No More Learning

_See note_]

[40-2] _These lines precede_ 34-9 _in_ _1635-69_, _B_, _N_,
_S96_, _TCD:_ _om. O'F_]

[42 one; _Ed:_ one, _1633-69_ _yea, . . . no_] _ital. Ed. _]

[48 all wayes _1719:_ alwayes _1633-69_]

[50-1

'twas Religion,
Yet you neglected not Discretion.

_S96_]

[53 do covet] doth covet _1669_, _O'F_, _S96_]




_To the Countesse of_ Bedford.

_Begun in France but never perfected. _


Though I be _dead_, and buried, yet I have
(Living in you,) Court enough in my grave,
As oft as there I thinke my selfe to bee,
So many resurrections waken mee.
That thankfullnesse your favours have begot 5
In mee, embalmes mee, that I doe not rot.
This season as 'tis Easter, as 'tis spring,
Must both to growth and to confession bring
My thoughts dispos'd unto your influence; so,
These verses bud, so these confessions grow. 10
First I confesse I have to others lent
Your flock, and over prodigally spent
Your treasure, for since I had never knowne
Vertue or beautie, but as they are growne
In you, I should not thinke or say they shine, 15
(So as I have) in any other Mine.
Next I confesse this my confession,
For, 'tis some fault thus much to touch upon
Your praise to you, where half rights seeme too much,
And make your minds sincere complexion blush. 20
Next I confesse my'impenitence, for I
Can scarce repent my first fault, since thereby
Remote low Spirits, which shall ne'r read you,
May in lesse lessons finde enough to doe,
By studying copies, not Originals, 25
_Desunt cætera. _


[To the Countesse _&c. _ _1633-69_ (_following in 1635-69_ That
unripe side _&c. _, _p. _ 417, _and_ If her disdaine _&c. _, _p. _
430), _O'F_]

[5 begot] forgot _1633 some copies_]

[6 embalmes mee, _Ed_: embalmes mee; _1633-69_

rot. _Ed_: rot; _1633-69_]

[9 influence; _Ed_: influence, _1633-69_]

[10 grow. _Ed_: grow; _1633-69_]

[14 or _1633-39_: and _1650-69_]

[16 Mine. _Ed:_ Mine; _1633-69_]

[18 upon _Ed:_ upon, _1633-69_]




_A Letter to the Lady_ Carey, _and M^rs_ Essex Riche, _From_ Amyens.


MADAME,

Here where by All All Saints invoked are,
'Twere too much schisme to be singular,
And 'gainst a practise generall to warre.

Yet turning to Saincts, should my'humility
To other Sainct then you directed bee, 5
That were to make my schisme, heresie.

Nor would I be a Convertite so cold,
As not to tell it; If this be too bold,
Pardons are in this market cheaply sold.

Where, because Faith is in too low degree, 10
I thought it some Apostleship in mee
To speake things which by faith alone I see.

That is, of you, who are a firmament
Of virtues, where no one is growne, or spent,
They'are your materials, not your ornament. 15

Others whom wee call vertuous, are not so
In their whole substance, but, their vertues grow
But in their humours, and at seasons show.

For when through tastlesse flat humilitie
In dow bak'd men some harmelessenes we see, 20
'Tis but his _flegme_ that's _Vertuous_, and not Hee:

Soe is the Blood sometimes; who ever ran
To danger unimportun'd, he was than
No better then a _sanguine_ Vertuous man.

So cloysterall men, who, in pretence of feare 25
All contributions to this life forbeare,
Have Vertue in _Melancholy_, and only there.

Spirituall _Cholerique_ Crytiques, which in all
Religions find faults, and forgive no fall,
Have, through this zeale, Vertue but in their Gall. 30

We'are thus but parcel guilt; to Gold we'are growne
When Vertue is our Soules complexion;
Who knowes his Vertues name or place, hath none.

Vertue'is but aguish, when 'tis severall,
By occasion wak'd, and circumstantiall. 35
True vertue is _Soule_, Alwaies in all deeds _All_.

This Vertue thinking to give dignitie
To your soule, found there no infirmitie,
For, your soule was as good Vertue, as shee;

Shee therefore wrought upon that part of you 40
Which is scarce lesse then soule, as she could do,
And so hath made your beauty, Vertue too.

Hence comes it, that your Beauty wounds not hearts,
As Others, with prophane and sensuall Darts,
But as an influence, vertuous thoughts imparts. 45

But if such friends by the honor of your sight
Grow capable of this so great a light,
As to partake your vertues, and their might,

What must I thinke that influence must doe,
Where it findes sympathie and matter too, 50
Vertue, and beauty of the same stuffe, as you?

Which is, your noble worthie sister, shee
Of whom, if what in this my Extasie
And revelation of you both I see,

I should write here, as in short Galleries 55
The Master at the end large glasses ties,
So to present the roome twice to our eyes,

So I should give this letter length, and say
That which I said of you; there is no way
From either, but by the other, not to stray. 60

May therefore this be enough to testifie
My true devotion, free from flattery;
He that beleeves himselfe, doth never lie.


[A Letter to _&c. _ _1633-69_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec:_ To the Lady
Carey and her Sister M^rs Essex Rich. From Amiens. _O'F:_
To the Lady Co: of C. _N_, _TCD:_ To the Ladie Carey. _or_ A
Letter to the Ladie Carey. _B_, _Cy_, _S96:_ _no title_, _P:_
To M^rs Essex Rich and her sister frô Amiens. _M_]

[13 who are] who is _1633_]

[19 humilitie _1633-54_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _M_,
_N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S96_, _TCD:_ humidity _1669_, _Chambers_]

[26 contributions] contribution _B_, _D_, _N_, _TCD_]

[30 this zeale, _1635-69_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _O'F_,
_P_, _S96_, _TCD:_ their zeale, _1633_, _Lec_]

[31 Gold] Golds _1633 some copies_]

[33 aguish,] anguish, _1650-54_]

[57 our eyes,] your eyes, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _P_]

[60 by the] to the _1669_

other, _1669:_ other _1633-54_]




_To the Countesse of Salisbury. _ August. 1614.


Faire, great, and good, since seeing you, wee see
What Heaven can doe, and what any Earth can be:
Since now your beauty shines, now when the Sunne
Growne stale, is to so low a value runne,
That his disshevel'd beames and scattered fires 5
Serve but for Ladies Periwigs and Tyres
In lovers Sonnets: you come to repaire
Gods booke of creatures, teaching what is faire.
Since now, when all is withered, shrunke, and dri'd,
All Vertues ebb'd out to a dead low tyde, 10
All the worlds frame being crumbled into sand,
Where every man thinks by himselfe to stand,
Integritie, friendship, and confidence,
(Ciments of greatnes) being vapor'd hence,
And narrow man being fill'd with little shares, 15
Court, Citie, Church, are all shops of small-wares,
All having blowne to sparkes their noble fire,
And drawne their sound gold-ingot into wyre;
All trying by a love of littlenesse
To make abridgments, and to draw to lesse, 20
Even that nothing, which at first we were;
Since in these times, your greatnesse doth appeare,
And that we learne by it, that man to get
Towards him that's infinite, must first be great.
Since in an age so ill, as none is fit 25
So much as to accuse, much lesse mend it,
(For who can judge, or witnesse of those times
Where all alike are guiltie of the crimes? )
Where he that would be good, is thought by all
A monster, or at best fantasticall; 30
Since now you durst be good, and that I doe
Discerne, by daring to contemplate you,
That there may be degrees of faire, great, good,
Through your light, largenesse, vertue understood:
If in this sacrifice of mine, be showne 35
Any small sparke of these, call it your owne.
And if things like these, have been said by mee
Of others; call not that Idolatrie.
For had God made man first, and man had seene
The third daies fruits, and flowers, and various greene, 40
He might have said the best that he could say
Of those faire creatures, which were made that day;
And when next day he had admir'd the birth
Of Sun, Moone, Stars, fairer then late-prais'd earth,
Hee might have said the best that he could say, 45
And not be chid for praising yesterday;
So though some things are not together true,
As, that another is worthiest, and, that you:
Yet, to say so, doth not condemne a man,
If when he spoke them, they were both true than. 50
How faire a proofe of this, in our soule growes?
Wee first have soules of growth, and sense, and those,
When our last soule, our soule immortall came,
Were swallowed into it, and have no name.
Nor doth he injure those soules, which doth cast 55
The power and praise of both them, on the last;
No more doe I wrong any; I adore
The same things now, which I ador'd before,
The subject chang'd, and measure; the same thing
In a low constable, and in the King 60
I reverence; His power to work on mee:
So did I humbly reverence each degree
Of faire, great, good; but more, now I am come
From having found their _walkes_, to find their _home_.
And as I owe my first soules thankes, that they 65
For my last soule did fit and mould my clay,
So am I debtor unto them, whose worth,
Enabled me to profit, and take forth
This new great lesson, thus to study you;
Which none, not reading others, first, could doe. 70
Nor lacke I light to read this booke, though I
In a darke Cave, yea in a Grave doe lie;
For as your fellow Angells, so you doe
Illustrate them who come to study you.
The first whom we in Histories doe finde 75
To have profest all Arts, was one borne blinde:
He lackt those eyes beasts have as well as wee,
Not those, by which Angels are seene and see;
So, though I'am borne without those eyes to live,
Which fortune, who hath none her selfe, doth give, 80
Which are, fit meanes to see bright courts and you,
Yet may I see you thus, as now I doe;
I shall by that, all goodnesse have discern'd,
And though I burne my librarie, be learn'd.


