Category: PART II

¹

Oak
Why cut you off my boughs, which largely bend,²
And from the scorching sun do you defend,³
Which⁴ did refresh your fainting limbs from sweat,⁵
And kept you free from thund’ring rains and⁶ wet,
When on my bark your weary head you’d⁷ lay,                        5
Where quiet sleep did take all cares away,
The whilst my leaves a gentle noise did make,
And blew cool winds that you fresh air might take?⁸
Besides, I did invite the birds to sing,
That their sweet voice might you some pleasure bring,         10
Where everyone did strive to do their best,
Oft changed their notes, and strained their tender breast.
In winter-time,⁹ my shoulders broad did hold
Off blust’ring storms, that wounded with sharp cold.
And on my head the flakes of snow did fall,                             15
Whilst you under my boughs sat¹⁰ free from all.
And will you thus requite my love,¹¹ good will,
To take away my life, and body kill?¹²
For all my care and service I have passed,
Must I be cut and laid on fire at last?                                          20
See how¹³ true love you cruelly have slain,
Invent all ways¹⁴ to torture me with pain.
First you do peel my bark, and flay my skin,
Hew down my boughs, so chops off every limb.¹⁵
With wedges you do pierce my sides to wound,                       25
And with your hatchet knock me to the ground.
I minced shall be in chips and pieces small,
And thus¹⁶ doth man reward good deeds withal.

Man¹⁷
Why grumble you¹⁸, old Oak, when you have¹⁹ stood
This hundred years as king of all the wood?²⁰                          30
Would you forever live, and not resign
Your place to one that is of your own line?
Your acorns young, when they grow big and tall,
Long for your crown, and wish to see your fall,
Think every minute lost whilst you do live,                              35
And grumble at each office you do give.
Ambition doth fly²¹ high, and is above
All sorts of friendship and of nat’ral²² love.
Besides, all subjects do²³ in change delight;
When kings grow old, their government they slight.              40
Although in ease, and peace, and wealth they²⁴ live,
Yet all those happy times for change they’ll²⁵ give,
Grow²⁶ discontent, and factions still do make,
What good so e’er he doth, as evil take.
Were he as wise as ever Nature made,                                       45
As pious, good, as ever Heav’n has saved,²⁷
Yet when they die²⁸ such joy is in their face,
As if the Devil had gone from that place.
With shouts of joy they run a new to crown,
Although next day they strive to pull him down.                     50

Oak
Why, said the Oak, because that they are mad,
Shall I rejoice,²⁹ for my own death be glad?
Because my subjects all ungrateful³⁰ are,
Shall I therefore my health and life impair?
Good kings govern justly at all times,³¹                                      55
Examine not men’s humours, but their crimes,³²
For when their crimes appear, ’tis time to strike,
Not to examine thoughts how³³ they do like.
Though³⁴ kings are never loved till they do die,
Nor wished to live till in the grave they lie,                               60
Yet he that loves himself³⁵ the less because
He cannot get every man’s high applause
Shall by my judgment be condemned to wear
The asses ears, and burdens for to bear.
But let me live the life that Nature gave,                                    65
And not to please my subjects dig my grave.

Man
But here, poor Oak, you live³⁶ in ignorance,
And never seek your³⁷ knowledge to advance.
I’ll cut you down, that knowledge you may³⁸ gain,
And³⁹ be a ship to traffic on the main.                                        70
There shall you⁴⁰ swim, and cut the seas in two,
And trample down each wave as you do⁴¹ go.
Though they rise high,⁴² and big are swelled with pride,
You⁴³ on their shoulders broad, and back, shall⁴⁴ ride,
And bow their lofty heads, their pride to check,⁴⁵                   75
Shall set your steady foot upon their neck.⁴⁶
They on their breast your⁴⁷ stately ship shall⁴⁸ bear
Till your⁴⁹ sharp keel the wat’ry womb doth tear.
Thus shall you⁵⁰ round the world, new land to find,
That from the rest is of another kind.                                         80

Oak
O!⁵¹ said the Oak, I am contented well
Without that knowledge in my wood to dwell.
For I had rather live and simple be
Than run in danger,⁵² some strange⁵³ sight to see.
Perchance my ship against a rock may hit;                               85
Then were⁵⁴ I straight in sundry pieces split.
Besides, no rest, nor quiet shall I⁵⁵ have:
The winds will⁵⁶ toss me on each troubled wave;
The billows rough will beat on every side;
My breast will ache to swim against the tide.                           90
And greedy merchants may me overfreight;
Then⁵⁷ should I drownèd be with my own weight.
With⁵⁸ sails and ropes men will my⁵⁹ body tie,
And I,⁶⁰ a prisoner, have no liberty.
And being always wet, shall take such colds,⁶¹                         95
My ship may get a pose, and leak through holes,⁶²
Which they to mend, will put me to great pain;
Besides, all patched and pieced I shall remain.
I care not for that wealth, wherein the pains
And troubles are⁶³ far greater than the gains.                           100
I am contented with what Nature gave;
I’d⁶⁴ not repine, but one poor wish would have,⁶⁵
Which is, that you my agèd life would save.

Man
To build a stately house I’ll cut you⁶⁶ down,
Wherein shall princes live of great renown.                             105
There shall you⁶⁷ live with the best company;
All their delight and pastime you shall⁶⁸ see.
Where plays, and masques, and beauties bright will shine,
Your⁶⁹ wood all oiled with smoke of meat and wine.
There shall you⁷⁰ hear both men and women sing,                 110
Far pleasanter than nightingales in⁷¹ spring.
Like to a ball, their echoes shall rebound
Against the wall, yet can no⁷² voice be found.

