Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Hah! will they storme? why let thē; who needs care?
Or who dares frown on what the Muses dare,
Who when they list can for a tempest call,
Which thunder louder then their fury shall?
And if men causelesly their power contemne,
Will more then mortall vengeance fling on them?

With thine owne trembling spirit, thou didst view
These free-borne lines; that doubtst what may ensue:
For if thou selest the temper of my soule,
And knewst my heart, thou wouldst not feare controul.

Doe not I know, my honest thoughts are cleare
From any private spleene, or malice here?
Doe not I know that none will frowne at this,
But such as have apparant guiltinesse;

Or such as must to flame and ruine runne,
As some, once ayming at my fall have done?
And can I feare those Idle scar-crowes then?
Those bugg-beare perils, those meere shades of men?
At whose displeasure they for terror sweat,
Whose heart upon the worlds vaine love is set?

No; when this Motto first, I mine did make,
To me I tooke it, not for fashions sake:
But that it might expresse me as I am,
And keepe me mindefull to be still the same.
Which I resolve to be: For, could the eye
Of other men within my breast espie
My resolution, and the Cause thereof;
They durst not at this boldnesse make a scoffe.

Shall I be fearefull of my selfe to speake;
For doubt some other may exceptions take?
If this age hold; ere long we shall goe neere
Of ev'ry word of our, to stand in feare.
And (five to one) if any should confesse
Those sinnes in publike, which his soule oppresse:
Some guilty fellow (moou'd thereat) would take it
Vnto himselfe; and so, a Libell make it.
Nay; We shall hardly be allowd to pray
Against a crying-sinne; lest great men may
Suspect, that by a figure we intend
To point out them: and how they doe offend:
As I have hope to prosper; e're I'le fall
To such a bondage, I'le adventure all:
And make the whole world mad, to heare how I
Will fearelesse write and raile at Villany.
But oh! beware (gray hayrd discretion sayes)
The Dogge fights well that out of danger playes.
For now, these guilty Times so captious be,
That such, as love in speaking to be free;

May for their freedome, to their cost be shent,
How harmelesse er'e they be, in their intent:
And such as of their future peace have care,
Vnto the Times a little servile are.

Pish, tell not me of Times, or danger thus:
To doe a villany is dangerous;
But in an honest action, my heart knowes
No more of feares, then dead men doe of blowes.
And to be slave to Times, is worse to me
Then to be that, which most men feare to be.

I tell thee Criticke, whatsoever Thou,
Or any man, of me shall censure now:
They, who for ought here written doe accuse,
Or with a minde malitious, taxe my Muse;
Shall nor by day awake, nor sleepe by night,
With more contentment, in their glories height;
Then I will doe, though they should lay me where
I must in darkenesse, bolts of Iron weare,
For, I am not so ignorant, but that
I partly know what things I may relate:
And what an honest man should still conceale,
I know as well, as what he may reveale.

If they be poore and base, that feare my straine:
These poore base fellowes are afraid in vaine.
I scorne to spurne a dogge, or strike a flye,
Or with such Groomes to soile my Poesie.
If great they were, and fallen; let them know,
I doe abhor to touch a wounded foe.
If on the top of honour yet they be:
'Tis poore weake honour, if ought done by me
May blot, or shake the same: yea, whatsoere
Their Titles cost, or they would faine appeare,
They are ignoble, and beneath me farre;
If with these measures they distempered are.

For, if they had true Greatnesse, they would know,
The spight of all the World, were farre below
The seate of Noblest Honour, and that He
In whom true worth and reall Vertues be,
So well is arm'd: as that he feares no wrong
From any Tyrants hand, or Villaines tongue.
Much lesse be startled at those Numbers would;
Where Uertue's praised, and proud Uice contrould.

Is any man the worse if I expresse
My Wants, my Riches, or my Carelesnesse?
Or can my honest thoughts, or my content,
Be turn'd to any mans disparagement,
If he be honest? Nay, those men will finde
A pleasure in this Picture of my minde,
Who honour Vertue, and instead of blame,
Will (as they have done) love me for the same.

You are deceiv'd, if the Bohemian State
You thinke I touch; or the Palatinate:
Or that this ought of Eighty-eight containes;
The Powder-plot, or any thing of Spaines:
That their Ambassadour neede question me,
Or bring me iustly for it on my knee.
The state of those Occurrences I know
Too well; my Raptures that way to bestow.

Nor neede you doubt, but any friend you have,
May play the foole, and if he lift the knave,
For ought here written; For it is not such
As you suppose; nor what you feare so much,

If I had beene dispos'd to Satyrize,
Would I have tam'd my Numbers in this wise?
No: I have Furies that lye ty'de in chaines,
Bold (English mastiffe like) adventrous Straines,
Who fearelesse dare on any Monster flye,
That weares a body of Mortality.

And I had let them loose, if I had list,
To play againe the sharpe fang'd Satyrist.
That therefore you no more mis title This,
I say, it is my Motto, and it is.

I'le have it so: for, if it please not me;
It shall not be a Satyr, though it be.
What is't to you (or any man) if I,
This little Poem terme as foolishly,
As some men doe their children? Is it not
Mine owne Minerva, of my braines begot?
For ought I know, I never did intrude,
To name your Whelpes, and if you be so rude,
To meddle with my Kitling (though in sport)
'Tis oddes, but shee'l goe neere to scratch you for't.

Play with your Monkey then, and let it lye:
Or (if you be not angry) take it pray,
And read it over. ------

------So, the Criticke's gone,
Who at these Numbers carpt, and We alone:
Proceede we to the matter.—

Nec Habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.

Some having seene where I this Motto writ
Beneath my Picture; ask't, what meaned it.
And many in my absence, doe assay,
What by these words, they best coniecture may:
Some have supposed, that it doth expresse,
An unadvised, desperate Carelesnesse.
Some others doe imagine, that I meant
In little, to set forth a great Content.
Some, on each member of the Sentence dwell:
And (first) will, what I have not, seeme to tell:
What things I want not, they will next declare:
And then they gesse, for what I doe not care.
But that they might not from my meaning erre,
I'le now become my owne Interpreter.

Some things I haue, which here I will not show;
Some things I want, which you shall never know:
And sometime I (perchance) doe Carefull grow.
But we, with that, will nothing have to doe.
If good occasion be thereof to speake,
Another time, we may the pleasure take.
That, which to treat of, I now purpose (therefore,)
Is what I neither have, nor want, nor care for.

Nec Habeo.

And first, that no man else may censure me,
For vaunting what belongeth not to me:
Heare what I have not; for, I'le not deny
To make confession of my poverty.

I have not of my selfe the power or grace,
To be, or not to be; one minute-space.
I have not strength another word to write,
Or tell you what I purpose to indite:
Or thinke out halfe a thought, before my death,
But by the leave of him that gave me breath.
I have no native goodnesse in my soul:
But I was over all corrupt and foule,
And till another cleans'd me, I had nought
That was not stain'd within me: not a thought.
J have no proper merit, neither will,
Or to resolve, or act but what is ill.
I have no meanes of safety, or content,
In ought which mine owne wisedome can invent,
Nor have I reason to be desperate tho:
Because for this a remedy I know.

J have no portion in the world like this,
That I may breath that ayre, which common is:
Nor have I seene within this spacious Round,
What I have worth my Ioy or sorrow found.
Except it hath for these that follow bin,
The Love of my Redeemer, and my sinn.

I none of those great Priviledges have,
Which make the Minions of the Time, so brave.
I have no sumptuous Palaces or Bowers
That overtop my neighbours with their Towrs.

I have no large Demeanes or Princely Rents,
Like those Heroes, nor their discontents.
I have no glories from mine Ancesters;
For want of reall worth to bragge of theirs.
Nor have I basenesse in my pedigree;
For it is noble, though obscure it be.

I haue no gold those honours to obtaine,
Which men might heretofore, by Uertue gaine,
Nor have I wit, if wealth were given me;
To thinke bought Place or Title honour'd me.
I (yet) have no beliefe that they are wise,
Who forbase ends, can basely temporise:
Or that it will at length be ill for me,
That I liv'd poore, to keepe my Spirit free.

I have no Causes in our Pleading Courts,
Nor start I at our Chancery Reports.
No fearefull Bill hath yet affrighted me;
No Motion, Order, Iudgement, or Decree.
Nor have I forced beene to tedious Iourneys,
Betwixt my Counsellors and my Attourneys.
I have no neede of those long-gowned warriers,
Who play at Westminster, unarm'd at Barriers:
Nor gamster for those Common pleas am I,
Whose sport is marred by the Chancery.

I have no iuggling hand, no double tongue;
Nor any minde to take, or doe a wrong.
I have no shifts or cunning sleights, on which
I feed my selfe, with hope of being rich.
Nor have I one of these, to make me poore;
Hounds, Humors, running Horses, Hawkes, or Whore,

I have no pleasure in acquaintance, where
The Rules of State, and Ceremony, are
Obseru'd so seriously; that I must dance,
And act o're all the Complements of France

And Spaine, and Italy; before I can
Be taken, for a well-bred Englishman:
And every time we meet, be forc't agen,
To put in action that most idle Sceane.
Mong these, much precious time (unto my cost)
And much true-hearty meaning have I lost.
Which having found: I doe resolve therefore,
To lose my Time, and Friendship, so no more.

I have no Complements; but what may show,
That I doe manners and good breeding know.
For much I hate, the forced, Apish tricks,
Of those our home disdaining Politicks:
Who to the Forraine guise are so affected,
That English Honesty is quite rejected:
And in the stead thereof, they furnisht home,
With shadowes of Humanity doe come.
Oh! how judicious in their owne esteeme,
And how compleately; Travelled they seeme;
If in the place of reall kindnesses,
(Which Nature could have taught them to expresse)
They can with gestures, lookes, and language sweet,
Fawne like a Curtezan, on all they meet:
And vie, in humble and kind speeches; when
They doe most proudly, and most falsely meane.
On this; too many falsely set their face,
Of Courtship and of wisedome: but 'tis base.
For, servile (unto me) it doth appeare,
When we descend, to sooth and flatter, where
We want affection: yea, I hate it more,
Then to be borne a slave; or to be poore.
I have no pleasure, or delight in ought,
That by dissembling, must to passe be brought.
If I dislike, I'le sooner tell them so,
Then hide my face, beneath a friendly show.

For he, who to be iust, hath an intent,
Needs not dissemble, nor a lye invent.
I rather wish to faile with honesty,
Then to prevaile in ought by treachery.
And with his minde I'le safer sleepe, then all
Our Machavillian Polititians shall.

I have no minde to flatter; though I might
Be made some Lords companion; or a Knight.
Nor shall my Verse for me on begging goe,
Though I might starve, unlesse it did doe so.

I have no Muses that will serve the turne,
At every Triumph, and reioyce or mourne,
Vpon a minutes warning for their hire;
If with old Sherry they themselves inspire.
I am not of a temper like to those,
That can provide an houres sad talke in Prose,
For any Funerall; and then goe Dine,
And choke my griefe, with Sugar plums and Wine.
I cannot at the Claret sit and laugh,
And then halfe tipsie, write an Epitaph;
Or howle an Epicœdium for each Groome,
That is, by Fraud or Nigardize, become
A wealthy Alderman: Nor, for each Gull,
That hath acquir'd the stile of Worshipfull,
I cannot for reward, adorne the Hearse
Of some old rotten Miser, with my Verse:
Nor like the Poetasters of the Time,
Goe howle a dolefull Elegie in Ryme,
For euery Lord or Ladiship that dyes:
And then perplexe their Heires, to Patronize
That muddy Poesie. Oh! how I scorne,
Those Raptures, which are free, and nobly borne,
Should Fidler-like, for entertainement scrape
At strangers windowes: and goe play the Ape,

In counterfeiting Passion, when there's none,
Or in good earnest, foolishly bemoane
(In hope of cursed bounty) their just death;
Who, (living) merit not a minutes breath
To keepe their Fame alive, unlesse to blow
Some Trumpet which their blacke disgrace may show.

