do hunt about,
To find and eat the Hare of Timorous doubt;
Observing Thoughts do Smell which way to Trace,
And Hatefull Thoughts do follow close the Chase:
But Thoughts of Patience like to Dormice Live,
Eat little, Sleep them Nourishment doth give;
And when they Feed, they Thoughts of Sorrows crack,
Which Nuts being hard, their Teeth against them Knack;
The Grateful Thoughts on Thoughts of Thanks do feed,
And, by their Industry, like Ants, they speed:
But Thoughts of Love do Live on several Meat,
Of Hopes, and Fears, and Jealousies they Eat:
For like as Bees to several Flowers go,
Honey to Suck, so Thoughts of Lovers do.

Fancies Similized to Gnats.

Some Fancies like small Gnats buz in the Brain,
And by the Hand of Worldly cares are Slain:
But they do Sting so Sore the Poets Head,
His Mind is Blister'd, and his Thoughts turn Red;


Nought can take out this Burning heat and pain,
But Pen and Ink, to write on Paper plain;
Then take the Oyl of Fame, annoint the Mind,
And this to be a perfect Cure you'l find.

Of a Spider's Webb.

The Spider's Huswifry no VVebs doth Spin
To make her Cloath, but Ropes to hang Flies in;
Her Bowels are the Shop where Flax is found,
Her Body is the VVheel that goeth round;
Her Distaff, where she sticks the Thread, 's a VVall,
Her Feet the Fingers are she pulls withall;
She's Busie at all times, not Idle lies,
An House she Builds with Nets to catch the Flies,
Though it be not so strong as Brick and Stone,
Yet strong enough to bear light Bodies on;
VVithin this House the Female Spider lies,
The whilst the Male doth hunt abroad for Flies,
Ne're leaving till he Flies gets in, which are
Intangled soon within his subtile Snare;
Like treacherous Hosts, which do much welcome make
Their Guests, yet watch how they their Lives may take.

A Comparison between Gold and the Sun.

I am the purest of all Nature's works,
No Dross, nor sluggish Moisture in me Lurks;
I am within the Bowels of the Earth,
None knows of what, or whence I took my Birth;
And as the Sun, I shine in Glory bright,
Only I want his Beams to make a Light;
And as the Sun is chief of Planets high,
So on the Earth the chiefest thing am I;


And as the Sun rules there as Lord and King,
So on the Earth I Govern every thing;
And as the Sun doth run about the VVorld,
So I about from Man to Man am hurl'd.

Poets have most Pleasure in this Life.

Nature most Pleasure doth to Poets give,
If Pleasure in Variety doth Live;
Each Sense of theirs by Fancy new is Fed,
VVhich Fancy in a Torrent Brain is bred;
Contrary 'tis to all that's Born on Earth;
For Fancy is Delighted most at's Birth:
What else is Born, with Pain's accompanied,
Has neither Beauty, Strength, nor Growth beside;
But Fancies need no time to make them Grow,
The Brain's like Gods from whence all things do flow.
A Garden they've, which Paradise we call,
Forbidden Fruits, which tempt young Lovers all,
Grow on a Tree, which in the midst doth stand,
Beauty on one, Desire on th'other hand;
The Devil's Self-conceit, who Craftily
Doth take the Serpents shape of Flattery,
For to deceive the Female Sex thereby,
Which made is only of Inconstancy;
The Male, high Credence, to the Female Sex
Yields fondly any thing which they do ask:
Two Rivers round this Garden run about,
The one is Confidence, the other Doubt;
And every Bank is set with Fancy's Flowers,
Wit Rains upon them fine refreshing Showers;


Truth is the Lord and Owner of this place,
But Ignorance this Garden out will raze.
Then from this place they to a Forest go,
Where many Cedars of high Knowledge grow;
Oaks of strong Judgment, Hasle-Wit, which Tree
Bears Nuts full of Conceits when Crackt they be;
And smooth-tongu'd Beech, kind-hearted Willow bows
And yields to all that Honesty allows;
There Birds of Eloquence do Sit and Sing,
Build Nests of Logick, Reasons forth to bring;
Some Birds of Sophistry, till Hatch'd there lye,
Wing'd with false Principles away they Fly;
And here the Poet Hawks, Hunts, runs a Race,
Untill he weary grows, then leaves this place,
And goes a Fishing to a River's side,
Whose Water clear doth Flow with Fancy's Tide;
Angles with Wit to catch the Fish of Fame,
To feed his Mem'ry, and preserve his Name;
Ships of Ambition he Builds, swift and strong,
Sails of Imaginations drive 'em along;
With Winds of several Praises they fill'd full,
Swim on the Salt Brain's Sea round the World's Scull;
The Thoughts are Mariners, which, that they may
'Scape Ship-wracks of Dislike, work Night and Day;
Some Ships are cast upon the Sands of Spight,
And Rocks of Malice sometimes Split them quite:
But Merchant-Poets, whose Ship-Master's Mind,
Do Compass take some unknown Land to find.


The Head of Man compared to a Church.

The Head of Man's a Church where Reason preaches,
Directs the Life, and every Thought it Teaches;
Perswades the Mind to Live in Peace and Quiet,
And not in fruitless Contemplation's Riot;
For why, says Reason, you shall Damned be
From all Content, for Curiosity;
To seek about for what you cannot find,
VVill be a Torment to a restless Mind.

The Mine of Wit.

'Tis strange, Men think so Vain, and seem so Sage,
And Act so Foolish in this later Age;
Their Brains are always working some design,
Which Plots they Dig, as Miners in a Mine;
Fancies are Min'rals, and the Mine the Head,
Some Gold, some Silver, Iron, Tin, some Lead;
The Furnace which 'tis Melted in is great,
And Motion quick doth give a Glowing heat;
The Mouth's the Gutter, where Oar runs along,
The Hammer, which the Barrs do beat, the Tongue;
The Ear's the Forge, to Shape and Form it out,
And several Merchants send it all about;
And as the Metall's worth, the Price is set,
Scholars, which are the Buyers, most do get;
On Gold and Silver, which are Fancies fine,
Are Poets Stamp'd, as Masters of that Coin;
Hard Iron of strong Judgment's fit for use,
In Peace, or Warr, to joyn up Errours loose;
Though Lead is Dull, yet of it there is made
Use by Translatours, which in Language Trade;


Tin is but Weak, and of small Strength we see,
Yet joyn'd with Silver Wits, 't makes Alchymy:
For Men half Witted, with strong Wits joyn'd, grow
To be of Use, and make a Glist'ring show.

The Conclusion of this Part.

Give me a Wit, whose Fancy's not Confin'd,
That Buildeth on it Self, with no Brain joyn'd;
Not like two Oxen Yoak'd and forc'd to draw,
Or like two Witnesses t'one Deed in Law;
But like the Sun that needs no help to Rise,
Or like a Bird i'th' Air which freely flies;
For good Wits run like Parallels in length,
Need no Triang'lar points to give them Strength;
Or like the Sea which runneth round without,
And Grasps the Earth with twining Arms about:
Thus true Born Wits to others Strength may give,
Yet by their Own, and not by others Live.
Those Verses still to me do seem the best,
Where Lines run Smooth, and Wit's with ease Exprest;
Where Fancies flow, as gentle Waters glide,
And Flowry Banks of Rhet'rick on each side;
Which with Delight the Readers do invite
To Read again, wishing they could so VVrite:
For Verses should like to a Beauteous Face,
Both in the Eye and in the Heart take place,
That Readers may, like Lovers, wish to be
Always in their dear Mistress Company.



Phantasm's Masque.

The Scene is Poetry.

The Stage is the Brain whereon it is Acted.

First is Presented a Dumb Shew, as a Young Lady in a Ship swimming over the Scene in Various Weather; Afterwards this Ship comes back again, having a Commander of Warr as its Owner; in Various Weather it being in great Distress, Jupiter relieves it.

Then appear six Masquers in several Dresses; as Drest by Love, Valour, Honour, Youth, Age, Vanity. Vanity signifies the World, and Age Mortality.

Then there are Presented in a Shew the nine Muses, who Dance a Measure in four and twenty Figures, and nine Musical Instruments, made of Goose-quills, Playing several Tunes as they Dance.

Then the Chorus speaks.

The Bride and Bridegroom going to the Temple, Fancy speaks the Prologue to Judgment, as King; Vanity speaks an Epilogue to the Thoughts, which are Spectators; Honour speaks another.


Fancy's Prologue to Judgment.

Great King, we here present a Mask at Night,
To Judgments view, and for the Minds delight;
If it be Good, set Lights of Praise about,
If it be Bad, then put those Torches out.

The Voyage of a Ship, under which the Fortune of a Young Lady is Exprest.

A ship of Youth into th'Worlds Sea was sent,
Ballanc'd with Self-conceit, and Pride, it went;
Large Sails there hung of high Ambition,
To a Tall Mast of Good Opinion;
And on the Waves of Plenty did it Ride,
With Winds of Praise, and Beauty's flowing Tide;
Unto the Land of Riches it was bound,
To see if Golden Fame might there be found;
And thus it Swam in a sweet Calm of Peace,
No Boisterous Storm of Warr did on it Seize:
But when nineteen Degrees it had but past,
Its Sight the Land of Happiness had lost;
For then Rebellious Clouds all Black did grow,
And Showres of Blood into these Seas did throw;
The Vapours of sad Sighs full thick did rise,
From Grief of Hearts which in the Bottom lies;
Fears like unto the Northern Winds blew high,
And Stars of Hopes were Clouded in the Sky;
Down went the Sun of all Prosperity,
And Reel'd i'th' troubled Seas of Misery:
On Sorrow's Billows high this Ship was Toss'd,
The Card of Mirth and Mark of Joy was lost;


The Point of Comfort could not be found out,
Her Sides did Beat upon the Sands of Doubt;
Prudence was Pilot, and with much ado
A Haven of Great France she got into;
Glad was this Ship of its safe Harbour there,
And then did Swim up the River of Loire:
For on this River it no Tempest fear'd,
But directly its Course to Paris steer'd,
Where it some time intended to remain,
To mend this Torn and Totter'd Barque again;
New Sails she made, and all her Tacklings fit,
Trim'd her Self fine and gay respect to get;
At last a Noble Lord this Ship did Buy,
Who was resolv'd with it to Live and Dye.

Another Voyage of the same Ship.

Then this same Ship another Voyage went,
Ballanc'd it was with Spice of sweet Content;
The Mast was Merit, Sails of Love tied thereon,
Which Sails by Virtue's Zephyrus were blown;
On the great Sea of Honour did it go,
Fame was the Land which it did Traffick to;
At last a Storm of Poverty did rise,
And Showres of Miseries fell from the Skys;
And Thund'ring Creditors a Noise did make
With Threatning Bills, as if the Ship they'ld break;
Forc'd it towards the Northern Pole, where Cold
And Icy wants did of this Ship take hold,
Untill the Sun of Charity did melt
Those Icy wants, then Liberty it felt;
The Oars of honest Industry did Row,
And gentle Gales of Friendship made it go;


But when the Storms of Dangers all were past,
Upon the Coast of Flanders it was Cast:
But this Ship was so Totter'd, Torn and Rent,
That none but Gods its Ruine could prevent.

A Lady Drest by Love.

Her Hair with Lover's hopes Curl'd in long Rings,
Her Braids hard Plaited with his Protestings;
But often with her Lover's Damps of Doubt,
And windy Fears, these Curled Rings went out;
Strings round her Neck of threaded Tears she wore,
Which, drop'd from th'Lover's Eyes, his Image bore;
His Sighs, as Pendants, did hang at each Ear,
Which did much Troubl' her when they heavy were;
Her Gown was made of Admiration,
Imbroideries of Praises plac'd thereon;
Ribbons hung of Love-Verses here and there,
According as the several Fancies were;
VVith some she tied her Looking-glass of Pride,
And Fan of Good Opinion by her Side;
Sometimes Love pleasure took, a Veil to place
Of Glances, which did cover all her Face.

A Souldier Armed by Mars.

His Head-piece was of Prudence, where his Eye
Of Judgment Dangers and Mistakes did Spy;
His Breast-plate made of Courage, did keep out
Bullets of Fear, and Blows of Timorous doubt;
The Gantlets on his Hands were Active Skil,
VVherewith he held a Pole-axe of Good will;
His Sword was Strong, and a stiff-metall Blade,
For it was all of pure bright Honour made;


A Scarf, which Fortune gave, his Waste did tye,
Imbroyder'd thick with Scars of Purple Dye;
A Plume of Valour on his Head-piece wav'd,
A Cloak of Merit all his Body sav'd;
His Spurs Rowel'd with Hope, did peirce the side
Of strong Ambition, whereon he did Ride:
Thus was he Arm'd, and for Great Fame did Fight,
She was his Mistress, he her Champion Knight.

A Lady Drest by Youth.

Her Hair had Curls of Pleasure and Delight,
Through wch her Skin did cast a Glimm'ring light;
As Lace, her Bashfull Eye-lids downwards hung,
A modest Count'nance o're her Face was flung;
Blushes, as Coral Beads she strung, to wear
About her Neck, and Pendants for each Ear;
Her Gown was by Proportion cut and made,
With Veins Imbroyder'd, with Complexion laid;
Light Words with Ribbons of Chast Thoughts she ties,
And Loose Behaviour, which through Errours flies;
Rich Jewels of bright Honour she did wear,
By Noble Actions placed every where:
Thus Drest, to Fame's great Court strait ways she went,
There Danc'd a Ball with Youth, Love, Mirth, Content.

A Woman Drest by Age.

A Milk-white Hair-lace wound up all her Hairs,
And a Deaf Coif did cover both her Ears;
A Sober Look about her Face she tyes,
And a Dim Sight doth cover half her Eyes;


About her Neck a Kercher of Coarse Skin,
VVhich Time had Crumpled, and worn Creases in;
Her Gown was turn'd to Melancholy black,
VVhich Loose did hang upon her Sides and Back;
Her Stockings Cramps had Knit, Red Worsted Gout,
And Pains, as Garters, tied her Legs about;
A Pair of Palsie-Gloves her Hands did cover,
With Weakness stitch'd, and Numbness trim'd all over;
Her Shoes were Corns, and Hard Skin sew'd together,
Hard Skin was Soles, and Corns the upper Leather;
A Mantle of Diseases Laps her round;
And thus she's Drest, till Death her lays i'th' Ground.


Thus Love, and Warr, and Age, and Youth did meet
In Scenes of Poetry, and Numbers sweet;
Warr took out Love, and Age did take out Youth,
And all did Dance upon the Stage of Truth.

The Bride's Dress.