Oak
Alas,⁷³ what music shall I care to hear,
When on my shoulders I such burthens bear?                         115
Both brick and tiles upon my head are laid—
Of this preferment I am sore afraid—
And many times with nails and hammers strong⁷⁴
They⁷⁵ pierce my sides, to hang their pictures on.⁷⁶
My face is smutched with smoke of candle lights,                   120
In danger to be burnt in winter nights.
No, let me here, a poor old oak, still grow;
I care not for these vain delights⁷⁷ to know.
For fruitless promises I do not care;
More honor ’tis my own green leaves to bear.                         125
More honor ’tis to be in Nature’s dress
Than any shape that men by art express.
I am not like to man, would praises have,
And for opinion make myself a slave.

Man
Why do you wish to live and not to die,                                    130
Since you no pleasure have, but misery?
Here you the sun with scorching heat doth burn,⁷⁸
And all your leaves so green to dryness turn.⁷⁹
Also⁸⁰ with winter’s cold you quake and shake;
Thus in no time or season rest can take.                                   135

Oak
I’m happier far, said th’Oak, than you mankind,⁸¹
For I content in my condition find;⁸²
Man⁸³ nothing loves but what he cannot get,
And soon doth surfeit of one dish of meat,
Dislikes all company, displeased alone,                                     140
Makes grief himself if fortune gives him none.
And as his mind is restless, never pleased,
So is his body sick and oft diseased.
His gouts and pains do make him sigh and cry,
Yet in the midst of pains⁸⁴ would live, not die.                         145

Man
Alas, poor Oak,⁸⁵ you do not know,⁸⁶ nor can
Imagine half the misery of man.
All other creatures only in sense join,
But man hath⁸⁷ something more, which is divine.
He hath a mind, doth⁸⁸ to Heav’n⁸⁹ aspire;                               150
For curiosities he doth⁹⁰ inquire;
A wit that nimble is, which⁹¹ runs about,
In every corner to seek Nature out.
For she doth hide herself, afraid⁹² to show
Man all her works, lest he too powerful grow,                         155
Like as⁹³ a king, his favorite waxing⁹⁴ great,
May well suspect that he his pow’r will⁹⁵ get.
And what creates desire in⁹⁶ man’s breast,
That⁹⁷ nature is divine, which seeks the best,
And never can be satisfied, until⁹⁸                                              160
He, like a god, doth in perfection dwell.⁹⁹
If you, as man, desire like gods to be,
I’ll spare your life, and not cut down your tree.

¹

As I abroad in fields and woods did walk,
I heard the birds of several things to² talk,
And on the boughs would gossip, prate, and chat,
And every one discourse of this and that.
“I,” said the Lark, “before the sun do rise,                                 5
And take my flight up to the highest skies,
There sing some notes, to raise Apollo’s head,
For fear that he might lie too long abed.³
And as I mount, or as I come⁴ down low,
Still do I sing which way soe’er I go.                                           10
Winding my body⁵ up just like a screw,
So doth my voice wind up a trillo too.
What bird, besides myself, both flies and sings?⁶
My trillos keep tune⁷ to my flutt’ring wings.”

“I,” said the Nightingale, “all night do watch,                           15
For fear a serpent should my young ones catch.
To keep back sleep, I several tunes do sing,
Which are so pleasant that they lovers bring⁸
Into the woods, who list’ning sit, and mark;
When I begin to sing, they cry, ‘hark, hark!’                             20
Stretching my throat to raise my trillos high,
To gain their praises, makes me almost die.”

Then comes the Owl, which says, “Here’s such ado
With your sweet voices,”⁹ through spite cries, “Wit-a-woo!”

“In winter,” said the Robin, “I should die,                                 25
But that I in a good warm house do fly,
And there do pick up crumbs, which make me fat,
But oft I’m¹⁰ scared away with the puss-cat.
If they molest me not, then I grow bold,
And stay so long whilst winter tales are told.                           30
Man superstitiously dares not hurt me,
For if I’m¹¹ killed or hurt ill luck shall be.”

The Sparrow said, “Would our case were no worse,¹²
But men do with their nets us take by force.¹³
With guns and bows they shoot us from the trees,                 35
And by small shot, we oft our lives do leese
Because we pick a cherry here and there,
When God knows we do eat them in great fear.¹⁴
But men will eat until their bellies¹⁵ burst,
And surfeits take; if we eat, we are cursed.                              40
Yet we by Nature are revengèd still:
For eating overmuch themselves they kill.
And if a child do chance to cry and bawl,¹⁶
They do us catch¹⁷ to please that child withal.
With threads they tie our legs almost to crack,                        45
And¹⁸ when we hop away, they pull us back,
And when they cry, “fip, fip!” straight we must come,
And for our pains they’ll give us one small crumb.”

“I wonder,” said Magpie, “you grumble so,
Dame Sparrow; we are used much worse I trow.                    50
For they our tongues do slit, their words to learn,
And with this¹⁹ pain, our food we dearly earn.”

“Why,” say the Finches and the Linnets all,
“Do you so prate, Magpie, and so much bawl?²⁰
As if no birds besides were wronged but you,                          55
When we by cruel Man²¹ are injured too?²²
For we to learn their tunes are kept awake,
That with their whistling we no rest can take.
In darkness we are kept, no light must see,
Till we have learned²³ their tunes most perfectly.                   60
But Jackdaws, they may dwell their houses nigh,
And build their nests in elms that do grow high,
And there may prate, and fly from place to place,
For why,²⁴ they think they give their house a grace.”