I cannot (for my life) my Pen compell,
Vpon the praise of any man to dwell:
Vnlesse I know, (or thinke at least) his worth,
To be the same, which I have blazed forth.
Had I some honest Suite, the gaine of which,
Would make me noble, eminent, and rich:
And that to compasse it, no meanes there were,
Vnlesse I basely flattered some great Peere;
Would with that Suite, my ruine I might get:
If on those termes I would endeavour it.

I have not bin to their condition borne,
Who are inclined to respect and scorne,
As men in their estates, doe rise or fall:
Or rich, or poore, I Vertue love in all.
And where I finde it not, I doe despise
To fawne on them; how high so e're they rise:
For, where proud Greatnesse without worth I see,
Old Mordicay had not a stiffer knee.

I cannot giue a Plaudit (I protest)
When as his Lordship thinkes, he breakes a jeast,
Vnlesse it move me, neither can I grin,
When he a causelesse laughter doth begin.
I cannot sweare him, truely honourable;
Because he once receiv'd me to his table,
And talk't as if the Muses glad might be,
That the vouchsafed such a grace to me.
His slender worth, I could not blazon so,
By strange Hyperboles, as some would do.

Or wonder at it, as if none had bin
His equall, since King William first came in.
Nor can I thinke true Uertue ever car'd
To give or take, (for praise) what I have heard.

For if we peyze them well; what goodly grace,
Have outward Beauties, Riches, Titles, Place,
Or such; that we, the owners should commend,
When no true vertues, doe on these attend?
If beautifull he be, what honour's that?
As faire as he, is many a Beggers brat.
If we, his noble Titles would extoll;
Those Titles, he may have and be a foole.
If Seats of Iustice he hath climb'd (we say)
So Tyrants, and corrupt oppressors may.
If for a large estate his praise we tell:
A thousand Villanies, may be prais'd as well.
If he, his Princes good esteeme be in;
Why, so hath many a bloudy Traytor bin.
And if in these things he alone excell,
Let those that list upon his praises dwell.
Some other worth I finde, e're I have sense
Of any praise-deserving excellence.

I have no friends, that once affected were,
But to my heart, they sit this day as neare,
As when I most endear'd them (though they seeme
To fall from my opinion or esteeme:)
For precious Time, in idle would be spent,
If I with All, should alwaies complement.
And till, my love I may to purpose show,
I care not wher' they thinke I love or no.
For sure I am, if any finde me chang'd;
Their greatnesse, nor their meannesse me estrang'd.

I have not priz'd mens loues, the lesse or more,
Because I saw them, either rich or poore;

But as their love and Vertues did appeare,
I such esteem'd them, whosoe're they were.

I have no trust, or confidence in friends,
That seeke to know me, meerly for their ends,
Nor have I ever said, I loved yet;
Where I expected more then Love for it,
And let me faile of that where most I lou'd,
If that with greater joy I be not mou'd
By twenty-fold, when I my kindnes show,
Then when their favours they on me bestow.

I have not that vile minde; nor shall my brest
For ever, with such basenes be possest;
As in my anger (be it ne're so iust)
To utter ought committed to my trust
In time of friendship; though constrained so,
That want of telling it, should me undo.
For, whosoe're hath trust repos'd in me;
Shall ever finde me true, though false he be.

I have no love to Country, Prince or Friend;
That can be more, or lesse, or have an end.
For whatsoever state they rais'd me to,
I would not love them, better then I do.
Nor can I hate them; though on me they should
Heape all the scorne, and Iniury they could.

I have no doting humour, to affect
Where love I finde rewarded with neglect.
I never was with melancholy sit
Oppressed in such stupid manner, yet,
As that ungently to my friends I spake;
Or heed to their contentment did not take:
Nor have I felt my Anger so inflam'd,
But that with gentle speech it might be ram'd.

I have no private cause of discontent,
Nor grudge against the publike government.

I have no spight, or envie in my brest,
Nor doth anothers peace disturbe my rest.
J have not (yet) that dunghill humour, which
Some Great-men have; who, so they may be rich,
Thinke all gaine sweet, and nought ashamed are,
In vile, and rascall Suites to have a share.
For I their basenesse scorne: and ever loath'd
By wronging others, to be fed or cloath'd,
Much more, to have my pride, or lust maintain'd,
With what, by foule oppression hath beene gain'd.

I have not beene enamor'd on the Fate
Of men, to great advancements fortunate.
I never yet a Favorite did see
So happy, that I wished to be he:
Nor would I, whatsoe're of me became,
Be any other man, but who I am.
For, though I am assur'd the destiny
Of millions tendeth to felicity:
Yet those deare secret comforts, which I finde,
Vnseene, within the closet of my minde:
Give more assurance of true happinesse,
Then any outward glories can expresse.
And 'tis so hard, (what shewes soe're there be)
The inward plight of other men to see:
That my estate, with none exchange I dare,
Although my Fortunes more despised were.

I have not hitherto divulged ought,
Wherein my words dissented from my thought.
Nor would I faile, if I might able be,
To make my manners and my words agree.
J have not beene ashamed to confesse
My lowest Fortunes, or the kindnesses,
Or poorest men: Nor have I proud beene made,
By any favor from a great Man had.

I have not plac't so much of my Content,
Vpon the goods of Fortune, to lament
The losse of them; more then may seemely be,
To grieve for things, which are no part of me.
For, I have knowne the worst of being poore,
Yea lost, when I to lose have had no more,
And though, the Coward World more quakes for feare
Of Poverty, then any plagues that are:
Yet, He that mindes his End, observes his Ward,
The Meanes pursues, and keepes a heart prepar'd:
Dares Scorne and Poverty as boldly meete,
As others gladly Fame and Riches greet.
For those, who on the stage of this proud World,
Into the pawes of Want and Scorne are hurld:
Are in the Master prize, that tryeth men;
And Vertue fighteth her brav'st combat then.

I no Antipathy (as yet) have had,
Twixt me, and any Creature, God hath made:
For if they doe not scratch, nor bite, nor sting,
Snakes, Serpents, Todes, or Catts, or any thing
I can endure to touch, or looke upon:
(So cannot eu'ry one whom I have knowne.)

I have no Nation on the earth abhor'd,
But with a Iew or Spaniard can accord,
As well, as with my Brother; if I finde
He beare a Vertuous and Heroick minde.

Yet (I confesse) of all men, I most hate
Such, as their manners doe adulterate.
Those Linsy-woolsie people, who are neither
French, English, Scotsh, nor Dutch, but altogether.
Those, I affect not; rather wish I could,
That they were fish, or flesh, or hot, or cold:
But none among all them, worse brooke I, then
Our meere Hispaniolized English men.

And if we scape their Treacheries at home,
I'le feare no mischiefes, where so'ere I come.

J have not fear'd who my Religion knowes:
Nor ever for preferment, made I showes
Of what I was not. For, although I may
Through want, be forc't to put on worse array,
Vpon my Body; I will ever finde
Meanes to maintaine a habit for my Minde,
Of Truth in graine: and weare it, in the sight
Of all the world: in all the worlds despight.

I, their presumption, have not, who dare blame
A fault in others; and correct the same
With grievous punishments: yet guilty be,
Of those offences in more high degree.
For, oh! how bold, and impudent a face,
(And what unmoved hearts of Flint and Brasse)
Have those corrupted Magistrates, who dare
Vpon the seat of Iudgement sit; and there
Without an inward horror preach abroad,
The guilt of Sinne, and heavy wrath of God;
(Against offenders pleading at their Barr)
Yet know, what plott, within their bosomes are?
Who, when (enthron'd for Iustice) they behold
A reverend Magistrate, both grave, and old:
And heare how sternly, he doth aggravate
Each little crime, offenders perpetrate:
How much the fact he seemeth to abhor;
How he, a just correction labours for;
How he admires, and wonders that among
A people, where the Faith hath flourisht long
Such wickednes should raigne which (he hath heard)
The Heathen to commit, have bin affeard.

Who that observes all this, would thinke that He
Did but an houre before, receive a fee,

Some Innocent (by law) to murther there?
Or else, from Children fatherlesse to teare
Their iust inheritance? and that when this
Were done (as if that nought had beene amisse)
He could goe sleepe upon a deed so foule;
And neither thinke on mans, or Gods controule?
I have not a stupidity so mad,
And this presumption, I would no man had.

I have no question made, but some there are,
Who, when of this my Motto they shall heare;
Will have a better stomacke, to procure
That I may check, or punishment endure,
Then their owne evill manners to amend:
For that's a worke, they cannot yet intend.
And though, they many view (before their face)
Fal'ne, and each minute falling to disgrace;
(For lesse offences farre then they commit)
Without remorse, and penitence they sit.
As if that They, (and they all one) had binne
Without the compasse of reproofe of sinne.

I have no great opinion of their wit,
Nor ever saw their actions prosper, yet,
Who wedded to their owne devices be,
And will nor counsell heare, nor danger see,
That is foretold them by their truest friends:
But rather, list to them, who for their ends
Doe footh their fancies. And the best excuse
That such men can, to hide their folly use;
(When all their idle projects come to nought)
Are these words of the foole. I had not thought,

I have not their delight, who pleasure take
At Natures imperfections, scoffes to make.
Nor have I bitternesse against that sinne,
Which thorow weakenes hath committed bin.

(For I my selfe, am to offences prone,
And every day commit I many a one)
But at their hatefull crimes I onely glance,
That sinne of pleasure, pride, and arrogance.

I have not so much knowledge as to call
The Arts in question; neither wit so small,
To waste my spirits, those things to attaine,
Which all the world hath labour'd for in vaine.

I have not so much beauty, to attract
The eyes of Ladies: neither have I lackt
Of that proportion which doth well suffice
To make me gracious in good peoples eyes.

I have not done, so many a holy deed;
As that of IESVS CHRIST I have no need.
And my good workes I hope are not so few,
But that in me a living Faith they shew.

I have not found ability so much,
To carry Milstones; yea, and were it such,
I should not greatly vaunt it: for in this,
A scurvie pack-horse far my better is.
I love his manly strength, that can resist
His owne desires: force passages when he list,
Through all his strong affections, and subdue
The stout attempts of that rebellious crewe.
This, were a braver strength then Sampson got:
And this, I covet, but I have it not.

I have not so much heedlesnes of things,
Which appertaine unto the Courts of Kings;
But that from my low station, I can see
A Princes love may oft abused be.
For many men their Country injure dare
At home; where all our eyes upon them are,
And (of the worlds Protector) I implore,
The trust abroad, be not abused more.

I have no Brother, but of yonger age,
Nor have I Birth right without heritage:
And with that land, let me inherit shame,
Vnlesse I grieve when I possesse the same.

The value of a penny have J not,
That was by bribery or extortion got.
I have no Lands that from the Church were pild,
To bring (hereafter) ruine to my Child.
And hitherto, I thinke, I have beene free
From Widdowes, or from Orphants cursing me.

The Spleene, the Collicke, or the Lethargy,
Gouts, Palsies, Dropsies, or a Lunacy.
I (by inheritance) have none of these:
Nor raigning sinne; nor any foule disease.

I have no debts, but such as (when I can)
I meane to pay; nor is there any man
(To whom I stand ingag'd by ought I borrow)
Should losse sustaine though I should dye to morrow:
And if they should (so much my friends they be)
Their greatest losse they'le thinke the losse of me.
And well they know, I tooke not what they lent,
To wrong their loves, or to be idly spent.