A crown of Jewels on her Head was put,
And every Jewel like a Planet Cut;
The Diamond, Carbuncle, and Saphyr,
Ruby, Topas, and Emerald was there;
Her Face was like the Sun, which Shined bright,
And all those Jewels from her Face took Light;
A Chain of Gold was Link't by Destiny,
VVhere in each Link a Good Effect did lye;
And as the Zodiack round the World doth bind,
So did this Chain about her Body wind;
Silver Cloath for her Gown the Fates did Spin,
And every Thread was Twisted hard therein;


Her Hair in Curls hung Loose, by Cupid blown,
Between which Curls her Shoulders white were shown;
Youth strew'd Green Rushes to the Temple Gate,
In Beauty's Chariot she Rid in great State,
Which Great Applause, her Charioteer, drove on,
Eyes of Delight, as Lackies, by did Run:
Then to the Altar this fair Bride was led,
By blushing Modesty in Crimson Red,
And Innocency, Drest in Lilly-white;
Hymen did bear the Torch which burned Bright;
Her Train was Carried by the Graces three,
As Lovely Hope, Good Faith, and Charity.

The Bridegroom's Dress.

The Bridegroom was all Drest by Honours fine,
And was attended by the Muses Nine;
Virtue strew'd Flow'rs of Dispositions sweet,
In Honest ways to walk on Gentle Feet;
A Crown of Loyalty was on his Head,
Both Fortitude and Justice did him Lead;
Over this Crown a Lawrel Fame was set,
Which Fortune often striv'd away to get;
And many Bells of several Censures Rung,
And all the Streets were with Inquiry hung;
He in a Chariot of Good Deeds did Ride,
And many Thankfull Hearts run by his Side:
Thus Bride and Bridegroom to the Temple went,
Though Envy strove the Mariage to prevent;
Hymen did Joyn their Hands, and their Hearts ty'd,
Not to Dissolve untill their Bodies Dy'd;
The Gods did Joyn their Souls in Wedlock bands,
In Heaven's Record their Love for ever stands.


A Masquer Drest by Vanity.

The Perfum'd Powder in's long Curls of Hair,
Were like Lime-twigs to catch a Maid that's Fair;
His Glist'ring Suit, whose Seams by Pride were Lac'd,
Was made a Bawd for to Corrupt the Chast;
A Cut-work Band, which Vanity had wrought,
The Price, by which his Mistress's Love was bought;
Silk-Stockings, Garters, Roses all of Gold
Were Bribes, by which his Mistress's Love did hold;
The several Colour'd Ribbons he did wear,
Were Pages, which to her did Letters bear;
Feathers, like Sails, did wave with every Wind,
Yet by these Sails he finds his Mistress kind;
His Flatt'ring Tongue perswades a simple Maid;
That all is Truth, when all is False he said.

Vanity's Epilogue to the Thoughts.

Noblest , You see how finely I am Drest,
Yet all is Counterfeit that's here exprest;
Vanity Cheats you all, and doth take Pride
For to allure you from fair Virtue's Side.

A Masquer Drest by Honour and Time.

His Hair did white, like Silver-Ribbons show,
Knots of Experience were Tied into;
His Head was cover'd all with Wisdome's Hat,
Good Management the Hatband was round that;
His Garments Loose, yet Manly did appear,
Though Time had Crumpled them, no Spots were there;
His Cloak made of a Free and Noble Mind,
Within with Generosity was Lin'd;


And Gloves of Bounty, which his Hands did cover,
Were stitch'd with Love, with Free Hearts trim'd all over;
A Sword of Valour hung close by his Side,
To Cut off all base Fears, and haughty Pride;
His Boots were Honesty, to Walk or Ride,
And Spurs of Good Desires them firmly Ty'd:
And thus both Time and Honour did their best;
Time gave him Wit, Honour him Finely Drest.

Honour's Epilogue.

Noble Spectators, pray Learn this by me,
All Things by Time and Honour perfect be;
Honour doth Dress the Mind with Virtuous weeds,
And is the Parent to all Noble Deeds;
Time doth the Body Dress with Youth and Age,
And is great Nature's Chamber-maid and Page;
If in Time's Cabinet great Spoils you find,
The fault is Ignorance, Stupid and Blind,
And Careless, which doth Tumble all about,
Misplacing all, and taking Wrong things out:
But Time's a Huswife good, and takes much Pain,
To Order all, as Nature did Ordain;
On several Heaps she several Ages lays,
And what she takes from Life to Death she Pays;
But if Disorder'd Life doth run in Debt,
Then Death his Sergeants doth, Diseases, set,
Which Time do cause to give a double Pay,
'Cause Life is Spent so much before Rent-day.

Which are the twenty four Letters of the Alphabet.

As a Veil.

Time's Cabinet is Opportunity.


IV. The Fourth PART.



O love, how thou art Tyred out with Rhime!
Thou art a Tree, whereon all Poets Clime,
And from thy Tender Branches every one
Doth take some Fruit, which Fancy feeds upon:
But now thy Tree is left so Bare and Poor,
That they can hardly gather one Plum more.

The Brain compar'd to the Elysium.

The Brain is like th'Elysian Fields, for there
All Ghosts and Spirits in strong Dreams appear;
In Gloomy Shades do Sleepy Lovers walk,
And Souls do entertain themselves with Talk;
And Heroes their great Actions do relate,
Telling both their Good Fortune and Sad Fate,
What Chanc'd to them, when they Awake did Live;
Their World the Light did Great Apollo give;
And what in Life they could a Pleasure call,
Here in these Fields they pass their Time withall;


Where Memory, the Ferry-man, with him
Brings Company, which through the Senses Swim;
The Boat, Imagination, 's always full,
Which Charon Roweth in the Region Scull,
In which the Famous River Styx doth Flow,
Wherein who's Dipt, strait doth Forgetfull grow.
And this Elysium Poets happy Call,
Where, as Great Gods, they do Register all
The Souls of those, which they will Chuse for Bliss,
And their Sweet Number'd Verse their Pasport is;
And those that strive this Happy place to have,
Must go to Bed, and Sleep as in a Grave.
Yet what a Stir do Poets make, when they
By their Wit, Mercury, those Souls Convey!
But what, cannot the God-head Wit Create,
VVhose Fancies are both Destiny and Fate?
Fame is the Thread, which long or short they Spin,
The World, as Flax, for th'Distaff is brought in;
This Distaff Spins fine Canvas of Conceit,
VVherein the Sense is VVoven ev'n and strait;
But if't in Knots and Snarls intangled be,
The Thread of Fame doth run Unevenly.
Those that care not to Live in Poets Verse,
Let them lye Dead upon Oblivion's Hearse.

A Description of a Shepherds, and Shepherdesses Life.

The Shepherdesses which great Flocks do keep,
Are Dabled high with Dew following their Sheep;
Milking their Ews their Hands doth Dirty make,
For they being Wet, Dirt from their Duggs do take;


Through the Sun's Heat their Skin doth Yellow grow,
Their Eyes are Red, Lips Dry with Winds that blow;
Their Shepherds sit on Tops of Mountains high,
And on their Feeding Sheep do Cast an Eye,
Which to the Mount's steep Sides they Hanging feed
On short Moss-grass, not suffer'd to bear Seed;
Their Feet are Small, but Strong each Sinews string,
Which makes them fast to Rocks and Mountains cling;
The while the Shepherds Leggs hang Dangling down,
He sets his Breech upon the Hill's high Crown.
Like as a Tanned Hide, so is his Skin,
No melting Heat, or numming Cold gets in;
And with a Voice that's Harsh against his Throat,
He strains to Sing, yet knows not any Note;
He Lazy, Yawning lies upon his Side,
Or on his Back, and hath his Arms spread wide,
Or Snorting Sleeps, and Dreams of Joan his Maid,
Or of Hobgoblins, wakes, as being afraid;
Motion in his Dull Brains doth Plow and Sow,
Not Plant and Set, as Skilfull Gardners do.
Then takes his Knife half-broke, but Ground agen,
And whittles Sticks, his Sheep-coat up to Pin;
Or Cuts some Holes in Straw, to Pipe thereon
Some amorous Tunes, which pleaseth his Love, Joan:
Thus Rustick Clowns are pleas'd to Spend their times,
And not as Poets Feign, in Verse and Rhimes,
Making great Kings and Princes Pastures keep,
And Beauteous Ladies follow Flocks of Sheep,
And Dance 'bout May-poles in a Rustick sort,
When Ladies scorn to Dance without a Court;
They would their Lovers hate, if they should come
With Leather-Jerkins, Breeches made of Thrum,


And Buskins made of Freeze, that's Coarse and Strong,
And Clouted Shoes, ty'd with a Leather-thong;
Those that are Nicely Bred, Fine Cloaths still love,
A Fair white Hand doth hate a Dirty Glove.

The Allegory of Shepherds is too Mean for Noble Persons.

To Cover Noble Lovers with the Weeds
Of Ragged Shepherds, too Low Thoughts it breeds;
Like as when Men make Gods to come below,
Takes off all Rev'rence and Respect we Owe;
Then rather make Ladies fair Nymphs to be,
Who're Cloath'd with Beauty, Bred with Modesty,
Whose Tresses Long hang on their Soulders white,
Which, when they Move, do give the Gods delight;
Whose Quivers, Hearts of Men which fast are ty'd,
And Arrows of Quick-flying Eyes beside;
Buskins, which Buckled close with Plates of Gold,
With strength their Legs from Base ways back do hold;
And make Men Champions, Knights, which Honour prize
Above the Tempting of Alluring Eyes;
VVhich seek to Kill, or at the least to Bind
All Evill Passions in a VVand'ring mind,
And take those Castles, kept by Scandals strong,
That have by Errours been Enchanted long;
Rout Monstrous Vices, which do Virtues eat,
These Lovers worthy are of Praises great;
So will high Fame aloud those Praises Sing,
Cupid those Lovers shall to Hymen bring;
At Honours Altar Joyn both Hearts and Hands,
The God will Seal their Matrimonial Bands.


The House of Shame wherein Dishonour Lives.

Dishonour in the House of Shame doth Dwell,
The way is Broad and Open like the Hell;
The Porter's he, whom Baseness we do call,
And Idleness is Usher of the Hall;
The House with Dark Forgefulness is hung,
And round about Ingratitude is flung;
Windows of Boldness which Out-face the Light,
The Curtains are Dissembling, drawn with Spight;
Covetousness hath Gilded all the Roof,
The Weather-Cock, Inconstancy, doth move:
Instead of Pillars Obstinacy stands,
Carved with Perjury by Cunning hands;
And Lust on Beds of Luxury doth lye,
The Chamberlain, that Waits, is Jealousie.
Gardens of Riot, where the VVanton VValks,
Lascivious Arbours, where Obsceneness Talks;
The Store-hous's Theft, Ill gotten Goods lye in,
A secret Door's Bolted with a False Pin;
The Bake-house doth Ill Consciences make,
False Hearts, as Ovens Hot, them hard do Bake;
The Brew-house yields Designs of wicked Brains,
With Corrupt Measures and Deceitfull Grains;
Drunkness the Cellar, Stomacks for Barrels go,
Mouths are the Taps, whence Spue for Drink doth flow;
Kitchens of Slander, where Good Names are Burn'd,
Spits of Revenge, on which Ill Deeds are turn'd;
The Slaughter-house of horrid Murder's Built,
A Knife of Cruelty, by which Blood's Spilt;


The Matrimonial Bands Dishonour link
VVith Infamy, which is as Black as Ink.

The Temple of Honour.

Honour's brave Temple's Built both high and wide,
Whose Walls are of Clear Glass on every Side,
Where Actions of all Sorts are perfect seen,
Where Truth, the Priest, Approves, which Worthiest been,
Who on the Altar of the VVorld them lays,
And Offers them with Sacrificing praise,
Which Offerings are so Clean, and without Stain,
As Honour's God-head cannot them Disdain;
As pious Tears, with Thoughts most Chast and Pure,
And patient Minds, Afflictions to indure;
Wise Brains, which things bring to a Good Effect,
And helping Hands, where Bribes are not suspect;
A Tongue, which Truth in Eloquence doth Dress,
And Lips, which worthy Praises do express;
Eyes, that Pry out, and Spie Examples Good,
Feet, that in ways of Mischief never stood;
Hair from those Heads, that Shav'd for Holy Vow,
Which as a Witness, Blessing Gods allow;
Breasts, from which do proceed all Good Desires,
And Lock all Secrets up, if need requires;
And Hearts, from whence Clear Springs of Love do rise,
VVhere Loyal Courage in the Bottom lies;
With Spleens, which never any Malice bore,
And Shoulders, which Distressed Burdens wore;
And humble Knees, that Bow to Ruling-Powers,
And Hands of Bounty, which on Misery Showres;
Kings Crowns, which Rule with Justice, Love, and Peace,
Whose Power serves from Slavery to Release.


Deep Speculations, which from Musing grow,
And Reasons proof, and Times experience show;
Witty Inventions, which Men Profit bring,
Inspired Verse, Poets to the Gods Sing;
VVhite Innocence, as Virgins Girdles wear,
Which Hymen only from their VVast doth Tear;
And Hymen's Torches, which Burn bright and clear,
Shew Jealousie and Falshood ne're come near;
Garlands of Laurel, which keep ever Green,
And for the Best of Poets Crowns have been.
The Olive-Branch, which is th'Emblem of Peace,
Is offer'd there for the VVorld's good Increase;
Mirtle is laid for Lovers that are True,
And for Misfortunes is the Bitter Rue;
Sighs, which from deep Compassion do flow out,
And Faith, which never knew to make a Doubt;
These Offer'd all with Gratefull Hearts in Ranks,
VVere Sprinkled with the pure Essence of Thanks:
Of Pen'tent Tears was th'Holy-water made,
Love's Flaming Fire was on the Altar laid;
The Priests, which all the Ceremonies there
Did execute, the four chief Virtues were:
These in Procession Honour high did Raise,
And with their Anthems sweetly Sung her Praise.


Fame on her nimble Wings doth Actions bear,
Which Fly about and Carry 'em every where;
Some time she Over-loaden is with all,
And then some down into Oblivion fall:
But those that will to Fame's high Temple go,
Must first Great Honours Temple quite pass through.


The Temple of Fame.