“Lord!” said the Partridge, Cock, Peewit, Snite, and Quail,    65
Pigeons, Larks, “My masters, why d’ye rail?
You’re kept from winter’s cold and summer’s heat,
Are taught new tunes, and have good store of meat.
You have your servants, yet give them no wages,²⁵
Which do make clean your foul and dirty cages,²⁶                  70
When we poor birds are by the dozens killed.
Luxurious men²⁷ us eat till they be filled,
And of our flesh they²⁸ make such cruel waste,
That but some of our limbs will please their taste.
In woodcocks’ thighs they only take delight,                             75
And Partridge wings, which swift were in their flight.
The smaller Lark they eat all at one bite,
But every part is good of Quail and Snite.
The murtherous Hawk they keep, us for to catch,
And teach²⁹ their dogs to crouch, and creep, and watch       80
Until they spring us into³⁰ nets and toils,
And thus, poor creatures, we are made Man’s spoils.
Cruel Nature,³¹ to make³² us tame and mild!³³
They happy are which are more fierce and wild.
O³⁴ would our flesh had been like carrion coarse,                  85
Which to eat³⁵ only famine might enforce.
But when they³⁶ eat us, may they surfeits take;
May they be poor when they a feast³⁷ us make.
The more they eat, the leaner may they grow,
Or else so fat they cannot³⁸ stir nor go.”                                    90

“O,”³⁹ said the Swallow, “let me mourn in black,
For of Man’s cruelty I do not lack.
I am the messenger of summer warm,
Do neither pick their fruit nor eat their corn.⁴⁰
Yet men⁴¹ will take us when alive we be                                    95
(I shake to tell, O horrid cruelty!),⁴²
Beat us alive till we an oil become.
Can there to birds be a worse martyrdom?”

“O Man,⁴³ O Man!⁴⁴ If we should serve you so,
You would against us your great curses throw.                        100
But Nature, she is good; do not her blame.
We ought to give her thanks, and not exclaim.
For love is Nature’s chiefest law in mind,
Hate but an accident to⁴⁵ love, we find.
’Tis true, self-preservation is the chief,                                       105
But luxury to Nature is a thief.
Corrupted manners always do breed vice,
Which by persuasion doth the mind entice.
No creature doth usurp so much as Man,
Who thinks himself like God, because he can                           110
Rule other creatures, and make them⁴⁶ obey;
‘Our souls did never Nature make,’⁴⁷ say they.
Whatever comes from Nature’s stock and treasure
Created is only to serve their pleasure.
Although the life of bodies comes from Nature,                       115
Yet still the souls come from the great Creator.
And they shall live, though⁴⁸ we to dust do turn,
Either in bliss, or in hot flames to burn.”

Then came the Parrot with her painted wing,
Spake like an orator in every thing.                                            120
“Sister Jay, neighbor Daw, and gossip⁴⁹ Pie,
We taken are not, like the rest, to die,
Only to talk and prate the best we can,
To imitate to th’life the speech of Man.
And just like men we pass our time away,                                 125
For many, but not one wise word we⁵⁰ say,
And speak as gravely nonsense as the best,
As full of empty words as all the rest.
The Nature we will praise, because we⁵¹ have
Tongues given us like⁵² men, our lives to save.                        130
Mourn not, my friends, but sing in sunshine gay,
And while you’ve time, joy in yourselves you may.
What though your lives be short?⁵³ Yet merry be,
Do⁵⁴ not complain, but in delights agree.”

Straight came the titmouse with a frowning face,⁵⁵                135
And hopped about, as in an angry pace.
“My masters all, what’s matter? Are you mad?⁵⁶
Is no regard unto the public had?
Are private home affairs cast all aside?
Your young ones cry for meat; ’tis time to chide.⁵⁷                  140
For shame, disperse yourselves, and some pains⁵⁸ take,
Both for the public⁵⁹ and your young ones’⁶⁰ sake.
And sit not⁶¹ murmuring against⁶² great Man,
Unless some way⁶³ revenge ourselves we can.
Alas,⁶⁴ alas!⁶⁵ We want their shape, for⁶⁶ they                         145
By it have power to make us all⁶⁷ obey.
They can lift, bear, strike, pull, thrust,⁶⁸ turn, and wind
What ways they will, which makes them new arts⁶⁹ find.
’Tis not their wit that doth⁷⁰ inventions make,
But ’tis their shapes, which height, breadth, depth can take. 150
Thus they can measure this⁷¹ great worldly ball,
And numbers set to prove the truth of all.
What creature else has⁷² arms, or goes⁷³ upright,
Or has⁷⁴ all sorts of motion⁷⁵ so unite?
Man by his shape can Nature imitate,                                        155
Can govern, rule, and can new arts⁷⁶ create.
Then come away, since talk no good can do,
And what we cannot help, submit unto.”
Then some their wives, others⁷⁷ their husbands call,
To gather sticks to build their nests withal.                              160
Some shrews did scold, winds had destroyed their nest;⁷⁸
They had no place where to abide or rest.⁷⁹
For all they’d⁸⁰ gathered with great pains⁸¹ and care,
Those sticks and straws were blown they knew not where.
But none did labor like the little Wren,                                      165
To build for her young ones her nest again,⁸²
For she doth lay⁸³ more eggs than all the rest,
And with much art and skill⁸⁴ doth build her nest.
The young⁸⁵ made love, and kissed each other’s bill;
The Cock caught⁸⁶ flies to give his mistress still.                      170
The Yellow Hammer cried, “’tis wet, ’tis wet!
For it will rain before the sun doth set.”
Taking their flight as each mind thought it best,
Some flew abroad, and some home to their nest.
Some gathered corn, which out of sheaves was⁸⁷ strewed,   175
And some did pick up seed that new was⁸⁸ sowed.
Some courage had⁸⁹ a cherry ripe to take;
Others caught⁹⁰ flies when they a feast would⁹¹ make.
And some did pick up ants and eggs, though small,
And brought them⁹² home to feed their young withal.          180
When every crop⁹³ was filled, and night drew nigh,⁹⁴
Then did they stretch their wings fast home to fly.⁹⁵
For like as⁹⁶ men, when they from markets⁹⁷ come,
Set out alone, but every mile adds some,
Until a troop of neighbors get together,                                     185
So do a flight of birds in sunshine weather.
When to their nests they got,⁹⁸ Lord⁹⁹ how they bawled!¹⁰⁰
And everyone to his next neighbor called,¹⁰¹
Asking each other if they weary were,
Rejoicing at past dangers and great fear.                                   190
When they their wings had pruned, and young ones fed,
Sat gossiping before they went to bed.
The Blackbird said, “Let us a carol sing¹⁰²
Before we go to bed¹⁰³ this fine evening.”
The Thrushes, Linnets, Finches all took¹⁰⁴ parts,                     195
A harmony¹⁰⁵ by Nature, not by arts.
But all their songs were hymns to God on high,
Praising his name, blessing his majesty.
And when they asked for gifts, to God did pray
He would be pleased to give them a fair day.                            200
At last they drowsy grew, and heavy were¹⁰⁶ to sleep,
And then instead of singing, cried, “Peep, peep!”
Just as the eye, when sense is locking up,¹⁰⁷
Is neither open wide, nor yet quite shut,¹⁰⁸
So by degrees a voice is falling found,¹⁰⁹                                   205
For¹¹⁰ as a shadow, so doth waste¹¹¹ a sound.
Thus went to rest each head under each wing,
For sleep brings peace to every living thing.

