University of Virginia Library

A Dedication to FAME.

To thee, great Fame, I dedicate this Peece.
Though I am no Philosopher of Greece;
Yet do not thou my workes of Thoughts despise,
Because they came not from the Ancient, Wise.
Nor do not think, great Fame, that they had all
The strange Opinions, wich we Learning call.
For Nature's unconfin'd, and gives about
Her severall Fancies, without leave, no doubt.
Shee's infinite, and can no limits take,
But by her Art, as good a Brain may make.
Although shee's not so bountifull to me,
Yet pray accept of this Epitome.

An Epistle to Time.

Swift, ever-moving Time, I write to thee,
To crave thy pardon, if ill spent thou be.
But I did chuse this way, thinking it best:
For by my writing I do none molest.
I injure none, nor yet disturb their way,
I slander none, nor any one betray.
If I do wast thee in a musing thought,
Yet I take paines, my Braines constantly wrought.
For in three weeks begun, and finisht all
These Philosophicall Fancies, which I call.
If thou thinkst much, that I should spend thee so,
To write of that, I can but guesse, not know;
He tell thee Time, thou mayst bee worser spent,
In wanton waies, which some call Merriment.
Let me tell thee, this better pleaseth me,
Then if I spent thee in fine Pageantry.

A Request to Time.

Time , prethee be content, and let me write;
Ile use thee better then the Carpet Knight,
Or Amorous Ladies, which doe dance, and play,
Casting their Modesty, and Fame away.
I humbly cast mine eyes downe to the ground,
Or shut them close, while I a Fancy found.
And in a Melancholy posture sit,
With musing Thoughts, till I more Fancies get.
Besides, deare Time, Nature doth not me give
Such store of Health, to hope I old shall live.
Then let me give my Youth the most content,
Which is to write, and send it to the Print.
If any like my Fancies when they'r read,
My time's rewarded, though my Body's dead.
If they do not, my Soule will lye at rest,
Because my Life did think, what's harmlesse, best.

An Epistle to my BRAINE.

I wonder, Braine, thou art so dull, when there
Was not a day, but Wit past, through the yeare.
For seven yeares 'tis, since I have married bin;
Which time, my Braine might be a Magazine,
To store up wise discourse, naturally sent,
In fluent words, which free, and easie went.
If thou art not with Wit inrich'd thereby,
Then uselesse is the Art of Memory.
But thou, poor Braine, hard ftozen art with Cold,
Words Seales, of Wit, will neither print, nor hold.

AN EPISTLE To a troubled FANCY.

Fancies in sleep are Visions, Dreames we call,
Rais'd in the Braine to sport themselves withall.
Sometimes they take delight to fright the Minde,
Taking strange Shapes, not like to Natures kinde.
After the Soule they hunt, and run about,
As from the Body they would thrust it out.
But if they are in humour kind, and good,
In pleasing Shapes before the Minde they stood.

An Epistle to Contemplation.

I contemplating by a Fires side,
In Winter cold, my Thoughts would hunting ride.
And after Fancies they do run a Race,
If lose them not, they have a pleasant Chase.
If they do catch the Hare, or kill the Deere,
They dresse them strait in Verse, and make good Cheere.

An Epistle to my Musefull Thoughts.

Thoughts , trouble not the Soule with falling out,
Siding in Factions, with Feare, Hope and Doubt.
But with the Muses dance in measur'd feet,
Taking out all the Fancies as you meet.
Some Fancies are like wilde, and Toyish Girles,
And some are sober, grave; others are Churles.
Let those that sober, sad, a Pavin measure,
Corantoes are the lighter Fancies pleasure.
Let Churlish Fancies dance with crabbed Feet,
In Numbers odd, not even, smooth, nor sweet.

Another to the Thoughts.

My Thoughts lye close imprison'd in the Minde,
Unlesse through strange Opinions passage finde.
But when they finde a way, they run so fast,
No Reason can perswade to stay their hast.
Then they strait seek a Credit for to win,
Perswading all they meet to follow them:
And with their Rhetoricke hope they to grow strong,
Striving to get beleife, as they go on.
If Contradiction chance to stop their way,
They strait flye out, and oft times run away.
And seldome they do back return again,
To rally, or to muster in the Brain.
But the weak Braine is forc'd more Thoughts to raise,
Striving to get a Victory of Praise.

Reason, and the Thoughts.

Reason.
Thoughts , run not in such strange phantastick waies,
Nor take such paines to get a Vulgar Praise.
The World will scorne, and say, you are all Fooles,
Because you are not taught in common Schooles.
The World will think you mad, because you run
Not the same Track, that former times have done.
Turn foolish Thoughts, walke in a Beaten Path,
Or else the World ridiculously will laugh.