This Temple is Divided in two parts,
Some Open lye, others are Hid as Hearts;
Some Light as Day, others are Dark as Night,
By times Obscurity worn out of Sight:
The outward Rooms are Glorious to the Eye,
In which Fames Image placed is on High,
And all the VVindows are Triangulars Cut,
Where one Face into Millions is put;
Its Form is Square, and like a Cube doth show,
Which how to Doubl', is hard for Men to know;
Echoes therein do like as Balls rebound,
From every Corner making a great Sound;
The Walls are hung with Chapters all of Gold,
In Letters Great all Actions there are Told;
The Temple Door is of Prospective Glass,
Through which a small Beam of our Eye can pass,
And this makes Truth so Difficult to know,
As a New World in the Bright Moon to show;
The Steepl' and Pillars are of Goose-quils Built,
And Plaister'd over with white Paper Gilt:
The Painting is with Ink as Black as Jet,
In several Works and Figures like a Net;
The Steepl' is High, and yet not very Light,
But as an Evening is 'twixt Day and Night.
Five Tongues, like Bells, through all the World do Ring,
And to each several Ear much News do bring;
Philosophers, their Tongue sounds Grave and Deep,
Th'Historians Tongue no better Sound doth keep;
Th'Oratours Tongue doth make great Noise; the Sound
Of Criticks harsh, as full of Flaws, is found;


The Poets Tongue is a small Bell, which oft
Doth change, whose Motion's quick, smooth, ev'n and soft;
The Ropes, they Hang by, one cannot well see,
For they are long small Threads of Vain-glory:
And when they Ring they make a fine Sweet Chime,
Especially when Poets Tongues do Rhime;
The Belfrey-man's a Printer by his Skil,
Who, if he pleases, may Ring when he will.
When Priests to Mattens or to Vespers go,
To the High Altar they Bow very Low;
This Altar, where they Offer unto Fame,
Is made of Arms, Brains, Hearts without a blame,
On which lies Wisdome, Wit, Strength, Courage, Love,
As Sacrifices to Great Fame above:
Virtues, Arts, Sciences, as Priests here stand;
But Fortune Prioress doth all Command;
Incense of Noble Deeds to Fame she Sends,
Nothing is Offer'd, but what she Commends;
For Fortune brings more into Fames high Court,
Than all the Virtues with their great Resort.

Fame's Library within the Temple.

In Fame's great Library are Records plac'd,
What Act's not there, into Oblivion's cast;
There stand the Shelves of Time, where Books do lye,
Which Books are ty'd by Chains of Destiny.
The Master of this place they Favour call,
Where Care the Door-keeper doth Lock up all,
Yet not so fast, but Brib'ry in doth Steal,
Cousenage, Partiality, and Truth, not reveal;
For Brib'ry doth through all the World take place,
And Offerings, as a Bribe, in Heaven find Grace:


Then let not Men disdain a Bribe to take,
Since Gods do Blessings give for a Bribe's sake.

The Fairy Queen's Kingdome.

The Fairy Queens large Kingdome got by Birth,
Is in the Midst and Centre of the Earth,
Where there are many Springs, and running Streams,
Whose Waves do Glister by the Queen's bright Beams,
VVhich makes them Murmur as they pass away,
Because by Running round they cannot stay:
But they do ever Move, and like the Sun,
Do constantly in Circulation run;
And as the Sun gives Heat, to make things Spring,
So VVater doth give Moisture every thing:
For these two Elements give Life to all,
Creating every thing on th'Earth's round Ball;
And all along, this Liquid Source doth flow,
Stand Mirtle Trees, and Banks where Flowers grow;
'Tis true, there are no Birds to Sing sweet Notes,
Yet Winds do Whistl', as Birds do with their Throats,
VVhose Sounds and Notes, by Variation, oft
Make better Musick than the Sphears aloft;
Nor is there any Beast of Cruel Nature,
But a slow, Crawling Worm, a gentle Creature,
VVho fears no hungry Bird to pick him out,
But safely Grasps the tender Twigs about;
There Mountains are of pure Refined Gold,
And Rocks of Diamonds perfect to behold;
VVhose Brightness is a Sun to all about,
VVhich Glory makes Apollo's Beams keep out;
Quarries of Rubies, Saphyrs there are store,
Crystals, and Amathists, and many more;


There polisht Pillars nat'rally appear,
Where Twining Vines are Cluster'd all the Year;
The Axel-tree, whereon the Earth turns round,
Is one great Diamond, by Opinion found;
And the two Ends which we do call the Poles,
Are pointed Diamonds, turning in two Holes,
Which Holes are Rings of pure Refined Gold,
And all the weight of that Vast World up-hold,
Which makes the Sun so seldome there appear,
For fear those Rings should melt, if he came near;
And like a Wheel the Elements are found,
In even Lays, and many Turnings round;
First Fire is in the Circle, as the Spoak,
And then comes Water, Air is but the Smoak,
Begot of both; for Fire doth Water boyl,
And causes Clouds and Smoak, which is the Oyl:
This Smoaky Child sometimes is Good, then Bad,
According to the Nourishment it had.
The outward Circle as the Earth suppose,
Which is the Surface, where all plenty Grows;
Yet Earth is not the Cause of its Self-turning,
But Fire within, nor is there fear of Burning
The Axel-tree, for that Grows hard with Heat,
And by its Quickness turns the Wheel, though great,
Unless its Outward weight do press it down,
Raising the Bott'm, and Bowing down the Crown.
But why, this while am I so long of proving,
Only to shew how this Earth still is Moving;
For not the Earth, but Heav'ns, as Wheels, likewise
Do turn, which we see daily with our Eyes:
Thus is made Good the Proverb, which doth say,
That all the World on Wheels doth Run its way;


And by this Turn such blasts of Wind do blow,
As we may think, they do like Wind-mills go;
But Winds are made by Vulcan's Bellows sure,
Which makes the Earth such Colicks to endure:
For he a Smith, sits at the Forge below,
And is Ordain'd, the Centre-fire to Blow;
But Venus Laughs, to think what Horns he wears,
Though on his Shoulders half the Earth he bears;
Nature makes him to Hammer Metall out,
Which she doth send through Mines the World about;
For He's th'Old Man, that doth i'th' Centre dwell,
She Proserpine, that's thought the Queen of Hell:
Thus Venus is a Tinkers Wife, we see,
Not a Goddess, as she was thought to be,
When all the World to her did Offrings bring,
And her high Praise in Prose and Verses Sing,
And Priests in Orders on her Altars tend,
And to her Image all Wise Heads did bend.
But O Vain ways, that Mortal Men did go,
To worship Gods, which themselves did not know!
'Tis true, her Son's a pretty Lad, and he
Doth wait as Foot-boy on Queen Mab, whom she
Makes to enkindle Fires, and set up Lights,
And keep the Door for all the Carpet Knights:
For when the Queen is gone to Bed asleep,
Then a great Revel Rout the Court doth keep;
Yet heretofore Men did so strive to prove,
That Cupid was the only God of Love;
But if Men could but to the Centre go,
They soon would see, that it were nothing so.
Here Nature Nurses, and doth send in Season
All things abroad, as she her Self thinks Reason;


VVhen she Commands, all things do her Obey,
And by her Countermand some things do stay;
For she stays Life by Druggs well us'd, beside
By healing Balms to deadly Wounds apply'd:
There Mab is Queen of all by Nature's will,
And by her Favour she doth Govern still.
O happy Mab, that is in Nature's Grace;
For she is always Young, being in this place.
But leaving Her, let's go and see the Sport
That's Acted in the Queen of Fairy's Court.

The Pastime and Recreation of the Queen of Fairies in Fairy-Land, the Centre of the Earth.

Queen Mab, and all her Company
Dance on a pleasant Mole-hill high,
To small Straw-pipes, wherein great Pleasure
They take, and keep just Time and Measure;
All Hand in Hand, Around, Around,
They Dance upon this Fairy-ground;
And when she leaves her Dancing Ball,
She doth for her Attendants call,
To wait upon Her to a Bower,
VVhere she doth Sit under a Flower,
To Shade her from the Moon-shine bright,
VVhere Gnats do Sing for her Delight,
Some High, some Low, some Middle strain,
Making a Consort very Plain;
The whilst the Bat doth Fly about,
To keep in Order all the Rout,
And with her VVings doth Soundly pay
Those, that make Noise, and not Obey.


A Dewy waving Leaf's made fit
For the Queen's Bathe, where she doth Sit,
And her white Limbs in Beauty shew,
Like a new fallen Flake of Snow;
Her Maids do put her Garments on,
Made of the pure Light from the Sun,
Which do so many Colours take,
As Various Objects Shadows make:
Then to her Dinner she goes strait,
Where all Fairies in Order wait;
A Cover of a Cob-web made,
Is there upon a Mush-room laid;
Her Stool is of a Thistle-down,
And for her Cup an Acorn's Crown,
Which of strong Nectar full is fill'd,
That from Sweet Flowers is Distill'd;
Flies of all Sorts both Fat and Good,
As Quails, Snipes, Partridge, are her Food;
Pheasants, Larks, Cocks, and any Kind,
Both Wild and Tame, you there may find;
And Amelets made of Ants Eggs new,
Of these high Meats she Eats but few;
The Dormouse yields her Milk good store,
For Butter, Cheese, and many more;
This Milk makes many a fine Knack,
VVhen they fresh Ants Eggs therein Crack;
Pudding, and Custard, and Seed-Cake,
Her well-Skill'd Cook knows how to make;
To Sweeten them the Bee doth bring
Pure Honey, gather'd by her Sting;
But for her Guard serves Grosser meat,
Of Stall-fed Dormice they do Eat;


VVhen Din'd, she goes to take the Air
In Coach, which is a Nut-shell fair;
The Lining's Soft and Rich within,
Made of a Glistering Adders Skin,
And there six Crickets draw her fast,
VVhen she a Journey takes in haste;
Or else two serve to Pace a Round,
And Trample on the Fairy Ground.
In Hawks sometimes she takes Delight,
VVhich Hornets are most Swift in Flight;
VVhose Horns instead of Talons will
A Fly, as Hawks a Partridge, Kill.
But if she will a Hunting go,
Then she the Lizzard makes the Doe,
Which is so Swift and Fleet in Chase,
As her Slow Coach cannot keep Pace:
Then on a Grashopper she'l Ride,
And Gallop in the Forest wide;
Her Bow is of a VVillow Branch,
To Shoot the Lizzard on the Haunch;
Her Arrow Sharp, much like a Blade,
Of a Rose-mary Leaf is made:
Then Home she's Called by the Cock,
VVho gives her warning what's the Clock;
And when the Moon doth hide her Head,
Their Day is done, she goes to Bed;
Meteors do serve, when they are Bright,
As Torches do, to give her Light;
Glow-worms for Candles Lighted up,
Stand on her Tabl', while she doth Sup;
And in her Chamber they are plac'd,
Not fearing how the Tallow waste:


But Women, that Inconstant Kind,
Can ne're fix in one place their Mind;
For she Impatient of Long stay,
Drives to the Upper-Earth away.

The Pastime of the Queen of Fairies, when she comes upon the Earth out of the Centre.

This Lovely, Sweet, and Beauteous Fairy Queen,
Begins to Rise, when Hesperus is seen;
For she is Kin unto the God of Night,
Unto Diana, and the Stars so Bright;
And so to all the rest in some Degrees,
Yet not so near Relation as to these:
As for Apollo, she Disclaims him quite,
And Swears, she ne're will come within his Light;
For they fell out about some foolish Toy,
Where ever since in him she takes no Joy;
She says, he always doth more harm than good,
If but his Malice were well understood:
For he brings Dearths by Parching up the Ground,
And Sucks up Water, that none can be found;
He makes poor Men in Feav'rish Plagues to lye,
His Arrows hot make Men and Beasts to Dye,
So that to him she never will Come near,
But Hates to see, when as his Beams appear:
This makes the Cock give notice, as they say,
That when he Rises, she may go her way;
And makes the Owl her Favourite to be,
Because Apollo's Face she hates to see:
For Owls do Sleep all Day, and in the Night
They Shout and Hollow, that th'are out of Sight;


And so the Glow-worm all Day hides his Head,
But Lights his Taper-tail, when he's Abed,
To wait upon the Fairest Fairy Queen,
VVhilst she is Sporting on the Meady-Green:
Her Pastime only is, when She's on Earth,
To Pinch the Sluts, which make Hobgoblin mirth;
Or changes Children, while the Nurses sleep,
Making the Father Rich, whose Child they keep:
This Hobgoblin's the Queen of Fairies Fool,
Turning himself to Horse, Cow, Tree, or Stool,
Or any thing to Cross by harmless Play,
As to lead Travellers out of their way;
To Kick down Milk-pails, cause Curds not to turn
To Cheese, or hinder Butter in the Churn,
Which makes the Farmers Wife to Scold and Fret;
That she can neither Cheese nor Butter get;
And then he doth Hold up, as they do say,
Hens Rumps, lest they their Eggs too fast should lay;
The Good-wife Sad, squats down upon a Stool,
Not at all thinking it was Hob the Fool,
And frowning Sits, then Hob gives her a Slip,
And down she Falls, whereby she hurts her Hip:
Thus many Pranks doth Hob play on our Stage,
VVith Tom Thumb, his Companion, the Queen's Page,
VVho doth like Piece of Fat in Pudding lye,
And almost Choaks the Eater going awry;
And when he's down the Guts, he Wind blows out,
Putting the Standers by into a Rout,
And shames the Eater with a foul Disgrace,
That never after he dare shew his Face;
Besides, in many places puts himself
In Baggs, and Budgets, as a little Elf,


To make his Bearers start away with fear,
To think that any thing Alive be there:
In this the Queen of Fairies takes delight,
In Summers even, and in Winters night;
And when as she is weary of these Plays,
She takes her Coach and doth go on her ways,
Unto her Paradise the Centre deep,
VVhere she the Store-house doth of Nature keep.

The Palace of the Fairy Queen.

The Palace of the Queen wherein she dwells,
Its Fabrick's built all of Hodmandod Shells;
The Hangings of a Rain-bow made, that's thin,
Shew wrondrous fine, when one first enters in;
The Chambers made of Amber that is Clear,
Do give a fine sweet Smell, if Fire be near;
Her Bed, a Cherry-stone, is Carv'd throughout,
And with a Butter-fly's VVing hung about;
Her Sheets are of the Skin of Doves Eyes made,
Where on a Violet Bud her Pillow's laid;
The Doors are Cut all of Transparent Glass,
Where the Queen may be seen, when she doth pass:
These Doors are Lock'd up fast with Silver-pins,
And when she goes to Sleep, our Day begins;
Her Time in Pleasure she doth pass away,
And will do so, untill the VVorld's last Day.

The Windy Gyants.