As I sat¹ musing by myself alone,
My thoughts brought² several things to³ work upon.
Some did large houses build, and stately towers,
And some made⁴ orchards, gardens, and fine bowers;
Some did⁵ in arts and sciences delight,                                      5
And some⁶ in contradiction, reason’s fight;
Some governed like as kings do⁷ rule a state,
And some⁸ as republics, which monarchs⁹ hate;
Some privy-counsellors and judges were,¹⁰
And some, as lawyers, pleaded at the bar;¹¹                             10
Some priests, which do preach peace and godly life;
Others tumultuous were,¹² and full of strife;
Some were¹³ debauched, did swagger, wench,¹⁴ and swear,
And some poor thoughts did¹⁵ tremble out of fear;
Some jealous were,¹⁶ and all things did¹⁷ suspect,                  15
Others so¹⁸ careless, every thing neglect;
Some thoughts turned shepherds, nymphs,¹⁹ and shepherdesses,
So kind, as they did give each other²⁰ kisses;
Th’expressed all²¹ sorts of lovers and their passions,
And several²² ways of courtship, and fine fashions;               20
Some took²³ strong towns, won battles in the field,²⁴
And those that lost were forced to them to yield;²⁵
Some were²⁶ heroic, generous, and free,
And some so base, to²⁷ crouch with flattery;
Some dying were, half in the grave did²⁸ lie,                             25
And some, repenting, did²⁹ for sorrow cry;
The mind oppressed with grief, thoughts mourners be,³⁰
All clothed³¹ in black, no light of joy could see;³²
Some with despair did³³ rage, were³⁴ almost mad,
And some so merry nothing made³⁵ them sad;                        30
And many more, which were too long to tell;
For several thoughts³⁶ in several places dwell.
At last came two which were in various dress;³⁷
One melancholy, th’other did mirth express.³⁸
Melancholy was all in black array,                                              35
And Mirth was all in colors fresh and gay.

Mirth
Mirth laughing came, and running to³⁹ me, flung
Her fat white arms; about my neck she⁴⁰ hung,
Embraced and kissed me oft, and stroked my cheek,
Saying⁴¹ she would no other lover seek.                                    40
“I’ll sing you songs, and please you every day,
Invent new sports to pass the time away.
I’ll keep your heart, and guard it from that thief
Dull melancholy care, or sadder grief,
And make your eyes with mirth to overflow,                            45
With springing blood your cheeks soon⁴² fat shall grow.
Your legs shall nimble be, your body light,
And all your spirits like to birds in flight.
Mirth shall digest your meat and make you strong,
Shall give you health, and your short days prolong.               50
Refuse me not, but take me to your wife,
For I shall make you happy all your life.
But⁴³ Melancholy, she will⁴⁴ make you lean:
Your cheeks shall hollow grow, your jaws be⁴⁵ seen;
Your eyes shall buried be within your head,                            55
And look as pale as if you were quite dead.
She’ll make you start at every noise you hear,
And visions strange shall in your eyes appear.
Your stomach cold and raw, digesting nought,
Your liver dry, your heart with sorrow fraught,                      60
Shriveled your skin, brows cloudy, and⁴⁶ blood thick,
Your long lank sides, and back to⁴⁷ belly stick.
Thus would it be if you to her were wed;
Nay,⁴⁸ better far it were that you were dead.
Her voice is low, and gives a⁴⁹ hollow sound.                           65
She hates the light, and is in darkness⁵⁰ found,
Or sits⁵¹ with blinking lamps or tapers small,
Which various shadows make against a wall.
She loves nought else but noise, which discord makes,⁵²
As croaking frogs whose dwelling is in lakes,⁵³                      70
The ravens hoarse, and so the mandrake’s groan,
And shrieking owls, which in night fly alone,⁵⁴
The tolling bell, which for the dead rings out,
A mill where rushing waters run about,
The roaring winds, which shake the cedars tall,                     75
Plow up the seas, and beat the rocks withal.
She loves to walk in the still moonshine night,
Where⁵⁵ in a thick, dark grove she takes delight.
In hollow caves, houses thatched, or lowly cell⁵⁶
She loves to live, and there alone to dwell.⁵⁷                            80
Her ears are stopped with thoughts, her eyes purblind,
For all she hears or sees is in the mind.
But in her mind, luxuriously she lives;
Imagination several pleasures gives.
Then leave her to herself, alone to dwell;                                 85
Let you and I in mirth and pleasure swell,
And drink long lusty draughts from Bacchus’s⁵⁸ bowl,
Until our brains on vaporous waves do roll.
Let’s joy ourselves in amorous delights;
There’s none so happy as the carpet-knights.”                         90

