Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

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.