[To the Countesse _&c. _ _1633-69_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec:_ To
the Countess of Salisbury. _O'F:_ To the Countess of S. _N_,
_TCD_]

[2 and what _1633_, _1669_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec:_ what _1635-54_,
_N_, _O'F_, _TCD_]

[16 Court,] Courts, _1669_]

[17 noble fire,] nobler fire, _O'F_]

[24 him] him, _1633_

that's _1650-69:_ thats _1633-39_]

[29-30 _Chambers includes in parenthesis_]

[30 fantasticall; _Ed:_ fantasticall: _1633-69_]

[34 light, largenesse,] lights largeness, _1669_]

[38 Idolatrie. ] Adulterie: _N_, _TCD_]

[40 greene,] greene _1633_]

[42 day; _Ed:_ day: _1633-69_]

[46 yesterday; _Ed:_ yesterday: _1633-69_]

[54 name. _1633-39:_ name _1654-69_]

[57 any; I adore _1633_, _D_, _Lec_, _N_, _TCD:_ any, if I
adore _1635-69_, _O'F_ (if _being inserted_)]

[61 mee: _D_, _N_, _TCD:_ mee; _1633-69_]

[63 good; _Ed:_ good, _1633-69_]

[77-8 _om. _ _D_, _H49_, _Lec_]




_To the Lady Bedford. _


You that are she and you, that's double shee,
In her dead face, halfe of your selfe shall see;
Shee was the other part, for so they doe
Which build them friendships, become one of two;
So two, that but themselves no third can fit, 5
Which were to be so, when they were not yet;
Twinnes, though their birth _Cusco_, and _Musco_ take,
As divers starres one Constellation make;
Pair'd like two eyes, have equall motion, so
Both but one meanes to see, one way to goe. 10
Had you dy'd first, a carcasse shee had beene;
And wee your rich Tombe in her face had seene;
She like the Soule is gone, and you here stay,
Not a live friend; but th'other halfe of clay.
And since you act that part, As men say, here 15
Lies such a Prince, when but one part is there,
And do all honour and devotion due
Unto the whole, so wee all reverence you;
For, such a friendship who would not adore
In you, who are all what both were before, 20
Not all, as if some perished by this,
But so, as all in you contracted is.
As of this all, though many parts decay,
The pure which elemented them shall stay;
And though diffus'd, and spread in infinite, 25
Shall recollect, and in one All unite:
So madame, as her Soule to heaven is fled,
Her flesh rests in the earth, as in the bed;
Her vertues do, as to their proper spheare,
Returne to dwell with you, of whom they were: 30
As perfect motions are all circular,
So they to you, their sea, whence lesse streames are.
Shee was all spices, you all metalls; so
In you two wee did both rich Indies know.
And as no fire, nor rust can spend or waste 35
One dramme of gold, but what was first shall last,
Though it bee forc'd in water, earth, salt, aire,
Expans'd in infinite, none will impaire;
So, to your selfe you may additions take,
But nothing can you lesse, or changed make. 40
Seeke not in seeking new, to seeme to doubt,
That you can match her, or not be without;
But let some faithfull booke in her roome be,
Yet but of _Iudith_ no such booke as shee.


[To the _&c. _ _1635-69_, _O'F:_ Elegie to the Lady Bedford.
_1633_, _Cy_, _H40_, _L74_, _N_, _P_, _TCD:_ Elegia Sexta.
_S:_ _In 1633, Cy, H40, N, TCD it follows, in P precedes, the
Funerall Elegy_ Death (_p. _ 284), _to which it is apparently
a covering letter:_ _In L74 it follows the_ Elegy on the Lady
Marckham: _O'F places it among the_ Letters, _S among the_
Elegies]

[1 she and you,] she, and you _1633-69_, _Chambers_. _See
note_]

[4 two;] the two; _1669_]

[6 yet; _Ed:_ yet _1633-39:_ yet. _1650-69_]

[8 make; _Ed:_ make, _1633-69_]

[10 goe. _Ed:_ goe; _1633-69_]

[13 stay,] stay _1633-35_

th'other] thother _1633_

clay. _Ed:_ clay; _1633-69_]

[16 there, _Ed:_ there; _1633-69_]

[17 honour] honour: _1633_

due] due; _1633_]

[20 were] was _1633_]

[22 as all in you] as in you all _O'F:_ that in you all _Cy_,
_H40_, _L74_, _N_, _S_

is. _Ed:_ is; _1633-69_]

[28 the bed;] a bed; _Cy_, _H40_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _S:_ her
bed; _P_]

[30 were:] were; _1633_]

[32 are. ] are; _1633_]

[34 know. ] know; _1633_]

[41 doubt, _1633:_ doubt; _1635-69_]

[42 can] _twice in 1633_]




AN ANATOMIE OF THE WORLD.

_Wherein_,

By occasion of the untimely death of
Mistris ELIZABETH DRVRY,
the frailty and the decay of this
whole World is represented.

* * * * *

The first Anniversary.

* * * * *


_To the praise of the dead_,

_and the_ ANATOMIE.


Well dy'd the World, that we might live to see
This world of wit, in his Anatomie:
No evill wants his good; so wilder heires
Bedew their Fathers Tombes, with forced teares,
Whose state requites their losse: whiles thus we gain, 5
Well may wee walke in blacks, but not complaine.
Yet how can I consent the world is dead
While this Muse lives? which in his spirits stead
Seemes to informe a World; and bids it bee,
In spight of losse or fraile mortalitie? 10
And thou the subject of this welborne thought,
Thrice noble maid, couldst not have found nor sought
A fitter time to yeeld to thy sad Fate,
Then whiles this spirit lives, that can relate
Thy worth so well to our last Nephews eyne, 15
That they shall wonder both at his and thine:
Admired match! where strives in mutuall grace
The cunning pencill, and the comely face:
A taske which thy faire goodnesse made too much
For the bold pride of vulgar pens to touch; 20
Enough is us to praise them that praise thee,
And say, that but enough those prayses bee,
Which hadst thou liv'd, had hid their fearfull head
From th'angry checkings of thy modest red:
Death barres reward and shame: when envy's gone, 25
And gaine, 'tis safe to give the dead their owne.
As then the wise Egyptians wont to lay
More on their Tombes, then houses: these of clay,
But those of brasse, or marble were: so wee
Give more unto thy Ghost, then unto thee. 30
Yet what wee give to thee, thou gav'st to us,
And may'st but thanke thy selfe, for being thus:
Yet what thou gav'st, and wert, O happy maid,
Thy grace profest all due, where 'tis repayd.
So these high songs that to thee suited bin 35
Serve but to sound thy Makers praise, in thine,
Which thy deare soule as sweetly sings to him
Amid the Quire of Saints, and Seraphim,
As any Angels tongue can sing of thee;
The subjects differ, though the skill agree: 40
For as by infant-yeares men judge of age,
Thy early love, thy vertues, did presage
What an high part thou bear'st in those best songs,
Whereto no burden, nor no end belongs.
Sing on thou virgin Soule, whose lossfull gaine 45
Thy lovesick parents have bewail'd in vaine;
Never may thy Name be in our songs forgot,
Till wee shall sing thy ditty and thy note.


[An Anatomie _&c. _ _1611-33:_ Anatomie _&c. _ _1635-69_

The first Anniversary. _1612-69:_ _om. 1611_. _See note_

To the praise of the dead _&c. _ _1611-69_ (Dead _1611_)]

[8 While] Whiles _1639-69_]

[21 is] it is _1699_]

[25 shame: _1611_, _1612-25:_ shame, _1633-69_]

[26 gaine, _1633-69:_ gaine; _1612-25_]

[34 where] were _1621-25_]

[35 bin _1633-39:_ bine _1611:_ bine, _1612-21:_ bine. _1625:_
bin, _1650-69_]

[36 praise, in thine, _1611_, _1612-25:_ praise and thine,
_1633-69_]

[38 Quire _1611_, _1612-25:_ quire _1633-69_]

[39 tongue _1611_, _1612-39:_ tongues _1650-69_]

[41 infant-yeares _1611_, _1621-25:_ infant yeares _1633-69_]

[42 vertues, _1611_, _1612-25:_ vertues _1633-69_

presage _1612-25:_ presage, _1633-69_]

[43 What an hie . . . best songs, _1611-12:_ What hie . . . best
songs _1621-25:_ What high . . . best of songs, _1633-69_]

[47 our _1611_, _1612-54:_ _om. 1669_

forgot,] forgot. _1621-25_]




An Anatomy of the World.