Melancholy
Melancholy, with sad and sober face,
Complexion pale, but of a comely grace,
With modest countenance, thus softly⁵⁹ spake:
“May I so happy be, your love to take?
True, I am dull, yet by me you shall know                                95
More of yourself, and so much wiser⁶⁰ grow.
I search the depth and bottom of mankind,
Open the eye of ignorance that’s blind.
I travel far and view the world about;
I walk with reason’s staff to find truth out.                              100
I watchful am, all dangers for to shun,⁶¹
And do prepare ’gainst evils that may come.⁶²
I hang not on inconstant Fortune’s wheel,
Nor yet with unresolving doubts do reel.
I shake not with the terrors of vain fears,                                 105
Nor is my mind filled with unuseful cares.
I do not spend my time like idle Mirth,
Which only happy is just at her birth,
And⁶³ seldom lives so long as⁶⁴ to be old,
But if she doth, can no affections hold.                                      110
For in short time she troublesome will⁶⁵ grow,
Though at the first she makes a pretty show.
She loves to make a noise and keep⁶⁶ a rout,
And with dislike most commonly goes out.
Mirth good for nothing is, like weeds doth⁶⁷ grow,                 115
Or such plants as⁶⁸ cause madness, reason’s foe.⁶⁹
Her face with laughter crumples on a heap,
Which makes great wrinkles and plows furrows deep.⁷⁰
Her eyes do water, and her skin turns red;
Her mouth doth gape, teeth bare, like one that’s dead.          120
Her sides do stretch as set upon a⁷¹ last,
Her stomach heaving up as if she’d cast.
Her veins do swell, joints seem to be⁷² unset;
Her pores are open, whence streams⁷³ out a sweat.
She fulsome is, and gluts the senses all,                                     125
Offers herself, and comes before a call.
Seeks company out,⁷⁴ hates to be alone,
Though on unsent-for guests affronts are thrown.⁷⁵
Her house is built upon the golden sands,
Yet no foundation hath⁷⁶ whereon it stands.                            130
A palace ’tis, where comes⁷⁷ a great resort;
It makes a noise, and gives a loud report.
Yet underneath the roof, disasters lie,
Beat⁷⁸ down the house, and many killed⁷⁹ thereby.
I dwell in groves that gilt are with the sun,                               135
Sit on the banks by which clear waters run.
In summers hot, down in a shade I lie;
My music is the buzzing of a fly,
Which in the sunny beams does⁸⁰ dance all day,
And harmlessly does pass its⁸¹ time away.                                140
I walk in meadows where grows fresh green grass;
In⁸² fields where corn is high I often⁸³ pass,
Walk up the hills, where round I prospects see:
Some brushy woods, and some all champaigns⁸⁴ be.
Returning back, I in fresh pastures⁸⁵ go,                                   145
To hear how sheep do bleat, and cows do⁸⁶ low.
They gently feed, no evil think upon,⁸⁷
Have no designs to do another wrong.⁸⁸
In winter cold, when nipping frosts come on,
Then I do⁸⁹ live in a small house alone.                                     150
The littleness doth make it warm, being close;⁹⁰
No wind nor⁹¹ weather cold can there have force.⁹²
Although ’tis plain, yet cleanly ’tis within,
Like to a soul that’s pure and clear from sin.
And there I dwell in quiet and still peace,                                 155
Not filled with cares for⁹³ riches to increase.
I wish nor seek for vain and fruitless pleasures;
No riches are, but what the mind entreasures.
Thus am I solitary, live⁹⁴ alone,
Yet better loved the more that I am known.                              160
And though my face b’ill favored at first sight,
After acquaintance it will⁹⁵ give delight.
For I am like a shade: who sits in me,
He shall not⁹⁶ wet, nor yet sunburnèd be.
I keep off blustering storms from doing hurt,                          165
When Mirth is often smutched with dust and dirt.
Refuse me not, for I shall constant be,
Maintain your credit, keep up⁹⁷ dignity.”

Joy
Give me some music, that my spirits may
Dance a free¹ galliard whilst delight doth play.
Let every voice sing out, both loud and shrill,
And every tongue to run² what way it will.
For Fear is gone away with her pale face,                                  5
And pain is banished out from³ every place.

