 | Poesis Rediviva |  |
A Character of a Compleat Gentleman.
To Iohn Cotton Esq; Heir to the Knowledge and Virtue,
as well as to the Honour and Fortunes of his Ancestors.
To his Coz. George Boswel Esq; rich in Desert as Fortune.
Thou to the lame art legs, eyes to the blinde,
They their own wants in thy perfections finde.
Thou pluck'st no houses down, to rear thy own;
The poor Gods houses rear'st out of thy stone.
Thou to the poor giv'st bread, ev'n out of stone;
And not to him who asks bread, givest one.
Thy door is open, and thy heart so too;
Hast both enough, and heart enough to do.
Thou not inclosest to fence out the poor,
But an inclosure art to keep their store.
Sheep eat no men, thy men thy sheep do eat;
In tears of others wil'st not stew thy meat.
To dogs the Childrens bread thou dost not give,
Make thy dogs fat, scarce let thy servants live.
Thy father gives thee dirt, thou mak'st it gold,
Virtue refines it to a better mold.
Gold the Suns childe thou let'st the father see,
That it may make a childe of light of thee.
Thou bragg'st no stem; think'st vice improves no blood,
Should vice or taint, or virtue speak not good.
For Honour, Conscience dost not put to sale;
Or thy Religion steer by profits gale.
Imbib'st no dregs ev'n in these lees of time,
A licenc'd ill can'st think no lesser crime.
Thou drink'st no health for to impair thy own,
By th' cup-flush'd face think'st noble blood not shown.
By no rash humour swell'st the Kingdoms spleen,
From whose bulk th' leanness hath of th' body been.
Where he who gains no Idol for his lust,
An Idol Fancy gets of Cits on trust.
While profit's th' Prophet that doth teach it there,
Religion shew'd by darker shops like ware.
These not th' world onely, but think God to cheat,
Forge some new light, he's theirs by the deceit.
These take not thee, nor those Hawks tow'ring prize,
While they can grovel in impurities.
Thy Reason is a Hawk, which takes a flight,
As if she'd nest her in a Sphere of light.
They their own wants in thy perfections finde.
Thou pluck'st no houses down, to rear thy own;
The poor Gods houses rear'st out of thy stone.
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And not to him who asks bread, givest one.
Thy door is open, and thy heart so too;
Hast both enough, and heart enough to do.
Thou not inclosest to fence out the poor,
But an inclosure art to keep their store.
Sheep eat no men, thy men thy sheep do eat;
In tears of others wil'st not stew thy meat.
To dogs the Childrens bread thou dost not give,
Make thy dogs fat, scarce let thy servants live.
Thy father gives thee dirt, thou mak'st it gold,
Virtue refines it to a better mold.
Gold the Suns childe thou let'st the father see,
That it may make a childe of light of thee.
Thou bragg'st no stem; think'st vice improves no blood,
Should vice or taint, or virtue speak not good.
For Honour, Conscience dost not put to sale;
Or thy Religion steer by profits gale.
Imbib'st no dregs ev'n in these lees of time,
A licenc'd ill can'st think no lesser crime.
Thou drink'st no health for to impair thy own,
By th' cup-flush'd face think'st noble blood not shown.
By no rash humour swell'st the Kingdoms spleen,
From whose bulk th' leanness hath of th' body been.
Where he who gains no Idol for his lust,
An Idol Fancy gets of Cits on trust.
While profit's th' Prophet that doth teach it there,
Religion shew'd by darker shops like ware.
These not th' world onely, but think God to cheat,
Forge some new light, he's theirs by the deceit.
These take not thee, nor those Hawks tow'ring prize,
While they can grovel in impurities.
Thy Reason is a Hawk, which takes a flight,
As if she'd nest her in a Sphere of light.
What would a nurse more for her childe heav'n woo,
Then to have good, know how to use it too.
Then to have good, know how to use it too.
| Poesis Rediviva | |