Except the Devill, and that cursed brood,
Which have dependance on his Devil hood,
I know no foes I have; for, if there be,
In none, more malice, then I finde in me:
The earth, that man (at this time) doth not beare
Who would not, if some just occasions were;
(Ev'n in his height of spleene) my life to save,
Adventute with one foot, into his grave.

To make me carefull; Children I have none,
Nor have I any Wife to get them on;
Nor have J, (yet to keepe her) had I one;
Nor can this spoyle my Marriage being knowne.

Since I am sure, I was not borne for her,
That shall before my worth, her wealth prefer:
For I doe set my Vertues at a rate,
As high as any prise their Riches at.
And if All count, the venture too much cost,
In keeping it my selfe there's nothing lost.
For, she I wed, shall somewhat thinke in me
More worthy Love, then great revenues be.
And if I finde not one, of such a minde,
(As such indeed, are Iewels rare to finde)
Ile clasped in mine owne embraces lye:
And never touch a woman till I dye.

For, shall a Fellow, whom (the Vsurer)
His Father, by extortion did prefer
Vnto an heritage in value cleare,
Above foure times a thousand pounds a yeare,
So worthily or so confident become?
(By meanes of that his goodly annuall somme,
Which may be lost to morrow) as to dare
Attempt a Nymph of Honour for his pheare?
Shall he; that hath with those foure thousand pounds
A gaming vaine; a deepe mouth'd cry of Hounds,
Three cast of Hawkes, of Whores as many brace,
Sixe hunting Naggs, and five more for the race:
(Perhaps a numerous brood of fighting-Cocks)
Physitians, Barbers, Surgeons for the Pox;
And twenty other humors to maintaine,
(Besides the yeerely charges of his traine)
With this revenue? Most of which, or all
To morgage must be set? perhaps to sale
To pay his creditors, and yet all faile
To keepe his crasie body from the Iayle?
Shall this dull Foole, with his uncertaine store
(And in all honesty and Vertues poore)

Hope for a Mistresse, noble, rich and faire?
And is it likely that I can dispaire
To be as happy, if I seeke it would?
Who such a marchlesse fortune have in hold:
That though the World my ruine plot and threat,
I can in spight of it be rich, and great?

A silly Girle, no sooner understands,
That she is left in Portion, or in Lands;
So large a fortune, that it doth excell
The greatest part who neare about her dwell:
But straight begins to rate, and prize her self
According to the value of her pelf.
And though no Gentry, nor good breeding born,
Can all, that have estates beneath her, scorn.

This wit a Woman hath: and shall not I,
Who know I have a Wealth which none can buy
For all the world; expect a nobler phere
Then sutes unto a hundred pounds a yeere?
Shall love of Truth, and Vertue make of me
A match no better worthy, then is He
Who knowes not what they meane? and doth possesse
In outward fortunes neither more nor lesse?

Have I oft heard so many faire ones plaine
How fruitlesse Titles are? how poore and vaine
They found rich greatnes, where they did not find,
True Love, and the endowments of the mind?
Have fairest Ladies often sworne to me
That if they might, but onely, Mistresse be
Of true affection; they would prize it more
Then all those glories, which the most adore:
Have I observ'd how hard it is to find
A constant heart? a just and honest mind;
How few good natures in the world there are,
How scanty true affection is? how rare?

And shall I passe as true a Heart away,
As hath conceiv'd an honest thought to day:
As if in value to no more it came,
Then would endeare me to a vulgar Dame
On equall termes? or else undoe me with
Some old rich Croan, that hath out-liv'd her teeth?
I'le rather breake it with proud scorne; that dead,
The wormes may rifle for my Mayden-head.

I have no love to beauties, which are gone
Much like a Rose in Iune, as soone as blowne.
Those painted Cabinets and nought within,
Have little power my respect to win.
Nor have I, yet, that stupid love to pelfe,
As for the hope thereof, to yoke my selfe
With any female; betwixt whom, and me,
There could not in the soule, a marriage be.
For whosoever joyne without that care;
Fooles, and accursed in their matches are;
And so are you, that either heare or view
What I averre, unlesse you thinke it true.

I have no meaning, whensoere I wed,
That my companion, shall become my head.
Nor would I (if I meant to keepe my right)
So much as say so, though that win her might.
Not though a Dutchesse: for the meanes I'le use
To keepe my worth, though my reward I loose.
Yea, from a prison had she raised me,
Lord of her fortunes, and her Selfe to be:
I that respect, would still expect to have,
Which might become her Husband: not her slave.
And should I spouse a Begger, I would shew,
What love, and honor, to a wife were due.

I have not, yet of any scorned bin;
Whose good opinion, I have sought to win.

Nor have I (when I meane to wooe) a feare,
That any man shall make me willow weare.

I have not eyes so excellent to see
Things (as some men can do) before they be.
Nor purblind sight, which crimes farre off can mark:
Yet seeme, to faults which are more neare me, dark.
I have not eares for every tale that's told,
Nor memory, things frivolous to hold.
I have not their credulity that dare
Give credit unto all reports they heare.
Nor have I subject to their dulnesse beene,
Who can beleeeve no more then they have seene.

I have no feeling of those wrongs that be
By base unworthy fellowes, offered me:
For my contentment, and my glory, lyes
Above the pitch, their spight or malice flyes.

I have not need enough as yet, to serve;
Nor impudence to crave till I deserve.
I have no hope, the worlds esteeme to get:
Nor could a Foole, or Knave, e're brooke me yet.
I have not villany enough, to prey
Vpon the weake: or friendship to betray.
Nor have I so much love to life, that I
Would seeke to save it by dishonestly;

I have not Cowardize enough to feare,
In honest actions; though my death be there:
Nor heart, to perpetrate a wilfull sinne:
Though I with safety, large renowne might win:
And for omitting it, were sure to dye,
Ne're to be thought on, but with infamy.

I have not their base cruelty, who can
Insult upon an over-grieved man:
Or tread on him, that at my feet doth bow,
For, I protest, no villany I know

That could be done me; but if I perceiv'd
(Or thought) the doer, without faigning griev'd:
I truely could forgive him; as if he
Had never in a thought abused me.
And if my love to mercy, I belye,
Let God deny me mercy when I dye.

I have not that unhappinesse, to be
A Rich mans Sonne; For he had trained me
In some vaine path; and I had never sought
That knowledge which my poverty hath taught.

I have no inclination to respect
Each vulgar complement, nor yet neglect
An honest shew of friendship: For, I sweare,
I rather wish, that I deceived were;
Then of so base a disposition be,
As to distrust, till cause were given me:

J have no Constitution, to accord
To ought dishonest, sooner for a Lord
Then for his meanest Groome; and hopes there be
It never will be otherwise with me.

I have no policies to make me seeme
A man well worthy of the worlds esteeme.
Nor have I hope, I shall hereafter grow
To any more regard, for saying so;

I have no doubt, though here a slighted thing,
But I am favourite to Heav'ns great King.
Nor have I feare, but all that's good in me,
Shall in my Life, or Death, rewarded be.

But yet I have not that attain'd, for which
Those who account this nothing, thinke me rich?
Nor that, which they doe reckon worth esteeme,
To whom, the riches of the mind, doe seeme
A scornefull Poverty. But let that goe,
Men cannot prize the Pearles they doe not know.

Nor have I power to teach them: for if I
Should here consume my gift of Poesie:
(And wholly wast my spirits, to expresse
What rich contents, a poore estate may blesse)
It were impossible, to move the sense
Of those brave things, in their intelligence,

I have not found, on what I may rely,
Vnlesse it carry some Divinity
To make me confident: for, all the glory,
And all hopes foile, in things meere transitory.

What man is there among us; doth not know
A thousand men, this night to bed will goe,
Of many a hundred goodly things possest;
That shall have nought to morrow but a Chest,
And one poore sheete to lye in? What I may
Next morning have, I know not; But to day,
A Friend, Meate, Drinke, and fitting Clothes to weare;
Some Bookes, and Papers which my Iewels are;
A Servant and a Horse, all this I have,
And when I dye, one promist me a Grave.
A Grave, that quiet closet of Content:
And I have built my selfe a Monument.
But (as I live) excepting onely this;
(Which of my wealth the Inventory is)
I have so little; I my oath might save:
If I should take it, that I, nothing have:

Nec Careo.

And yet, whar Want I? or who knoweth how
I may be richer made then I am now?
Or what great Peere or wealthy Alderman,
Bequeath, his sonne, so great a Fortune can?
I nothing want that needfull is to have;
Sought I no more, then Nature bids me crave.
For, as we see, the smallest Vials may
As full as greatest Glasses be; though they
Much lesse containe: So, my small portion gives
That full content to me; in which he lives,
Who most possesseth: and with larger store,
I might fill others, but my selfe no more.

I want not Temperance, to rest content
With what the providence of God hath lent;
Nor want I a sufficiency, to know
Which way to use it, if he more bestow.
For, as when me, one horse would easier beare,
To ride on two at once, it madnes were:
And, as when one small Bowle might quench my thirst
To lift a Vessell, that my backe might burst
Were wondrous folly: So absurd a thing
It were in me; should I neglect a Spring,
(Whose plenty may a Countries want supply)
To dwell by some small Poole that would be dry.
If therefore, ought doe happen in the way;
Which on a just occasion seeke I may:

I want not resolution to make tryall,
Nor want I patience, if I have deniall.

Men aske me what Preferment I have gain'd,
What riches, by my Studies are attain'd:
And those that fed, and fatned are with draffe
For their destruction; please themselves to laugh
At my low Fate; as if I nought had got
(For my enriching) cause they saw it not.
Alas! that Mole-ey'd issue, cannot see,
What Patrimonies are bestow'd on me.
There is a braver wealthinesse, then what
They (by abundance) have arrived at.
Had I their wealth I should not sleepe the more
Securely for it; and were I as poore
In outward fortunes, as men shipwrackt are;
I should (of poverty) have no more feare,
Then if I had the riches and the powers
Of all the Esterne Kings and Emperours:
For, grasse though trod into the earth may grow;
And highest Cedars have an overthrow.
Yea, I have seene as many begger'd by
Their fathers wealth; and much prosperity,
As have by want mis-done. And for each one,
Whom by his riches, I advanc't have knowne;
I three could reckon, who through being poore,
Have rais'd their Fortunes, and their friends the more.

To what contents doe men most wealthy mount,
Which I enjoy not; If their cares we count?
My cloathing keepes me full as warme as their,
My Meates unto my taste, as pleasing are,
I feed enough my hunger to suffice:
I sleepe, till I my seife am pleas'd to rise,
My Dreames are sweet, and full of quiet be:
My waking cares, as seldome trouble me.

I have as oftentimes, a Sunny day:
And sport, and laugh, and sing, aswell as they,
I breath as wholsome and as sweet an ayre,
As loving as my Mistresse, and as faire.
My body is as healthy; and I finde
As little cause of Sicknesse, in my minde,
I am as wife, I thinke, as some of those;
And oft my selfe as foolishly dispose:
For, of the wisest, I am none (as yet)
And I have nigh, as little hayre as wit:
Of neither, have I ought to let to farme,
Nor so much want J, as may keep me warm.

I find my Liver sound, my joynts well knit:
Youth, and good Diet, are my Doctors yet.
Nor on Potatoes, or Eringoes feede I:
No Meates restorative to raise me, neede I:
Nor Amber greece, with other things confected,
To take away the stinke of Lungs infected.
I nev'r in need of Pothicary stood,
Or any Surgeons hand to let me bloud:
For since the Rod, my Tutor hurled by,
I have not medled with Phlebotomy.

As good as other mens, my senses be;
Each limbe I have, as able is in me,
And whether I, as lovely be, or no:
Tis ten to one, but some doe thinke me so.

