Category: PART II

No mind can think, nor² understanding know,
To what a height and vastness Love can grow.
Love, as a god, all passions doth create,
Besides itself, and those determinate.
To Love bows down and prays devoutly³ Fear;                  5
Sadness and Grief Love’s heavy burdens bear.
Anger makes rage, and⁴ envy, spleen, and spite,
Like thunder roars,⁵ and in Love’s quarrels fight.
Th’informing spy of Love is Jealousy,⁶
And Doubt its guide, to search where th’foes do⁷ lie.       10
Pity, Love’s child, whose eyes with tears do flow,⁸
On every object misery doth⁹ show.
Hate is Love’s champion, which opposeth all
Love’s enemies, their ruin and their fall.

Love is the cause, and hate is the effect
Which is produced when love doth find neglect.
For love, as² fire, doth³ on fuel burn,
And grief, as coals when⁴ quenched, to blackness turn.
Thence⁵ pale and melancholy ashes grow,                          5
Which every wind, though weak, dispersing⁶ blow.
For life and strength from thence⁷ is gone and past
With th’species, which did cause⁸ the form to last,
Which ne’er regain the form it had at first;⁹
So love is lost in melancholy dust.¹⁰                                     10

¹
What creature’s² in the world, besides mankind,
That can such arts and new inventions find?
Or has such fancies³ as to similize,
Or can so rule and⁴ govern as the wise?
Or that can by his wit⁵ his mind indite,                                      5
Can⁶ numbers set, and subtle letters write?⁷
What creature else but man can speak true sense?⁸
At distance give, and take intelligence?
What creature else, by reason can abate
All passions, can raise⁹ doubts, hopes, love, and hate?           10
And can so many countenances show,¹⁰
Which¹¹ are the ground by which affections grow?¹²
They’re several dresses which the mind puts on;
Some serve as veils, which over it are¹³ thrown.
What creature is’t, that has¹⁴ such piercing eyes,                    15
That mingles souls, and in fast friendship ties?¹⁵
What creature else but man has¹⁶ such delights,
So various, and such strong, odd appetites?
Man can distill, and is a chymist rare,
Divides and sep’rates¹⁷ water, fire, and air.                              20
He can divide, and doth asunder take,¹⁸
All Nature’s works, whatever she doth make,¹⁹
Can take the breadth, depth, length, and height²⁰ of things,
And know the virtue of each plant²¹ that springs,
Make²² creatures all submit unto his will,                                 25
And live by fame,²³ though death his body kill.
What else but man can Nature imitate,
With pen and pencil²⁴ can new worlds create?
There’s none like man, for like the²⁵ gods is he.
Then let the world his slave and vassal be.                               30

Ten thousand pounds a year will make me live;
A kingdom Fortune then to me must² give.
I’ll conquer all, like Alexander Great,
And, like to Caesar, my opposers beat.
Give me a fame that with the world may last;              5
Let all tongues tell of my great actions past.
Let every child, when first ’tis taught to speak,³
Repeat my name, my memory for to keep.⁴
And then, great Fortune, give to me thy power
To ruin man, and raise him in an hour.                         10
Let me command the Fates, and spin their thread,
And Death to stay his scythe when I forbid,
And, Destiny, give me your chains to tie,
Effects from causes to produce thereby.
And let me like the gods on high become,⁵                    15
That nothing can⁶ but by my will be done.

When with returning thoughts I do¹ behold
Myself, I find all creatures² of that mould,
And for the mind, which some say is like gods,
I do not find ’twixt man and beast such odds.
Only the shape of man³ is fit for use,                                    5
Which makes him seem much wiser than a goose.
For had a goose (which seems of simple kind)⁴
A shape to form and fit things to her⁵ mind,
To make such creatures as her would⁶ obey,
Could hunt and shoot those that would ’scape away,        10
As wise would⁷ seem as man, be as much feared,
As⁸ when the goose comes near the man be scared.
Who knows but beasts may wiser than men be?
We no such errors or mistakes can see.
Like quiet men they do enjoy their⁹ rest;                             15
To eat and drink in peace, they think it best.
Their food is all they seek, the rest think vain
If not unto¹⁰ eternity remain.
Despise not beasts,¹¹ nor yet be proud of art,
But Nature thank for forming so each part.                        20
And since all knowledge by your form you gain,¹²
Then let not pride above your reason reign.¹³
For if that¹⁴ motion in your brain works best,
Despise not beast ’cause motion is¹⁵ depressed.
Nor boast¹⁶ of speech ’cause reason it¹⁷ can show,            25
For beasts¹⁸ hath reason too for aught¹⁹ we know.
Shape doth inform the mind of what we²⁰ find,
Which being taught, man’s²¹ wiser than beast-kind.²²

What will not riches in abundance do,
And¹ make the mind of man submit unto?
They bribe² out virtue from her strongest hold,
And make³ the coward valorous and bold.
They corrupt⁴ chastity, melt⁵ thoughts of ice,               5
And bashful modesty they do⁶ entice.
They make⁷ the humble, proud, and meek to swell,
Destroy⁸ all loyalty, make⁹ hearts rebel.
They do¹⁰ untie the knots of friendship fast;
All natural¹¹ affections forth they¹² cast.                       10
They cut th’innocent’s throat, and¹³ hearts divide,
Buy conscience out, and every¹⁴ cause decide.
They make that man doth venture life and health,¹⁵
So much desired and dear to him is wealth.¹⁶
They buy out Heav’n, and do cast¹⁷ souls to Hell,        15
For man to get this muck¹⁸ his God will sell.

