Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life Being several Feigned Stories, Comical, Tragical, Tragi-comical, Poetical, Romancical, Philosophical, Historical, and Moral: Some in Verse, some in Prose; some Mixt, and some by Dialogues. Written by the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, and most Excellent Princess, The Duchess of Newcastle [i.e. Margaret Cavendish]. The Second Edition |
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 | Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life |  |
Tis strange to see the Follies of Mankind,
How they for useless things do vex their Mind:
For what superfluous is, serves them for nought;
And more than necessary is a fault:
Yet Man is not content with a just measure,
Unless he surfeits with Delight and Pleasure;
As if true Pleasure only liv'd in Pain,
For in Excess Pain only doth remain:
Riches bring Care to keep, Trouble to spend;
Beggars and Borrowers have ne're a Friend:
And Hospitality is oft diseased,
And seldom any of their Guests are pleased:
In Feasts, much Company disturbs the rest,
And with much noise it doth the Life molest.
Much Wine and Women makes the Body sick;
And Doting-Lovers they grow Lunatick.
Playing at Cards and Dice, Men Bankrupts grow,
And with the Dice away their Time they throw,
Their Manly Strength, their Reason, and their Wit,
Which might in Warrs be spent, or Letters writ.
All Generosity seems buried here;
Gamesters seem Covetous, as doth appear:
But when they spend, most prodigally wast,
As if their Treasures were the Indies vast,
Or else their Purse an endless Myne of Gold;
But they'l soon find it doth a bottom hold.
Titles of Honour, Offices of State,
Bring Trouble, Envy, and Malicious Hate.
Ceremony restrains our Freedom, and
State-Offices Commands, Men tott'ring stand.
And Vanities Inchanters of the Mind,
That muffle Reason, and the Judgment blind;
Do lead the life in strange fantastick ways,
To seek that Pleasure which doth live in Praise.
Praise is no real thing, an empty Name,
Only a Sound which we do call a Fame;
Yet for this Sound Men always are at strife,
Do spend their Fortunes, and do hazzard Life:
They give their Thoughts no rest, but hunt about,
And never leave until the Life goes out.
That Man that seeks in Life for more than Health,
For Rest and Peace within his Commonwealth,
(Which is his Family) sure is not wise,
And know not where true Happiness still lies.
Nor doth he guess that Temperance doth give
The truest Pleasure, makes it longest live.
How they for useless things do vex their Mind:
For what superfluous is, serves them for nought;
And more than necessary is a fault:
Yet Man is not content with a just measure,
Unless he surfeits with Delight and Pleasure;
As if true Pleasure only liv'd in Pain,
For in Excess Pain only doth remain:
Riches bring Care to keep, Trouble to spend;
Beggars and Borrowers have ne're a Friend:
And Hospitality is oft diseased,
And seldom any of their Guests are pleased:
In Feasts, much Company disturbs the rest,
And with much noise it doth the Life molest.
Much Wine and Women makes the Body sick;
And Doting-Lovers they grow Lunatick.
Playing at Cards and Dice, Men Bankrupts grow,
And with the Dice away their Time they throw,
Their Manly Strength, their Reason, and their Wit,
Which might in Warrs be spent, or Letters writ.
All Generosity seems buried here;
Gamesters seem Covetous, as doth appear:
But when they spend, most prodigally wast,
As if their Treasures were the Indies vast,
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But they'l soon find it doth a bottom hold.
Titles of Honour, Offices of State,
Bring Trouble, Envy, and Malicious Hate.
Ceremony restrains our Freedom, and
State-Offices Commands, Men tott'ring stand.
And Vanities Inchanters of the Mind,
That muffle Reason, and the Judgment blind;
Do lead the life in strange fantastick ways,
To seek that Pleasure which doth live in Praise.
Praise is no real thing, an empty Name,
Only a Sound which we do call a Fame;
Yet for this Sound Men always are at strife,
Do spend their Fortunes, and do hazzard Life:
They give their Thoughts no rest, but hunt about,
And never leave until the Life goes out.
That Man that seeks in Life for more than Health,
For Rest and Peace within his Commonwealth,
(Which is his Family) sure is not wise,
And know not where true Happiness still lies.
Nor doth he guess that Temperance doth give
The truest Pleasure, makes it longest live.
You Gods, said he, give me a Temperate Mind,
An Humble Cottage, a Chast Wife and Kind,
To keep me Company, to bear a part
Of all the Joys or Sorrows of my Heart;
And let our Labours, Recreations be,
To pass our Time, and not a Misery.
Banish all Cares, you Gods, let them not lye
As heavy burthens; and when we must dye,
Let's leave the World, as in a quiet Sleep;
Draw gently out our Souls, our Ashes keep
Safely in Urns; not separate our Dust,
Or mix us so, if transmigrate we must,
That in one Body we may still remain;
When that's dissolved, make us up new again.
An Humble Cottage, a Chast Wife and Kind,
To keep me Company, to bear a part
Of all the Joys or Sorrows of my Heart;
And let our Labours, Recreations be,
To pass our Time, and not a Misery.
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As heavy burthens; and when we must dye,
Let's leave the World, as in a quiet Sleep;
Draw gently out our Souls, our Ashes keep
Safely in Urns; not separate our Dust,
Or mix us so, if transmigrate we must,
That in one Body we may still remain;
When that's dissolved, make us up new again.
| Natures Picture Drawn by Fancies Pencil To the Life | |