The wealthiest men, no benefits possesse,
But I have such, or better in their place.
As they my low condition, can contemn;
So, I know how to fling a scorne at them.
My Fame, is yet as faire, and flyes as farre
As some mens, that with Titles laden are.
Yea, by myself much more I have attain'd,
Then many, have with help of others gain'd.

And my esteeme I will not change for their,
Whose Fortunes are, ten thousand more a yeare.
Nor want I so much grace, as to confesse,
That God is Author of this happinesse.

I want not so much iudgement, as to see
There must 'twixt men and men a difference be,
And I, of those in place, account do make,
Though they be wicked) for good orders sake,
But I could stoop to serve them at their feet,
Where old Nobility, and Uertue meet.

To finde mine owne defects, I want not sense:
Nor want I will to grieve for my offence.
To see my Friend misdoe, I want not eyes;
Not Love, to cover his infirmities.
I want not Spirit, if I once but know
The way be iust, and noble that I goe.
My mind's as great as theirs that greatest are;
Yet, I can make it fit the clothes I weare.
And whether I ascend, or lower fall.
I want no hope but I preserve it shall.

I want no slanders; neither want I braine,
To scorne the Rascall humours, of the vaine
And giddy multitude. And (trust me) they
So farre unable are to talke away
My resolutions, that no more it feares
The worst their ignorance or malice dares:
Then doth the Moone, when dogs and birds of night,
Doe barking stand, or whooting at her light.
And if this mischiefe, no way shun I could,
But that they praise me, or dispraise me would:
I rather wish, their tongues should blast my name;
Then be beholding to them for my fame.

I want nor wit, nor honesty enough
To keep my hand from such base Rascall stuffe,

As is a Libell: For, although I shall
Sometime let flye, at Vice in generall;
I spare particulars; Nor shall a Knave
In my Lines live, so much as shame to have.
But in his owne corruption, dye, and rot;
That all his memory may be forgot.
J want not so much Knowledge as to know
True Wisdome lies not in a glorious show
Of humane Learning; or in being able
To cite Authorities innumerable.
Nor in a new invention. But that man,
Who make good use of ev'ry creature can:
And from all things, that happen well or ill:
Contentment drawes; (and keepes a conscience still,
To witnesse his endeavours to be good,)
That man is wisest; though he understood
The language of no country but his owne,
Nor ever had the use of Letters knowne.

To make faire shewes, of Honesty and Arts;
Of Knowledge and Religion are the parts
This Age doth strive to play: but few there are,
Who truely are the same they doe appeare.
And this is that, which daily makes us see
So many, whom we honest thought to be,
And wise, and learned, (while some Scænes doe last)
Prove Fooles, and Knaves, before their Act be past.

I want not sense, of those Mens miseries;
Who lul'd a sleepe in their prosperities.
Must shortly fall, and with a heavy eye
Behold their pompe, and pleasures vanish by:
And how that Mistresse, they so doted on
(Their proud Vaine-glory) will with scorne be gon.
I feele me thinkes with what a drooping heart,
They, and their idle hopes begin to part

And with what mighty burthens of unrest,
Their poore distemperd soules will be opprest.
How much they will repent, I doe foresee;
How much confused, and asham'd they'le be,
And as I praise their doome; ev'n so I pray,
Their shame and sorrow, worke their comfort may.
I want not much experiment, to show
That all is good God pleaseth to bestow;
(What shape soever he doth maske it in)
For all my former cares, my ioyes have bin:
And I have trust, that all my woes to come,
Will bring my Soule, Eternall comforts home.

I doe not finde, within me, other feares;
Then what to men, of all degrees appeares.
I have a conscience that is cleane within:
For, (though I guilty am of many a sinne)
A kinde Redeemer, I have found, and he
His Righteousnesse impureth unto me:

The Greatest, have no Greatnes, more then I,
In bearing out a want, or Misery.
I can as well, to passion set a bound:
I brooke as well the smarting of a wound.
Aswell endure I, to be hunger-bit;
Aswell can wrestle with an Ague-fit.
My eyes can wake as long as their I'me sure;
And as much cold, or heat I can endure.
Yea, let my dearest friends excused be,
From heaping scorne, or Iniuries on me;
(Come all the world) and I my heart can make,
To brooke as much, before it shrinke, or breake
As theirs, that doe the noblest Titles weare;
And slight as much their frown that mighti'st are,
For, if in me at any time appeare
A bashfulnesse (which some mistitle, feare)

It is no doubt, lest I through folly may
Some things unfitting me; or doe, or say:
But not that I am fearefull to be shent;
For dread of Men, or feare of punishment.

And yet, no faults J want; nor want in me,
Affections which in other men there be:
As much I hate an incivilitie;
As much am taken with a Courtesie;
As much abhor I, brutish Vanities;
As much allow I, Christian Liberties;
As soone an iniurie I can perceive;
And with as free a heart I can forgive.
My hand, in Anger, I as well can stay;
And I dare strike as stout a man as they;
And when I know, that I amisse have done,
I am as much asham'd as any one.

If my afflictions more then others be:
I have more comforts to keepe heart in me.
I have a Faith will carry me on high:
Vntill it lift me to Eternity.
I have a Hope, that neither want nor spight,
Nor grim Adversity, shall stop this flight:
But that undaunted, I my course shall hold,
Though twenty thousand Devils crosse me should.

Yet (I confesse) in this my Pilgrimage,
I like some Infant am, of tender age.
For, as the Childe, who from his Father hath
Strai'd in some Grove, through many a crooked path:
Is sometime hopefull that he findes the way;
And sometime doubtfull, he runs more astray.
Sometime, with faire and easie paths, doth meet;
Sometime with rougher tracts, that stay his feet.
Here runs, there goes, and yon amazed staies;
Now cries, and straight forgets his care, and playes.

Then hearing where his loving Father cals,
Makes hast, but through a zeale il-guided, fals;
Or runs some other way, untill that He
(Whose love is more then his endevours be)
To seeke this Wanderer forth, himselfe doth come,
And take him in his armes, and beare him home.

So, in this life, this Grove of ignorance,
As to my homeward, I my selfe advance;
Sometime aright, and sometime wrong I goe;
Sometime my pace is speedy, sometime slow;
Sometime I stagger, and sometime I fall:
Sometime I sing, sometime for helpe I call.
One while my waies are pleasant unto me;
Another while, as full of cares they be:
Now, I have courage, and doe nothing feare,
Anon, my Spirits halfe dejected are.
I doubt, and hope, and doubt and hope againe;
And many a change of Passions I sustaine,
In this my iourney: so, that now and then,
I lost may seeme (perhaps) to other men.
Yea, to my selfe awhile, when sinnes impure,
Doe my Redeemers loue, from me obscure.
But (whatsoe're betide) I know full well,
My Father (who above the Clouds doth dwell)
An eye upon his wandring Child doth cast;
And He will fetch me to my home at last.
For, of Gods love, a Witnesse want not I;
And whom He loves, He loves eternally.
I have within my breast a little heart,
Which seemes to be composed, of a part
Of all my Friends: For, (truely) whensoe're
They suffer any thing, I feele it there.
And they no sooner a Complaint doe make,
But presently it fals to pant and ake.

I have a Love, thae is as strong as Fate,
And such, as cannot be empayrd by Hate.
And (whatsoever the successe may prove)
I want not yet, the comforts of my Love.

These, are the Jewels that doe make me rich;
These, while I doe possesse, I want not much:
And I so happy am, that still I beare,
These Riches with me: and so safe they are,
That Pyrats, Robbers, no device of man,
Or Tyrants powre, deprive me of them can.
And were I naked, forced to exile;
More Treasure, I should carry from this Ile;
Then should be sold; though for it I might gaine,
The wealth of all America and Spaine.
For, this makes sweet my life, and when I die,
Will bring the sleepe of Death on quietly.
Yea, such as greatest pompe, in life time have;
Shall find no warmer lodging in their Grave.

Besides; I want not many things they need,
Who Me in outward Fortunes doe exceed.
I want no Guard, or Coate of Musket proofe;
My Innocence is guardiant strong enough.
J want no Title; for to be the Sonne,
Of the Almighty, is a glorious one:
I want no Followers; for, through Faith I see
A troupe of Angels still attending me.

Through want of friendship neede I not repine,
For God, and good men, are still friends of mine.
And when I iourney to the North, the East,
The pleasant South, or to the fertile West;
J cannot want for proffer'd Courtesies,
As farre as our Great Britaines Empire lies.
In every Shire, and Corner of the Land,
To welcome me, doe Houses open stand,

Of best esteeme: And Strangers to my face,
Have thought me worth the Feasting, and more grace
Then I will boast of: left you may suspect,
That I those glories (which I scorne) affect.
Of my acquaintance were a thousand glad,
And sought it, though nor wealth, nor place I had,
For their advantage. And, if some more high,
(Who on the multitudes of friends relye)
Had but a Fortune equall unto me,
Their troupe of followers would as slender be:
And those 'mong whom, they now esteeme have won,
Would scarcely thinke them, worth the looking on.

I want no Office; for (though none be voyde)
A Christian findes, he may be still employ'd.
J want no Pleasures, for I pleasures make,
What ever God is pleas'd, I undertake.
Companions want I not, For know, that I
Am one of that renown'd Societie:
Which by the Name we carry, first was knowne,
At Antioch, so many yeeres agone.
And greatest Kings, themselves have happy thought,
That to this noble Order they were brought.

I want not Armes, to fit me for the Field;
My Prayers, are my Sword; my Faith, my Shield:
By which, (how ere you prize them) I have got,
Vnwounded, thorow twenty thousand Shot.
And with these Armes, I heaven thinke to scale,
Though Hell the Ditch were, & more high the Wall.

A thousand other priviledges more
I doe possesse; in which the world is poore.
Yea, I so long could reckon, you would grant,
That though I nothing have, I nothing want.

And did the King, but know how rich I were,
I durst to pawne my Fortunes, he would sweare,

That were he not the King, I had beene Hee
Whom he (of all men) would have wisht to be.

Nec Curo.

Then, to vouchsafe me yet more fovour here;
He that supplies my Want, hath tooke my Care:
And when to bar me ought, he sees it fit,
He doth infuse a Mind to sleight at it.

Why, if He all things needfull doth bestow,
Should I for what I have not, carefull grow?
Low place I keepe; yet to a Greatnesse borne,
Which doth the Worlds affected Greatnesse scorne:
I doe disdaine her glories, and contemne
Those muddy spirits that delight in them:

I care for no mans Countenance, or grace,
Vnlesse he be as good, as great in place.
For no mans spight or envy doe I care;
For none have spight at me, that honest are.
I care not for that baser wealth, in which
Vice may become, as well as Vertue rich.
I care not for their friendship who have spent,
Loves best expressions, in meere Complement:
Nor for those Favors (though a Queenes they were)
In which I thought another had a share.

I care not for their praise, who doe not show,
That in their lives, which they in words allow.
A rush I care not who condemneth me;
That sees not what my Soules intentions be.
I care not though to all men knowne it were,
Both whom I love, or hate; For none I feare.

I care not though some Courtlers still preferre
The Parasite, and smooth tongu'd Flatterer,
Before my bold, truth-speaking Lines; and here
If these should anger them, I doe not care.

I care not for that goodly Pretious Stone,
Which Chymists have so fondly doted on.
Nor would I give a rotten Chip, that I
Were of the Rosy Crosse, Fraternity:
For, I the world too well have understood,
As to be guld with such a Brother-hood.

I care for no more knowledge, then to know
What I to God and to my Neighbour owe.
For outward Beauties I doe nothing care.
So I within, may faire to God appeare:
No other liberty I care to winne,
But to be wholy freed from my sinne.
Nor more Abilitie (whilst I have breath)
Then strength to beare my Crosses to my death,
Nor can the Earth affoord a happinesse
That shall be greater then this Carelesnesse.