Thoughts.
Reason forbeare, our Study not molest,
For wee do goe those waies that please us best.
Nature doth give us liberty to run,
Without a Check, more swift far then the Sun.
But if we jar, and sometimes disagree,
By thy Disputes, we run unevenly.
But prethee Reason trouble us no more,
For if you prate, wee'l thrust you out of doore.

No Judge In Nature.

Finite cannot tel how Infinite doth flow,
Nor how Infinite Matter moveth to and fro.
For Infinite of Knowledge cannot guess
Of Infinite of Matter, more, or lesse:
Nor Infinite of Causes cannot finde
The Infinite Effects of every Kinde.

Of Perfection.

In Infinite can no Perfection be,
For why? Perfection is in Unity?

Some think there was a Chaos, a confused Heap.

In Infinite no Union can combine,
For that has neither Number, Point, nor Line;
Though Infinite can have no Figure,
Yet not lye all confu'sd in Heaps together.

Of Inequalities.

If Infinites have Infinite degrees,
And none a like to make Equalities.
As if a Haire be cut with curious Arts,
Innumerable, but Unequall parts,
And that not any part alike shall be,
How shall we joyn, to make them well agree?
If every one is like it selfe alone,
Three cannot be, unlesse three equal Ones.

Of Unities.

In Infinite if Infinite degrees,
Then those Degrees may meet in Unities.
And if one man should have the strength of foure,
Then foure to equal him will be no more.
As if one Line should be in four parts cut,
Shall equall the same Line together put;
So two and one, though odd, is three;
Yet three and three shall equall be.
Like those that equall spaces backwards go,
To those that's forward, equalls them we know.
Like Buckets in a Well, if empty be,
As one descends, the other ascends, we see
So Motions, though they'r crosse, may well agree,
As oft in Musick make a Harmony.

There is no Vacuity.

In Nature if Degrees may equall be,
All may be full, and no Vacuity.
As Boxes small, & smaller may containe,
So bigger, and bigger must there be again.
Infinite may run contracting, & dilating,
Still, still, by degrees without a separating.

Of Thin, and Thick Matter.

Thus may thin Matter into Solid run,
And by its motion, make thick Matter turne.
In severall wayes, and fashions, as it will,
Although dull Matter of it selfe lye still:
Tis not, that Solid Matter moves in Thin,
For that is dull, but thin which moves therein.
Like Marrow in the Bones, or Bloud in Veines.
Or thinner Matter which the Bloud containes.
Like Heat in Fire, the effect is strait to burne,
So Matter thin makes solid Matter run.

Of Vacuum.

If Infinite Inequallity doth run,

The Readers may take either Opinion.

Then must there be in Infinite Vacuum.
For what's unequall, cannot joyned be
So close, but there will be Vacuity.

Similizing the Spirits, or Innate Matter.

Thus may dull Matter over others rule,
According as 'tis

One Shape hath power over another; one Minde knowes more then another.

shap'd by Motions Tool.
So Innate Matter Governs by degree,
According as the stronger Motions be.

Of the Working of severall Motions of Nature.

Motions do work according as they finde
Matter, that's fit, and proper for each kinde.
Sensitive Spirits work not all one way,
But as the Matter is, they cut, carve, lay,
Joyning together Matter, solid Light,
And build, & form some Figures streight upright;
Or make them bending, and so jutting out:
And some are large, and strong, and big about.
And some are thick, and hard, and close unite;
Others are flat, and low, and loose, and light.
But when they meet with Matter, fine, and thin,
Then they do weave, as Spiders when they spin:
All that is woven is soft, smooth, thin things,
As flowry Vegetables, & Animall Skins.
Observe the Graine of every thing, youle see,
Like inter-woven Threads lye evenly.
And like to Diaper, & Damask wrought,
In severall workes, that for our Table's bought.
Or like to Carpets which the Persian made,
Or Sattin smooth, which is the Florence Trade.
Some Matter they ingrave, like Ring, and Seale,
Which is the Stamp of Natures Common-weale.
Tis Natures Armes, where she doth print
On all her Works, as Coyne that's in the Mint.
Some severall sorts they joyn together glu'd.
As Matter solid, with some that's fluid.
Like to the Earthly ball, where some are mixt
Of severall sorts, although not fixt.
For though the Figure of the Earth may last
Longer then others; yet at last may waste.
And so the Sun, and Moon, and Planets all,
Like other Figures, at the last may fall.
The Matter's still the same, but Motion may
Alter it into Figures every way:
Yet keepe the property, to make such kind
Of Figures fit, which Motion out can find.
Thus may the Figures change, if Motion hurles
That Matter of her waies, for other Worlds.