My dwelling is a low thatched house,¹ my cell
Not² big enough for pride’s great heart to dwell.
My rooms are not of³ stately cedars built,
No marble chimney-piece, nor⁴ wainscot gilt,
No statues cut, or carved, or⁵ cast in brass,                           5
Which, had they life, would Nature’s art surpass,
Nor⁶ painted pictures which Appelles drew;
There’s nought but lime and hair homely⁷ to view.
No agate table with a tortoise frame,
Nor stools stuffed with birds’ feathers, wild or tame,         10
But a stump of an old decayèd tree,
And stools that have⁸ three legs, and half lame be,⁹
Cut with a hatchet from some broken boughs,
And this is all which poverty allows.
Yet it is¹⁰ free from cares, no thieves doth¹¹ fear;                15
The door stands¹² open; all are¹³ welcome there.
Not like the rich, who guests do¹⁴ entertain
With cruelty, when birds and beasts¹⁵ are slain,
Who oil their bodies with their melted grease,
And by their flesh their body’s fat increase.                          20
We need no cook, nor skill to dress our meat,
For Nature dresses most of what we eat,
As roots and herbs, not such as art doth sow,
But which¹⁶ in fields do¹⁷ naturally grow.
Our wooden cups we from the spring do fill,                        25
Which is the wine-press of great Nature still.
Rich men, when¹⁸ they for to delight their taste
Suck out the juice from th’Earth,¹⁹ her strength do²⁰ waste—
For, bearing oft, she’ll²¹ grow so lean and bare,²²
That like a skeleton she will appear—²³                                 30
And for²⁴ their drink, the subtle spirits take²⁵
Both from the²⁶ barley and the full-ripe grape.²⁷
Thus by their luxury their life they waste;
All²⁸ their delight is still to please their taste.
This heats the mind with an ambitious fire;                          35
None happy is, but in a low desire.
Their longings do run out, and fix²⁹ nowhere;
For what they have, or can have, nought they³⁰ care,
But long for what they have not, this th’admire,³¹
Sick for that³² want; so restless is desire.                               40
When we from labors come, we³³ quiet sleep;
No restless thoughts our sense awake doth keep.
All’s still and silent in our house and mind;
Our thoughts are cheerful, and our hearts are kind.
And though that life in motion still doth³⁴ dwell,                 45
Yet rest in life a poor man loveth well.

That mind which would in peace and quiet be
Must cast off cares and foolish vanity.
With honest desires a¹ house’t² must build
Upon the ground of honor, and be³ sealed
With constant resolutions, to⁴ last long,                              5
If it on pillars stands⁵ of justice strong.
Let nothing dwell there but thoughts right⁶ holy;
Turn out ignorance⁷ and rude rash folly.
There will the mind enjoy itself in pleasure,
For to itself it is the greatest treasure.                                 10
For they are poor, whose mind is discontent;
What joy they have, it is but to them⁸ lent.
The world is like unto a troubled sea,
Life like⁹ a bark made of a rotten tree,
Where every wave endangers it to split,                             15
And drowned it is, if ’gainst a rock it hit.
But if this bark be made with temp’rance¹⁰ strong,
It mounts the waves, and travels far and¹¹ long;
If Prudence it doth as a¹² pilot guide,
It scapes all rocks, and¹³ goes with wind and tide.            20
There¹⁴ Love, as¹⁵ merchant, traffics up to Heav’n,¹⁶
And, for his prayers, mercies him hath¹⁷ given.
Conscience, as factor, sets the price of things;
Tranquillity, as buyer,¹⁸ money brings.

In gardens sweet, each flower mark did¹ I,
How they² did spring, bud, blow, wither, and die.
With that, contemplating³ of man’s short stay,
Saw man like to those flowers⁴ pass away.
Yet build they⁵ houses thick, and strong, and high,        5
As if they⁶ should live to eternity,
Hoards⁷ up a mass of wealth, yet cannot fill
His empty mind, but covet he will still.
To gain and⁸ keep, such falsehood men do use
’Gainst right and truth, no base ways they⁹ refuse.        10
I would not blame them, could they death out keep,
Or ease their pains, or cause a quiet sleep,
Or purchase Heav’n, there like the gods to live,¹⁰
And to the sun, moon, stars, could orders give,¹¹
Command the winds to blow, seas to obey,                       15
And level all their waves, cause¹² winds to stay—
But they no power have, unless to die,
And care in life is a great misery.
This care’s but¹³ for a word, an empty sound,
In which is¹⁴ neither soul nor substance found,¹⁵           20
Yet as their heir, they make it to inherit,
And all they have they leave unto this spirit.
To get this child of fame, and this bare word,
They fear no dangers, neither fire nor sword.
All horrid pains and deaths¹⁶ they will endure,               25
Or anything, can it¹⁷ but fame procure.
O man, O man!¹⁸ What high ambition grows
Within his brain,¹⁹ and yet how low he goes!
To be contented only with²⁰ a sound,
Where neither life nor body can be found.²¹                    30