For such a Life I soone should Carelesse grow,
In which I had not leasure more to know.
Nor care I, in a knowledge paines to take,
Which doth not those, who get it, wiser make:
Nor for that Wisedome, do I greatly care,
Which would not make me somewhat honester.
Nor for that morall Honestie, that shall
Refuse to joyne Religion, therewithall.
Nor for that zealous seeming Piety,
Which wanteth love and morall Honesty.
Nor for their Loves, whose base affections be,
More for their lust, then for ought good in me.
Nor, for ought good within me should I care,
But that they sprincklings of Gods goodnesse are.

For many Bookes I care not; and my store
Might now suffice me, though I had no more,
Then Gods two Testaments, and therewithall
That mighty Volume, which the World we call.
For, these well lookt on, well in minde preserv'd;
The present Ages passages observ'd:
My private Actions, seriously oreview'd.
My thoughts recald, and what of them ensu'd:
Are Bookes, which better farre, instruct me can,
Then all the other Paper-workes of man:
And some of these, I may be reading to,
Where e're I come, or whatsoe're I do.

I care not though a sight of idle Guls,
(With lavish tongues, and ever empty sculs)
Doe let my better-tempered Labours lye;
And since, I Termely make not Pamphlets flye,
Say I am idle, and doe nothing now,
As if that I were bound to let Them know,
What I were doing; Or to cast away
My breath, and Studies, on such fooles as They.
I much disdaine it: for, these Blockes be Those,
That use to read my Verse like ragged Prose;
And such as (so their Bookes be new) ne're care
Of what esteeme, nor of what use they are.

I care not, though a vaine and spungy crew,
Of shallow Critickes, in each Taverne spew
Their drunken censures on my Poesie,
Vntill among their Cupps, they sprawling lye
These poore, betattered Rimers (now and then)
With Wine and Impudence inspired can
Some sustain language utter, which doth seeme
(Among their base admirers) worth esteeme.
But those base Ivie-Poets never knew,
Which way, a sprightly, honest Rapture flew:

Nor can they relish any straine of wit,
But, what was in some drunken fury writ.

Those needy Poetasters, to preferre
Their nasty stuffe to some dull Stationer;
With Impudence extoll it: and will tell him,
The very Title of their booke shall sell him,
As many thousands of them (wholly told)
As ever of my Satyrs, have been sold,
Yet, e're a twelve moneth by the walls it lyes,
Or to the Kitchin or the Pastry hies.
Sometime, that these mens Rymes may heeded be,
They give (forsooth) a secret I erke at me.
But so obscurely, that no man may know,
Who there was a meant, untill they tell them so.
For fearing me, They dare not to be plaine,
And yet my vengeance they suspect in vaine.
For I can keepe my way, and carelesse be,
Though twenty snarling Curres doe barke at me.
And while my Fame, those fooles doe murmur at,
(And vex themselves) with laughing, I am fat.

I am not much inquisitive to know,
For what brave Action our last Fleet did go:
What men abroad performe, or what at home,
Who shall be Emperour, or Pope of Rome;
What newes from France, or Spaine, or Turkey are:
Whether of Merchandize, of Peace or Warre;
Whether Mogul, the Sophy, Prester Iohn,
The Duke of China, or the Ile Iaphan
The mightier be for, things impertinent
To my particular, or my Content
I little heed (though much thereof I know)
Nor care I whether it be true or no.
Not for because I carelesse am become,
Of the neglected State of Christendome.

But, cause (I am assur'd) what ever shall
Vnto the Church, Common-wealth befall;
(Through Sathans spight, or humane Trechery,
Or, our relying on weake Policy)
Gods promise to his glory shall prevaile:
Yea, when the fond attempts of men doe fayle,
And they lye smoaking, in th' infernall Pit;
Then Truth and Uertue shall in glory sit.
Those, who in love to things that wicked are;
And those, who thorow Cowardize and feare,
Became the damned Instruments, whereby
To set up Vice and falsehoods Tyranny;
Ev'n those shall perish by their owne offence:
And they who loved Truth and Innocence,
Out of oppression shall advance their head:
And on the ruines of those Tyrants tread.

Oh! let the Truth and Innocence, in me
For ever undefil'd preserved be:
And let me live no more; if then I care
How many miseries I live to beare,
For, well I know, I should not weigh how great
The perils are, thas my destruction threat.
Nor chaynes nor dungeons should my soule affright,
Nor grimmest Apparitions of the night:
Though men from hell could of the Devill borrow,
Those ugly prospects, to augment my sorrow.
But prove me guilty; and my Conscience than
Inflicts more smart, then bloudy Tortures can.
And none (I thinke) of me could viler deeme,
Then I my selfe, unto my selfe should seeme.

If good and honest my endevours be,
What day they were begun ne're troubles me.
I care not whether it be calme, or blow,
Or raine, or shine, or freeze, or haile, or snow:

Nor whether it be Autumne, or the Spring;
Or whether, first I heare the Cuckow sing,
Or first the Nightingale: Nor doe I care
Whether my dreames of Flowers, or Weddings are;
What Beast doth crosse me, care I not at all;
Nor how the Goblet, or the Salt doth fall;
Nor what aspect the Planets please to show,
Nor how the Diall, or the Clocke doth goe.

I doe not care to be inquisitive,
How many weeks, or months, I have to live.
For, how is't like, that I should better grow,
When I my Time shall twelve month longer know;
If I dare act a Villany, and yet,
Know I may die, whilst I am doing it?

Let them, whose braines are sicke of that disease,
Be slaves unto an Ephemerides.
Search Constellations, and themselves apply,
To finde the Fate of their Nativity.
I'le seek within me; and if there I find
Those Stars, that should give light unto my mind,
Rise faire and timely in me, and affect,
Each other with a naturall aspect;
If in conjunction, there perceive I may
True Vertue and Religion every day:
And walke according to that influence,
Which is derived unto me from thence:
I feare no Fortunes, whatsoe're they be,
Nor care I, what my Stars doe threaten me.
For He, who to that State can once attaine,
Above the power of all the Starres doth raigne:
And he that gaines a knowledge where we shall,
He is prepar'd for whatsoe're may fall:
In my conceit is farre a happier man,
Then such, as but foretell misfortunes can.

I start not at a Friers Prophecy,
Or those with which we Merlin do bely.
Nor am I frighted with the sad relation,
Of any neare approaching alteration.
For things have ever chang'd, and ever shall,
Vntill there be a change run over All.
And he that beares an honest heart about him,
Needs never feare, what changes be without him.

The Easterne Kingdomes had their times to flourish,
The Grecian Empire rising, saw them perish;
That fell, and then the Roman pride began;
Now scourged by the race of Ottoman.
And if the course of things around must run,
Till they have ending, where they first begun,
What is't to me? who peradventure must,
Ere that befall, lie moulther'd into dust.

What if America's large Tract of ground,
And all those Iles adjoyning, lately found?
(Which we more truely may a Desert call.
Then any of the worlds more civill Pale.)
What then? if there the Wildernesse doe lye,
To which the Woman and her Sonne must flie,
To scape the Dragons furie; and there bide,
Till Europes thankelesse Nations (full of pride,
And all abhomination) scourged are,
With Barbarisme as their neighbours were?

If thus God please to doe; and make our sin
The cause of bringing other Peoples in,
His Church to be (as once he pleased was,
The Gentiles calling should be brought to passe,
The better, by the Iewish vnbeliefe,)
Why, should his pleasure be my care or griefe?
Oh! let his Name and Church more glorious grow,
Although my ruine helpe to make it so.

So I, my duty in my place have done,
I care not greatly, what succeed theron:
For sure I am, if I can pleased be,
With what God wills; all shall be well for me.

I hate to have a thought o're-serious spent,
In things meere triviall, or indifferent.
When I am hungry, so I get a dish,
I care not, whether it be flesh or fish;
Or any thing, so wholsome food it be:
Nor care I, whether you doe carve to me,
The head, the tayle, the wing, the legge, or none
For, all I like, and all can let alone.
I care not, at your Table where I sit;
Nor should I thinke I were disgrac't in it,
(So much as you) if I should thence in scoffe,
To feed among your Groomes be turned off.
For I am sure that no affront can blot
His reputation, that deserves it not.
To be o're curious, I doe not professe,
Nor ever car'd I, for uncleanlinesse.
For I ne're loved that Philosophy,
Which taught men to be rude and slovenly.

I care not what yon weares, or You, or He,
Nor of what fashion my next clothes shall be,
Yet to be singular in Antique fashions,
I hold as vaine, as Apish imitations,
Of each phantastique garb our Gallants weare:
For some, as fondly proud conceited are,
To know, that the beholder taketh note,
How they still keepe their Grandsires russet Coate:
As is the proudest Lady, when that she
Hath all the fashions, that last extant be.

I care for no more Credit, then will serve
The honour of the Vertuous to preserve:

For, if the showes of honesty in me,
To others Vertues, would no blemish be;
(Nor make them deemed Hypocrites) if I
Should falsly be accus'd of Villany:
Sure, whether I were innocent, or no;
I should not thinke the world worth telling so,
Because to most men, nothing had doth see me,
Nor nothing vertuous; but as unto them,
Occasion makes it good, or ill appeare.
Yea, foulest Crimes, while they unpunisht are:
Or bring in profit, no disgrace are thought;
And truest Vertues, poore, are set at naught.

I care for no more pleasures then will make,
The Way which I intend to undertake,
So passible; that my unwealdy loade
Of frailties, incident to flesh and blood
Discourage not my willing soule from that,
Which she on good advice hath aymed at.

I care for no more Time then will amount,
To dee my worke, and make up my account.
I care for no more money, then will pay
The reckoning, and the charges of the day.
And if I neede not now, I will not borrow,
For feare of wants, that I may have to morrow.

What Kings, and States-men meane, I doe not care;
Nor will I iudge what their intentions are:
For private censures, helpe not any way,
But iniure them in their proceedings may,
Yet, Princes (by experience) we have seen,
By those they love, have greatly wronged been.
Their too much trust, doth often danger breed,
And Serpent in their Royall bosoms feed.
For, all the favours, gifts and places, which
Should honour them; do but these men inrich.

With those, they further their owne private ends:
Their faction strengthen, gratifie their friends:
Gaine new Associates, daily to their parts,
And from their Soveraigne, steale away the hearts
Of such as are about them; For those be
Their Creatures; and but rarely, thanks hath He,
Because the Grants of Pension, and of Place,
Are taken as Their favours, not His grace.

And (which is yet a greater wickednesse)
When these the loyall Subjects doe oppresse,
And grind the faces of the poore, aliue;
They'le doe it, by the Kings Prerogative.
They make Him Patron of their Villany;
And when He thinkes they serve him Faithfully,
Secure him in their loves, and all things do,
According both to Law and Conscience to;
By Vertue of his Name, they perpetrate
A world of Mischiefes: They abuse the State;
His truer-hearted Servants, they displace;
Bring their debauched Followers into grace;
His Coffers rob; (yea worser far they use Him)
The true affections of his people loose Him:
And make those hearts (which did in him believe,
All matchlesse Vertues) to suspect, and grieve.

Now, (by that Loyalty I owe my Prince)
This of all Treason, is the Quintessence.
A Treason so abhorred, that to Me,
No Treachery could halfe so odious be.
Not though my death they plotted; for more deare,
My honor, and my Friends affections are,
Then twenty Kingdomes, and ten thousand lives.
And, whosoever, Me of that deprives:
I find it would, a great deale harder be,
To move my heart to pardon; then if he

Conspired had, (when I least thought the same)
To root out my posterity and Name.

Who next in Court shall fall, I doe not care:
For, my delights, in no mans ruines are.
Nor meane I, to depend on any, so,
That his disgrace shall be my overthrow.