_The first Anniversary. _


[Sidenote: _The entrie into the worke. _]
When that rich Soule which to her heaven is gone,
Whom all do celebrate, who know they have one,
(For who is sure he hath a Soule, unlesse
It see, and judge, and follow worthinesse,
And by Deedes praise it? hee who doth not this, 5
May lodge an In-mate soule, but 'tis not his. )
When that Queene ended here her progresse time,
And, as t'her standing house to heaven did climbe,
Where loath to make the Saints attend her long,
She's now a part both of the Quire, and Song, 10
This World, in that great earthquake languished;
For in a common bath of teares it bled,
Which drew the strongest vitall spirits out:
But succour'd then with a perplexed doubt,
Whether the world did lose, or gaine in this, 15
(Because since now no other way there is,
But goodnesse, to see her, whom all would see,
All must endeavour to be good as shee,)
This great consumption to a fever turn'd,
And so the world had fits; it joy'd, it mourn'd; 20
And, as men thinke, that Agues physick are,
And th'Ague being spent, give over care,
So thou sicke World, mistak'st thy selfe to bee
Well, when alas, thou'rt in a Lethargie.
Her death did wound and tame thee than, and than 25
Thou might'st have better spar'd the Sunne, or Man.
That wound was deep, but 'tis more misery,
That thou hast lost thy sense and memory.
'Twas heavy then to heare thy voyce of mone,
But this is worse, that thou art speechlesse growne. 30
Thou hast forgot thy name, thou hadst; thou wast
Nothing but shee, and her thou hast o'rpast.
For as a child kept from the Font, untill
A prince, expected long, come to fulfill
The ceremonies, thou unnam'd had'st laid, 35
Had not her comming, thee her Palace made:
Her name defin'd thee, gave thee forme, and frame,
And thou forgett'st to celebrate thy name.
Some moneths she hath beene dead (but being dead,
Measures of times are all determined) 40
But long she'ath beene away, long, long, yet none
Offers to tell us who it is that's gone.
But as in states doubtfull of future heires,
When sicknesse without remedie empaires
The present Prince, they're loth it should be said, 45
The Prince doth languish, or the Prince is dead:
So mankinde feeling now a generall thaw,
A strong example gone, equall to law,
The Cyment which did faithfully compact,
And glue all vertues, now resolv'd, and slack'd, 50
Thought it some blasphemy to say sh'was dead,
Or that our weaknesse was discovered
In that confession; therefore spoke no more
Then tongues, the Soule being gone, the losse deplore.
But though it be too late to succour thee, 55
Sicke World, yea, dead, yea putrified, since shee
Thy'intrinsique balme, and thy preservative,
Can never be renew'd, thou never live,
I (since no man can make thee live) will try,
What wee may gaine by thy Anatomy. 60
Her death hath taught us dearely, that thou art
Corrupt and mortall in thy purest part.
Let no man say, the world it selfe being dead,
'Tis labour lost to have discovered
The worlds infirmities, since there is none 65
Alive to study this dissection;
[Sidenote: _What life the world hath stil. _]
For there's a kinde of World remaining still,
Though shee which did inanimate and fill
The world, be gone, yet in this last long night,
Her Ghost doth walke; that is, a glimmering light, 70
A faint weake love of vertue, and of good,
Reflects from her, on them which understood
Her worth; and though she have shut in all day,
The twilight of her memory doth stay;
Which, from the carcasse of the old world, free, 75
Creates a new world, and new creatures bee
Produc'd: the matter and the stuffe of this,
Her vertue, and the forme our practice is:
And though to be thus elemented, arme
These creatures, from home-borne intrinsique harme, 80
(For all assum'd unto this dignitie,
So many weedlesse Paradises bee,
Which of themselves produce no venemous sinne,
Except some forraine Serpent bring it in)
Yet, because outward stormes the strongest breake, 85
And strength it selfe by confidence growes weake,
This new world may be safer, being told
[Sidenote: _The sicknesses of the World. _]
The dangers and diseases of the old:
For with due temper men doe then forgoe,
Or covet things, when they their true worth know. 90
[Sidenote: _Impossibility of health. _]
There is no health; Physitians say that wee,
At best, enjoy but a neutralitie.
And can there bee worse sicknesse, then to know
That we are never well, nor can be so?
Wee are borne ruinous: poore mothers cry, 95
That children come not right, nor orderly;
Except they headlong come and fall upon
An ominous precipitation.
How witty's ruine! how importunate
Upon mankinde! it labour'd to frustrate 100
Even Gods purpose; and made woman, sent
For mans reliefe, cause of his languishment.
They were to good ends, and they are so still,
But accessory, and principall in ill;
For that first marriage was our funerall: 105
One woman at one blow, then kill'd us all,
And singly, one by one, they kill us now.
We doe delightfully our selves allow
To that consumption; and profusely blinde,
Wee kill our selves to propagate our kinde. 110
And yet we do not that; we are not men:
There is not now that mankinde, which was then,
When as, the Sunne and man did seeme to strive,
[Sidenote: _Shortnesse of life. _]
(Joynt tenants of the world) who should survive;
When, Stagge, and Raven, and the long-liv'd tree, 115
Compar'd with man, dy'd in minoritie;
When, if a slow pac'd starre had stolne away
From the observers marking, he might stay
Two or three hundred yeares to see't againe,
And then make up his observation plaine; 120
When, as the age was long, the sise was great;
Mans growth confess'd, and recompenc'd the meat;
So spacious and large, that every Soule
Did a faire Kingdome, and large Realme controule:
And when the very stature, thus erect, 125
Did that soule a good way towards heaven direct.
Where is this mankinde now? who lives to age,
Fit to be made _Methusalem_ his page?
Alas, we scarce live long enough to try
Whether a true made clocke run right, or lie. 130
Old Grandsires talke of yesterday with sorrow,
And for our children wee reserve to morrow.
So short is life, that every peasant strives,
In a torne house, or field, to have three lives.
And as in lasting, so in length is man 135
[Sidenote: _Smalnesse of stature. _]
Contracted to an inch, who was a spanne;
For had a man at first in forrests stray'd,
Or shipwrack'd in the Sea, one would have laid
A wager, that an Elephant, or Whale,
That met him, would not hastily assaile 140
A thing so equall to him: now alas,
The Fairies, and the Pigmies well may passe
As credible; mankinde decayes so soone,
We'are scarce our Fathers shadowes cast at noone:
Onely death addes t'our length: nor are wee growne 145
In stature to be men, till we are none.
But this were light, did our lesse volume hold
All the old Text; or had wee chang'd to gold
Their silver; or dispos'd into lesse glasse
Spirits of vertue, which then scatter'd was. 150
But 'tis not so: w'are not retir'd, but dampt;
And as our bodies, so our mindes are crampt:
'Tis shrinking, not close weaving that hath thus,
In minde, and body both bedwarfed us.
Wee seeme ambitious, Gods whole worke t'undoe; 155
Of nothing hee made us, and we strive too,
To bring our selves to nothing backe; and wee
Doe what wee can, to do't so soone as hee.
With new diseases on our selves we warre,
And with new Physicke, a worse Engin farre. 160
Thus man, this worlds Vice-Emperour, in whom
All faculties, all graces are at home;
And if in other creatures they appeare,
They're but mans Ministers, and Legats there,
To worke on their rebellions, and reduce 165
Them to Civility, and to mans use:
This man, whom God did wooe, and loth t'attend
Till man came up, did downe to man descend,
This man, so great, that all that is, is his,
Oh what a trifle, and poore thing he is! 170
If man were any thing, he's nothing now:
Helpe, or at least some time to wast, allow
T'his other wants, yet when he did depart
With her whom we lament, hee lost his heart.
She, of whom th'Ancients seem'd to prophesie, 175
When they call'd vertues by the name of _shee_;
Shee in whom vertue was so much refin'd,
That for Allay unto so pure a minde
Shee tooke the weaker Sex; shee that could drive
The poysonous tincture, and the staine of _Eve_, 180
Out of her thoughts, and deeds; and purifie
All, by a true religious Alchymie;
Shee, shee is dead; shee's dead: when thou knowest this,
Thou knowest how poore a trifling thing man is.
And learn'st thus much by our Anatomie, 185
The heart being perish'd, no part can be free.
And that except thou feed (not banquet) on
The supernaturall food, Religion,
Thy better Growth growes withered, and scant;
Be more then man, or thou'rt lesse then an Ant. 190
Then, as mankinde, so is the worlds whole frame
Quite out of joynt, almost created lame:
For, before God had made up all the rest,
Corruption entred, and deprav'd the best:
It seis'd the Angels, and then first of all 195
The world did in her cradle take a fall,
And turn'd her braines, and tooke a generall maime,
Wronging each joynt of th'universall frame.
The noblest part, man, felt it first; and than
Both beasts and plants, curst in the curse of man. 200
[Sidenote: _Decay of nature in other parts. _]
So did the world from the first houre decay,
That evening was beginning of the day,
And now the Springs and Sommers which we see,
Like sonnes of women after fiftie bee.
And new Philosophy calls all in doubt, 205
The Element of fire is quite put out;
The Sun is lost, and th'earth, and no mans wit
Can well direct him where to looke for it.
And freely men confesse that this world's spent,
When in the Planets, and the Firmament 210
They seeke so many new; they see that this
Is crumbled out againe to his Atomies.
'Tis all in peeces, all cohaerence gone;
All just supply, and all Relation:
Prince, Subject, Father, Sonne, are things forgot, 215
For every man alone thinkes he hath got
To be a Phœnix, and that then can bee
None of that kinde, of which he is, but hee.
This is the worlds condition now, and now
She that should all parts to reunion bow, 220
She that had all Magnetique force alone,
To draw, and fasten sundred parts in one;
She whom wise nature had invented then
When she observ'd that every sort of men
Did in their voyage in this worlds Sea stray, 225
And needed a new compasse for their way;
She that was best, and first originall
Of all faire copies, and the generall
Steward to Fate; she whose rich eyes, and brest
Guilt the West Indies, and perfum'd the East; 230
Whose having breath'd in this world, did bestow
Spice on those Iles, and bad them still smell so,
And that rich Indie which doth gold interre,
Is but as single money, coyn'd from her:
She to whom this world must it selfe refer, 235
As Suburbs, or the Microcosme of her,