Of the Motions of the Spirits.

Matter prime knowes not what effects shall be,
Or how their severall motions will agree.
Because

Nothing can bee made or known absolute out of Infinite and Eternall.

tis Infinite, and so doth move
Eternally, in which nothing can prove.
For Infinite doth not in compasse lye,
Nor hath Eternall Lines to measure by.
Knowledge is there none, to comprehend
That which hath no beginning, nor no end.
Perfect Knowledge comprises all can be,
But nothing can comprise Eternity.
Destiny, and Fates, or what the like we call,
In Infinites they no power have at all.
Nature hath Generosity enough to give
All Figures ease, whilst in that Form they live.
But Motion which innated Matter is,
By running crosse, each severall paines it gives.

Of Sense and Reason exercised in their different shapes.

If every thing hath sense and reason, then
There might be Beasts, and Birds, and Fish, and Men:
As Vegetables and Minerals, had they
The Animall shape to expresse that way;
And Vegetables & Minerals may know,
As Man, though like to Trees and stones they grow.
Then Corall Trouts may through the water glide,
And pearled menows swim on either side;
And Mermayds, which in the Sea delight,
Might all be made of watry Lillies white;
Set on salt watry Billows as they flow,
Which like green banks appeare thereon to grow.
And Marriners ith' midst their Shipp might stand,
In stead of Mast, hold sayles in either hand.
On Mountaine tops the Golden Fleece might feed,
Some hundred yeares their Ewes bring forth their breed
Large Deere of Oake might through the Forrest run,
Leaves on their heads might keepe them from the Sun;
In stead of shedding Hornes, their Leaves might fall,
And Acornes to increase a Wood of Fawnes withall.
Then might a Squerrill for a Nut be crackt,
If Nature had that Matter so compact:
And the small Sprouts which on the Husk do grow,
Might be the Taile, and make a brushing show.
Then might the Diamonds which on Rocks oft lye,
Be all like to some little sparkling Flye.
Then might a leaden Hare, if swiftly run,
Melt from that shape, and so a

A Pig of Lead.

Pig become.
And Dogs of Copper-mouths sound like a Bell;
So when they kill a Hare, ring out his Knell.
Hard Iron men shall have no cause to feare
To catch a fall, when they a hunting were.
Nor in the Wars should have no use of Armes,
Nor fear'd to fight; they could receive no harmes.
For if a Bullet on their Breasts should hit,
Fall on their back, but strait-waies up may get.
Or if a Bullet on their head do light,
May make them totter, but not kill them quite.
And Stars be like the Birds with twinckling Wing,
When in the Aire they flye, like Larks might sing.
And as they flye, like wandring Planets shew,
Their tailes may like to blazing Comets grow.
When they on Trees do rest themselves from flight,
Appeare like fixed Stars in Clouds of night.
Thus may the Sun be like a Woman faire,
And the bright Beames be as her flowing Haire.
And from her Eyes may cast a silver light,
And when she sleeps, the World be as dark night.
Or Women may of Alabaster be,
And so as smooth as polisht Ivory.
Or, as cleer Christall, where heartes may be shown,
And all their Falsehoods to the World be known.
Or else be made of Rose, and Lillies white,
Both faire, and sweet, to give the Soule delight.
Or else bee made like Tulips fresh in May,
By Nature drest, cloath'd severall Colours gay.
Thus every yeare there may young Virgins spring,
But wither, and decay, as soon agen.
While they are fresh, upon their Breast might set
Great swarmes of Bees, from thence sweet Honey get.
Or, on their Lips, for Gilly-flowers, Flies
Drawing delicious sweet that therein lies.
Thus every Maid, like severall Flowres shew,
Not in their shape, but like in substance grow.
Then teares which from oppressed hearts do rise,
May gather into Clouds within the eyes:
From whence those teares, like showres of Raine may flow
Upon the Bancks of Cheeks, where Roses grow.
After those showres of Raine, so sweet may smell,
Perfuming all the Aire, that neer them dwell.
But when the Sun of Joy, and Mirth doth rise,
Darting forth pleasing Beames from loving Eyes.
Then may the buds of Modesty unfold,
With full blown Confidence the Sun behold.
But Griefe as frost them nips, and withering dye,
In their owne

The Blos-Huske.