I care as little, who shall next arise;
For none of my Ambition that way lyes,
Those rising Starres would never deigne to shine
On any good endeavour, yet, of mine.
Nor can I thinke there shall hereafter be,
A man amongst them, that will favour Me.
For, I a Scourge doe carry, which doth feare them,
And love too much Plaine-dealing, to be neare them:

If my experience teach me any thing,
I care not old Antiquities to bring;
But can as well beleeve it to be so,
As if't were writ, three thousand yeeres ago,
And where I find good ground for my assent,
I'le not be halter'd to a President.

If men speake reason, 'tis all one to me,
Whether their Tenent, Aristotles be;
Or some Barbarians, who scarce heard of yet;
So much as with what Names the Arts we fit.
Or whether, for an Author you infer,
Some Foole, or some renown'd Philosopher.

In my Religion, I dare entertaine
No fancies hatched in mine owne weake braine
Nor private Spirits: But am ruled by
The Scriptures: and that Church Authoritie,
Which with the ancient Faith doth best agree,
But new opinions will not downe with me.
When I would learne, I never greatly care,
So Truth they teach me, who my teachers were:

In points of Faith I look not on the Man;
Nor Beza, Calvin, neither Luther can
More things, without just proofe perswade me to,
Then any honest Parish-Clarke can do.
The ancient Fathers (where consent I find)
Doe make me, without doubting of their mind,
But, where in his opinion any One
Of these great Pillars, I shall find alone,
(Except in questions which indifferent are,
And such as till his Time, unmooved were)
I shun his Doctrine; For, this swayeth me,
No man alone in points of Faith can be.

Old Ambrose, Austine, Ierome, Chrysostome,
Or any Father; if his Reverence come,
To move my free assent to any thing,
Which Reason warrants not (unlesse he bring
The sacred word of God to give me for it)
I prize not his opinion; but abhor it.
Nay, I no faction 'gainst the Truth would follow,
Although Divinest Paul, and Great Apollo,
Did leade me; if that possible it were,
That they should have permitted bin to erre.
And whilst that I am in the right (I care not
How wise, or learned, Them, you think, that are not.

J care not who did heare me, if I said,
That he who for a place of Iustice paid
A golden Inn come, was no honest Man,
Nor he that sold it: for I prove it can,
And will maintaine it, that so long as Those,
And Church preferments, we to sale expose;
Nor Common-wealth, nor Church shall ever be,
From hatefull Brib'ry, or damn'd Schisme, free.

I may be blam'd perhaps, for speaking this;
But much I care not: for the truth it is.

And were I certaine, that to blaze the same,
Would set those things (that are amisse) in frame;
Shame be my end but I would undertake it,
Though I were sure to perish when I spake it.

I care not for Preferments which are sold,
And bought (by men of common worth) for gold,
For, he is nobler who can those contemne,
Then most of such, as seek esteem in them.

I doe not for those ayrie Titles care,
Which fooles, and knaves, as well as I may weare.
Or that my Name (when e're it shall be writ)
Should be obscur'd with twenty after it.
For could I set my mind on vulgar Fame,
I would not thinke it hard to make my Name,
Mine owne Name, purchase me as true renowne,
As to be cal'd, by some old ruin'd Towne.

I love my Country, yet I doe not care,
In what Dominions my abidings are:
For, any Region on the Earth shall be,
(On good occasion) native Soile to me.

I care not though there be a muddy crew,
Whose blockishnesse (because it never knew
The ground of this my Carelesnesse) will smile,
As if they thought I raved, all this while.

For, those the Proverb saith, That live in Hell,
Can ne're conceive what 'tis in Heaven to dwell.

I care not for those Places, whereunto
Bad men doe sooner climbe then Good men do:
And from whose ever-gogling station, all
May at the pleasure of another fall.
But oh! How carelesse every way am I,
Of their base minds, who living decently
Vpon their owne demeanes; there fearelesse might
Enjoy the day from morning untill night.

In sweet contentments: rendring praise to Him,
Who gave this blessing, and this rest to them;
That free from Cares and Envies of the Court,
They honor'd in their Neighbours good report;
Might twenty pleasures, that Kings know not, trie,
And keepe a quiet Conscience till they die?

Oh God! how mad are they, who thus may do;
Yet, that poor happinesse to reach unto,
Which is but painted; will those Blessings shun,
And bribe and woo, and sweate to be undone?
How dull are they? Who, when they home may keep,
And there upon their own soft pillow sleep,
In deare security; would roame about,
Vncertaine hopes, or pleasures to find out?
Yea, straine themselves a slippery place to buy,
With hazarding their states to beggery?
With giving up, their Liberties, their Fame?
With their adventuring on perpetuall shame:
With prostituting Neeces, Daughters, Wives,
By putting into jeopardy their lives?
By selling of their Country, and the sale
Of Iustice, of Religion, Soule and All?
Still dreaming on Content; although they may
Behold by new examples, ev'ry day,
That those hopes faile, and faile them not alone,
In such vaine things as they presumed on;
But bring them also (many times) those cares,
Those sad distractions, those dispaires and feares;
That all their glorious guilding, cannot hide
Those wofull ruines, on their inner-side.
But, ten to one, at length they doe depart,
Withlosse, with shame, and with a broken heart.

I care not for this Humour, but I had
Far rather lye in Bedlam chain'd and mad,

Then be, with these mens frantique mood possest:
For there they doe lesse harme, and have more rest.

J care not when there comes a Parliament:
For I am no projector, who invent
New Monopolies, or such Suits, as Those,
Who, wickedly pretending goodly showes,
Abuses to reforme, engender more;
And farre lesse tollerable, then before.
Abusing Prince, and State, and Common weale;
Their (iust deserved) beggeries to heale:
Or, that their ill got profit, may advance
To some Great Place, their Pride, and Ignorance.
Not by Extortion, nor through Bribery,
To any Seat of Iustice, climb'd am I;
Nor live I so, as that I need to care,,
Though my proceedings, should be question'd there.
And some there be, would give their Coat away,
That they could this as confidently say.

I care for no such thriving Policy,
As makes a foole of Morall Honesty.
For, such occasions happen now and than:
That He proves Wise, that proves an Honest man.
And howsoere our Proiect-mongers deeme
Of such mens Fortunes, and of them esteeme;
(How big soe're they looke; how brave soe're,
Among their base Admirers they appeare:
Though ne're so trimme, in others feathers dight,
Though clad with Title of a Lord, or Knight;
And by a hundred thousand croucht unto)
Those gaudy Vpstarts, no more prize, I doe,
Then poorest Kennel-rakers; yea, they are
Things, which I count, so little worth my care;
That (as I loue faire Vertue) I protest,
Among all honest men the beggerl'est,

And most betatter'd Pesant, in mine eye,
Is Nobler, and more full of Majestie
Then all that brave bespangl'd Rabblement,
Compos'd of Pride, of Shifts, and Complement.

Let great and Courtly Pers'nages delight,
In some dull Gestor, or a Parasite;
Or in their dry Buffoone, that gracefully,
Can sing them baudy songs, and sweare, and lye;
And let their Mastership (if so they please)
Still favour more, the slauerings of These,
Then my free Numbers. For, I care no more,
To be approved, or esteemed, for
A witty Make-sport; than an Ape to be.
And whosoever takes delight in me,
For any quality that doth affect
His Senses better, then his Intellect;
I care not for his love. My dogge doth so,
He loves, as farre as sensuall love can go.
And if how well he lov'd me, I did weigh.
Deserves (perhaps) as much respect, as they.
I have a Soule, and must beloved be
For that which makes a lovely Soule in me;
Or else, their Loves, so little care I for,
That them, and their affections I abhor.

J care not, though some Fellowes, whose desert
Might raise them to the Pillory, or Cart,
The Stocks, the Branding-yron, or the whip,
(With such like due Preferment) those doe skip,
And by their black endeavours purchase can,
The Priviledges of a Noble man
And be as confident, in what they doe:
As if by vertue they were rais'd thereto.
For, as true Vertue hath a confidence,
So Vice, and villanies have their impudence.

And manly Resolution, both are thought,
Till both are to an equall Tryall brought;
But vicious Impudence, then proves a mocke:
And Vertuous Constancy, endures the Shocke

Though such unworthy Groomes, who t'other day,
Were but their Masters Panders to purvey
The fuell of their Lust; and had no more,
But the reversion of their meat, their Whore,
And their old cloathes to brag of. Though that these,
(The foes to Vertue, and the times disease)
Have now, to cover o're their knavery,
Got on the Robes of Wealth and bravery;
And dare behave their Rogueships sawcily,
In presence of our old Nobility:
As if they had been born to act a part,
In the contempt of Honour, and Desart,
Though all this be, and though it often hath
Discourag'd many a one, in Uertues Path,
I am the same, and Care not: For I know,
Those Butter-flies, have but a time to show
Their painted wings, that when a storme is neare,
Our habits, which for any weather are,
May shew more glorious, whilst they shrinking lye,
In some old crevise, and there starve and dye.

Those Dues, which unto Uertue doe belong,
He that despiseth, offers Uertue wrong.
So, he that followes Vertue for rewards;
And more the Credit, then the Act regards
(Or such esteeme as others seeke, doth misse)
Himselfe imagines worthier then He is.
If therefore, I can tread the way I ought;
J care not how ignoble I be thought:
Not for those Honours doe I care a flye,
Which any man can give me, or deny:

For what I reckon worth aspiring to,
Is got and kept, where others will or no.
And all the world can never raise a man
To such brave heights 'as his owne Vertues can.

I care not for that Gentry, which doth lye
In nothing but a Coat of Heraldry.
One Vertue more I rather wish I had,
Then all the Heralds to mine Armes could add:
Yea, I had rather, by my industry,
I could acquire some one good quality,
Then through the Families that noblest be
From fiftie Kings to draw my Pedigree.

Of Nations, or of Countries, I nought care,
To be Commander; my Ambitions are,
To have the Rule, and Soveraignty of things,
Which doe command great Emperours, and Kings.
Those strong, and mighty Passions wherwithall
Great Monarchs have bin foyld, and brought in thrall
I hope to trample on. And whilst that they
Force but my body (if I disobey)
I rule that Spirit; which would they constraine
Beyond my will, They should attempt in vaine.
Yea, whilst they bounded within limits here,
On some few Mortals, only domineer,
Those Titles, and that Crowne, I doe pursue,
Which shall the Devils to my power subdue.

I care not for that Ualour, which is got
By furious Choller, or the Sherry pot.
Nor (if my Cause be ill) to heare men say,
I fought it out, even when my bowels lay
Beneath my feet. A desperatenesse it is,
And there is nothing worthy praise in this;
For I have seene (and you may see it to)
That any Mastiffe dogge as much will doe.

He valiant is, who knowes the dis-esteeme,
The vulgar have of such as Cowards seeme.
And yet dares seeme one, rather then bestow
Against an honest cause, or word or blow:
Though, else he fear'd no more, to fight, or die,
Then you to strike a Dogge, or kill a Flie.
Yea, him I honour, who new wak't from sleeping,
Finds all his Spirits so their temper keeping,
As that he would not start, though by him there,
Grim Death, and Hell, and all the Deuils were.
J care not for a Coward, for to me,
No Beasts on earth, more truely hatefull be;
Since all the villanies that can be thought
Throughout the world, and altogether brought,
To make one Villaine; can make nothing more,
Then he that is a Coward, was before.
And he that is so, can be nothing lesse,
Then the perfection of all wickednesse.
In him no manly Vertues dwelling are,
Nor any shewes thereof, except for feare.
In no brave resolution is he strong,
Nor dares he bide in any goodnesse long:
For, if one threatning from his foe there come,
His vowed Resolution starts he from.
And cares not what destruction others have,
So he may gaine but hope himselfe to save.
The man that hath a fearefull heart, is sure
Of that disease that never finds a cure.
For take and arme him through in every place,
Build round about him twenty walls of Brasse;
Girt him with Trenches, whose deepe bottoms lye
Thrice lower, then three times the Alpes are hye.
Provide (those Trenches, and those walls to ward)
A Million of old Souldiers for his guard,

All honest men and sworne: His Feaver will
Breake in (despight of all) and shake him still.
To scape this feare, his Guard he would betray,
Make cruelly his dearest friend away;
Act any base, or any wicked thing,
Be Traytour to his Country, or his King,
Forsweare his God, and in some fright goe nig
To hang himselfe, to scape the feare to dye.
And for these reasons, J shall never care,
To reckon them for friends, that Cowards are.