The four chief Winds are Gyants high in Length,
And as Broad set, and wondrous Great in Strength;
Their Heads are more (as it doth clear appear)
Than all the Moneths or Seasons of the Year;


Nay, some say more than all the Days and Nights,
And some, th'are Numberless and Infinites.
The first four Heads are Largest of them all,
The Twelve are next, the Thirty two but small;
The rest so Little, and their Breath so weak,
Their Mouths so Narrow, that they hardly Speak:
These Gyants are so Lustfull and so Wild,
As they by Force do get the Earth with Child;
Whereof her Belly Swells, and Big doth Grow,
Untill her Time to which she hath to go;
Which being near, she doth so Groan and Shake,
Till she be brought to Bed of an Earth-quake:
This Child of Wind doth Ruine all its meets,
Rents Rocks and Mountains like to Paper-sheets;
It Swallows Cities, and the Heav'ns doth Tear,
It Threatens Jove, and makes the Gods to fear.
The North-wind's Cold, his Nerves are Dry and Strong,
He pulls up Oaks, and lays them all along;
In Icy Fetters he binds Rivers fast,
And doth Imprison Fish in th'Ocean Vast;
Plows up the Seas, and Hail for Seed in flings,
Whence Crops of Over-flows the Tide in brings;
He drives the Clouds in Troops, and makes them Run,
And Blows, as if he would put out the Sun.
The Southern-wind, who is as Fierce as he,
And to the Sun as Great an Enemy,
Doth raise an Army of thick Clouds and Mists,
With which he thinks to do just as he Lists;


Flinging up Waters to quench out his Light,
And in his Face black Clouds to hide his Sight:
But the Bright Sun cannot endure this Scorn,
But doth them all in Showres of Rain return.
The Western-wind without Ambitious ends,
Doth what he can to Joyn and make them Friends;
For he is of a Nature Sweet and Mild,
And not so Head-strong, Cruel, Rough and Wild;
He's Soft to Touch, and Pleasant to the Ear,
His Voice Sounds Sweet, and Small, and very Clear,
And makes Hot Love to young fresh Buds that Spring,
They give him Sweets, wch he through th'Air doth fling,
Not through Dislike, but for to make them known,
As Pictures are for Beauteous Faces shown.
But O! the Eastern-wind, he's full of Spight,
Diseases brings, which Cruelly do Bite;
Kills Buds, and Corn, as in the Blade it stands,
To Sheep the Rot, to Men the Plague he sends;
Nay, he's of such Ill Nature, that he would
Destroy the World with Poyson, if he could.

Of the Witches in Lapland that make Winds.

Lapland , this is the place, where Winds (as some
Believe) from Witches not from Caves do come;
For they do Draw the Air into high Hills,
And Beat it out again by certain Mills;
Then Sack it up, and Sell it out for Gain
To Mariners which Traffick on the Main.


Of the Sun and the Earth.

The Sweat of th'Earth through Porous Holes doth pass,
And is the Dew that lies upon the Grass,
Which (like a Lover Kind) the Sun wipes Clean,
That her Fair Face may to the Light be seen;
This Water for her sake he so esteems,
That all the Drops upon his Silver-beams
He Threads, like Ropes of Pearls, which to his Sphere
He draws, and turns to Crystal, when they're there;
Yet what he Gathers, he cannot keep all,
But of those Drops some down again do fall;
And then, when they upon her Head do Run,
He Clouds his Brows, as if he Ill had done;
For Lovers think they always do amiss;
Although this Water her Refreshment is:
When she by Sweat exhausted Grows and Dry,
Then doth the Sun moist Clouds squeeze in the Sky;
Or else he takes some of his Sharpest Beams,
And breaks the Clouds, from whence pour Crystal streams;
And then th'Earth Drinks too much, yet never Reels
Nor Dizzy grows, although she Sickness feels.

Of a Garden.

The Garden, which some Paradise do call,
Is plac'd just under th'Equinoctial;
Echoes there are most Artificial made,
And cooling Grottoes from the Heat to Shade;
The Azure Sky is always Bright and Clear,
No Gross thick Vapours in the Clouds appear;
There many Stars do Comfort the Sad Night,
The Fixt do Twinkl', and with the rest give Light;


No Noise is heard, but what the Ear delights,
No Fruits are there, but what the Taste invites;
Bruis'd Flowers through the Nose Fume to the Brain,
And Honey Dew doth fall like Showr's of Rain;
Various Colours by Nature intermixt,
Divert the Eyes so, as none can be Fixt;
Here Atomes Small on Sun-beams Dance all Day,
Whilst the sweet Zephyrus on th'Air doth Play;
Which Musick from Apollo bears the Praise,
And Orpheus at its Sound his Harp down lays;
Apollo yields, and not Contends with Spight,
Presenting Zephyrus with twelve Hours Light;
The Night, though Sad, in quiet Pleasure takes,
Listening with Silence when he Musick makes;
And when the Day doth come, she's Grieved so,
That she cannot hear Zeph'rus longer Blow;
And with her Mantle Black her Self inshrouds,
VVhich is Imbroyder'd all of Stars in Clouds:
Fine intermixing Walks there are of Pleasure,
Of Grass, and Sand, Broad, Short, and of all Measure;
Some Shaded for a Lovers Musing Thought,
VVhen his Mind is with Love's Idea fraught;
The VValks all Firm and Hard as Marble are,
Yet Soft as Down by Grass that Groweth there;
VVhere Daisies grow as Mushrooms, in a Night,
Mixt Yellow, White and Green to please the Sight;
VVhen it begins to Dawn, those Daisie's Heads
The Dew with little Drops all Over-spreads;
As thick as Stars are placed in the Sky,
So Daisies on the Earth as close do lye.
Here Emerauld Banks are, whence fine Flowers spring,
VVhose Sents and Colours Various Pleasures bring;


Prim-roses, Cowslips, Violets, and Daffadillies,
Roses, and Honey-suckles, and white Lillies;
Wall-flowers, Pinks, and Mary-golds beside,
Grow on the Banks Inrich'd with Nature's Pride:
On other Banks grow Simples, which are good
For Med'cines, well Applied and Understood;
There Trees do Grow, which Proper are and Tall,
Whose Barks are Smooth, and Bodies Sound withall;
Whose Spreading Tops are Full, and ever Green,
As Nazarites Heads, where Rasors have not been;
And Curled Leaves, which Bowing Branches bear,
By Warmth are Fed, for Winter ne're comes there:
There Fruits so pleasing to the Taste do Grow,
That with Delight the Sense they Overflow;
And Arched Arbours, where sweet Birds do Sing,
Whose Hollow Roofs do make each Echo Ring;
Prospects, which Trees and Clouds by Mixing show,
Joyn'd by the Eye, one perfect Piece do Grow;
Here Fountains are, where Drilling drops down Run,
Which Twinkle as the Stars, or as the Sun;
And through each several Spout such Noise they make,
As Birds i'th' Spring, when they their Pleasure take;
Some Chirping Sparrow, and the Singing Lark,
Or Quavering Nightingale in Evening Dark;
The Whistling Black-bird, with the pleasant Thrush,
Linnet, Bull-finch, which Sing in every Bush;
No Weeds are here, nor wither'd Leaves and Dry,
But ever Green, and Pleasant to the Eye;
No Frost to Nip the Tender Buds i'th' Birth,
Nor Winter-Snow to fall on this sweet Earth;
The Beauty of the Spring here ne're doth waste,
Because 'tis just under th'Æquator plac't;


The Day and Night by turns keep equal Watch,
That Thievish Time should nothing from them Catch;
And every Muse a several Walk injoys,
The Sad delights in Shades, the Light imploys
Her time in Sports; Satyrs in Corners Lurk,
And as their Gard'ners with great Pains do Work;
They Cut, Graft, Set, and Sow all with much Skil,
And gather Fruits and Flow'rs when th'Muses will;
And Nymphs, as Hand-maids, their Attendance give;
For which by Fame, the Muses make them Live.

Of an Oak in a Grove.

A shady Grove, where Trees in equal space
Did Grow, seem'd like a Consecrated place;
Through spreading Boughs the Quivering Light broke in,
Much like to Glass or Crystal shiver'd thin,
VVhich, when it is on a Green Carpet strew'd,
So in this VVood the Light all broken shew'd;
Yet this disturbed Light the Grove did Grace,
As Sadness doth a Fair and Beauteous Face;
And in the midst an antient Oak stood there,
VVhich heretofore did many Offerings bear;
VVhose Branches all were Hung with Reliques round,
To shew, how many Men the Gods made Sound;
And for Reward, long Life the Gods did give
Unto this Oak, that he should Aged Live;
His Younger Years, when Acorns he did bear,
No Dandriff, Moss, but all Green Leaves grew there,
Wch Curl'd hung down his Shoulders, broad they spred,
His Crown was Thick, and Bushy was his Head;


His Stature Tall, Full-breasted, Broad and Big,
His Body Round, and Strait was every Twig:
But Youth and Beauty, which are Shadows thin,
Do Fade away as if they ne're had been;
For all his Leaves and Smooth moist Rine was gone,
And he himself with Time all Bald was Grown;
VVhereas before his Arms fought with the Wind,
And his Bark did, like Skin, his Body bind,
VVhere he could Firm in all the Seasons stand,
And 'gainst all Blust'ring Storms his Face did bend;
He now by Age so Feebl' and Weak doth Grow,
That every Blast is apt him down to Throw;
His Branches all are Sear'd, his Bark grown Gray,
Most of his Rine with Time is Peel'd away;
The Liquid Sap, which from the Root did Spring,
And to each Thirsty Bough its Food did bring,
Is all Drunk up, there is no Moisture left;
The Root is Rotten, and the Body Cleft.
Thus Time doth Ruine, 'nd brings all to Decay,
Though to the Gods we still Devoutly Pray;
For this Old Oak was Sacred to Great Jove,
VVhich was the King of all the Gods above:
But Gods, when they Created things, they must,
Said they, all Dye at last, and turn to Dust.

It was a Custom in Antient Times to Hang their Offerings on Trees.

Of a Wrought Carpet, presented to the View of Working Ladies.

The Spring doth Spin fine Grass-green Silk, of which
Was Wov'n a Carpet, like the Persian, Rich;
And all about the Borders there were spread
Clusters of Grapes, mix'd Green, Blew, White and Red;


And in the midst the Gods in sundry Shapes
Were curious Wrought, divulging all their Rapes;
And all the Ground was strew'd with Flowers, so
As if by Nature Set, they there did Grow;
Those Figures all like Sculptures did bear out,
Whether they lay on Flat many did doubt;
There Light and Dark all Intermixt was laid
For Shady Groves, where Priests devoutly Pray'd;
The Fruits hung so, as did Invite the Taste,
Small Birds with Picking seem'd to make a waste;
The Ground was wrought like Threads drawn from the Sun,
Which Shin'd so Blazing as a Fired Gun:
This Piece the Pattern is of Artfull Skil;
Art th'Imitator is of Nature still.

A Man to his Mistress.

O do not grieve, Dear Heart, nor shed a Tear,
Since in your Eyes my Life doth still appear;
And in your Countenance my Death I find,
I'm Buried in your Melancholy Mind;
But in your Smiles I'm Glorified to Rise,
And your pure Love doth me Eternalize:
Thus by your Favour you a God me make,
But by your Hate a Devils Shape I take.



Of Fairies in the Brain.

VVho knows, but that in every Brain may dwell
Those Creatures, we call Fairies, who can tell?
And by their several Actions they may frame
Those Forms and Figures, which we Fancies name;
And when we Sleep, those Visions, Dreams we call,
May by their Industry be Raised all;
And all the Objects, which through Senses get,
Within the Brain they may in Order set;
And some Pack up, as Merchants do, each thing,
Which they sometimes may to the Mem'ry bring:
And thus, besides our own Imaginations,
May Fairies in our Brain beget Inventions.
If so, then th'Eye's the Sea, where by the Gale
Of Passions, on Salt Tears their Ship doth Sail;
And when a Tear doth Break, as it doth fall,
Or wip'd away, they may a Shipwrack call.
There from the Stomack Vapours do arise,
And fly up to the Head, as to the Skys,
And, as great Storms, their Houses down may blow,
VVhere, by their Fall, the Head may Dizzy grow;


And when those Houses they Build up again,
VVith Knocking they may put the Head to Pain;
VVhen they Dig deep, perchance a Tooth make Ake,
And from a Tooth a Quarry-Bone may take,
Which they, like Stone, may Build their House withall;
If much Took out, the Tooth may Rotten fall.
Those that Dwell near the Ears are very Cool,
For they are both the South and Northern-Pole;
The Eyes are Sun and Moon, which give them Light,
VVhen open, Day, when shut, it is Dark Night.

All Objects which the Senses bring in, are like Merchandises brought from Forein Parts.

The City of these Fairies is the Brain.

The Fairy's City in the Brain is found,
VVith Dur' and Pia-mater Compass'd round;
VVith a thick Scul it's Trenched all about,
And with great Art and Labour fac'd without;
The Fore-head is the Fort, which is Built high,
Instead of Centinels doth serve each Eye;
And that same place where Memory lies in,
Is great King Oberon his Magazine;
The Market-place the Mouth, when full, begun
Is Market-Day, when empty, Market's done;
The City-Conduit, where the Water flows,
Is with two Spouts, the Nostrils of the Nose,
And when these watery Spouts are not stopt close,
Then we do say, it is a Cold or Pose;
The Gates be the two Ears, when Deaf they are,
Then those two City-Gates the Fairies Barr:
This City's Govern'd, as most Cities be,
By Aldermen, and so by Mayoralty;
And Ob'ron King dwells never any where,
But in a Royal Head, whose Court is there,


Which is the Kernel of the Brain, if seen,
We there might View him and his Beauteous Queen:
Sure that's their Court, and there they Sit in State,
And Noble Lords and Ladies on them wait.

The Fairies in the Brain may be the Causes of many Thoughts.

When we have Pious Thoughts, and think of Heaven,
Yet go about, not ask to be Forgiven,
Perchance they're Preaching, or a Chapter saying,
Or on their Knees they are Devoutly Praying;
When we are Sad, and know no Reason why,
Perchance it is, because some there do Dye;
And some place may i'th' Head be hung with Black,
Which makes us Dull, yet know not what we Lack.
Our Fancies which in Verse or Prose we put,
May Pictures be, which they do Draw or Cut;
And when these Fancies fine and thin do show,
They may be Graven in Seal, for ought we know;
When we have Cross Opinions in the Mind,
Then we may them in Schools Disputing find;
When we of Childish Toys do think, a Fair
May be i'th' Brain, where Crowds of Fairies are,
And in each Stall may all such Knacks be Sold,
As Rattles, Bells, or Bracelets made of Gold;
Pins, Whistles, and the like may be Bought there,
And thus within the Head may be a Fair:
And when our Brain with Amorous Thoughts is staid,
Perhaps there is a Bride and Bridegroom made;
And when our Thoughts all Merry be and Gay,
There may be Dancing on their Wedding Day.


Of the Animal Spirits.

Those Spirits which we Animal do call,
May Men and Women be, and Creatures small;
And may the Body into Kingdomes wide,
As Muscles, Nerves, Veins, Arteries, Divide;
The Head and Heart, East and West-Indies be,
Which through the Veins may Traffick, as the Sea;
In Feavers may by Shipwrack many Dye;
For when the Blood is Hot, and Vapours high
Do Rise, as Waves they Toss, and when they Hit
Against Rocks of Obstructions, Life doth Split.
I'th' Head, th'East-Indies, Spicie Fancies grow,
Orange and Limon Satyr there doth Flow;
I'th' Heart, the West, where Heat the Blood refines,
The Blood's like Gold, the Heart like Silver-Mines:
Thus from the Head in Ships are Spices brought,
And in the Heart is Gold and Silver wrought.