Shee, shee is dead; shee's dead: when thou knowst this,
Thou knowst how lame a cripple this world is.
And learn'st thus much by our Anatomy,
That this worlds generall sickenesse doth not lie 240
In any humour, or one certaine part;
But as thou sawest it rotten at the heart,
Thou seest a Hectique feaver hath got hold
Of the whole substance, not to be contrould,
And that thou hast but one way, not t'admit 245
The worlds infection, to be none of it.
For the worlds subtilst immateriall parts
Feele this consuming wound, and ages darts.
For the worlds beauty is decai'd, or gone,
[Sidenote: _Disformity of parts. _]
Beauty, that's colour, and proportion. 250
We thinke the heavens enjoy their Sphericall,
Their round proportion embracing all.
But yet their various and perplexed course,
Observ'd in divers ages, doth enforce
Men to finde out so many Eccentrique parts, 255
Such divers downe-right lines, such overthwarts,
As disproportion that pure forme: It teares
The Firmament in eight and forty sheires,
And in these Constellations then arise
New starres, and old doe vanish from our eyes: 260
As though heav'n suffered earthquakes, peace or war,
When new Towers rise, and old demolish't are.
They have impal'd within a Zodiake
The free-borne Sun, and keepe twelve Signes awake
To watch his steps; the Goat and Crab controule, 265
And fright him backe, who else to either Pole
(Did not these Tropiques fetter him) might runne:
For his course is not round; nor can the Sunne
Perfit a Circle, or maintaine his way
One inch direct; but where he rose to-day 270
He comes no more, but with a couzening line,
Steales by that point, and so is Serpentine:
And seeming weary with his reeling thus,
He meanes to sleepe, being now falne nearer us.
So, of the Starres which boast that they doe runne 275
In Circle still, none ends where he begun.
All their proportion's lame, it sinkes, it swels.
For of Meridians, and Parallels,
Man hath weav'd out a net, and this net throwne
Upon the Heavens, and now they are his owne. 280
Loth to goe up the hill, or labour thus
To goe to heaven, we make heaven come to us.
We spur, we reine the starres, and in their race
They're diversly content t'obey our pace.
But keepes the earth her round proportion still? 285
Doth not a Tenarif, or higher Hill
Rise so high like a Rocke, that one might thinke
The floating Moone would shipwracke there, and sinke?
Seas are so deepe, that Whales being strooke to day,
Perchance to morrow, scarse at middle way 290
Of their wish'd journies end, the bottome, die.
And men, to sound depths, so much line untie,
As one might justly thinke, that there would rise
At end thereof, one of th'Antipodies:
If under all, a Vault infernall bee, 295
(Which sure is spacious, except that we
Invent another torment, that there must
Millions into a straight hot roome be thrust)
Then solidnesse, and roundnesse have no place.
Are these but warts, and pock-holes in the face 300
Of th'earth? Thinke so: but yet confesse, in this
The worlds proportion disfigured is;
[Sidenote: _Disorder in the world. _]
That those two legges whereon it doth rely,
Reward and punishment are bent awry.
And, Oh, it can no more be questioned, 305
That beauties best, proportion, is dead,
Since even griefe it selfe, which now alone
Is left us, is without proportion.
Shee by whose lines proportion should bee
Examin'd, measure of all Symmetree, 310
Whom had that Ancient seen, who thought soules made
Of Harmony, he would at next have said
That Harmony was shee, and thence infer,
That soules were but Resultances from her,
And did from her into our bodies goe, 315
As to our eyes, the formes from objects flow:
Shee, who if those great Doctors truly said
That the Arke to mans proportions was made,
Had been a type for that, as that might be
A type of her in this, that contrary 320
Both Elements, and Passions liv'd at peace
In her, who caus'd all Civill war to cease.
Shee, after whom, what forme so'er we see,
Is discord, and rude incongruitie;
Shee, shee is dead, shee's dead; when thou knowst this 325
Thou knowst how ugly a monster this world is:
And learn'st thus much by our Anatomie,
That here is nothing to enamour thee:
And that, not only faults in inward parts,
Corruptions in our braines, or in our hearts, 330
Poysoning the fountaines, whence our actions spring,
Endanger us: but that if every thing
Be not done fitly'and in proportion,
To satisfie wise, and good lookers on,
(Since most men be such as most thinke they bee) 335
They're lothsome too, by this Deformitee.
For good, and well, must in our actions meete;
Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
But beauties other second Element,
Colour, and lustre now, is as neere spent. 340
And had the world his just proportion,
Were it a ring still, yet the stone is gone.
As a compassionate Turcoyse which doth tell
By looking pale, the wearer is not well,
As gold falls sicke being stung with Mercury, 345
All the worlds parts of such complexion bee.
When nature was most busie, the first weeke,
Swadling the new borne earth, God seem'd to like
That she should sport her selfe sometimes, and play,
To mingle, and vary colours every day: 350
And then, as though shee could not make inow,
Himselfe his various Rainbow did allow.
Sight is the noblest sense of any one,
Yet sight hath only colour to feed on,
And colour is decai'd: summers robe growes 355
Duskie, and like an oft dyed garment showes.
Our blushing red, which us'd in cheekes to spred,
Is inward sunke, and only our soules are red.
Perchance the world might have recovered,
If she whom we lament had not beene dead: 360
But shee, in whom all white, and red, and blew
(Beauties ingredients) voluntary grew,
As in an unvext Paradise; from whom
Did all things verdure, and their lustre come,
Whose composition was miraculous, 365
Being all colour, all Diaphanous,
(For Ayre, and Fire but thick grosse bodies were,
And liveliest stones but drowsie, and pale to her,)
Shee, shee, is dead; shee's dead: when thou know'st this,
Thou knowst how wan a Ghost this our world is: 370
And learn'st thus much by our Anatomie,
That it should more affright, then pleasure thee.
And that, since all faire colour then did sinke,
'Tis now but wicked vanitie, to thinke
[Sidenote: _Weaknesse in the want of correspondence of heaven and
earth. _]
To colour vicious deeds with good pretence, 375
Or with bought colors to illude mens sense.
Nor in ought more this worlds decay appeares,
Then that her influence the heav'n forbeares,
Or that the Elements doe not feele this,
The father, or the mother barren is. 380
The cloudes conceive not raine, or doe not powre,
In the due birth time, downe the balmy showre;
Th'Ayre doth not motherly sit on the earth,
To hatch her seasons, and give all things birth;
Spring-times were common cradles, but are tombes; 385
And false-conceptions fill the generall wombes;
Th'Ayre showes such Meteors, as none can see,
Not only what they meane, but what they bee;
Earth such new wormes, as would have troubled much
Th'Ægyptian _Mages_ to have made more such. 390
What Artist now dares boast that he can bring
Heaven hither, or constellate any thing,
So as the influence of those starres may bee
Imprison'd in an Hearbe, or Charme, or Tree,
And doe by touch, all which those stars could doe? 395
The art is lost, and correspondence too.
For heaven gives little, and the earth takes lesse,
And man least knowes their trade and purposes.
If this commerce twixt heaven and earth were not
Embarr'd, and all this traffique quite forgot, 400
She, for whose losse we have lamented thus,
Would worke more fully, and pow'rfully on us:
Since herbes, and roots, by dying lose not all,
But they, yea Ashes too, are medicinall,
Death could not quench her vertue so, but that 405
It would be (if not follow'd) wondred at:
And all the world would be one dying Swan,
To sing her funerall praise, and vanish than.
But as some Serpents poyson hurteth not,
Except it be from the live Serpent shot, 410
So doth her vertue need her here, to fit
That unto us; shee working more then it.
But shee, in whom to such maturity
Vertue was growne, past growth, that it must die;
She, from whose influence all Impressions came, 415
But, by Receivers impotencies, lame,
Who, though she could not transubstantiate
All states to gold, yet guilded every state,
So that some Princes have some temperance;
Some Counsellers some purpose to advance 420
The common profit; and some people have
Some stay, no more then Kings should give, to crave;
Some women have some taciturnity,
Some nunneries some graines of chastitie.
She that did thus much, and much more could doe, 425
But that our age was Iron, and rustie too,
Shee, shee is dead; shee's dead; when thou knowst this,
Thou knowst how drie a Cinder this world is.
And learn'st thus much by our Anatomy,
That 'tis in vaine to dew, or mollifie 430
It with thy teares, or sweat, or blood: nothing
Is worth our travaile, griefe, or perishing,
But those rich joyes, which did possesse her heart,
Of which she's now partaker, and a part.
[Sidenote: _Conclusion. _]
But as in cutting up a man that's dead, 435
The body will not last out, to have read
On every part, and therefore men direct
Their speech to parts, that are of most effect;
So the worlds carcasse would not last, if I
Were punctuall in this Anatomy; 440
Nor smels it well to hearers, if one tell
Them their disease, who faine would think they're well.
Here therefore be the end: And, blessed maid,
Of whom is meant what ever hath been said,
Or shall be spoken well by any tongue, 445
Whose name refines course lines, and makes prose song,
Accept this tribute, and his first yeares rent,
Who till his darke short tapers end be spent,
As oft as thy feast sees this widowed earth,
Will yearely celebrate thy second birth, 450
That is, thy death; for though the soule of man
Be got when man is made, 'tis borne but than
When man doth die; our body's as the wombe,
And, as a Mid-wife, death directs it home.
And you her creatures, whom she workes upon, 455
And have your last, and best concoction
From her example, and her vertue, if you
In reverence to her, do thinke it due,
That no one should her praises thus rehearse,
As matter fit for Chronicle, not verse; 460
Vouchsafe to call to minde that God did make
A last, and lasting'st peece, a song. He spake
To _Moses_ to deliver unto all,
That song, because hee knew they would let fall
The Law, the Prophets, and the History, 465
But keepe the song still in their memory:
Such an opinion (in due measure) made
Me this great Office boldly to invade:
Nor could incomprehensiblenesse deterre
Mee, from thus trying to emprison her, 470
Which when I saw that a strict grave could doe,
I saw not why verse might not do so too.
Verse hath a middle nature: heaven keepes Soules,
The Grave keepes bodies, Verse the Fame enroules.


