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Ivvenilia

Wither, George (1588-1667)

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[section]
  
[Loe this is he whose infant Muse begann]
  
TO The Reader upon these POEMES.
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ABUSES STRIPT and VVHIPT:
  
[dedication]
 1. 
To Time.
 2. 
Epigram. 2.
 3. 
3. To the Stranger.
 4. 
4. To the Satyro-mastix.
  
To the gald Reader.
  
To the impartiall Author.
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THE FIRST BOOK
  
THE OCCASION of this WORKE.
  
An Jntroduction.
  
Of Man.
 1. 
Of the Passion of Love.
 2. 
Of Desire, or Lust.
 3. 
Of Hate.
 4. 
Of Envie.
 5. 
Of Revenge.
 6. 
Of Choler.
 VII. 
Of Iealousie.
 8. 
Of Covetousnes.
 9. 
Of Ambition.
 10. 
Of Feare.
 11. 
Of Despaire.
 12. 
Of Hope.
 13. 
Of Compassion.
 14. 
Of Crueltie.
 15. 
Of Ioy.
 16. 
Of Sorrow.
  
The Conclusion.
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THE SECOND BOOK Of the Vanity, Inconstancie, Weaknesse, and Presumption of Men.
  
PRECATIO.
 1. 
Of Vanity.
 2. 
Of Inconstancie.
 3. 
Of Weaknesse.
 4. 
Of Presumption.
  
EPILOGVS.
  
The Scourge.
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Certaine Epigrams to the Kings most excellent Maiestie, the Queen, the Prince, the Princesse, and other Noble and Honourable Personages, and Friends; to whom the Author gave many of his Books.
 1. 
To the Kings Maiestie.
 2. 
Another to his Maiestie.
 3. 
To the Queens Majestie.
 4. 
To Charles, Prince of Wales.
 5. 
To the Princesse.
 6. 
To the Lords of his Majesties most Honourable Privie-Councell.
 7. 
To Henry Earl of South-hampton.
 8. 
To William, Earl of Pembroke.
 9. 
To the Lord Lisle, Lord Chamberlain to the Queen.
 10. 
To the Lady Mary Wroth.
  
To the Lord Ridgevvay.
 12. 
To his Father.
 13. 
To his Mother.
 14. 
To his deare Friend, Mr. Thomas Cranly.
 15. 
To his loving Friend and Cousen-German, Mr. William Wither.
 16. 
To his School-Master, Mr. Iohn Greaves.
  
To the captious Reader.
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Prince HENRIES Obsequies;
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To the Right Honourable ROBERT Lord Sidney of Penshurst, Vicount Lisley, Lord Chamberlain to the Queens Majesty, and L. Governour of Vlushing, and the Castle of Ramekins.
  
Anagrams on the name of Sir William Sidney Knight, deceased.
  
[section]
  
Epitaph.
  
To the whole VVorld in generall, and more particularly to the Iles of Great-Britaine and Ireland, &c.
  
[Death that by stealth did wound P. Henries heart]
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Prince HENRIES Obsequies;
 1. 
[Eleg. 1.]
 2. 
Eleg. 2.
 3. 
Eleg. 3.
 4. 
Eleg. 4.
 5. 
Eleg. 5.
 6. 
Eleg. 6.
 7. 
Eleg. 7.
 8. 
Eleg. 8.
 9. 
Eleg. 9.
 10. 
Eleg. 10.
 11. 
Eleg. 11.
 12. 
Eleg. 12.
 13. 
Eleg. 13.
 14. 
Eleg. 14.
 15. 
Eleg. 15.
 16. 
Eleg. 16.
 17. 
Eleg. 17.
 18. 
Eleg. 18.
 19. 
Eleg. 19.
 20. 
Eleg. 20.
 21. 
Eleg. 21.
 22. 
Eleg. 22.
 23. 
Eleg. 23.
 24. 
Eleg. 24.
 25. 
Eleg. 25.
 26. 
Eleg. 26.
 27. 
Eleg. 27.
 28. 
Eleg. 28.
 29. 
Eleg. 29.
 30. 
Eleg. 30
 31. 
Eleg. 31.
 32. 
Eleg. 32.
 33. 
Eleg. 33.
 34. 
Eleg. 34.
 35. 
Eleg. 35.
 36. 
Eleg. 36.
 37. 
Eleg. 37.
 38. 
Eleg. 38.
 39. 
Eleg. 39.
 40. 
Eleg. 40.
 41. 
Eleg. 41.
 42. 
Eleg. 42.
 43. 
Eleg. 43.
 44. 
Eleg. 44.
 45. 
Eleg. 45.
  