Discretion
O Joy,⁴ take moderation by the hand,
Or else you’ll fall⁵ so drunk you cannot⁶ stand.
Your tongue doth run so fast, no time can keep;
High as a mountain, many words you heap.                             10
Your thoughts in multitudes the brain do throng,
That reason is cast down and trod upon.⁷

Joy
O wise Discretion,⁸ do not angry grow;
Great dangers, fears, alas,⁹ you do not know.
Fear¹⁰ being past, the spirits soon¹¹ are slacked;                     15
Fear, being¹² a string, binds hard, but when once¹³ cracked
Spirits find¹⁴ liberty, and¹⁵ run about,
Which,¹⁶ being stopped, do¹⁷ suddenly burst out,
And to recover what they had before,
When¹⁸ once untied, take liberty the¹⁹ more.                           20
Like water which was²⁰ pent, then²¹ passage finds,
Breaks out in²² fury like the northern winds.
What gathers on a heap so strong doth grow,
That when ’tis loose, it doth far swifter²³ go.
But dear Discretion, do not with me²⁴ scold;                            25
Whilst you do feel great fears, your tongue pray hold.
For Joy cannot contain itself in rest;
It never leaves till some way is²⁵ expressed.

Wit
Mixed rose and lily, why are you so proud,
Since fair is not in all minds like¹ allowed?
Some do like² black, some³ brown, and some like⁴ white;
In all complexions some eyes⁵ take delight.
Nor doth one Beauty in the world still reign,                     5
For Beauty is created in the brain.
But say there were a body perfect made,
Complexion pure, by Nature’s pencil laid,
A countenance where all sweet spirits meet,
A hair that’s thick and⁶ long, curled to the feet,                 10
Yet were it like a statue made of stone,
The eye would weary grow to look thereon.⁷
Had it not⁸ Wit the mind still to delight,
It soon would⁹ weary be, as well as sight.
For Wit is fresh and new, doth sport and play,                   15
And runs about the humour every way.
With all the passions Wit can well agree;
Wit tempers them and makes them pleased to be.
Wit’s ingenious,¹⁰ doth new inventions find,
To ease the body, recreate¹¹ the mind.                                 20

Beauty
When I appear, I strike the optic nerve;
I wound the heart; I¹² make the passions serve.
Souls are my pris’ners,¹³ yet love me so well,¹⁴
My company is Heaven,¹⁵ my absence Hell.
Each knee doth bow to me, as to a shrine,                          25
And all the world accounts me as divine.

Wit
Beauty, you cannot long devotion keep:
The mind grows weary; senses fall asleep.¹⁶
As those which in the house of God do go
Are very zealous in a prayer or two,                                    30
But if they kneel an hour long¹⁷ to pray,
Their zeal grows cold, nor know they what they say.
So admirations are: they do not last;¹⁸
After nine days the greatest wonder’s past.¹⁹
The mind, as²⁰ senses all, delights in change;                      35
They nothing love but what is new and strange.
But subtle Wit can please both²¹ long and well,
For to the ear a new tale Wit²² can tell.
And for the taste, doth dress meat²³ several ways
To please the eye, new²⁴ forms and fashions raise.           40
And for the touch, Wit spins both silk and wool,
Invents new ways to keep touch warm and cool.
For scent, Wit mixtures and compounds doth make,
That still the nose a fresh new smell may take.
I by discourse can represent the mind                                 45
With several objects, though the eyes be blind.
I can create ideas in the brain,²⁵
Which to the²⁶ mind seem real, though but feigned.
The mind like to a shop of toys I fill²⁷
With fine conceits; I fit all humours well.²⁸                        50
I can the work of Nature imitate,
And in the brain each several shape create.²⁹
I conquer all, am master of the field;
I³⁰ make fair Beauty in love’s wars to yield.

Both Love and Hate fell in a great dispute,
And hard it was each other to confute,
Which did most good, or evil most did¹ shun.
At last with frowning brows Hate thus² begun:

Hate
“I fly,” said she, “from wicked and base acts,                      5
And tear the bonds unjust,³ and⁴ ill contracts.
I do abhor all murder, war, and strife,
Inhumane actions and disordered life,
Ungrateful and unthankful minds that shun
All those from whom they have received a boon.              10
From discords harsh and rude⁵ my ears I stop,
And what is bad I from the good do lop.
I perjured lovers brand with foul disgrace,
And from ill objects do I hide my face.
Things, that are bad I hate, or what seems so,                    15
But Love is contrary to this, I know.
Love loves ambitïon, the⁶ mind’s hot fire,
Would ruin worlds only⁷ to rise up higher.
You love to please your appetite and⁸ will,
To glut your gusto you delight in still.                                   20
You love to flatter, and be flattered too,
And, for your lust, poor virgins would undo.
You love the ruin of your foes to see,
And of your friends, if they but prosperous be.
You nothing love besides yourself, though ill,                      25
And with vainglorious wind your brain do fill.
You love no ways but where your bias tends,
And love the Gods only for your own ends.”

Love
But Love, in words as sweet as Nature is,
Said Hate was false, and always did amiss.                         30
For she did cankerfret, the soul destroy,
Disturb the pleasure wherein life takes joy,
Ruin the world with wars, which peace would make,⁹
Torment the head and¹⁰ heart, revenge to take.¹¹
She¹² never rests till she descends to Hell,                          35
For she amongst the devils loves to¹³ dwell.
“But¹⁴ I,” said Love, “unite, and¹⁵ concords make.
All music was invented for my sake.
I men by laws in commonwealths do join,
And ’gainst¹⁶ a common foe do them¹⁷ combine.              40
To th’sick, lame, weak, and agèd I’m a friend;¹⁸
I watch, guard, keep, and do them safe defend.¹⁹
For²⁰ honor’s sake I do high²¹ courage raise,
And bring to Beauty’s²² shrine off’rings²³ of praise.
Compassion’s bowels I²⁴ the world throughout                 45
Do carry, and distribute all about.
I to the Gods show rev’rence,²⁵ bow and pray,
And in their heav’nly²⁶ mansions bear great sway.”