[An Anatomy _&c. _ _1611-69_ The first Anniversary. _1612-69_
(First _1612-25_): _om. 1611_]

[_The entrie &c. _ _1612-21:_ _om. 1625-33:_ _1611 and 1635-69
have no notes_]

[2 Whom _1611_, _1612-25_, _1669:_ Who _1633:_ whõ
_1635-54_]

[5 Deedes _1611_, _1612-25:_ deeds, _1633-69_]

[6 In-mate _1611-12:_ Inmate _1621-25:_ immate _1633:_ inmate
_1635-69_]

[10 Song, _1611:_ Song. _1612-33:_ Song: _1635-69_]

[14 then _1611_, _1612-39:_ them _1650-69_]

[18 shee, _1611:_ shee _1612_, _1669:_ shee. _1621-54_]

[22 care, _1611-21:_ care. _1625-33_]

[24 Lethargie. ] Letargee. _1611_, _1612-25_]

[26 Man. _1611_, _1621-25:_ man. _1633-69_]

[31 name, _1611_, _1612-25:_ name _1633-69_]

[33 Font, _1611:_ Fount, _1612-69_]

[36 Palace _1611-12_, _1621-25:_ palace _1633-69_]

[40 times _1611_, _1612-33:_ time _1635-69_]

[48 law, _1612_, _1669:_ law. _1611_, _1621-25:_ law;
_1633-54_]

[50 glue] give _1650-69_]

[_What life &c. _ _1612-21:_ _om. 1625-33_]

[70 walke; _1611_, _1612-25:_ walke, _1633-69_]

[71 good, _1633:_ good _1612-25_, _1635-69_]

[75 old world, free, _1611-12_, _1633-69:_ old world, free
_1621-25_]

[79 though] thought _1621-33_]

[80 home-borne] homborne _1611_, _1621-25:_ homeborne
_1633-69_]

[85 Yet, _1612-25:_ Yet _1633-69_]

[_The sicknesses &c. _ _1612:_ _The sicknesse &c. _ _1621:_ _The
sicknes &c. _ _1625-33_]

[89 then] them _1650-69_]

[99 ruine! _Ed:_ ruine? _1611_, _1612-25:_ ruine, _1633-69_]

[100 mankinde! _Ed:_ mankinde? _1611_, _1612-69_]

[113 When as, the Sunne and man _1633-39:_ _no commas_
_1650-69:_ When as the Sunne and man, _1611_, _1612-25_]

[114 survive; _1650-69:_ survive. _1611_, _1612-39_]

[116 minoritie; _1650-69:_ minoritee. _1611_, _1621-25:_
minoritie, _1633-39_]

[131 Grandsires _1611_, _1612-21:_ Gransires _1625-69_

sorrow, _1611-21:_ sorrow. _1625:_ sorrow: _1633-69_]

[133 peasant _1611_, _1612-25:_ pesant _1633-69_]

[134 lives. _1611_, _1633:_ lives _1612:_ lives, _1621-25_]

[135 man _1611:_ man. _1612-25:_ man, _1633-69_]

[145 addes _1611-21:_ adds _1635-69:_ ads _1625_, _1633_]

[149 silver; _1611-12:_ silver _1621-25:_ silver, _1633-69_]

[150 scatter'd] scattred _1612-25_]

[152 bodies, _1611-25:_ bodies _1633-39_]

[153 close weaving _1633-69:_ close-weaning _1611-12:_ close
weaning _1621-25_]

[161 Thus man, _1611_, _1612-33:_ This man, _1635-69_,
_Chambers_]

[166 use:] use. _1611_, _1621-33_]

[167 t'attend] t'atend _1633_]

[169 man, _1611:_ man _1612-69_]

[171 any thing, _1611-12:_ any thing; _1621-33_]

[172 wast, _1633:_ wast, _1611:_ waste, _1635-69_]

[178 Allay _1611_, _1612-25:_ allay _1633-69_]

[179 Sex; _1611:_ Sex, _1621-25:_ Sex: _1633-69_]

[181 thoughts, _1611-12_, _1635-69:_ thought, _1621-33_]

[183 Shee, shee _1611_, _1612-25:_ She, she _1633-69_]

[186 no] no no _1621_]

[188 Religion, _1611_, _1650-69:_ Religion. _1612-25:_
Religion: _1633-39_]

[189 Growth _1611:_ grouth _1612-25:_ growth _1633-69_

withered] whithered _1621-25_]

[191 Then, _1611_, _1621-25:_ Then _1633-69_]

[195 Angels, _1612-69:_ Angells: _1611_]

[200 man. _1611_, _1612-25:_ man, _1633-39:_ man: _1650-69_]

[210 Firmament _1611-12:_ firmament _1621-69_]

[212 Atomies. ] Atomis. _1611_, _1612-25_]

[213 cohaerence _1611_, _1612-25:_ coherence _1633-69_]

[217 then _1611_, _1612-69:_ there _Grosart, who with Chambers
attributes to 1669_]

[223 invented] innented _1621_]

[228 copies, _1633-69:_ copies; _1611-12:_ copies _1621-25_]

[229 Fate; _1612-69:_ Fate: _1611_

brest _1611:_ brest: _1612-25:_ breast, _1633_]

[230 West Indies, _1611:_ West-Indies, _1621-69_

East; _1611:_ East, _1621-69_]

[234 money, _1611-21:_ money _1625-69_]

[237 knowst _1611:_ knowest _1612-69:_ _and so in_ 238]

[237 this,] this _1633-35_]

[238 is. _1611_, _1612-33:_ is, _1635-69_]

[244 contrould,] contrould. _1611_, _1612-25_]

[251 Sphericall, _1650-69:_ Sphericall _1611_, _1612-39_]

[252 all. _1611_, _1612-25:_ all, _1633-69_]

[257 forme: _1633-69:_ forme. _1611_, _1612-25_]

[258 sheires, _1633-35:_ sheeres, _1611_, _1612-25:_ shieres,
_1639-69_]

[267 Tropiques _1611_, _1612-25:_ tropiques _1633-69_]

[273 with] of _1635-69_]

[284 pace. ] peace. _1612-33_]

[286 Tenarif, _1611_, _1612-25:_ Tenarus _1633-69_

Hill _1611_, _1612-25:_ hill _1633-69_]

[288 there, _1611_, _1612-21:_ there _1625-69_]

[289 strooke _1611_, _1612-25:_ strucke _1633-69_]