An Epitaph, Vpon the most Hopefull and All-vertuous Henry Prince of Wales.
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A supposed Inter-locution between the Spirit of Prince Henry, and Great Britain.
  
[section]
  
The Spirit leaves his Eccho, and speaks on.
  
A Sonnet of Death,
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A SATYRE, Written To the Kings most Excellent Majestie, BY George Wither,
  
The Satyre to the meer Courtiers.
  
To the Honest Courtiers.
  
To the Kings most Excellent Majestie.
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[subsection]
  
A Metricall Paraphrase upon the CREEDE.
  
To whō that he so much vouchsafe we may, Thus as a member of his Church, I pray
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Wither's Motto
  
The Explanation of the Embleme.
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Wither's Motto.
  
[section]
  
Nec Habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.
  
Nec Habeo.
  
Nec Careo.
  
Nec Curo.
  
To Envy.
  
A Postscript.
  
An Epigram, written by the Author on his owne Picture; where this Motto was inscribed.

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To his Father.

Epigram 12.

Others may glory that their Fathers hands
Have scrap'd together mighty sums of gold,
Boast in the circuit of new purchast lands,
Or heards of cattell more than can be told.
God give them joy, their wealth Ile ne'er envy,
For you have gotten me a greater store,
And though I have not their prosperity,
In my conceit I am not halfe so poore.
273

You learn'd me with a little to content me,
Shew'd how to bridle passion in some measure;
And through your meanes I have a Talent lent me,
Which I more value than all Indies treasure.
For, when the almost boundlesse Patrimonies
Are wasted; those by which our Great-ones trust
To be eterniz'd; when their braveries
Shall be forgotten, and their Tombes be dust;
Then to the glory of your future line,
Your own and my friends sacred memorie,
This little poore despised wealth of mine
Shall raise a Trophee of Eternitie;
Which fretting Envy, not consuming Time,
Shall e'er abolish or one whit offend;
A toplesse Statue that to Starres shall climbe,
Such fortune shall my honest minde attend.
But I must needs confesse, 'tis true, I yet
Reap little profit in the eies of men.
My Talent yeelds small outward benefit,
Yet I'le not leave it for the world agen.
Though't bring no gain that you by artfull sleight
Can measure out the earth in part, or whole,
Sound out the Centers depth, and take the height
Either of th' Artick or Antartick Pole;
Yet 'tis your pleasure, it contentment brings;
And so my Muse is my content and joy:
I would not misse her to be rank'd with Kings,
How-ever some account it as a toy.
But having then (and by your means) obtain'd
So rich a Patrimonie for my share,
(For which with links of love I'me ever chain'd)
What duties fitting for such bounties are.
Moreover, Nature brought me in your debt,
And still I owe you for your cares and fears:
274

Your pains and charges I do not forget,
Besides the interest of many yeares.
What way is there to make requitall for it,
Much I shall leave unpaid do what I can:
Should I be then unthankfull, I abhor it,
The will may serve when power wants in man,
This book I give you then, here you shall finde
Somewhat to countervaile your former cost:
It is a little Index of my minde;
Time spent in reading it will not be lost.
Accept it, and when I have to my might
Paid all I can to you; if Powers Divine
Shall so much in my happinesse delight,
To make you Grandsire to a Sonne of mine;
Look what remains, and may by right be due,
I'll pay it him, as 'twas receiv'd from you.
Your loving Sonne, George Wither.
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