The Warr of the Animal Spirits.

Sometimes these Animal Creatures when they Jarr,
Then all their Kingdomes rise up into Warr;
And when they Fight, we do Convulsions feel,
Cramps, Gouts in Toes, and Chilblains in the Heel.

Peace betwixt Animal Spirits.

VVhen they keep Peace, and all do well agree,
Then is Commerce in every Kingdome free,
And through the Nerves they Travel without fear;
There are no Thieves to Rob them of their Ware;


Those Wares are several Touches, which they bring
Unto the Senses, which Buy every thing:
But to the Muscles they have great Recourse;
For in those Kingdomes Trading hath great Force;
VVhich Kingdomes always joyn by two and two,
That they with Ease may Pass and Repass through.

The Body is the World of the Animal Spirits.

The Art'ries are the Ocean deep and wide,
The Blood the Sea, which Ebbs and Flows in Tide;
The Nerves the Continent they Travel through,
The Muscles Cities are they Traffick to.

The Body Similized to many Countries.

The Nerves are France, and Italy, and Spain,
The Liver Brit'n, the Narrow Sea each Vein;
The Spleen is Æthiopia, wherein
Is Bred a Peopl' of Black and Tawny Skin;
The Stomack is like Ægypt, and the Chyle
VVhich through the Body flows, is as the Nile;
The Head and Heart both Indies are; each Ear
Doth like the South and Northern-pole appear;
The Lungs are Rocks and Caverns, whence rise Winds,
Where Life, which passes through, great Danger finds.

A Complement sent to the Fairy Queen.

Sir Charls unto my Chamber coming in,
VVhen I was Writing of the Fairy Queen,


I pray, said he, when Queen Mab you do see,
Present my Service to her Majesty,
And tell Her, I have heard Fames loud report,
Both of her Beauty, and her stately Court.
VVhen I Queen Mab within my Fancy view'd,
My Thoughts bow'd Low, fearing I should be Rude,
Kissing her Garment thin, which Fancy made,
Kneeling upon a Thought, like one that Pray'd,
And then in whispers Soft I did present
His humble Service which in Mirth was sent.
Thus by Imagination I have been
In Fairy Court, and seen the Fairy Queen;
For why, Imagination runs about
In every place, but none can Trace it out.

Sir Charls Cavendish, my Brother-in-Law.






Hope hearing Doubt did a great Army raise
Upon the Castle, where she was, to Seize,
For her Defence she made that Castle strong,
Plac'd Pieces of Ordnance the VVall along;
And Bulwarks Built at every Corners end,
A Curtain long the Middle did Defend;
Two Faces made a Point, whence Canons play,

Bullets shot from two Bulwarks upon the Enemy make a Point.

Two Points a Third, to stop the Enemies way;
No Wing too Short, no Curtain was too Long,
No Point too Sharp, but Blunt to make them Strong;
And round the Castle, Enemies out to keep,
A Ditch was Digg'd, which was both wide and deep;
Bridges were made to Draw, or let at Length,
The Gates had Iron Barrs of wondrous Strength;
Souldiers upon the Curtains-Line did stand,
And each did hold a Musket in his Hand.
When Hope had Order'd all about her Fort,
Then She did call a Council to her Court:
I hear, said She, that Doubt a Warr will make,
And bring great Force this Castle for to take;


Wherefore, my Friends, Provision must be sought,
And first of all good Store of Victuals bought;
Hunger doth lose more Forts than Force doth win;
Then must we with the Stomack first begin;
The next is Arms, the Body for to Guard,
Those that Unarmed are, are soon'st afear'd:
For to small use we make a Ditch or Wall,
Without Arm'd men, to keep that Wall withall.
Shall we neglect Mens Lives and all their Strength,
More than a Wall, that may be broke at Length?
For Ammunitions, that mighty Power,
And Death's Engines, Armies and Towns Devour;
Yet are they of no Use, unless Mankind
Have Strength, Skill, Will, to use them as Design'd;
'Tis Wisdome to advise what ways are best
Us to Defend, that we be not Opprest.
Then Expectation being Gray with Age,
Adviseth Hope by no means to ingage
Too near her Castle, but let that be free;
Draw out a Line about the Town, said she,
There make some Works, Souldiers intrench therein;
Let not the Warrs close at your Gates begin.
With that Desire, though Young, yet wisely spake;
Alas, said she, Doubt that small Line will take,
So great a Compass will your Strength divide,
A Body weak may break through any Side;
Besides the Souldiers will more Careless be,
When they a Rescue strong behind them see:
But in the Castle, where lies all their Good,
There they will Fight to the last Drop of Blood.


Doubts Assault, and Hopes Defence.

Doubt round the Fort of Hope intrenchcd lay,
Stopt all Provisions that should pass that way,
Digging forth Earth to raise up Rampiers high,
Against Hopes Curtains did their Canons lye;
The Line being long, it seem'd the weakest place,
Or else to Batter down the Frontier's Face;
There Pioniers did Dig a Mine to Spring,
Balls and Granadoes into th'Fort did fling;
Rams they did place to beat their Walls down flat,
VVith many Engines more as good as that:
But when Doubt Breaches made in any part,
Hopes Industry soon clos'd it up with Art;
Yet Doubt resolved fierce Assaults to make,
And did set Ladders up the Fort to take;
When Hope saw this, great Stones and Weights down flung,
VVhich many Kill'd, as they on Ladders hung;
Many did fall, and in the Ditch did lye,
But then fresh Men did strait their place supply;
Upon the Walls of Hope many lay Dead,
And those that Fought did on their Bodies tread:
Thus Various Fortune on each Side did fall,
And Death was th'only Conquerour of all.

A Battel between Courage and Prudence.

Courage against Prudence a Warr did make,
For Rashness, her Foe's, but his Favourit's sake;
For Rashness 'gainst Queen Prudence had a Spight,
And did perswade Great Courage for to Fight;
Then Courage rais'd an Army Vast and Great,
Which for their Numbers Tamberlain might beat;


Cloath'd all in Glist'ring Coats which made a show,


And Tossing Feathers which their Pride did blow;


Such Fiery Horses Men could hardly Wield,


And in this Equipage they took the Field;
Loud Noise spoke of this Army every where,


Untill at last it came to Prudence Ear;
Prudence a Councel call'd of all the Wise,
And Ag'd Experience, Her to advise;
Then Industry was call'd, which close did wait,
And Orders had to raise an Army strait;
But out, alas! her Kingdome was so Small,
That scarce an Army could be Rais'd of all;
At last they did about ten Thousand get,
And Care imployed was their Arms to fit;
Discipline train'd each Man, taught and Command,
How they should Move, and in what Posture stand;
Great store of Victuals Prudence did provide,
And Ammunition of all Sorts beside.
The Foot were Cloath'd in Coarse yet warm array,
Their Wages small, yet had they constant Pay;
Well-armed they were all, Breast, Back, and Pot,
Not for to Tyre them, but to keep out Shot;
Each had their Muskets, Pikes, and Banners right,
That nothing might be wanting for to Fight;
The Cavalry was Armed as in Frocks,
Gauntlets they had, and Pistols with Fire-locks,
Swords by their Sides, and at their Saddle Bow
Hung Pole-axes, to strike and give a Blow;
Horses they had, not Pamper'd in a Stable,
But from the Plow, which were both strong and able
For a long March, or to endure a Shock,
For they stood firm and quiet as a Rock,


Not starting, though the Guns shot in their Face,
But, as they're Guided, went from place to place;
Prudence for Men and Horses did provide
Physicians, Surgeons, Farriers, and Smiths beside,
Wagons and Carts all Luggages to bear,
That none might want when in the Field they were;
Strict Order she did give to every one,
Lest through mistake some wrong there might be done;
And as they March'd Scouts every way did go,
To bring Intelligence where lay the Foe;
And when the Army staid, some rest to take,
Prudence had Care what Sentinels to make;
Men that were Watchfull, full of Industry,
Not such as are Debaucht and Lazy lye;
For Armies oft by Negligence are lost,
Which, had they Fought might of their Valour boast:
But Prudence, she with Care still had an Eye,
That every one had Match and Powder by;
Besides, through a wise Care, and not afraid,
She always lay Intrenched where she stay'd:
At last the Armies both drew near in Sight,
Then both began to Order for their Fight;
Courage, his Army was so Vast and Great,
As they did Scorn the Enemy when they met;
Courage did many a Scornfull message send,
But Prudence still made Patience by her stand;
Prudence did call to Doubt for his advice,
But in his Answers he was very Nice;
Hope, of that Army great, did make but Light,
Perswaded Prudence by all means to Fight;
For why, said Hope, they do us so Despise,
That they grow Careless, Errour blinds their Eyes,


VVhereby we may such great advantage make,
As we may win and many Prisoners take.
Then Prudence set her Army in array,
Chusing the Roman Custom and their way;
In Bodies Small her Army she did part,
In Mollops, which was done with Care and Art;
Ten in a Rank, and sev'n Files deep they were,
Between each part a Lane of Ground lay bare,
For Single and Loose Men about to run,
To Skirmish first before the Fight begun.
The Battel Order'd, in three Parts was set,
The next supplied, when the first Part was beat;
And Prudence Rode about from Rank to Rank,
Taking great Care to Strengthen well the Flank;
Prudence the Van did Lead, Hope the right Wing,
Patience the Left, and Doubt the Rear did bring;
The Enemy's Army feircely up did Ride,
As thinking presently them to Divide;
But they were much Deceiv'd, for when they met,
They saw an Army small, whose Force was great;
Then did they Fight, but Courage bore up high;
For though the worst he had, he Scorn'd to fly.

A Description of the Fight.

Some with sharp Swords, to tell, O most accurst!
Were above half into their Bodies thrust,
From whence fresh Streams of Blood along did run
Unto the Hilts, and there lay Clodded on;
Some, their Legs Dangling by the Nervous strings,
And Shoulders Cut hung Loose like flying wings;
Heads here were Cleft in pieces, Brains lay Masht,
And all their Faces into Slices hasht;


Brains only in the Pia-mater thin,
Did Quivering lye within that little Skin,
Their Sculs all broke and into pieces burst,
By Horses Hoofs and Chariot Wheels were crusht;
Others, their Heads did lye on their own Laps,
And some again half Cut lay on their Paps;
Some thrust their Tongues out of their Mouths at length,
For why? the Strings were Cut that gave them strength;
Their Eyes did Stare, their Lids were Open wide,
For the small Nerves were Shrunk on every Side;
In some again those Glassie Balls hung by
Small slender Strings, as Chains, to tye the Eye,
Wch Strings when broke, the Eyes fell Trundling round,
And then the Film was broke upon the Ground;
In Death their Teeth strong set, their Lips were bare,
Which Grinning seem'd as if they angry were;
Their Hair upon their Eyes in Clodded gore
So wildly Spred, as ne're it did before;
With Frowns their Fore-heads did in Furrows lye,
As Graves, their Foes to Bury, when they Dye;
Their Spongy Lungs heav'd up through Pangs of Death,
With Pain and Difficulty fetch'd short Breath;
Some Grasping hard their Hands through pain provok'd,
Because the ratling Flegm their Throats had Choak'd;
Their Bodies now Bow'd up, then down did fall
For want of Strength to make them stand withall;
Some Staggering on their Leggs did feebly stand,
Or Leaning on their Sword with either hand,
Where on the Pummel did their Breast rely,
More Griev'd they could not Fight, than for to Dye;
Their hollow Eyes sunk deep into their Brain,
And Hard-fetch'd Groans did from each Heart-string strain;


Their Knees pull'd up lest th'Bowels out should come,
But all too little, through their Blood they Swom;
Guts did, like Sausages, their Bodies twine,
Or like the spreading Plant, or wreathing Vine;
Their restless Heads not knowing how to lye,
Through grievous Pains did quickly wish to Dye,
Rowling from off their Back upon their Belly,
Did Tumble in their Blood as thick as Gelly,
And Gasping lay with short Breaths, and constraint,
With Cold sweat drops upon their Faces faint,
Heaving their Dull pale Eye-balls up did look,
As if through Pain, not Hate, the World forsook;
Some Chilly Cold, as Shivering Agues are,
Some Burning Hot, as in high Feavers were;
Some Spewing Blood from Stomacks that are Sick,
Through parching Heat their Tongue to th'Roof did stick;
Their Bodies with loud Groans their Souls call'd back,
While smarting Wounds did set them on the wrack,
And on their Arms their Faces lay across,
As if in Death they were asham'd of Loss;
Some Dying lay like Flame whose Oyl is spent,
Or Fire that's Smother'd out and wanteth Vent;
And some did fall like strong and hardy Oaks,
Which are Hewn down with Feirce and Cruel stroaks;
Their Limbs chopt Small as Wood for Fire to burn,
Or Carved, or Chipt out for Joyners turn;
Some underneath their Horses Bellies flung,
Some by the Heels in their own Stirrups hung;
Others their Heads and Necks being all awry,
Did on their Horses Mains, as Pillows lye;
Some in a Careless Garb lay on the Ground,
Despis'd Life, since in Death is Honour found;


Some call'd for Death, and some did Life desire,
Some Car'd not, some did Burials require;
Some beat their Breasts as if they'd done some Ill,
Some burn'd with hot Revenge, their Foes to Kill;
Some lay as if to hear the Trumpet sound,
And others did lye Sprawling on the Ground;
Some wish'd their Death's Revenge upon their Foe,
Some did with Dying Eyes their Friends not know;
Some would their Parents, some their Children see,
Others wish'd Life, some Difference to agree:
But Lovers with a Soft and Panting Heart,
Did wish their Mistress at their Sad depart
To shut their Eyes, their gaping Wounds to close,
VVhose Dying Spirit to their Mistress goes;
Foes Hands into each others VVounds thrust wide,
As if their Hearts they'ld pull out from each Side;
Some Friends in dear Imbracements closely twin'd,
By their Affections strong in Death were Joyn'd;
Some wish'd to Live, yet long'd for Death through Pain,
Others Dyed Grieving that their Foe's not Slain;
Some did Repent what they so Rash had done,
And wish'd the Battel were to be begun;
Some gently Sinking by a Fainting fall,
Yield quietly to Death when he did call;
Some Drunk with Death not able were to stand,
But Reeling fell, struck down by Death's Cold hand;
Some Lingred long, as Lovers, when they must
Part, some did willing yield to Fate their Dust,
And sweetly lay as if Asleep at Night;
Some Stern, as if new Battels they would Fight,
Some softly Murm'ring like a Bubbling stream,
Did sweetly Smile in Death, as in a Dream;