[290 to morrow, _1611_, _1612-25:_ to morrow _1633-69_]

[295 Vault _1611_, _1612-25:_ vault _1633-69_]

[298 straight] strait _1611-25_]

[300 pock-holes] pockholes _1633-69_]

[301 th'earth? ] th'earth; _1633_]

[306 beauties best, proportion, _1611_, _1612-39:_ beauty's
best proportion _Chambers:_ _1650-69_ _drop the second comma_]

[313 infer, _1611-12:_ infer. _1621-25:_ infer _1633-69_]

[318 proportions _1611-12:_ proportion _1621-69_]

[321 Elements, _1611-12:_ Elements _1621-69_]

[325 Shee, shee _1611_, _1612-25:_ She, she _1633-69_

shee's] she's _1633-69_

knowst _1611:_ knowest _1612-25:_ know'st _1633-69_]

[326 knowst _1611_, _1612-25:_ knowest _1633-69_]

[336 Deformitee. _1611_, _1612-25:_ deformitie. _1633-69_]

[351 inow, _1611_, _1612-25:_ enough, _1633:_ enow, _1635-69_]

[352 allow. ] allow, _1621-33_]

[366 Diaphanous, _1611_, _1612-25:_ diaphanous, _1633-69_]

[369 Shee, shee, _1611_, _1612-25_ (shee _1625_): She, she
_1633-69_ (_but_ Shee, _1633_, _in pass-over word_)]

[370 knowst _1611:_ knowest _1621-69_]

[374 vanitie, to thinke _1633-69:_ vanity to think, _1611_,
_1612-25_]

[379-80 feele this, . . . barren is. _1611_, _1612-69:_ feele
this. . . . barren is; _Chambers_. _See note_]

[383 Th'Ayre _1611_, _1612-21:_ Th'ayre _1625-69_]

[387 Th'Ayre _1611:_ Th'ayre _1612-69_]

[390 _Mages_] _No change of type_, _1611-12_]

[394 Charme, _1611-21:_ Charme _1625-54_]

[404 Ashes _1611_, _1612-25:_ ashes _1633-69_]

[407 Swan, _1611_, _1612-25:_ swan, _1633-69_]

[415 Impressions _1611:_ Impression _1612-25:_ impression
_1633-69_]

[416 But, _1611:_ But _1621-69_

Receivers _1611-12:_ _rest no capital_]

[421 have] have, _1633_]

[427 is dead;] is dead, _1633-69_

shee's dead; _1611-25:_ she's dead; _1633-69_]

[431 nothing] no thing _1611-21_]

[442 they're] thy're _1633_]

[443 And, _1611_, _1612-25:_ and, _1633-69_]

[467 (in due measure) _1611_, _1612-25_ (_but 1625 drops
second bracket_): _commas_ _1633-69_]

[468 Office _1611_, _1612-25:_ office _1633-69_]

[473 nature: _1611-25:_ nature, _1633-69_]




A Funerall ELEGIE.


'Tis lost, to trust a Tombe with such a guest,
Or to confine her in a marble chest.
Alas, what's Marble, Jeat, or Porphyrie,
Priz'd with the Chrysolite of either eye,
Or with those Pearles, and Rubies, which she was? 5
Joyne the two Indies in one Tombe, 'tis glasse;
And so is all to her materials,
Though every inch were ten Escurials,
Yet she's demolish'd: can wee keepe her then
In works of hands, or of the wits of men? 10
Can these memorials, ragges of paper, give
Life to that name, by which name they must live?
Sickly, alas, short-liv'd, aborted bee
Those carcasse verses, whose soule is not shee.
And can shee, who no longer would be shee, 15
Being such a Tabernacle, stoop to be
In paper wrapt; or, when shee would not lie
In such a house, dwell in an Elegie?
But 'tis no matter; wee may well allow
Verse to live so long as the world will now, 20
For her death wounded it. The world containes
Princes for armes, and Counsellors for braines,
Lawyers for tongues, Divines for hearts, and more,
The Rich for stomackes, and for backes, the Poore;
The Officers for hands, Merchants for feet, 25
By which, remote and distant Countries meet.
But those fine spirits which do tune, and set
This Organ, are those peeces which beget
Wonder and love; and these were shee; and shee
Being spent, the world must needs decrepit bee; 30
For since death will proceed to triumph still,
He can finde nothing, after her, to kill,
Except the world it selfe, so great as shee.
Thus brave and confident may Nature bee,
Death cannot give her such another blow, 35
Because shee cannot such another show.
But must wee say she's dead? may't not be said
That as a sundred clocke is peecemeale laid,
Not to be lost, but by the makers hand
Repollish'd, without errour then to stand, 40
Or as the Affrique Niger streame enwombs
It selfe into the earth, and after comes
(Having first made a naturall bridge, to passe
For many leagues) farre greater then it was,
May't not be said, that her grave shall restore 45
Her, greater, purer, firmer, then before?
Heaven may say this, and joy in't, but can wee
Who live, and lacke her, here this vantage see?
What is't to us, alas, if there have beene
An Angell made a Throne, or Cherubin? 50
Wee lose by't: and as aged men are glad
Being tastlesse growne, to joy in joyes they had,
So now the sick starv'd world must feed upon
This joy, that we had her, who now is gone.
Rejoyce then Nature, and this World, that you, 55
Fearing the last fires hastning to subdue
Your force and vigour, ere it were neere gone,
Wisely bestow'd and laid it all on one.
One, whose cleare body was so pure and thinne,
Because it need disguise no thought within. 60
'Twas but a through-light scarfe, her minde t'inroule;
Or exhalation breath'd out from her Soule.
One, whom all men who durst no more, admir'd:
And whom, who ere had worth enough, desir'd;
As when a Temple's built, Saints emulate 65
To which of them, it shall be consecrate.
But, as when heaven lookes on us with new eyes,
Those new starres every Artist exercise,
What place they should assigne to them they doubt,
Argue,'and agree not, till those starres goe out: 70
So the world studied whose this peece should be,
Till shee can be no bodies else, nor shee:
But like a Lampe of Balsamum, desir'd
Rather t'adorne, then last, she soone expir'd,
Cloath'd in her virgin white integritie, 75
For marriage, though it doe not staine, doth dye.
To scape th'infirmities which wait upon
Woman, she went away, before sh'was one;
And the worlds busie noyse to overcome,
Tooke so much death, as serv'd for _opium_; 80
For though she could not, nor could chuse to dye,
She'ath yeelded to too long an extasie:
Hee which not knowing her said History,
Should come to reade the booke of destiny,
How faire, and chast, humble, and high she'ad been, 85
Much promis'd, much perform'd, at not fifteene,
And measuring future things, by things before,
Should turne the leafe to reade, and reade no more,
Would thinke that either destiny mistooke,
Or that some leaves were torne out of the booke. 90
But 'tis not so; Fate did but usher her
To yeares of reasons use, and then inferre
Her destiny to her selfe, which liberty
She tooke but for thus much, thus much to die.
Her modestie not suffering her to bee 95
Fellow-Commissioner with Destinie,
She did no more but die; if after her
Any shall live, which dare true good prefer,
Every such person is her deligate,
T'accomplish that which should have beene her Fate. 100
They shall make up that Booke and shall have thanks
Of Fate, and her, for filling up their blankes.
For future vertuous deeds are Legacies,
Which from the gift of her example rise;
And 'tis in heav'n part of spirituall mirth, 105
To see how well the good play her, on earth.


[Funerall ELEGIE. _1611_, _1612-69:_ _whole poem printed in
italics_ _1612-25:_ _in roman 1611_]

[1 lost, _1611_, _1612-25:_ lost _1633:_ losse _1635-69_]

[2 chest. _1611-21:_ chest, _1625-69_]

[8 Escurials,] escurials. _1611-25_]

[13 aborted _1611_, _1612-33:_ abortive _1635-69_]

[17 or, _1612-25:_ or _1633-69_]

[18 a] an _1635-69_]

[22-5 Princes, Counsellors _&c. _ _all in capitals except_
Officers _1611_, _1612-25:_ _later editions erratic_]

[24: backes, _1611:_ backes _1612-25:_ backs _1633-69_

Poore] _spelt_ Pore _1611-12_]

[28 peeces] peeces, _1633-69_]

[30 _1625 inserts marginal note_, Smalnesse of stature. _See
p. _ 235]

[33 as _1611-21:_ _om. 1625:_ was _1633-69_]

[47 in't,] in't; _1612-21:_ in'ts, _1625_]

[48 her, here _1611_, _1612-25:_ her, here, _1633:_ her here,
_1635-69_]

[58 one. _1612-25:_ one; _1633-69_]

[64 worth] worke _1633_]

[74 expir'd, _1633-69:_ expir'd; _1611_, _1612-25_]

[75 integritie, _1633-69:_ integritie; _1611-25_]

[76 it doe _1611_, _1612-25:_ it doth _1633-69_

dye. _1611_, _1612-69_ (_spelt_ die _1633-69_): _Chambers
closes the sentence at_ 74 expir'd _and prints_ 75-7 _thus_--

Clothed in her virgin white integrity
--For marriage, though it doth not stain, doth dye--
To 'scape _&c. _

]

[83 said _1611_, _1612-33:_ sad _1635-69_]

[94 tooke _1611_, _1612-25:_ tooke, _1633-69_]

[98 prefer, _1611_, _1612-25:_ prefer; _1633-69_]




OF THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE.

