University of Virginia Library

Thus have I labour'd some effects to show,
That doe from mens abused Passions flow:
Which with examples of old ages past,
And wisemens sayings I might more have grac'd.
But that I am resolv'd to tie my Rimes
As much as may be to the present Times.

I also might amongst these here have told,
The bodies passions, as Hunger, Cold,
Heat, Thirst, and such like: but their force is seene,
And most men have sufficient carefull beene
How to prevent them. They last not so long,
Nor are by much so violent and strong,
Or dangerous as these. But if men knew,
Or with the eie of Reason would o'er-view
These soule-bred maladies (as sure they ought)
They would with greater diligence have sought
The cure of them, before the worst disease,
That doth the body and no more displease.
But now the reason men disturbed are
For the most part with such preposterous Care,
Is this; Through their corrupted judgement they
Doe only on things seene depend and stay.
Which being most apparant to the sense,
So muffles up the weake intelligence,
And blinds her that shee hath no power to see
The better things that more subsisting be.
When if they could conceive but halfe so well
The soules estate they'd labour to expell
All those corruptions that may cause her woe,
And those fell Passions that molest her so.
But some men have in this opinion stood,
That every Passion's naturall and good.
Indeed Philosophers the same doe call,
A motion of the soule that's naturall.
And in some sort, we may not be affraid
To hold for truth as much as they have said.
But we must make a difference of it then;
And grant that two-fold Passions are in men:
One sort unto the noblest things aspiring
And such as what is meerely good desiring,
Therein rejoyceth: moderate and weake
In operation. And the truth to speake,
We have it rather by Gods inspiration,
Than bred within us at our generation.

The other (as the effects thereof doe show)
Doth by our owne corrupted nature grow;
For, it is head-strong, rash, insatiate,
Wonderous disordred and immoderate.
Of which kinde these are, whereof I have spoken,
And they are oft the cause mens sleepes are broken
'Tis that, which makes them rave or grieve, or joy
So out of measure for a trifling toy.
Yea, that tis onely makes them oft so teastie;
Their friends seeme troublesome, their beds uneasie.
And lastly these are the occasions still
Of all misfortunes and of every ill.
Th' effects they doe produce we also see.
Contrary to our expectations be.
For he that hopes or lookes for to attaine
Great joy and pleasure, haps on griefe and paine.

But by what meanes may men these Passions kill?
Sure, not by the procuring of their will,
As some imagine. For first it may be
A thing that's not in possibility
For them to reach unto. But say it were,
Will the ambitious minded-man forbeare
To be ambitious if he once fulfill
His longing thoughts? No, he will rather still
Increase that Passion which at first he had,
Or fall into some other that's as bad.
For altering the condition or estate,
The soules vexation doth no more abate,
Than changing roomes or beds doth ease his paines
That hath a Fever: sith the cause remaines
Still in himselfe. But how and which way then
May these diseases be recur'd in men?
Why, by Philosophy, Counsell and Reason:
These being well appli'd in their due season,
May doe much good. Else seeke the cause whence rise
These hurtfull and pernitious maladies.
Let them consider that, and so they may
Cut off th' effect by taking it away.
But if they cannot the occasions finde,
Ile tell them, tis a basenesse of the minde;
Or else a false opinion that's in some,
Of good or evill present or to come.

Respecting good things thus: They doe desire
And are too vehemently set on fire
With coveting what seemes so; or annoying
Themselves with an excessiue Over-joying
In the obtaining. In regard of ill,
They are oppressed with some sorrow still.
So that we see if men would goe about
To change their minds and drive that basenesse out
Through magnanimity (And note well this,
That Passion but some false opinion is,
Fram'd by the will and drawne by the direction
Of judgement that's corrupted by affection)
Me thinks they might by reasons helpe confound
The former terrors that have tane such ground
In their weake hearts and learne for to esteeme
That which doth neither good nor evill seeme
(And in their soules such perturbation wrought)
As things nor good nor ill; and that which ought
(Being unworthy) neither to molest,
Nor breed no passions in their carefull brest.

By these, and other such like meanes as these,
The wise Philosophers in elder daies
Kept out those furies. And 'twere now a shame
If that we Christians could not doe the same;
Having besides these helpes whereon they staid,
A certaine promise of a better aide,
If wee'l but aske it. Let's demand it then,
To rid these evils from our soules agen.
If that wee feele them yet not stirring in us,
Let us preuent them ere by force they win us.
For 'tis more easie (every one doth know)
To keepe him out, than to expell a foe.

If any thinke I from my purpose swerve,
Cause my intent was chiefly to observe,
And not to Teach: let them not blame me tho;
For who can see his friends lie sick, and know
Which way to cure them? But you'l say my skill
Cannot instruct you: yet may my good will
Be worth accepting: and that howsoever
Is not to be rejected altogether.
For, I have seene when in a knowne disease,
Doctors withall their Art could give no ease
To their weake patient; a poore Country dame
Hath with a home-made med'cine cur'd the same:
And why not I in this? Yes, Ile abide it;
Being well us'd, it helpes for I have tride it.

Thus much for that; but still there doe remaine
Some other Observations to explaine:
I have not done; for I am further taskt,
And there's more humors yet to be unmaskt,
Wherein because I will not step astray,
Nor swerve from Truth a jot beside the way,
I'l say no more (lest men should seeme belide)
Than what my owne experience hath espide:
And then, if any frowne (as sure they dare not)
So I speake Truth let them frowne still I care not.
But if my Muse you should so sawcy finde,
Sometime to leave her notes and speake her minde
As oft she will when she perchance doth see
How vaine, or weake, or fickle most men be.
Yet blame me not, 'tis out of much good will
I beare to you and hatred unto ill.
Which when I see my purpos'd course I breake,
Because indeed, I am compell'd to speake.
Yet thinke not, though I some-where bitter be,
I count my selfe from all those vices free:
Rather imagine 'tis to me well knowne,
That here with others faults I tell mine owne.