Their Souls with Soft-breath'd Sighs to Heav'n did fly,
To Live with th'Gods above the Starry Sky:
Thus several Noises through the Air did Ring,
And several Postures Death to Men did bring;
Where some did Dye Outragious in Despair,
Others so Gentle as without all fear.
High Hills with Heaps of Bodies there were Grown,
And Hair as Grass, and Teeth as Seed were Sown;
Their Heads and Heels Horsemen together lay,
Smother'd to Death which could not get away;
Their Arms lay Hack'd, and all were Thrown about,
And Targets full of Holes, that kept Death out;
Their Flags which first like moving Woods did show,
On whose Tops various Colours seem'd to Grow,
As if Flow'rs from high Trees had Sprouted out,
Or in the open Air were strew'd about,
VVere now all fall'n and into Pieces torn,
Their Mottoes Raz'd which did their Sides adorn;
Some did like winding Sheets their Bearers shroud,
VVhich was an Honour fit to make Death proud;
Some were like Virgins, which their Eyes cast Low
Through Shamefac'tness, though they no fault did know,
Nor Guilty were, but overcome with Strength,
Not by their own Consent, but forc'd at Length:
For Courage, like to Chastity, we find
Is forc'd to lay down Arms, though 'gainst its Mind;
Gauntlets and Corslets, Saddles lay here and there,
Flags, Pikes, Drums, Guns were scatter'd every where,
And Plumes of Feathers which wav'd with the Wind,
And proudly Toss'd, like to some haughty Mind,
Just like Prosperity when Over-born,
Now Humbly lay, and were in Pieces torn;


Horses, which proudly Praunc'd, when Back'd they were
By Men of Courage, never knowing Fear,
Now Over-power'd lay by strong Assault,
And lost by Force, 'twas not their Courage fault;
For they on Death's dull Face could Boldly stare,
Since Life they Hate, lest they Victorious were;
Dead Horses lay on th'Backs, their Heels up flung,
Their Eys were sunk, Heads turn'd, their Jaws down hung;
Their thick Curl'd Manes wch grew down to the Ground,
Or by their Masters in fine Ribbons bound,
Were Torn half off, or Sing'd by Fire from Guns,
Or Snarled in a Knot which backward runs;
Their Nostrils wide from whence thick Smoak out-went,
Which Vapour from their hot stout Hearts was sent,
Their Sleek bright Hair o'th' Skin like Coats of Mail,
And their feirce Courage which could nothing quail,
All lay in Death, by Fortune they were cast,
And Nature to new Forms went on in haste;
For neither Beauty, Strength, nor nimble Feet,
Can serve in Death, all Beasts alike there meet.
Thus Horse and Man in several Postures lies,
With several Pains in several Places Dyes!
When Horses Dye they know no reason why;
But Men do Venture Life for Vain-glory;
Smoak from their Blood into Red Clouds did rise,
Which Flash't like Lightning in all Living Eyes;
Their Groans into the middle Region went,
And Echoes did the Air like Thunder rent;
From Sighs Winds rarified such Gusts did blow,
As if they 'scended from the Shades below;
Men strive to Dye, to make their Names to Live,
When Gods no Certainty to Fame will give.


A Battel between Honour and Dishonour.

Honour with Grief and Sorrow did complain,
How all her Sons, her Servants all were Slain,
And none was left but those that did her Slight,
And in Rebellion did against her Fight;
And how this Age did Dirt upon her throw,
Lest she the Baseness of the next should show:
Thus Mourned Honour, Veil'd in Clouds of Night,
When heretofore her Garments were of Light;
Her Crown was Laurel, wreath'd with Fancy's Tire,
Her Scepter, Mars his Sword, made Foes retire;
Pallas's Head-piece did as her Foot-stool stand,
By whose Support she Rose and did Command;
And thus did Honour live with great Applause,
All did Obey Her, none did Break her Laws:
But now Dishonour Arm'd 'gainst her doth Rise,
And all her Laws she utterly Denies.
Then Honour fearing she should be surpriz'd,
And by her Council being well advis'd,
Did raise an Army to maintain her Right,
Resolv'd she was, Dishonour for to Fight;
Courage the Van, Wisdome and Wit each Wing
Did Lead, the Rear Fidelity did bring;
Invention doth th'Artillery Command,
Patience and Constancy as Sent'nels stand;
Sciences Pioniers are of great Skil,
Which undermine Towns, Castles, when they will,
And Trenches make, where Souldiers safely Sleep,
And for a Guard a watchfull Eye do keep:
Arts like Dragoons do serve on Foot and Horse,
To Skirmish, or an En'my to Inforce;


The Colours high doth Resolution bear,
And with the Bag and Baggage standeth Care;
Prudence, as Quarter-master, fits each place,
Who Disobeys is Punish'd with Disgrace;
Industry, as Purvey'r, provides the Meat,
And Temp'rance gives Proportions out to Eat;
Scout-master, Truth, Intelligence doth give,
By which the Army doth in safety Live;
The Drum is Faith, Braced with Reasons clear,
The Sticks that Beat thereon are Hope and Fear;
Trumpeters, Oratours, Sound loud and high,
And call to Horse when th'Enemy draws nigh;
The Treas'rer, Gratitude, doth th'Army pay,
Gen'rosity, as General, Leads the way.
When this Army was in Battalio set,
Dishonour with her Army near did get;
Partiality did Lead the Van awry,
And Treachery the Rear, which came not nigh;
The left Wing order'd Perjury that Day,
Unthankfulness on th'Right did bear the Sway;
Suspicion was the Scout to search the way,
And Envy close in Ambuscado lay;
Revenge, as Canoneer, did take the Aim,
But mist the Mark, which made him high Exclame;
Envy and Malice were two Engineers,
Which Subtilty had Practis'd many Years:
Their Drum was Ignorance, Stupidity
Was one Stick, th'other was Obstinacy;
And Brac'd it was with Rudeness, which sounds Harsh
On Strings of Wilfulness that's ever Rash.


A Battel between King Oberon and the Pigmies.

King Oberon and the Pigmies Tall and Stout,
Did go to Warr, the Cause was Just no doubt:
For Pigmie King out of his Kingdome brought
His People, and another Kingdome sought;
Like Goths and Vandals they did Range about
With Force, to find another Kingdome out;
At last into the Fairy-Land they went,
For to that Fertil place their Hearts were bent;
This is the place, said they, where Pleasures flow,
And where Delight, like Flow'rs on Banks, doth grow;
Here let us Pitch, and try if Fortune will
Joyn with our Courage, all our Foes to Kill:
Then on they went, and Plunder'd every where;
The Fairies all ran Crying in great fear,
And Fire on all their Beacons placed high,
Which Warning is to give when Danger's nigh;
Whereat King Oberon a great Warr prepar'd,
Which made his Queen and all his Court afear'd;
His Council Grave and Wise he strait did call,
VVhich came with Formal, Busie Faces all;
And every one did Speak their Mind full free,
Disputing much, at last all did agree;
In Warr, said they, 'tis better that we Dye,
Than to be Slaves unto our Enemy:
Then said the King, an Army we must Raise,
In which I'l Dye, said he, or win the Bays:
Strait Officers of all Degrees were made,
To Lead, and Rule, Encourage and Perswade;
And thus they Murster'd all their Army stout,
To meet their Enemy, and to Beat them out:


VVell Arm'd they were, and put in good Array,
Which made them Fight with Courage all that Day;
Their Trumpets were made of small Silver wire,
Calling the Horse to Charge, or to Retire;
These Horses for Warr were Grashoppers large,
On which they Rid, and bravely did Discharge;
Their Saddles were of a Velvet Peach-skin,
Their Bridles were small Strings which Spiders Spin;
Besides, their Stirrups, which their Feet in staid,
Of a green Rush round like a Ring were made;
Targets of little Cockle-shells they had,
And for their Sword serv'd a Rosemary blade;
Their Flags of Colour'd Flow'rs shew'd Gloriously,
And gave sweet several Smells as they did fly:
VVhen they were Armed, as each Curasseer,
In a Beans hull, it bravely did appear;
Their Guns were Pipes of Glass, slender and small,
Their Bullets were round Seeds to Shoot withall;
Of Filbeard-skins their Drums, which they did beat,
Were made, and their Drumsticks of Straws of Wheat;
Their Van, their Rear, their Left Wing and their Right
VVere placed so, as they saw good to Fight;
Their Colours flying, and their Drums when beat,
Their Trumpets sounding, none sought a Retreat;
The Forms and Files, the Pigmies plac'd themselves,
VVere like in Figure unto Mushel-shells,
To peirce through En'mies, and give way to Friends,
Broad was the middl', and Sharp were the two ends.
But Fairies like a half Moon Fought, that so,
VVhen both Ends meet, they might Incircle th'Foe,
VVhere in the midst King Oberon Rid full brave,
For he the Honour of this Day shall have:


This Warriour in an Armour bright and strong,
As fore-most Man, his Souldiers led along;
Then spake He to them in a Temper meek,
These Enemies, said he, our Ruine seek;
Go on all you brave Born and Valiant bred,
And Fight your Enemies till they be Dead;
Let not your Foes with Scorn upbraid your Flight,
But let them see you can with Courage Fight,
And teach them what their Folly Rash hath brought
Upon themselves, when they this Kingdome sought.
But O Vain Princes! which for Glory strive,
And let poor Subjects not in Quiet Live;
Foolish Ambition sets the World on Fire,
VVhich Ruins all to Compass its Desire;
I only Fight, to keep what is my Own,
And not to Rob another Kingly Throne:
But if this Quarrel cann't decided be,
I Hand to Hand will Fight my Enemy;
VVith that he sent an Herauld stout and bold,
And to King Pigmee he this Message told,
VVhich was, King Ob'ron him a Challenge sent,
To save their Men, and much Blood to prevent,
That they two might a Duel Fight alone,
And let both Armies all the while Look on:
Then Laught King Pigmee, What's your King, said he,
That He in Duel hopes to Conquer me?
I came not here a Single Strength to try,
A Kingdome for to Win, or else to Dye;
I Prouder am my Subjects strength to show,
That by Direction they my Skil may know;
Herauld, go back, and tell your King from me,
He'l know my Strength when Pris'ner he shall be:


Then Spake he to his Men with a Voice high,
Here's none, said he, I hope, this Day will Fly;
You know, my Souldiers, we came here to Fight,
Not through Ambition, or through Envy's spight,
But we by Famine, with a Meagre Face,
Were sent about to seek a Fertil place:
Then here's a Land which needs not be Manur'd,
And we are People, not to VVork inur'd;
For we by Nature no great Pains can take,
Nor by out Sweat a Livelihood out make:
For who would Live in Pain, or Grief, or Care,
And always of his Goods would stand in Fear?
VVho Lives in Trouble, is not very Wise,
Since in the Grave there do no Troubles rise,
Then let us Fight ev'n for sweet Pleasures sake,
Or let us Dye, that we no Care may take.
Thus did the King his Souldiers Courage raise,
And in a Speech their Valour highly praise.
Then did they both in Order, Rank, and File
Prepare themselves, each other for to Spoil;
Their Horses stout, whereon they Rid i'th' Field,
Would Dye under their Burden, but not Yield;
In Capriols these Grashoppers did move,
By which their Riders Skil they soon would prove;
Some as an Air, unfit for VVarr, it Slight,
VVhose Motion swift lets not the Rider Fight,
Or take his Turns, advantages to have,
Unless by Leaping high himself to Save;
But they do Err, for in some Case 'tis good,
Though not in all, if truly understood:
VVhat's in the World, that's to all use imploy'd,
But at some Times and Seasons is deny'd?


VVater, and Fire, which are the Life of all,
Can only serve in their due Time and Call;
So some may say, this Air of Horsemanship
Is good, Heaps of Dead Men to Over-leap;
For if they Low do go upon the Ground,
Where both Dead Men, Horses, and Arms lye round,
Or else do lye in Heaps, like as a VVall,
The Horse will stumble with the Man, and fall.
But some, of Manag'd Horses, taught in measure,
Do think they are but only fit for Pleasure,
And not for VVarr, where no use for them is,
As if their Rules did make them go amiss;
But they're mistaken, for like Men they're Taught,
For to Obey their Rider as they ought,
To Stop, to Go, to Leap, to Run, and yet
Obey the Heel, the Hand, the Wand, the Bit;
Beside they're Taught their Passions to abate,
Not to be Resty with Fear, Anger, Hate,
And by Applause great Courage they have got,
That they dare go upon a Canon Shot;
Not that they Senseless into Dangers run,
For Horses Cowardly do Dangers shun,
And are so full of Fears, as they will Shake,
And will not Go, which proves their Hearts do Quake;
Besides, all Airs in Warr are very fit,
As Curvets, Demivoltoes, and Perwicet,
And going Back, and Forward, turning Round,
Side-ways, both High and Low upon the Ground;
Oft they in a Large Circle Compass take,
And then with Art a Lesser Circle make:
But Horses, that Unlearned are this way,
May March strait forth, or in one place may stay;


So Men, when they do Fight, having no Skil,
May Venture Life, but few may chance to Kill;
For 'tis not Blows and Thrusts, which do the Feat,
Or going Forward, or by a Retreat,
Man must the Centre be, his Sword the Line,
His Feet his Compass, with his Strength to joyn;
These are the Arts for Horse, and Men of Warr,
Unless with Stratagems they think to Scare,
Which shews more Wit than Courage in the Field,
So 'tis to Run away, or else to Yield.
But here the Bodies of each Army's Knit
So close, as Skin unto the Flesh doth Sit:
No Stratagems were us'd to have Men Slain,
But they did Fight upon an open Plain;
For those that use slight Stratagems in Warrs,
No Fighters are, but Cruel Murtherers:
Nor is it Bravely done, as some think 'tis,
For every petty Thief has Skil in this;
Nay, Thieves more Courage in their Actions show,
Who, if their Plots do fail, must Dye, they know;
Warriours Designs found out, they do not care,
Because no Hanging for that Act they fear:
They'l say, 'tis Different, thus Foes to use,
For Thieves by their Deceit do Friends abuse;
But 'tis all one, for Cousenage is the Thief,
And of that Order Generals are the Chief;
Fighting's the Souldiers Trade, not to Intrap,
Nor like the Fox, with Craft the Prey t'inwrap,
But Kill, or Pursue, with Swords in their Hands,
Without some Fraud, or any Treach'rous bands;
Just so Fought these Brave, Valiant Cavalliers,
As it by their unhappy End appears;