Podds intombed lye.
Thus Virgin Cherry Trees, where somes blow,
So red ripe Cherries on their Lips may grow.
Or Women Plumtrees at each fingers end,
May ripe Plummes hang, and make their Joynts to bend.
Men Sicomores, which on their Breast may write
Their Amorous Verses, which their Thoughts indite.
Mens stretched Arms may be like spreading Vines,
Where Grapes may grow, soe drinke of their own Wine.
To plant large Orchards, need no paines nor care,
For every one their sweet fresh Fruit may beare.
Then silver Grasse may in the Meadowes grow,
Which nothing but a Sithe of fire can mow.
The Wind, which from the North a journey takes,
May strike those silver strings, and Musick make.
Thus may another World, though matter still the same,
By changing shapes, change humours, properties, and Name.
Thus Colossus, a statue wonderous great,
When it did fall, might strait get on his feet.
Where Ships, which through his leggs did swim, he might
Have blow'd their Sailes, or else have drown'd them quite.
The Golden Calfe that Israel joy'd to see,
Might run away from their Idolatry.
The Basan Bul of Brasse might be, when roare,
His mettl'd Throat might make his voice sownd more.
The Hil, which Mahomet did call, might come
At the first word, or else away might run.
Thus Pompey's Statue might rejoyce to see,
When kill'd was Cæsar, his great Enemy.
The Wooden-horse that did great Troy betray,
Have told what's in him, and then run away.
Achilles Armes against Ulisses plead,
And not let Wit against true Valour speed.

Of the flowing of the Spirits.

The Spirit's like to Ants, in heapes they lye,
The hill they make, is the round Ball, the Eye.
From thence they run to fetch each Object in,
The Braine receives, and stores up all they bring.
And in the Eares, like Hives, as Bees they swarm,
Buzzing, and humming, as in Summers warm.
And when they flye abroad, they take much paine,
To bring in fine Conceits into the Braine.
Of which, as Wax, they make their severall Cells,
In workes of Poetry, which Wit still fills:
And on the Tongue, they sit as Flowres sweet,
Sucking their Honey from delicious meat.
Then to the Nose, like Birds they flye, there pick
Up sweet Perfumes, in stead of Spices stick.
Of which within the Braine they build a Nest,
To which delight, or else to take their rest.
But in the Porous skin, they spread as Sheep,
And feeding Cattell which in Meadowes keep.

Of the Motion of the Planets.

The Earth, Sun, Moon, the rest of Planets all
Are mov'd by that, we Vitall Spirits call.
And like to Animals, some move more slow,
And other some by quicker Motion go.
And as some Creatures by their shapes do flye,
Some swim, some run, some creep, some riseth high.
So Planets by their shapes about do wind,
All being made, like Circles, round we find.

The Motion of the Sea.

The Sea's more quick, then fresher Waters are,
The reason is, more Vitall Spirits are there.
And as the Planets move still round about,
So Seas do ebb, & flow, both in, & out.
As Arrowes flye up, far as strength them lend,
And then for want of strength do back descend.
So do the Seas in ebbes run back againe,
For want of strength, their length for to maintaine.
But why they ebb, and flow, at certain times,
Is like the Lungs that draw, and breath out wind.
Just so do Seas draw back, and then do flow,
As constant as the Lungs do to and fro:
Alwaies in motion, never lying still,
The empty place they leave, turn back to fill.

A Dialogue between the Body, and the Minde.

Soule.
Braine thou hast done thy best, yet thou mightst go
To the Grave Learned, their subtle tricks to know:
And aske them, how such Fame they do beget,
When they do write, but of anothers Wit.
For they have little of their owne, but what
They have from others Braines, and Fancies got.

Body.
O Soule! I shall not need to take such paines,
The labour will be more then all the gaines:
For why! the World doth cosen and so cheat,
By railing at those Authors Wits they get;
Muffling & hiding of their Authors face,
By some strange Language, or by some disgrace.
Their Wit into an Anagram they make,
That Anagram for their owne Wit they take.
And here, & there they do a Fancy steale,
And so of Strangers make a Commonweale.
Tell to the World they are true Natives bred,
When they were borne all in another Head.
And with translating Wit they march along,
With understanding praise they grow so strong,
That they do rule, by conquering Fames great Court:
From whence they send out all their false report.
This is the way my Soule that they do use,
By different Language do the World abuse.
Therefore lye still thou troubled restless Spirit,
Seek not for Fame, unlesse thou hast a Merit.

Soule.
Body, when thou art gone, then I dye too,
Unlesse some great Act in thy life thou do:
But prethee be not thou so wondrous nice,
To set my Fame at a great Merits price.

Body.
Alas, what can I do to make thee live,
Unlesse some wise Instructions thou canst give?
Can you direct me to some Noble Act,
Wherein Vain-glory makes no false Compact?
Can you direct me which way I shall take,
Those that are in distress, happy to make?