_Wherein_,

By occasion of the Religious death of
Mistris ELIZABETH DRVRY,
the incommodities of the Soule in
this life, and her exaltation in
the next, are contemplated.

* * * * *

The second Anniversary.

* * * * *


_The Harbinger to the_

PROGRESSE.


Two Soules move here, and mine (a third) must move
Paces of admiration, and of love;
Thy Soule (deare virgin) whose this tribute is,
Mov'd from this mortall Spheare to lively blisse;
And yet moves still, and still aspires to see 5
The worlds last day, thy glories full degree:
Like as those starres which thou o'r-lookest farre,
Are in their place, and yet still moved are:
No soule (whiles with the luggage of this clay
It clogged is) can follow thee halfe way; 10
Or see thy flight, which doth our thoughts outgoe
So fast, that now the lightning moves but slow:
But now thou art as high in heaven flowne
As heaven's from us; what soule besides thine owne
Can tell thy joyes, or say he can relate 15
Thy glorious Journals in that blessed state?
I envie thee (Rich soule) I envy thee,
Although I cannot yet thy glory see:
And thou (great spirit) which hers follow'd hast
So fast, as none can follow thine so fast; 20
So far, as none can follow thine so farre,
(And if this flesh did not the passage barre
Hadst caught her) let me wonder at thy flight
Which long agone hadst lost the vulgar sight,
And now mak'st proud the better eyes, that they 25
Can see thee less'ned in thine ayery way;
So while thou mak'st her soule by progresse knowne
Thou mak'st a noble progresse of thine owne,
From this worlds carkasse having mounted high
To that pure life of immortalitie; 30
Since thine aspiring thoughts themselves so raise
That more may not beseeme a creatures praise,
Yet still thou vow'st her more; and every yeare
Mak'st a new progresse, while thou wandrest here;
Still upward mount; and let thy Makers praise 35
Honor thy Laura, and adorne thy laies.
And since thy Muse her head in heaven shrouds,
Oh let her never stoope below the clouds:
And if those glorious sainted soules may know
Or what wee doe, or what wee sing below, 40
Those acts, those songs shall still content them best
Which praise those awfull Powers that make them blest.


[Of the Progresse _&c. _ _1612-69:_ The second Anniversary.
_1612-69_ (_in 1612-21 it stands at head of page_)]

[The Harbinger _&c. _] _In 1612-25 this poem printed in
italics_]

[8 are:] are _1612-25_]

[12 that now] as now _1635-69_, _Chambers_]

[27 soule] soules _1612_]

[28 owne, _1635-69:_ owne. _1612-33_]

[34 while] whilst _1669_]

[35 upward] upwards _1612_]




OF THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE.