I care not for large Fortunes: For I find,
Great wants best try the Greatnesse of the minde,
And though I must confesse, such Times there be,
In which the common wish, hath place in me.
Yet, when I search my heart, and what content
My God vouchsaf'd me hath; I count my Rent
To be above a thousand pound a yeare,
More then it can unto the world appeare.
And with more wealth, I lesse content might find,
If I with riches, had some rich mans mind.
A dainty Palate would consume in cheare,
(More then I doe) an hundred pounds a yeere,
And leave me worse sufficed then I am.
Had I an inclination, much to game;
A thousand Markes would annually away,
And yet I want my full content at Play.
If I in Hawks or Dogs had much delight,
Twelve hundred Crownes it yeerely waste me might;
And yet, not halfe that pleasure bring me to,
Which from one Line of This, receive I do.
If I to brave Apparell were inclin'd,
Five Students Pensions, I should yeerely spend,
Yet not be pleas'd so well, with what I weare,
As now I am; Nor take so little care.

I much for Physick might be forc't to give,
And yet a thousand fold, lesse healthy live.
To keep my right, the Law my goods might wast,
And with vexation tyre me out at last.

These, and (no doubt) with these full many a thing
To make me lesse content, more wealth might bring,
Yet more employ me to, for few I see
Who owners of the greatest Fortunes be:
But they have still, as they more riches gaine,
More State, more lusts, more troubles to maintaine
With their Revenues. That the whole account,
Of their great seeming Blisse, doth scarce amount
To halfe of my content. And can I lesse
Esteem this rare acquired happinesse,
Then I, a thousand pound in Rent would prize:
Since with lesse trouble, it doth more suffice?
No, for as when the March is swift and long,
And men have foes to meet, both fierce and strong,
That Souldier in the Conflict best doth fare,
Who getteth Armes of proofe, that lightest are:
So I, who with a little, doe enjoy
As much my pleasure and content, as they,
Whom farre more wealth and businesse doth molest;
Account my Fortune and Estate the best.
Gods favour in it, I extoll the more:
And great possessions much lesse care I for.

I care not so I still my selfe may be,
What others are, or who takes place of me.
I care not for the times unjust neglect;
Nor feare their frowns, nor praise their vain respect.
For, to my selfe my worth doth never seeme;
Or more, or lesse, for other mens esteeme.
The Turke, the Devill, Antichrist, and all
The Rabble of that Body mysticall,

J care not for; and I should sorry be,
If I should give them cause to care for me.

What Christians ought not to be carefull for,
What the Eternall Essence doth abhor,
I hate as I am able; and for ought
Which God approves not, when I spend a thought.
I truly wish that from mine eyes might raine,
A shower of Teares, to buy it backe againe.

I care not for their Kin, who blush to see,
Those of their bloud, who are in meane degree.
For, that bewrayes unworthinesse; and showes,
How they by chance, and not by vertue rose.
To say, My Lord, my Cousin, can to me
(In my opinion) no such honour be;
(If he from vertues precepts goe astray)
As when (my honest Kinsman) I can say,
And they are fooles, who, when they raised are;
Faine their beginnings, nobler then they were.
Yea, they doe rob themselves of truest Fame,
With some false honor to belye their Name.
For, such as to the highest Titles rise,
From pore beginnings, nobler then they were.
To honour and observe them (farre) then all
That doe succeed them, ever boast of, shall,
For, being nothing more then they were borne,
Men heed them not (unlesse they merit scorne)
For some unworthinesse. And then, perchance,
As their forefathers meannesse, did advance
His praise the higher, so their Greatnesse shall,
Make greater both their infamy and fall.

It is mens glory therefore, not a blot,
When they the start of all their Names have got;
And it is worthlesse Envy, first begun,
That false opinion, which so farre hath run.

Which well they know, whose Vertues honour win,
And shame not to confesse their poorest Kin,
For, whensoever they doe looke on those,
To God they praises give, and thus suppose:
Loe; when the hand of heaven, advanced us,
Above our brethren, to be lifted thus;
He let them stay behind, for markes to show,
From whence we came, and whither we may goe.

To have the mind of those, I doe not care,
Who both so shamelesse, and so foolish are,
That to acquire some poore esteeme, where they
Were neuer heard of, untill yesterday,
(And never shall perhaps, be thought on more)
Can Prodigally there, consume their store:
And stand upon their points of honour so,
As if their credit had an overthrow,
Without redemption: If in ought they misse,
Wherein the accomplish't Gallant punctuall is.
Yet basely, ev'ry qualitie despise,
In which true Wisedome, and true honour lies.

If you, and one of those, should dine to day,
Twere three to one, but he for all would pay:
If but your servant light him to the doore,
He will reward him: if but he, and's whore,
Carocht a Furlong are; the Coach-man may,
For sennight after, let his Horses play,
And yet, this fellow, whom abroad you shall
Perceive so noble, and so liberall,
(To gaine a dayes, perhaps, but one houres Fame)
Mong those that hardly, will inquire his name.
At home (where every good, and every ill,
Remaines to honour, or to shame him still)
Neglects Humanitie. Yea, where he lives,
And needs most love; all cause of hatred giver,

To poole, to racke, to ruine, and oppresse
The poore, the widdow, and the fatherlesse,
To shift, to lie, to cousen, and delay,
The Lab'rer and the Creditor of pay,
Are there his practises. And yet this Asse,
Would for a man of worth, and honour passe,
The Devill he shall assoone: and I will write,
The Storie of his being Convertite.

I care not for the worlds vaine blast of Fame,
Nor doe I greatly feare the Trumpe of shame:
For whatsoever good, or ill is done,
The rumor of it in a weeke is gone.
One thing puts out another; and men sorrow,
To day, perhaps, for what they joy to morrow.
And it is likely, that ere night they may
Condemne the man, they pleased yesterday?
Hang him next morning, and be sorry then,
Because he cannot be alive agen.

But, grant the fame of things had larger date;
Alas! what glory is it if men prate
In some three Parishes of what we doe,
When three great Kingdomes are but Mole-hils to
The earths Circumference? and scarce one man
Of twenty Millions, know our actions can?
Beleeve me, it is worth so little thought,
(If the offence to others were not ought)
What mens opinions or their speeches be,
That were (there not a better cause in me,
Which moov'd to Vertue) I would never care,
Whether my actions good or evill were.

Though still unheeded of the World, I spend
My Time and Studies to the noblest end;
One hayre, I care not. For, I find reward
Beyond the worlds requitall, or regard.

And since all men, some things erronious doe,
And must in Iustice, somewhat suffer to,
In part of my correction This, I take;
And that I favour'd am, account doe make.

I care not, though there ev'ry houre, should be
Some outward discontent to busie me.
And, as I would not too much triall have;
So, too much carnall peace I doe not crave.
The one, might give my Faith a dangerous blow,
The other would pervert my life, I know.
For, few love Vertue in adversitie;
But fewer hold it in Prosperitie.
Vaine Hopes (when I had nought, but hopes alone)
Have made me erre: Then whither had I gone,
(If I, the full possessions had attaind)
When, but meere Hopes, my heart to folly traind?
Smooth Waies would make me wanton; and my course
Must lye, where Labour, Industry, and Force,
Must worke me Passage: or, I shall not keepe
My Soule from dull securities dead sleepe:
But, outward discontentments make me flie
Farre higher, then the worlds Contents doe lie.

I neither for their pompe, or glory care,
Who by the love of vice advanced are.
Faire Uertue is the lovely Nymph I serve;
Her will I follow, her Commands observe;
Yea, though the purblinde world perceive not where,
The best of all her Favours I doe weare.
And, when great Vices, with faire baited hookes,
Large promises of favour tempting lookes,
And twenty wiles, hath woo'd me to betray,
That noble Mistresse; I have turn'd away:
And flung defiance both at Them and Theirs,
In spight of all their gaudy Servitors.

In which brave daring, I opposde have bin
By mighty Tyrants; and was plunged in
More wants, then thrice my fortunes would have born,
When our Heroes did, or feare, or scorne,
To lend me succour (yea in that weake age,
When I but newly entred on the Stage
Of this proud world) So that, unlesse the King
Had nobly pleas'd, to heare the Muses sing,
My bold Apologie; till now might I
Have struggling bin, beneath their Tyranny.
But all those threatning Comets I have seene
Blaze, till their glories quite extinct have been.
And I, that crusht and lost was thought to be,
Live yet, to pitty those that spighted me:
Enjoying Hopes which so well grounded are,
That, what may follow, I nor feare, nor care.
Yet those I know there be, who doe expect,
What length my Hopes shall have, and what effect:
What envious eyes awayting every day,
When all my confidence shall slip away.
And make me glad, through those base paths to fly,
Which they have trod, to raise their Fortunes by.

They flout to heare, that I doe Conscience make,
What Place I sue for, or what Course I take.
They laugh to see me spend my youthfull time,
In serious Studies; and to teach my Rime
The Straines of Vertue; whil'st I might perchance,
By Lines of Ribaldry, my selfe advance
To place of favour. They make scoffes, to heare
The praise of Honesty; as if it were
For none but vulgar minds. And since they live
In brave prosperity, they doe believe
It shall continue: and account of Me,
As one scarce worthy of their scorne to be.

All this is Truth; yea, trust me, care I not;
Nor love I Vertue, ought the worse a lot.
For, I oft said, that I should live, to see
My Way, faire safer then their Courses be.
And I have seene, nor one, nor two, nor ten,
But (in few yeares) great numbers of those men,
From goodly bravery, to rags decline,
And waite upon as poore a Fate as mine.

Yea those, whom but a day or two before,
Were (in their owne vaine hopes) a great deale more
Then any of our Auncient Baronage:
(And such as many Wisemen of this age,
Have wisht to be the men) ev'n those, have I
Seene hurled downe to shame, and beggery,
In one twelve houres: and grow so miserable,
That they become the scornefull, hatefull fable
Of all the Kingdome. And there's none so base,
But thought himselfe a man in better case.

This, makes me pleased with mine owne estate,
And fearefull to desire anothers Fate.
This makes me Carelesse of the worlds proud scorne,
And of those glories, whereto such are borne.
And, if to have me, still kept meane and poore,
To Gods great glory, shall ought adde the more:
Or if to have disgraces heapt on me;
(For others, in their way to Blisse) may be
Of more Advantage, then to see me thrive
In outward Fortunes, or more prized live:
J care not though I never see that day,
Which with one pins-worth more enrich me may.

Yea, by the eternall Dietie I vow;
Who knowes I lye not, who doth heare me now.
Whose dreadfull Majestie is all I feare,
Of whose great Spirit, These the sparklings are,

And who will make me, such proud daring, rue;
If this my protestation be untrue.