Soule.
No, that's unpossible, unlesse all hearts
Could be divided into equall parts.

Body.
Then prethee be content, seek thou no more;
Tis Fortune makes the World to worship, and adore.

A Request to my Friends.

AN ELEGY.

Her Corps was borne to Church on gray Goose wing,
Her Sheet was Paper white to lap her in.
And Cotten dyed with Inke, her covering black,
With Letters for her Scutcheons print in that.
Fancies bound up with Verse, a Garland made,
And at the head, upon her Hearse was laid.
And Numbers ten did beare her to the Grave,
The Muses nine a Monument her gave.

[But be it bad, or good, it is my owne]

But be it bad, or good, it is my owne,
Unlesse in Printing tis a Changeling grown.
Which sure I have no reason for to doubt,
It hath the same mark, when I put it out.
But be it faire, or brown, or black, or wilde,
I still must own it, 'cause it is my Childe.
And should my Neighbours say, 'tis a dull block,
Tis honestly begot, of harmlesse Stock.
By Motion in my Braine twas form'd, and bred,
By my industrious Study it was fed.
And by my busie Pen was cloath'd, though plain
The Garments be, yet are they without stain.
But be it nere so plain, not rich, and gay,
Phantasticall tis drest, the World will say.
The World thinks all is fine, that's in the Fashion,
Though it be old, if fashion'd with Translation.
They nere consider what becomes them best,
But think all Fooles, that are not Courtly drest.
O Nature, Nature, why dost thou create
So many Fooles, and so few wise didst make?
Good Nature, move their braine another way,
And then as wise as Beasts, perchance they may.

[Lord how the World delight to tell a Lye!]

Lord how the World delight to tell a Lye!
As if they thought they sav'd a Soule thereby.
More lyes they tell, then they will Prayers say,
And run about to vent them every way.
Some bragging lyes, and then he tells how free
The Ladies were, when he's in Company.
Or else what such a Lord did say to him,
And so what answer he return'd to them.
Or any Action which great Fame hath won,
Then he saies streight, twas by his counsell done.
When any Wit, that comes abroad in print,
Then he sayes strait he had a finger in't:
How he did rectifie, and mend the same,
Or else he wrote it all, or gav't a Name.
Thus in the World thousands of lyes are told,
Which none, but Fooles, their words for truth will hold.
But in the World there are more Fooles then wise,
Which makes them passe for Truth, when all are Lyes.

[For had my Braine as many Fancies in't]

For had my Braine as many Fancies in't,
To fill the World, would put them all in Print.
No matter whether they be well exprest,
My will is done, and that please Woman best.

A Farewell to the MUSES.

Farewell my Muse, thou gentle harmlesse Spirit,
That us'd to haunt me in the dead of Night.
And on my Pillow, where my head I laid,
Thou sit'st close by, and with my Fancies play'd:
Sometimes upon my Eyes you dancing skip,
Making a vision of some fine Land-skip.
Thus with your sportings, kept me oft awake,
Not with your noise, for nere a word you spake:
But with your Faiery dancing, circling winde,
Upon a hill of thoughts within my minde.
When twas your sport to blow out every light,
Then I did rest, and sleep out all the night.

[Great God, from Thee all Infinities do flow]

Great God, from Thee all Infinities do flow,
And by thy power from thence effects do grow.
Thou order'dst all degress of Matter, just,
As tis thy will, and pleasure, move it must.
And by thy Knowledge orderd'st all the Best;
For in thy Knowledge doth thy Wisdome rest.
And wisdome cannot order things amisse,
For where disorder is, no wisdome is.
Besides, great God, thy wil is just, for why,
Thy will still on thy wisdome doth rely.
O pardon Lord, for what I here now speak,
Upon a guesse, my knowledge is but weak.
But thou hast made such Creatures, as Man-kind,
And giv'st them something, which we call a Minde;
Alwaies in Motion, never quiet lyes,
Untill the Figure of his body dies.
His severall thoughts, which severall Motions are,
Do raise up love, hopes, joyes, doubts, and feare.
As love doth raise up hope, so feare doth doubt,
Which makes him seek to finde the great God out.
Selfe-love doth make him seek to finde, if he
Came from, or shall last to eternity.
But Motion being slow, makes knowledge weake,
And then his thoughts 'gainst Ignorance doth beat.
As fluid waters 'gainst hard Rocks do flow,
Break their soft streames, and so they backward go.
Just so do thoughts, and then they backward slide
Unto the place where first they did abide.
And there in gentle murmurs do complaine,
That all their care, and labour is in vain.
But since none knowes the great Creator, must
Man seek no more, but in his goodnesse trust.