Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

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.