So I may still retaine that in Peace,
That love and taste of the eternall Blisse;
Those matchlesse comforts, and those brave desires,
Those sweet Contentments, and immotrall Fires,
Which at this instant doe inflame my brest;
(And are too excellent to be exprest)

J doe not care a Rush, though I were borne
Vnto the greatest poverty and scorne:
That (since God first infus'de it; with his breath)
Poore flesh and bloud, did ever groane beneath.
Excepting onely, such a load it were,
As no Humanitie was made to beare.

Yea, let me keep these thoughts; and let be hurld,
Vpon my backe, the spight of all the world,
Let me have neither drinke nor bread to eate,
Nor Cloathes to weare, but those for which I sweat.
Let me become unto my foes a slave;
Or, causelesse here the markes of iustice have;
For some great villany, that I nere thought,
Let my best actions, be against me brought.
That small repute, and that poore little Fame
Which I have got; let men unto my shame
Hereafter turne. Let me become the fable,
A talke of fooles. Let me be miserable
In all mens eyes, and yet let no man spare,
(Though that would make me happy) halfe a reare.
Nay (which is more unsufferable farre,
Then all the miseries yet spoken are)
Let that deare Friend, whose love is more to me,
Then all those drops of Crymson liquor be,
That warme my heart (and for whose onely good:
I could the brunt of all this Care have stood)

Let him forsake me. Let that prized Friend,
Be cruell too; and when distrest, I send
To seeke his Comfort, let him look on me
With bitter scorne, and so hard-hearted be;
As that (although he know me innocent,
And how those miseries I under-went,
In love to him) He, yet deny me should,
One gentle looke, though that suffice me could.
And (truly grieu'd, to make me) bring in place,
My well knowne Foe, to scorne me to my face,

Let this befall me, and with this, beside,
Let me, be for the faulty friend belide.
Let my Religion, and my honestie,
Be counted till my death Hypocrisie.
And when I die, let till the genrall Doome,
My Name, each houre into question come,
For Sinnes I never did. And if to this,
You ought can adde, which yet more grievous is,
Let that befall me too; So that, in Me,
Those comforts may increase, that springing be,
To helpe me beare it. Let that Grace descend,
Of which I now, some portion apprehend:
And then, as I already (heretofore)
(Vpon my Makers strength, relying) swore,
So, now I sweare againe; if ought it could,
Gods glory further, that I suffer should:
Those Miseries recited; I nor care,
How soone they ceaz'd me, nor how long they were
For, He can make them Pleasures, and I know,
As long as he inflicts them, will doe so.
Nor unto this assurance am I come,
By any Apothegmes gathered from
Our old, and much admir'd Philosophers.
My Sayings are mine owne, as well as theirs;

For, whatsoe're account of them is made,
I have as good experience of them had:
Yea, when I die (though now they sleighted be)
The Times to come, for them, shall honour me,
And praise that Minde of mine, which now perchance,
Shall be reputed foolish Arrogance.

Oh! that my Lines were able to expresse
The Cause and Ground, of this my Carelesnesse.
That I might shew you, what brave things they be,
Which at this instant are a fire in me.

Fooles may deride me, and suppose, that This
(No more) but some vaine-glorious Humour is;
Or such like idle Motion, as may rise
From furious and distempered Phantasies.
But, let their thoughts be free; I know the Flame
That is within me, and from whence it came;
Such things have fild me, that I feele my braine
Wax giddy, those high Raptures to containe.
They raise my Spirits, which now whirling be,
As if they meant to take their leave of me.
And could these Straines of Contemplation, stay
To lift me higher still, but halfe a day:
By that Time, they would mount to such a height,
That all my Cares would have an end to Night.

But oh! I feele the fumes of flesh and bloud,
To clog those Spirits in me, and like mud,
They sinke againe. More dimly burne my fires,
To Her low pitch, my Muse againe retires:
And as her Heavenly flames extinguisht be,
The more I finde my Cares to burthen me.

Yet, I beleeve, I was enlightned so,
That never shall my Spirit stoope so low,
To let the servile thoughts, and dunghill cares,
Of common Minds, entrap me in their snares.

For, still I value not, those things of nought,
For which the greatest part, take greatest thought.
Much for the world J care not, and (confesse)
Desire I doe, my care for it were lesse.
I doe not care, (for ought they me could harme)
If with more mischiefes, this last age did swarme;
Yea such poore Joy I have, or Care to see
The best Contents these times can promise Me.
And that small feare of any Plague at all,
(Or Miseries) which on this Age may fall.
That, but for Charitie, I did not care
If all those comming stormes, which some doe feare,
Were now descending downe. For Hell can make
No uproare, which my peacefull thoughts may shake.
I founded have my hopes on Him that hath
A shelter for me, in the day of wrath.
And I have trust, I shall (without amaze,)
Looke up, when all burnes round me in a blaze.
And if to have these Thoughts, & this Mind known,
Shall spread Gods praise no further then mine owne:
Or, if This shall no more instructive be,
To others; then it glory is to Me:
Here let it perish, and be hurled by,
Into oblivion everlastingly,
For, with this Mind, I can be pleas'd, (as much)
Though none but I my selfe did know it such.
And, he that hath contentment, needs not care;
What other mens opinions of it, are
I care not though for many griefes to come,
To live an hundred yeeres, it were my Doome.
Nor care I though I summon'd be, away,
At Night, to Morrow-morning, or to Day.

I care not whether This, you read or no,
Nor whether you beleeve it, if you doe.

I care not whether any Man suppose
All This from Iudgement, or from Rashnes flowes.
Nor meane I, to take Care what any man,
Will thinke thereof; Or Comment on it can.

I care not who shall fondly censure it;
Because it was not with more Method writ:
Or fram'd in imitation, of the Straine,
In some deepe Grecian or old Romane vaine.
Yea, though that all men living should despise,
These Thoughts in Me, to heed, or Patronize:
I vow, I care not. And I vow, no lesse,
I care not who dislikes this Carelesnesse.

My Minde's my Kingdome; and I will permit
No others Will, to have the rule of it.
For, I am free; and no mans power (I know)
Did make me thus, nor shall unmake me now.
But, through a Spirit none can quench in me:
This Mind I got, and this, my Mind shall be.

To Envy.

Now looke upon Me Envy, if thou dare,
Dart all thy Malice shoot mee ev'ry where:
Try all thy waies thou canst, to make me feele
The cruell sharpnesse of thy poys'ned steele.
For, I am Envy-proofe, and scorne I doe,
The worst thy cankered spight can urge thee to.
This Word, I care not, is so strong a Charme,
That He, who speakes it truely feares no harme,
Which thy accursed Rancor, harbor may;
Or, his perversest Fortunes, on him lay.
Goe, hatefull Fury; Hagge, goe, hide thou then,
Thy snakie head, in thy abhorred Den.
And since thou canst not have thy will of Me:
There, Damned Fiend, thine own tormentres be,
Thy forked slings upon thy body turne;
With Hellish flames, thy scorched entrailes burne;
From thy leane Carkasse, thy blacke fine was teare,
With thine owne Venome burst, and perish there.

Nec Habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.

A Postscript.

Qvite through this Iland hath my Motto rung,
And twenty dayes are past, since up I hung
My bold Impreza: which defiance throwes
At all the malice of faire Vertues foes.
The good approve it; and so crowne the Cause
Of this my Resolution, with applause:
That such as spight it, dare not to appeare,
In opposition to the Challenger.
Their Malice would enforce them; but, it lyes
Oppressed yet, with fearefull Cowardize;
For, they so arm'd have found me, that they feare,
I may (in spight of all their Enuy) beare
The Conquest from them: and upon the Face
Of their be-spotted Fame, stick more disgrace.

This, makes them Storme in private, Slander, Raile,
Threat, Libell, Rime, Detract; and to prevaile
Vpon my Patience, try their utmost Art,
But, I still mind my Mottoes latter part,
And Care not for it which more makes them chafe,
And still the more they fret, the more I laugh.

But, now their Envies have so well conspir'd,
That they have fram'd the Proiect they desir'd;
And tooke such course, that (if their word you take)
Shall move my Choller, and my Patience shake.

Forsooth, some Rimers they have hyr'd, to chew
Their Rancor into Balladry, and spew
Their blacke Despight, which to a drunken note,
They, in a hundred Tavernes, have by roate
Already belcht unto that Auditory,
Who are the fittest Trumpets of their Story.

When their Inventions (by the power Divine
Of much-inspiring Sacke and Claret wine)
Are ripened to the highest; then they say
The Stationer expects it ev'ry day:
And that he may a saving bargaine make,
(Aforehand) doth his Customers bespeake.

But when these Braine wormes crawling forth you spy,
(As pitty 'twere, such wit should smother'd lie)
They will bewray the Sires; and mak't appeare,
That Ignorance and Envy Parents were
Yo that despightfull Issue: So, that he
Who shall a Rush the lesse, esteeme of Me,
For ought there Writ: ev'n (He) is one of Them,
Whose Hate, and whose Affection I contemne.

The Instruments they get to serve the turne,
Are those, that are unworthy of my Scorne:
And if contend, or answer them I should;
It more might wrong me, then their Riming could,
As therefore, when an armed Souldier feeles
A testy Curre in vaine to gnaw his heeles;
He minds not Him: but spends his blowes upon
Those churlish Peasants, that did set him on.
So; I, that know these Dogges doe but their kind;
Well; let them barke, and snarle, and spend their wind,
Till they grow weary. But let them sit strong,
That urge them to it; or I'le lay along
Their high Top gallant, where each Groome shall see
How worthy scorne and infamy they be.
For, they who are their Patrons are such Foes,
As I may somewhat worthily oppose:
And I'le unmaske them so, that you shall spie
In them, Detractions true Anatomy.
Yea, whereas they have by their malice, thought
To have on me their spightfull pleasures wrought;

I'le from their Censures, an occasion take,
To show how other men a sport shall make
At all Detractions; So, those slaves undoe,
Who that base practise are inclin'd unto.

Raile they that list: for those men know not yet,
What mind I have; who thinke the man that writ
This Motto, can be ever brought to feare
Such poore fond things, as idle Carpers are;
Nay rather, from those slanders they shall raise,
I will advantage gather for my praise:
While they that in my shame would take delight,
Shall gnaw their flesh through vengeance and despight
To see how I, unmov'd their envy mocke,
And make of them this Ages laughing-stocke.

For, lest to have prevailed they should seeme;
And so grow wise men in their owne esteeme:
(Or, by their foolish brags, dishearten such,
Whose resolutions are not growne so much)
When I at leisure am; for Recreation,
I'le merry make my selfe, to their vexation;
Yet shall my Mirth from Malice be so free,
That though I bitter to the guilty be.
It shall appeare that I in love doe scourge them,
That of their foule Corruptions I may purge them.
And that it may be knowne how Vertue hath
A sting to punish, though not moov'd to wrath.

But goe; and for the Pamphlet seeke about,
For, yet ere night ('tis thought) it will come out.
Yet, when you finde it; Doe not looke for there
His wit alone, whose Name you see it beare:
(For though you nothing can collect from thence,
But foul-mouth'd Language, Rime and Impudence)
Yet there expect, (since 'tis the common cause
Of all Crowe-Poets, and Poeticke-Dawes,

Which I have toucht) that all the Brotherhood,
Will lend theit wits to make the Quarrell good.
For, to that purpose they are all combind;
Yea, to their strong Confed'racy are ioynd,
That Corporation, by whose Patronage,
Such Poetry hath flourisht in this Age:
And some beside, that dare not yet be knowne,
Haue favour, to this goodly Project showne.

But, let them joyne their force; For I had rather
Ten Millions should themselves against Me gather;
(And plot and practise for my overthrow)
Then be the Conqueror of one base Foe.
For, as mine enemies increasing be;
So, Resolution doth increase in mee:
And if I must have foes, my Fates shall friend me,
If great and noble enemies they send me.

But, whether on meane Foes, or great I light,
My Spirit will be greater then their spight.