Thus Love and Hate in some things equal be,
Yet in disputes they²⁷ always disagree.                                50

Learning
Thou busy forester, that seek’st about¹
The world, to find the heart of Learning out,
Or, Perseus-like, foul monsters thou dost kill,
Rude Ignorance, which nothing dost but² ill.

Ignorance
O thou proud³ Learning, that stand’st⁴ on tiptoes high,      5
Yet canst not⁵ reach to know the deity,
Nor where the cause of any one thing lies,
But fill’st⁶ man full of care and miseries.
Learning inflames the thoughts to take great pains,
Doth nought but make an alms tub of the brains.                10

Learning
Learning doth seek about new things to find,
In that pursuit, doth recreate the mind.
It is a perspective, Nature to spy,⁷
Can all her curiosities⁸ descry.

Ignorance
Learning’s a⁹ useless pain, unless it have                              15
Some ways or means to keep us from the grave.
For what is all the world, if understood,
If we it do not use,¹⁰ nor taste its¹¹ good?
Learning may come to know the use of things,
Yet not receive the good which from them springs.             20
For life is short, and learning long; ere we¹²
May come to use what’s learnèd, dead we be.¹³

Learning
O Ignorance, thou beast!¹⁴ which dull and lazy¹⁵ liest,
And only eat’st, sleepest,¹⁶ till thou diest.

Ignorance
The lesson Nature taught is, most delight                               25
To please the senses and¹⁷ the appetite.¹⁸
I, Ignorance, am still the Heav’n¹⁹ of bliss,
For in me lies the truest happiness.
Give me still²⁰ Ignorance, that harmless ’state,²¹
That paradise, that’s free from envious hate.                        30
Learning that²² tree was whereon knowledge grew;
Tasting that fruit, man nought but mis’ry²³ knew.
Had man but knowledge Ignorance to²⁴ love,
He happy would have been as²⁵ gods above.

Learning
O Ignorance! How foolish thou dost talk!²⁶                           35
Is’t happiness in ignorance to walk?
Can there be joy in darkness more than light?
Or pleasure more in blindness than in sight?

Riches
I, Wealth, can make all men of each degree
To crouch and flatter, and to follow me.
I many cities build, high, thick, and large,
And armies raise, against each other charge.
I make them lose¹ their lives for my dear sake,                  5
Though when they’re dead they no rewards can take.
I trample truth under my golden feet,
And tread down innocence, that flower sweet.
I gather beauty when ’tis newly blown,
Reap chastity before ’tis overgrown.                                    10
I root out virtue with a golden spade;
I cut off justice with a golden blade.
Pride and ambition are my vassals low,
And on their heads I tread as I do go.
And by mankind much more adored² am I—                     15
Although but earth—than the bright sun so³ high.

Poverty
Riches, thou art a slave, and runn’st about
On every errand; thou com’st⁴ in, go’st⁵ out.
And men of honor set on thee no price
Their⁶ honesty or⁷ virtue to⁸ entice.                                      20
Some foolish gamesters, which do love to play
At cards and dice, corrupt perchance you may,
A silly virgin gather here and there,
That doth⁹ gay clothes and jewels love to wear.
The¹⁰ poor, which hate their neighbor brave to see,         25
Perchance may seek and love your company.
And those that strive to please their senses all,
If they want wealth, and¹¹ you pass by, will¹² call.
On age, ’tis true, you have a great, strong power,
For they embrace you, though they die next hour.           30

Riches
You speak, poor poverty, mere out of spite,
Because there’s none with you doth take delight.
If you into man’s company will thrust,
They call that fortune ill, and most accurst.
Men are ashamed with them you should be seen,¹³         35
You are so ragged, torn, and so unclean.
When I come in, much welcome do I find;
Great joy there is, and mirth in every mind.
And every door is open set, and wide,
And all within is busily employed.                                        40
There neighbors all invited are to see,
So¹⁴ proud they are in my dear company.

Poverty
’Tis prodigality you brag so on,
Which never lets you rest till you are gone,
Calls in for help to beat you of doors,                                   45
His dear companions, drunkards, gamesters, whores.
What though you’re brave, and gay in outward show?
Within you’re¹⁵ foul and beastly, as you know.
Besides, debauchery is like a sink,
And you are father to that filthy stink.                                 50
True, I am threadbare, and am very lean,
Yet I am decent, sweet, and very clean.
I healthful am, my diet being spare;
You’re full of gouts and pains, and surfeits fear.
I am industrious new arts to find,                                         55
To ease the body, and to please the mind.
The world like to a wilderness would be,
If it were not for the poor’s industry.
For Poverty doth set awork the brains,
And all the thoughts to labor and take pains.                     60
The mind ne’er idle sits, but is employed;
Riches breed sloth, and fill it full of pride.
Riches, like a sow,¹⁶ in its own mire lies,¹⁷
But Poverty’s light, and like a bird still flies.¹⁸

Patience
Anger, why are you hot¹ and fiery red?
Or else so pale, as if you were quite dead?
Your spirits are disturbed; you senses lack,²
Your joints unset, flesh shakes; your nerves grow slack.³
Your tongue doth move, but speaks no word that’s plain,⁴    5
Or else they flow like torrents caused by rain.⁵

Anger
Lord,⁶ what a bead-roll of dislike you tell!
If you were stung with wrong, your mind would swell.
Your spirits would be set on flame with fire,
Or else grow chill with cold, and back retire.                           10

Patience
Alas,⁷ it is for some supposed wrong;⁸
Sometimes you have no ground to build upon.
Suspicion is deceitful, runs about,
And often for a truth⁹ takes wrong, no doubt.
If you take falsehood up, ne’er search things¹⁰ through,       15
You do great¹¹ wrong to truth, and yourself too.
Besides, you’re¹² blind, and undiscerning fly
On everything,¹³ though innocence is¹⁴ by.