For they did Joyn, and Feirce together Fight,
Which was to all a Lamentable Sight;
Some lay upon the Ground without a Head,
Others did Gasping lye, but not quite Dead;
Their Groans were heard, and Cries of several Notes,
Some Rutling lay with thick Blood in their Throats;
Here was a Head-piece, there a Corslet thrown,
Bodies so Mangled, that none could be known;
Rivers of Blood, like to a full high Tide,
Or like a Sea, where Shipwrack'd Bodies Dy'd,
And their Laborious Breaths such Mists did raise,
It made a Cloud, which Darkned the Sun's Rays;
With several Noises, that Rebounded far,
Armies of Echoes were heard in the Air;
Here Bodies hid with Smoak, Smother'd, lay Dead,
While formless Sounds were in the Air out-spred:
Thus were they Earnest, and Active in their Fight,
As if to Kill, or Dye, were a Delight;
Here Beasts and Men both in their Blood lay masht,
As if a French Cook them had Minc'd and Hasht,
Or did their Blood unto a Gelly boyl,
That he might make a Boullion of the Spoil;
For Nature's Table several Dishes brings
By her Directions, in Transforming things.
At last the Pigmees found themselves quite Spent,
And of their Warr begun now to Repent,
Which made their King, though Little, yet at length
To call to Oberon King, to try his Strength;
Let's here, said he, our Skil and Fortunes try,
To Conquer one, or both in Graves to Lye;
Content, said Oberon King, though most unjust
You have your Self into my Kingdome thrust,


Yet will I not refuse this Offer bold,
And, if I Live, this Day will Sacred hold;
Then like two Lions, fallen out for Prey,
Encounter'd they, not Yielding any way;
Their bright, sharp Swords, with Motion quick did fly,
Like subtil Lightning in each others Eye;
King Pigmee, he was Strong, two handfulls Tall,
But Oberon King was Low and very Small,
Yet was he Dext'rous in his Skilfull Art,
And by that means struck Pigmee near the Heart,
Whose Blood ran Warm and Trickling down his Side,
That, where he stood, the Grass was Purple Dy'd;
Then Leaning on his Sword, as out of Breath,
Said to King Oberon; I have got my Death,
Grew Faint, then Sinking on the Ground did lye,
Finding his Soul would from his Body fly,
Saying, King Oberon, pray do Mercy show,
And let my Army freely from you go,
And those, that here lye Slain, pray let them have
Just Rights in Burial, and their Bones i'th' Grave,
That their free Souls in quiet Peace may Sleep,
And for this Act the Gods your Fame will keep;
I Care nor Grieve not for my own Sad fall,
But for my Subjects, that are Ruin'd all;
And in a deep fetch'd Sigh, and hollow Groan,
His Soul went forth unto a Place unknown.
When as his Souldiers heard their King was Dead,
Their Hearts did fail, yet none of them there Fled,
But to him Ran like Shuttles in a Loom,
And with their Bodies did his Corps Intomb;
For through their Loyal Breast they Digg'd their Grave,
Because their King a Monument should have;


So all did Dye, no Story yet hath shown,
That ever any Pigmees more were known:
Then did their Wives with Sighs Lament their falls,
And with their Tears did strew their Funerals,
Which Tears did mix with Blood upon the Ground,
Where Rubies since have in the Earth been found;
Their Bodies moist to Vapour Rarified,
And now in Clouds do near the Sun Reside;
When they their Grief unto Remembrance call,
Those Sullen Clouds in Showring Tears do fall;
Their Sighs are Winds, that do Blow here and there,
And all their Bodies now Transformed are.
Unhappy Battel! to Destroy a Race,
That on the Earth deserv'd the Chiefest place;
For they were Valiant, and did Love their King,
Without dispute Obey'd in every thing;
Nature did Pity much their Fortune sad,
They by Her Favour a Remembrance had:
For she their Bones did turn to Marble white,
Of which are Statues Carv'd for Man's delight,
And in some Places are as Gods Ador'd,
Where Superstition Idols doth afford:
But Oberon King there Built a Temple high,
In which he Fortune's Name did Magnifie.

The Temple of Fortune.

This Temple was Built of Cornelian Red,
To signifie that there much Blood was shed;
The Altars all were Carv'd of Aggat-stone,
And Musk-flies there were Sacrifiz'd upon;
A Priest there was, who Sung Her Praises Loud,
Whereat the People Kneel'd all in a Crowd:


For though she's Blind, and cannot clearly See,
Yet she her Hearing hath most perfectly;
The Steeple was Black, Built of Mourning Jet,
And Carved finely with many a Fret;
The Bells were Nightingals Tongues, which did Ring
As Sweetly, as they in the Spring do Sing;
Their Holy Fire was made of sweetest Spice,
And kept by Virgins young, that know no Vice;
Their Gods sometimes did they place in a Bower,
Which curiously was made of Gesamin Flower;
And all her Sacred Groves, in which she Walks,
Are set with Roses which do Grow on Stalks:
Thus in Procession Her about they bear,
And none but in Devotion cometh there:
The King and Queen did wait where She did go,
And all about sweet Incense they did Strow;
Nature did Frown, to see her so Respected,
Thought by these Honours she was much Rejected;
Wherefore, says Nature, let me take the place,
And let not Fortune Proud me thus Out-face,
When all that's Good, you do receive from me,
She is my Vassal Low, you soon shall see;
For I with Virtues do the Mind inspire,
And Cloath the Soul in Beautifull attire;
The Body equal I do make, and Strong,
The Heart with Courage, to Revenge a wrong;
I'th' Brain Invention, Wit, and Judgment lies,
Creating like a God, Ord'ring as Wise;
The Senses all as Perfectly are made,
To Hear, to See, Taste, Touch, Smell and Perswade;
I'th' Soul do Passions and Affections Live,
Nothing is there but what my Pow'r doth give,


All which to Mutability I throw,
And She doth in perpetual Motion go:
Thus all Invention from my Power comes;
For Arts in Men are but by Scraps and Crums;
So Fate and Fortune are my Handmaids sure,
For what they do shall never long endure;
And I throughout the World do make things Range,
And Constant am in nothing but in Change;
Then let your Worship of Blind Fortune fall,
Or else shall my Displeasure Bury all.
But false Devotion unto Men is Sweet,
While Truth's Kickt out, and Trodden under Feet;
Their Minds do Ebb and Flow just like the Tide,
And what is to be done is Cast aside:
This makes that Men are never in the way,
But wander up and down like Sheep astray.
O wretched Man! that can in Peace not be;
For with himself he cannot well agree;
Sometimes he Hates, what he before did prove,
And in a constant Course doth never move;
Nor to himself, nor God, who's Good, can stay,
But always seeking is some unknown way;
No sad Example he by Warning takes,
If none will do him hurt, He mischief makes;
As if afraid in Happiness to Live,
He to himself a deadly Wound will give.
But why do I Complain that Man is Bad,
Since what he has, or is, from me he had?
Not only Man, the World, but Gods also,
And nothing Greater than my Self I know;
All this did make them take High Fortune down,
And in Her Room they did Great Nature Crown.


A Battel between Life and Death.

There is a Cruel Battel 'twixt two Foes,
When Nature will Decide it, none yet knows;
These two are Life and Death, which th'World divide,
And while it Lasts, the Cause will none decide.
First, Life is Active, seeking to Injoy,
And Death is Envious, striving to Destroy;
When Life a Curious piece of VVork doth make,
And thinks, she will therein some Pleasure take,
Then in comes Death with Rancor and with Spleen,
Destroys it so, that nothing can be seen;
For fear, the Ruins Beauty might present,
Leaves not so much to make Live's Monument:
This makes Life Mourn, to see her Pains and Cost
Destroy'd, for what she doth, in Death is lost;
VVeeping Complains at Natures Cruelty,
VVhich did Her make only Death's Slave to be;
I am his Food, his sharp Teeth do me Tear,
VVhen I Cry, he no Pity hath, nor Care;
The Pain, he puts me in, doth make me Roar,
And his Pale Face, that's Grim, affrights me Sore;
VVhen I do think away from him to Run,
I fall into his Jaws, no ways can shun.
But why do I thus Sigh, Mourn, and Lament,
And use no means his Inj'ry to prevent?
I will call all my Friends, their Strength to try,
I'l either Perish quite, or Death shall Dye;
Then brings she Motion, nimble at each turn,
And Courage, which like unto Fire doth Burn,
Preventing, and Inventing Wits, to make
Sconces and Forts, too Strong for Death to take;


A Regiment of Arts, which with their Skil,
Assault her Foes, and them sometimes do Kill;
A Brigade of clear Strengths stands firm and sure,
And can all feirce Assaults of Death endure;
A Party of good Healths, Armed so well,
As Death, how to Destroy them, cannot tell;
A Troup of Growths, at first small, weak, and low,
Increasing every Minute, Numbers grow;
And many more such Companies were there,
As all the Passions, chiefly Hope and Fear;
Love Lead this Army, his Motto a Heart,
Their Arms were their free VVills, each bore a part:
Death's Armies were all to Destruction bent,
As Warrs, and Famine, both these Pestilent;
Fury, Despair, and Rage did Run about,
Seeking which way that they might Life put out;
Troops, Regiments, Brigades in Numbers were,
As Sickness, Dulness, Grief, and Pensive Care;
Of Feeble Age were Few, they scarce could stand,
Yet in Death's Battel would Fight hand to hand;
Hate Lead the Army in a Dull slow pace,
And for his Motto had a Lean, Pale Face;
VVith several Weapons Death poor Life did take,
And did a Prisoner, and his Slave Her make,
And on her Ashes did in Triumph Ride,
And by his Conquest he swell'd Big with Pride.
Life's Force was strong enough to keep her State,
If Death had not Befriended been with Fate;
For she 'gainst Death could make her Party good,
Had not the Fates her Happiness withstood,


Which Spin the Thread of Life so small and weak,
That of Necessity it needs must break,
If not, they Cut it into Pieces small,
And give it Death, to make him Nets withall,
To catch Life in, when closely she would hide
Her Self from Death, she in this Net is ty'd,
Or in the Chains of Destiny is hung;
The World from Side to Side about is flung,
Having no Rest nor Settlement, she flies
About from Death, and yet she never Dyes;
Runs into several Forms, Death to avoid,
And yet those Forms are all by Death Destroy'd;
Death like a Snake in Nature's Bosom lies,
Like one that Flatters, but i'th' Heart Envies;
And Nature seems to Life an Enemie,
Because she still lets Death a Conqu'rour be.

Of a Travelling Thought.

A thought for Breeding would a Travellour be,
The several Countries in the Brain to see;
Spurr'd with Desires he was, Booted with Hope,
His Cap Curios'ty, Patience was his Cloak:
Thus Suited, strait a Horse he did provide,
And Strong Imagination got to Ride;
Which Sadled with Ambition, Girt with Pride,
Bridled with Doubt, and Stirrups on each Side
Of Resolution, he did Mount, and went
In a full Gallop of a good Intent:
Some ways i'th' Brain were Ill, and Foul withall,
Which made him oft into deep Errours fall;
Oft was he hid by Mountains high of Fear,
Then slid down Precipices of Despair;


Woods of Forgetfulness he oft past through,
To find the Right way out, had much ado;
In Troubles he had Travel'd a long way,
At last he came where Thieves of Spight close lay,
Who coming forth, drew out Reproachfull words,
Which wounded Reputation, as sharp Swords;
When he did feel the Wound smart, he drew out
Truth from Time's Scabbard, and Fought well and stout;
With an Innocent Thrust he left Spight Dead,
Wip'd of the Blood of Slander, Purple Red:
Then coming to a River of Temptation,
Which Deep and Dang'rous was of Tribulation,
He Swum with Temp'rance, and got out at last,
And with Security all Dangers past:
At last he to the City came of Power,
Where Tyranny did stand, a great high Tower,
With Discords populous, where Riot rules,
Great Colleges there were, to breed up Fools;
Large Houses of Extortion high were Built,
And all with Prodigality were Gilt;
Their Streets were Pitcht with Dull and Lazie stone,
Which never hurt the Feet, when Trod upon;
Markets of Plent'ful Circuits were there,
Where all Sorts came, and did Buy without care;
Herbs of Repentance there were in great store,
But Roots of Ignorance were many more;
The Carts of Knowledge much Provision brought,
And Understanding, which Truth Sold, some bought;
All what was Bought, prov'd good or bad by chance,
For some were Cousened by false Ignorance.
Then forthwith into Shamble-row he went,
VVhere store of Meat hung up, for 'twas no Lent;


There lay an Head with Wit and Fancies fill'd,
And many Hearts by Grief and Sorrow Kill'd;
Bladders of VVindy Opinions were there,
And Tongues of Eloquence hung on an Ear;
VVeak Livers of great Fear lay there to Sell,
And Spleens of Malice very Big did Swell;
Tough Lungs of VVilfulness were hard and dry,
VVhole Guts of Self-conceit did hang thereby.
Then to a Poult'rers Shop, he went to see
VVhat Foul there was, if any Good there be;
There lay wild Geese, though black and heavy Meat,
Yet some Gross Appetite lik'd them to Eat;
The Cholerick Turkie, and the Peacocks Pride,
The Foolish Dotterels lay there close beside;
Capons of Expectation Cramm'd with Hope,
And Swans of Large Desires lay in the Shop;
Reproachfull Words were Sold by Dozens there,
And Ignorant Gulls did Lye every where;
Poetical Birds many were to Sell,
More Fowl, which he remembred not to tell:
But being a Travellour, heel'd see all there,
And strait did go to Churches of great Fear,
VVhere each one Kneel'd upon the Knee of Pain,
And Prayers said with Tongues that were Prophane;
Petitioning Tears dropt from Coveting Eyes,
Deceitfull Hearts on Altars of Disguise;
Earnest they were to th'Gods, that they would give
Worldly Request, not Grace for Souls to Live:
But Travels of Experience he would see,
Which made him go to th'Court of Vanity;
The Porter Flattery Sate at the Gate,
Who Civil was, and Carried him in strait;


To Beauty's Presence-chamber first he went,
There staid some time with great and sweet Content;
Next to the Privy-chamber of Discourse,
Where Ignorance and Nonsense had great Force;
Then to the Bed-chamber of Love's Delights,
The Grooms which served there were Carpet Knights;
Thence he to th'Council of Direction went,
Where Great Disorder Sate as President;
No sooner this poor Stranger he did view,
Reproachfull Words out of his Mouth he threw,
Commanding Poverty a Sergeant poor,
To take and cast this Stranger out of Door;
Strait Flattery for him Intreated much,
But he Disorder's Ear doth seldome Touch;
For Cast he was into Necessity,
Which is a Prison of great Misery:
But Patience got him an Expedient pass,
So Home he went, but Rid upon an Ass.



On a Melting Beauty.