_The second Anniversarie. _

[Sidenote: _The entrance. _[1]]
Nothing could make me sooner to confesse
That this world had an everlastingnesse,
Then to consider, that a yeare is runne,
Since both this lower world's, and the Sunnes Sunne,
The Lustre, and the vigor of this All, 5
Did set; 'twere blasphemie to say, did fall.
But as a ship which hath strooke saile, doth runne
By force of that force which before, it wonne:
Or as sometimes in a beheaded man,
Though at those two Red seas, which freely ranne, 10
One from the Trunke, another from the Head,
His soule be sail'd, to her eternall bed,
His eyes will twinckle, and his tongue will roll,
As though he beckned, and cal'd backe his soule,
He graspes his hands, and he pulls up his feet, 15
And seemes to reach, and to step forth to meet
His soule; when all these motions which we saw,
Are but as Ice, which crackles at a thaw:
Or as a Lute, which in moist weather, rings
Her knell alone, by cracking of her strings: 20
So struggles this dead world, now shee is gone;
For there is motion in corruption.
As some daies are at the Creation nam'd,
Before the Sunne, the which fram'd daies, was fram'd,
So after this Sunne's set, some shew appeares, 25
And orderly vicissitude of yeares.
Yet a new Deluge, and of _Lethe_ flood,
Hath drown'd us all, All have forgot all good,
Forgetting her, the maine reserve of all.
Yet in this deluge, grosse and generall, 30
Thou seest me strive for life; my life shall bee,
To be hereafter prais'd, for praysing thee;
Immortall Maid, who though thou would'st refuse
The name of Mother, be unto my Muse
A Father, since her chast Ambition is, 35
Yearely to bring forth such a child as this.
These Hymnes may worke on future wits, and so
May great Grand children of thy prayses grow.
And so, though not revive, embalme and spice
The world, which else would putrifie with vice. 40
For thus, Man may extend thy progeny,
Untill man doe but vanish, and not die.
These Hymnes thy issue, may encrease so long,
As till Gods great _Venite_ change the song.
[Sidenote: _A iust disestimation[2] of this world. _]
Thirst for that time, O my insatiate soule, 45
And serve thy thirst, with Gods safe-sealing Bowle.
Be thirstie still, and drinke still till thou goe
To th'only Health, to be Hydroptique so.
Forget this rotten world; And unto thee
Let thine owne times as an old storie bee. 50
Be not concern'd: studie not why, nor when;
Doe not so much as not beleeve a man.
For though to erre, be worst, to try truths forth,
Is far more businesse, then this world is worth.
The world is but a carkasse; thou art fed 55
By it, but as a worme, that carkasse bred;
And why should'st thou, poore worme, consider more,
When this world will grow better then before,
Then those thy fellow wormes doe thinke upon
That carkasses last resurrection. 60
Forget this world, and scarce thinke of it so,
As of old clothes, cast off a yeare agoe.
To be thus stupid is Alacritie;
Men thus Lethargique have best Memory.
Look upward; that's towards her, whose happy state 65
We now lament not, but congratulate.
Shee, to whom all this world was but a stage,
Where all sat harkning how her youthfull age
Should be emploi'd, because in all shee did,
Some Figure of the Golden times was hid. 70
Who could not lacke, what e'r this world could give,
Because shee was the forme, that made it live;
Nor could complaine, that this world was unfit
To be staid in, then when shee was in it;
Shee that first tried indifferent desires 75
By vertue, and vertue by religious fires,
Shee to whose person Paradise adher'd,
As Courts to Princes, shee whose eyes ensphear'd
Star-light enough, t'have made the South controule,
(Had shee beene there) the Star-full Northerne Pole, 80
Shee, shee is gone; she is gone; when thou knowest this,
What fragmentary rubbidge this world is
Thou knowest, and that it is not worth a thought;
He honors it too much that thinkes it nought.
[Sidenote: _Contemplation of our state in our death-bed. _]
Thinke then, my soule, that death is but a Groome, 85
Which brings a Taper to the outward roome,
Whence thou spiest first a little glimmering light,
And after brings it nearer to thy sight:
For such approaches doth heaven make in death.
Thinke thy selfe labouring now with broken breath, 90
And thinke those broken and soft Notes to bee
Division, and thy happyest Harmonie.
Thinke thee laid on thy death-bed, loose and slacke;
And thinke that, but unbinding of a packe,
To take one precious thing, thy soule from thence. 95
Thinke thy selfe parch'd with fevers violence,
Anger thine ague more, by calling it
Thy Physicke; chide the slacknesse of the fit.
Thinke that thou hear'st thy knell, and think no more,
But that, as Bels cal'd thee to Church before, 100
So this, to the Triumphant Church, calls thee.
Thinke Satans Sergeants round about thee bee,
And thinke that but for Legacies they thrust;
Give one thy Pride, to'another give thy Lust:
Give them those sinnes which they gave thee before, 105
And trust th'immaculate blood to wash thy score.
Thinke thy friends weeping round, and thinke that they
Weepe but because they goe not yet thy way.
Thinke that they close thine eyes, and thinke in this,
That they confesse much in the world, amisse, 110
Who dare not trust a dead mans eye with that,
Which they from God, and Angels cover not.
Thinke that they shroud thee up, and think from thence
They reinvest thee in white innocence.
Thinke that thy body rots, and (if so low, 115
Thy soule exalted so, thy thoughts can goe,)
Think thee a Prince, who of themselves create
Wormes which insensibly devoure their State.
Thinke that they bury thee, and thinke that right
Laies thee to sleepe but a Saint Lucies night. 120
Thinke these things cheerefully: and if thou bee
Drowsie or slacke, remember then that shee,
Shee whose Complexion was so even made,
That which of her Ingredients should invade
The other three, no Feare, no Art could guesse: 125
So far were all remov'd from more or lesse.
But as in Mithridate, or just perfumes,
Where all good things being met, no one presumes
To governe, or to triumph on the rest,
Only because all were, no part was best. 130
And as, though all doe know, that quantities
Are made of lines, and lines from Points arise,
None can these lines or quantities unjoynt,
And say this is a line, or this a point,
So though the Elements and Humors were 135
In her, one could not say, this governes there.
Whose even constitution might have wonne
Any disease to venter on the Sunne,
Rather then her: and make a spirit feare,
That hee to disuniting subject were. 140
To whose proportions if we would compare
Cubes, th'are unstable; Circles, Angular;
She who was such a chaine as Fate employes
To bring mankinde all Fortunes it enjoyes;
So fast, so even wrought, as one would thinke, 145
No Accident could threaten any linke;
Shee, shee embrac'd a sicknesse, gave it meat,
The purest blood, and breath, that e'r it eate;
And hath taught us, that though a good man hath
Title to heaven, and plead it by his Faith, 150
And though he may pretend a conquest, since
Heaven was content to suffer violence,
Yea though hee plead a long possession too,
(For they're in heaven on earth who heavens workes do)
Though hee had right and power and place, before, 155
Yet Death must usher, and unlocke the doore.
[Sidenote: _Incommodities of the Soule in the Body. _[3]]
Thinke further on thy selfe, my Soule, and thinke
How thou at first wast made but in a sinke;
Thinke that it argued some infirmitie,
That those two soules, which then thou foundst in me, 160
Thou fedst upon, and drewst into thee, both
My second soule of sense, and first of growth.
Thinke but how poore thou wast, how obnoxious;
Whom a small lumpe of flesh could poyson thus.
This curded milke, this poore unlittered whelpe 165
My body, could, beyond escape or helpe,
Infect thee with Originall sinne, and thou
Couldst neither then refuse, nor leave it now.
Thinke that no stubborne sullen Anchorit,
Which fixt to a pillar, or a grave, doth sit 170
Bedded, and bath'd in all his ordures, dwels
So fowly as our Soules in their first-built Cels.
Thinke in how poore a prison thou didst lie
After, enabled but to suck, and crie.
Thinke, when'twas growne to most,'twas a poore Inne, 175
A Province pack'd up in two yards of skinne,
And that usurp'd or threatned with the rage
Of sicknesses, or their true mother, Age.
But thinke that Death hath now enfranchis'd thee,
[Sidenote: _Her liberty by death. _]
Thou hast thy'expansion now, and libertie; 180
Thinke that a rustie Peece, discharg'd, is flowne
In peeces, and the bullet is his owne,
And freely flies: This to thy Soule allow,
Thinke thy shell broke, thinke thy Soule hatch'd but now.
And think this slow-pac'd soule, which late did cleave 185
To'a body, and went but by the bodies leave,
Twenty, perchance, or thirty mile a day,
Dispatches in a minute all the way
Twixt heaven, and earth; she stayes not in the ayre,
To looke what Meteors there themselves prepare; 190
She carries no desire to know, nor sense,
Whether th'ayres middle region be intense;
For th'Element of fire, she doth not know,
Whether she past by such a place or no;
She baits not at the Moone, nor cares to trie 195
Whether in that new world, men live, and die.
_Venus_ retards her not, to'enquire, how shee
Can, (being one starre) _Hesper_, and _Vesper_ bee;
Hee that charm'd _Argus_ eyes, sweet _Mercury_,
Workes not on her, who now is growne all eye; 200
Who, if she meet the body of the Sunne,
Goes through, not staying till his course be runne;
Who findes in _Mars_ his Campe no corps of Guard;
Nor is by _Iove_, nor by his father barr'd;
But ere she can consider how she went, 205
At once is at, and through the Firmament.
And as these starres were but so many beads
Strung on one string, speed undistinguish'd leads
Her through those Spheares, as through the beads, a string,
Whose quick succession makes it still one thing: 210
As doth the pith, which, lest our bodies slacke,
Strings fast the little bones of necke, and backe;
So by the Soule doth death string Heaven and Earth;
For when our Soule enjoyes this her third birth,
(Creation gave her one, a second, grace,) 215
Heaven is as neare, and present to her face,
As colours are, and objects, in a roome
Where darknesse was before, when Tapers come.
This must, my Soule, thy long-short Progresse bee;
To'advance these thoughts, remember then, that she, 220
She; whose faire body no such prison was,
But that a Soule might well be pleas'd to passe
An age in her; she whose rich beauty lent
Mintage to other beauties, for they went
But for so much as they were like to her; 225
Shee, in whose body (if we dare preferre
This low world, to so high a marke as shee,)
The Westerne treasure, Easterne spicerie,
Europe, and Afrique, and the unknowne rest
Were easily found, or what in them was best; 230
And when w'have made this large discoverie
Of all, in her some one part then will bee
Twenty such parts, whose plenty and riches is
Enough to make twenty such worlds as this;
Shee, whom had they knowne who did first betroth 235
The Tutelar Angels, and assign'd one, both
To Nations, Cities, and to Companies,
To Functions, Offices, and Dignities,
And to each severall man, to him, and him,
They would have given her one for every limbe; 240
She, of whose soule, if wee may say, 'twas Gold,
Her body was th'Electrum, and did hold
Many degrees of that; wee understood
Her by her sight; her pure, and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheekes, and so distinctly wrought, 245
That one might almost say, her body thought;
Shee, shee, thus richly and largely hous'd, is gone:
And chides us slow-pac'd snailes who crawle upon
Our prisons prison, earth, nor thinke us well,
Longer, then whil'st wee beare our brittle shell. 250
[Sidenote: _Her ignorance in this life and knowledge in the
next. _[4]]
But 'twere but little to have chang'd our roome,
If, as we were in this our living Tombe
Oppress'd with ignorance, wee still were so.
Poore soule, in this thy flesh what dost thou know?
Thou know'st thy selfe so little, as thou know'st not, 255
How thou didst die, nor how thou wast begot.
Thou neither know'st, how thou at first cam'st in,
Nor how thou took'st the poyson of mans sinne.
Nor dost thou, (though thou know'st, that thou art so)
By what way thou art made immortall, know. 260
Thou art too narrow, wretch, to comprehend
Even thy selfe: yea though thou wouldst but bend
To know thy body. Have not all soules thought
For many ages, that our body'is wrought
Of Ayre, and Fire, and other Elements? 265
And now they thinke of new ingredients,
And one Soule thinkes one, and another way
Another thinkes, and 'tis an even lay.
Knowst thou but how the stone doth enter in
The bladders cave, and never breake the skinne? 270
Know'st thou how blood, which to the heart doth flow,
Doth from one ventricle to th'other goe?
And for the putrid stuffe, which thou dost spit,
Know'st thou how thy lungs have attracted it?
There are no passages, so that there is 275
(For ought thou know'st) piercing of substances.
And of those many opinions which men raise
Of Nailes and Haires, dost thou know which to praise?
What hope have wee to know our selves, when wee
Know not the least things, which for our use be? 280
Wee see in Authors, too stiffe to recant,
A hundred controversies of an Ant;
And yet one watches, starves, freeses, and sweats,
To know but Catechismes and Alphabets
Of unconcerning things, matters of fact; 285
How others on our stage their parts did Act;
What _Cæsar_ did, yea, and what _Cicero_ said.
Why grasse is greene, or why our blood is red,
Are mysteries which none have reach'd unto.
In this low forme, poore soule, what wilt thou doe? 290
When wilt thou shake off this Pedantery,
Of being taught by sense, and Fantasie?
Thou look'st through spectacles; small things seeme great
Below; But up unto the watch-towre get,
And see all things despoyl'd of fallacies: 295
Thou shalt not peepe through lattices of eyes,
Nor heare through Labyrinths of eares, nor learne
By circuit, or collections to discerne.
In heaven thou straight know'st all, concerning it,
And what concernes it not, shalt straight forget. 300
There thou (but in no other schoole) maist bee
Perchance, as learned, and as full, as shee,
Shee who all libraries had throughly read
At home in her owne thoughts, and practised
So much good as would make as many more: 305
Shee whose example they must all implore,
Who would or doe, or thinke well, and confesse
That all the vertuous Actions they expresse,
Are but a new, and worse edition
Of her some one thought, or one action: 310
She who in th'art of knowing Heaven, was growne
Here upon earth, to such perfection,
That she hath, ever since to Heaven she came,
(In a far fairer print,) but read the same:
Shee, shee not satisfied with all this waight, 315
(For so much knowledge, as would over-fraight
Another, did but ballast her) is gone
As well t'enjoy, as get perfection.
And cals us after her, in that shee tooke,
(Taking her selfe) our best, and worthiest booke. 320
[Sidenote: _Of our company in this life, and in the next. _]
Returne not, my Soule, from this extasie,
And meditation of what thou shalt bee,
To earthly thoughts, till it to thee appeare,
With whom thy conversation must be there.
With whom wilt thou converse? what station 325
Canst thou choose out, free from infection,
That will not give thee theirs, nor drinke in thine?
Shalt thou not finde a spungie slacke Divine
Drinke and sucke in th'instructions of Great men,
And for the word of God, vent them agen?