Anger
O Patience!¹⁵ You are strict and seem precise,
And counsels give as if you were so wise.                                  20
But you are cruel, and fit times will take
For your revenge, though you¹⁶ no show do make.
Your brows unknit, your heart seems not to burn,
Yet on suspicion will do a shrewd turn.
But I am sudden, and do all in haste,                                          25
Yet in short time my fury all is past.
Though anger be not right, but sometimes wrong,
The greatest mischief lies but in the tongue.
But you do mischief, and your time you’ll¹⁷ find
To work revenge, though quiet in your mind.                          30

Patience
If I take time, I clearly then can see
To view the cause, and seek for remedy.
If I have wrong, myself I well may right,
But I do wrong if innocence I smite.¹⁸
The knot of anger by degrees unties;                                          35
Then falls¹⁹ that muffler from discretion’s eyes.
My thoughts run clear and smooth as crystal brooks,
That every face may see that²⁰ therein looks.
Though I run low, yet wisely do I wind,
And many times through mountains passage find,                 40
When you swell high, like to a flowing sea,
For windy passions cannot in rest²¹ be,
Where you are rolled in waves, and tossed about,
Tormented, and can find no passage²² out.

Anger²³
Patience, your mouth with good words you do fill,                 45
And preach morality, but you act ill.
Besides, you seem a coward full of fear,
Or like an ass which doth great burdens bear,
Let every poltroon strike and give you²⁴ blows,
And every fool in scorn to wring your nose.                             50
Most of the world do think you have no sense
Because not angry, nor do take²⁵ offence,
When I am thought right wise, and of great merit,
Heroic, valorous, and of great spirit.
For²⁶ everyone doth fear me to offend,                                     55
And for to please me all their forces bend.
I flattered am, make fear away to run;²⁷
Thus am I²⁸ master wheresoe’er I come.²⁹
Away, you foolish Patience, give me rage,
That I in wars may all the³⁰ world engage.                               60

Patience
O Anger, thou art³¹ mad!³² There’s none will care
For your great brags but fools and cowardly fear,³³
Which in weak³⁴ women and small children dwell.
That you more talk than fight, wisdom knows well.³⁵
Besides, great courage takes me by the hand,                          65
That whilst he fights I close by him may³⁶ stand.
I want no sense misfortunes to espy,³⁷
Although I silent am and do not cry.
Ill accidents and grief I strive to cure;
What cannot help, with courage I³⁸ endure,                            70
Whilst you do vex yourself with grievous pains,
And nothing but disturbance have for³⁹ gains.
Let me advise you,⁴⁰ Anger, take’t not ill
That I do offer you my patience still.
For you in danger live still all your life,                                    75
And mischief do when you are hot in strife.

¹

Knight
Alas, poor Castle, how great is thy change²
From thy first form! To me thou dost seem strange.
I left thee comely and in perfect health;
Now thou art withered and decayed in wealth.

Castle
O noble Sir, I from your stock was raised,                                5
Flourished in plenty, and by all men praised,
For your most valiant father did me build,
Your brother furnished me, my neck did gild,
And towers on³ my head like crowns were placed,⁴
Walls, like a girdle, went about⁵ my waist.                              10
And on this pleasant hill he set me high,
To view⁶ the vales below as they do⁷ lie,
Where like a garden is each field and close,⁸
Where fresh green grass and yellow cowslip grows.⁹
There did I see fat sheep in pastures go,                                   15
And hear¹⁰ the cows, whose bags were full, to low.
By wars I’m¹¹ now destroyed, all rights o’erpowered;
Beauty and innocency are devoured.
Before these wars I was in my full prime,
And held¹² the greatest beauty in my time.                              20
But, noble Sir, since I did see you last,
Within me hath¹³ a garrison been placed,
Their guns, and pistols all about me hung,
And in despite their bullets at me flung,
Which through my sides those passages you see¹⁴                 25
Made, and destroyed the walls that circled me,¹⁵
And left¹⁶ my rubbish on huge heaps to lie.
With dust I’m¹⁷ choked, for want of water, dry,
For those small leaden pipes which winding lay
Under the ground, the water to convey,                                    30
Were all cut off; the water, murmuring,
Run back with grief to tell it to the spring.
My windows all are¹⁸ broke; the wind blows in;¹⁹
With cold I shake, with agues shivering.²⁰
O pity me, dear Sir, release my band,                                        35
Or let me die by your most noble hand.

Knight
Alas, poor Castle, I small help can bring,
Yet shall my heart supply the former spring
From whence the water of fresh tears shall rise;
To quench thy drought, I’ll²¹ spout them from mine eyes.    40
That wealth I have²² for to release thy woe,
I’ll offer for a ransom to thy foe.
But to restore thy health and²³ build thy wall,
I have not means enough to do’t withal.
Had I the art, no pains then²⁴ I would spare,                            45
But all what’s²⁵ broken down I would repair.

Castle
Most noble Sir, you that me freedom give,
May your great name in after ages live.
This your great²⁶ bounty may the gods requite,
And keep you from such enemies and²⁷ spite,                          50
And may great Fame your praises sound aloud.
Gods give me life to show my gratitude.²⁸