Going into a Church my Pray'rs to say,
Close by a Tomb a Mourning Beauty lay,
Her Knees on Marble Cold were Bow'd down low,
And fixt so Firm, as if She there did Grow;
Her Elbow on the Tomb did Steady stand,
Her Head hung Back, the Hind-part in her Hand;
Turning her Eyes up to the Heavens high,
Left nothing but the White of each her Eye;
Upon the Lower Shut did Hang a Tear,
Like to a Diamond Pendant in an Ear;
Her Breast was Panting Sore, as if Life meant
To seek after her Heart, which way it went;
I Standing there, observed what She did,
At last she from her Hand did raise her Head,
And Casting down her Eyes, ne're Look'd about,
Tears pull'd her Eye-lids down as they Gush'd out;


Then with a gentle Groan at last did Speak,
Her Words were Soft, her Voice sound Low and Weak:
O Heavens! (said she) O! What do you mean?
I dare not think, you Gods can have a Spleen,
And yet I find great Torments you do give,
And Creatures make in Misery to Live;
You shew us Joys, but we possess not One,
You give us Life, for Death to Feed upon:
O Cruel Death! thy Dart hath made me poor,
Thou struck'st that Heart my Life did most adore;
You Gods, delight not thus me to Torment,
But strike me Dead by this dear Monument,
And let our Ashes mix both in this Urn,
That both into one Phœnix we may turn.
Hearing her Mourn, I went to give Relief,
But Oh, alas! her Ears were stopt with Grief;
VVhen I came near, her Blood Congeal'd to Ice,
And all her Body Changed in a Trice,
That Ice strait Melted, into Tears did turn,
And through the Earths Pores got into the Urn.


On a Furious Sorrow.

Outragious Sorrow on a Grave was set,
Digging the Earth, as if she through would get;
Her Hair unty'd, loose on her Shoulders hung,
And every Hair with Tears, like Beads, was strung,
Which Tears, when they did fall with their own weight,
Then new born Tears suppli'd their places strait;
She held a Dagger, seem'd with Courage bold,
Grief bid her strike, but Fear did bid her hold;
Impatience rais'd her Voice, she Shriek'd out Shril,
VVhich Sounded like a Trumpet on a Hill;


Her Face was Flickt, like Marble streak'd with Red,
Caus'd by Grief's Vapours, flying to her Head;
Her Bosom bare, her Garments loose and wide,
And in this Posture lay by Death's Cold Side:
By chance a Man, who had a fluent Tongue,
Came Walking by, seeing her Lye along,
Pittied her sad Condition, and her Grief,
And strain'd by Rhetorick's help to give Relief;
VVhy do you Mourn, said he, and thus Complain,
Since Grief will neither Death, nor th'Gods restrain?
VVhen they at first all Creatures did Create,
They did them all to Death Predestinate;
Your Sorrow cannot alter their Decree,
Nor call back Life by your Impatiency;
Nor can the Dead from Love receive a heat,
Nor hear the Sound of Lamentations great:
For Death is Stupid, being Numb and Cold,
No Ears to hear, nor Eyes hath to behold:
Then Mourn no more, since you no help can give,
Take Pleasure in your Beauty whilst you Live;
For in the Fairest, Nature pleasure takes,
But if you Dye, then Death his Triumph makes.
At last his Words, like Keys, unlock'd her Ears,
And then she strait considers what she hears;
Pardon you Gods, (said she) my Murmu'ring crime,
My Grief shall ne're dispute your will Divine,
But in sweet Life will I take most Delight,
And so went Home with that Fond Carpet Knight.

On a Mourning Beauty.

Upon the Hill of sad Melancholy,
I did a Silent Mourning Beauty Spy,


Still as the Night, not one articulate Noise
Did once Rise up, shut close from th'Light of Joys,
Only a Wind of Sighs, which did arise
From the deep Cave, the Heart, wherein it lies;
A Veil of Sadness o're her Face was flung,
Sorrow a Mantle Black about her hung;
Her Leaning Head upon her Hand did rest,
The other Hand was laid upon the Breast;
Her Eyes did humbly Bow towards the Ground,
Their Object, th'Earth, was in her Eyes quite Drown'd;
From her soft Heart a Spring of Tears did rise,
VVhich run from the two Fountains of her Eyes,
And where those Show'rs did fall, the Flow'rs wch sprung
No Comfort gave, their Heads for Grief down hung;
Yet did the Stars shine Bright, as Tapers, by,
Shadows of Light did sit as Mourners nigh:
At last the Gods did Pity her sad Fate,
And to a Shining Comet Her Translate.

Of Sorrow's Tears.

Into the Cup of Love pour Sorrows Tears,
Where every Drop a perfect Image bears;
And Trickling down the Hill of Beauty's Cheek,
Fall on the Breast, Dive through, the Heart to seek,
Which Heart would be Burnt up with Fire of Grief,
Did not those Tears with Moisture give Relief.

An Elegy on a Widow.

VVidows, which Honour for your Husbands have,
Virtuous in Life, and Faithfull to their Grave,
Set Altars on this Hearse for Memory,
And let her Fame Live here Eternally;


Here Celebrate her Name, come, and do bring
Your Offerings, and aloud her Praises Sing;
For she was One, whom Nature strove to make
A Pattern fit, Ensample from to take.

On a Mother that Dyed for Grief of the Death of her only Daughter.

Unto this Grave let Unkind Parents turn,
And Touch these Loving Ashes in this Urn,
All the Dislike Parents in Children find,
Will Vanish quite, and be of nature Kind:
For in this Tomb such pure Love Buried lies,
None Perfect is, but what from hence doth Rise.

On a Beautifull Young Maid that Dyed, Daughter to the Grieved Mother.

You Lovers all come Mourn here and Lament
Over this Grave, and Build a Monument
For Beauty's Everlasting Memory,
The World shall never such another see;
Her Face did seem like as a Glory bright,
Nay, ev'n the Rising Sun from her took Light;
The Sun and Moon could ne're Eclips'd have been,
If e're these Planets had her Beauty seen;
Nor had this Isle been Subject to Dark Nights,
Had not Sleep shut her Eyes, and stop'd those Lights;
No Bodies could Infection take, her Breath
Did Cleanse the Air, restoring Life from Death:
But Nature finding She had been too free,
In making such a mighty Power as She,


Us'd all Industry's Powerfull Art and Skil,
And gave Death Pow'r this Body for to Kill;
For had but Nature let this Body Live,
She'd had no Work for Death, nor Fates to give.

The Funeral of Calamity.

Calamity was Laid on Sorrow's Hearse,
And Coverings had of Melancholy Verse;
Compassion, a Kind Friend, did Mourning go,
And Tears about the Corps, as Flowers, strow;
A Garland of deep Sighs by Pity made,
Upon Calamity's Sad Corps was Laid;
Bells of Complaints did Ring it to the Grave,
Poets a Monument of Fame it gave.

Upon the Funeral of my Dear Brother, Kill'd in these Unhappy Warrs.

Alas! Who shall my Funeral Mourner be,
Since none is near that is Ally'd to me?
Or who shall drop a Sacrifizing Tear,
If none but Enemies my Hearse shall bear?
For here's no Mourner to Lament my fall,
But in my Fate, though Sad, Rejoyced all,
And think my heavy Ruine far too Light,
So Cruel is their Malice, Spleen, and Spight!
For Men no Pity nor Compassion know,
But like feirce Beasts in Savage Wildness go,
To Wash and Bathe themselves in my poor Blood,
As if they Health receiv'd from that Red Flood.


Yet will the Winds my Dolefull Knell Ring out,
And Shouring Rain fall on my Hearse about;
The Birds, as Mourners on my Tomb shall Sit,
And Grass, like as a Covering Grow on it.
Then let no Spade, nor Pick-ax come near me,
But let my Bones in Peace rest Quietly;
He, who the Dead Dislodges from their Grave,
Shall neither Blessedness, nor Honour have.

An Elegy upon the Death of my Brother.

Dear Brother,

Thy Idea in my Mind doth lye,
And is Intomb'd in my Sad Memory,
Where every Day I to thy Shrine do go,
And offer Tears, which from mine Eyes do flow;
My Heart, the Fire, whose Flames are ever pure,
Shall on Loves Altar last, till Life endure;
My Sorrows Incense strew, of Sighs fetch'd deep,
My Thoughts do watch while thy dear Ashes sleep;
Dear, Blessed Soul, though thou art gone, yet Lives
Thy Fame on Earth, and Man thee Praises gives:
But all's too Small, for thy Heroick Mind
Was above all the Praises of Mankind.

Of the Death and Burial of Truth.

Truth in the Golden Age had Health and Strength,
But in the Silver Age grew Lean at length;
I'th' Brazen Age sore Sick Abed did lye,
And in the last hard Iron Age did Dye.


Reck'ning and Measuring both being Just,
Were her Executors, to whom she Trust,
Which did Distribute all her Goods about
To her Dear Friends, and Legacies gave out:
First Usefull Arts, the Life of Man to Ease,
Then those of Pleasure, which the Mind do please;
Distinguishments from this to that to show,
What's best to take or leave, which way to go;
Experiments to shun, or to apply,
Either for Health, or Peace, or what to fly;
And Sympathies, which do the World unite,
Which else Antipathies would Ruine quite:
This Will and Testament she left behind,
And as her Deed of Gift unto Mankind.
Mourning she gave to all her Friends to wear,
And did appoint that four her Hearse should bear;
Love at the Head did hold the Winding Sheet,
On each Side Care and Fear, Sorrow the Feet:
This Sheet at every Corner fast was Ty'd,
Made of Oblivion, Strong and very VVide;
Nat'ral Affections, all in Mourning clad,
VVent next the Hearse, with Grief Distracted, Mad,
Their Hair, their Face, their Hands, tore, scratch'd, & wrung,
And from their Eyes Fountains of Tears out-sprung;
For Truth, said they, did always with us Live,
But now she's Dead, there is no Truth to give:
After came Kings which all Good Laws did make,
And Power us'd for Truth and Virtue's sake;
Next Honour came in Garments black and long,
VVith Blubber'd Face, and down her Head she hung,
VVho wish'd to Dye, for Life was now a Pain,
Since Truth was Dead, Honour no more could Gain:


Then Lovers came with Faces Pale as Death,
With shamefac't Eyes, quick Pulse, and shortned Breath,
And in each Hand a Bleeding Heart did bring,
VVhich they into the Grave of Truth did fling;
And ever since Lovers Inconstant prove,
They more Profession give than Real Love.
Next them came Counsellours of all Degrees,
From Courts, and Countries, and from Chief Cities
Their wise Heads were a Guard, and a strong Wall,
So long as Truth did Live amongst them all:
All Sorts of Tradesmen, using not to Swear,
So long as Truth, not Oaths, Sold off their Ware.
Physicians came, not those that Try for Skil
New ways, and for Experience many Kill,
But which use Simples good, by Nature sent,
To strengthen Man, and Sickness to prevent.
Judges, and Lawyers came, not Wrangling, Base,
But which for Truth did Plead, decide each Case;
Widows, which to their Husbands kind had Swore,
That, when they Dyed, they'ld never Marry more:
At last the Clergy came, which taught Truth's way,
And how Men in Devotion ought to Pray,
Who did Mens Lives by Moral Laws direct,
Perswade to Peace, and Governours Respect;
They wept for Grief, as Prophets did fore-tell,
That all the World with Falshood would Rebell;
Faction will come, said they, and bear great Sway,
And Bribes shall all the Innocent betray;
VVithin the Church shall Controversies rise,
And Heresies shall bear away the Prize;
Instead of Peace the Priests shall Discords Preach,
And high Rebellion in their Doctrines Teach:


Then shall Men Learn the Laws for to explain,
Which Learning only serves for Lawyers gain;
For they do make, and spread them like a Net,
To catch in Clients, and their Money get:
The Laws, which Wise Men made for to keep Peace,
Serve only now for Quarrels to Increase.
All those that Sit in Honour's Stately Throne,
Are Counterfeits, not any Perfect known;
They put on Vizzards of an honest Face,
But all their Acts unworthy are, and base;
Friendship in Words and Complements shall Live,
But in the Heart not one Nights Lodging give;
Lovers shall Dye for Lust, yet Love not One,
And Virtue unregarded Sit alone.
Now Truth is Dead, no Goodness here shall Dwell,
But with Disorder make each place a Hell;
With that they all did Shriek, Lament, and Cry
To Nature, for to End their Misery;
And now this Iron Age's so Rusty grown,
That all the Hearts are turn'd to hard Flint-stone.



The Common Fate of Books.

Books have the worst Fate, when they once are Read,
They're laid aside, forgotten like the Dead:
Under a Heap of Dust they Buried lye,
Within a Vault of some small Library:
But Spiders, which Nature has taught to Spin,
For th'Love and Honour of this Art, since Men
Spin likewise all their Writings from their Brain,
A lasting Web of Fame thereby to Gain,
They do high Altars of thin Cobwebs raise,
Their Off'rings Flies, a Sacrifice of Praise.

Another of the Same.

VVhen as a Book doth from the Press come New,
All Buy or Borrow it, that Book to View,
Not out of Love of Learning, or of Wit,
But to find Fault, that they may Censure it:
For did no Faults at all therein appear,
(Though few there are but do in something err)
Yet Malice with her Rankled Spleen and Spight,
Will at the Time, or Print, or Binding Bite:


Like Devils, when good Souls they cannot get,
Then on their Bodies they their Witches set.

Of the Style of this Book.

I language want, to Dress my Fancies in,
The Hair's uncurl'd, the Garments loose and thin;
Had they but Silver-lace, to make them Gay,
They'ld be more Courted, than in poor Array;
Or had they Art, would make a better show:
But they are Plain, yet Cleanly do they go.
The World in Bravery doth take delight,
And Glist'ring shews do more attract the Sight;
For every One doth honour a rich Hood,
As if the Outside made the Inside good;
And every One doth Bow, and give the Place,
Not to the Person but the Silver-lace.
Let me intreat ye' in my poor Book's behalf,
That all may not Adore the Golden Calf;
Consider pray, that Gold no Life doth bring,
And Life in Nature is the Richest thing:
So Fancy is the Soul in Poetry,
And if not good, the Poem ill must be:
Be Just, let Fancy have the upper place,
And then my Verses may perchance find Grace;
If Flatt'ring Language all the Passions rule,
Then Sense, I fear, will be a meer Dull Fool.

[A poet I am neither Born nor Bred]

A poet I am neither Born nor Bred,
But to a VVitty Poet Married,


Whose Brain is Fresh, and Pleasant, as the Spring,
Where Fancies grow, and where the Muses sing;
There oft I lean my Head, and List'ning hark,
T' observe his Words, and all his Fancies mark;
And from that Garden Flow'rs of Fancies take,
VVhereof a Posie up in Verse I make:
Thus I, that have no Garden of my own,
There gather Flowers, that are newly Blown.