No More Learning

_]

[125 ambitions,] ambition, _1669_]

[126 agues, _Ed:_ agues; _1633-69_]

[127-8 _in brackets_ _1635-69_]

[128 As well as lust, _1669:_ As well, as lust _1633-54_]

[130 tell us _1633_, _1669_, _A25_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _S_,
_TCD:_ set us _1635-54_, _B_, _O'F_, _S96_, _and Chambers_]

[133 _hand_ gets _A25_, _B_, _C_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _N_, _S_,
_TCD:_ _hands_ get _1633-54:_ _hands_ gets _1669_. _See note_]

[135 _flye_, _1633:_ _flee_, _1635-69_]

[138 houres come, _1633-54:_ hour come, _1669:_ hours are
come, _Chambers_]

[142 none. _1635-69:_ none; _1633_]

[146 fall; _Ed:_ fall. _1633-69_]

[154 great] grave _A25_, _C_]

[155 wouldst] wouldest _1639-54_

any _1633-35_, _and MSS. :_ an _1639-69_, _Chambers_]

[158 when _1633-69:_ where _C_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_,
_TCD:_ whereas _B_]

[161 was _1633:_ were _1635-69_]

[165 grow sure, _1633_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec:_ am sure, _1635-69_]

[170 and _1633-69:_ or _A25_, _B_, _C_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_,
_S96_, _TCD_]

[176 them. _D:_ them; _1633_, _1639-69:_ them, _1635_]

[178 Triumph; _1633:_ Triumph. _1635-69_]

[184 victorie; _Ed:_ victorie, _1633-69_]

[186 brought] wrought _1639_, _Chambers_]

[192 usurp'dst _B_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _TCD:_ usurp'st
_1633_, _Lec_, _S96:_ usurpe _1635-69_, _A25_, _JC_, _O'F_,
_Chambers_]

[193 Then _1635-69:_ That _1633_]

[198 acclamations _1669_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_,
_N_, _O'F_, _S_, _S96_, _TCD:_ acclamation _1633-54_]

[202 are. _D:_ are; _1633-69_]

[204 expresse; _Ed:_ expresse. _1633-69_]

[212 endeavours, _1633-54_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_,
_Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _S96_, _TCD:_ Indentours, _1669_,
_Chambers_]

[216 'thad] t'had _1633-39_]

[218 were. _D:_ were; _1633-69_]

[222 out: _1635-69:_ out. _1633_]

[224 His _1633-54:_ This _1669_

then _1633-69:_ but _D_, _H49_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _S96_, _TCD_]

[231 reference] reverence _1650-54_]

[239 I am] am I _B_, _O'F_, _S_, _S96_]

[241 with _1633-69_, _O'F:_ for _A25_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _N_,
_TCD_]

[247 time,] times, _1669_, _B_, _JC_, _O'F_, _N_, _S_, _S96_,
_TCD_]

[250 soldurii _D_, _H49_, _Lec:_ soldarii _1633-69_]

[251 expresse] expresse, _1633_]

[257 Who, _1633:_ Which, _1639-69_]




_Elegie on the Lady_ Marckham.


Man is the World, and death th'Ocean,
To which God gives the lower parts of man.
This Sea invirons all, and though as yet
God hath set markes, and bounds, twixt us and it,
Yet doth it rore, and gnaw, and still pretend, 5
And breaks our bankes, when ere it takes a friend.
Then our land waters (teares of passion) vent;
Our waters, then, above our firmament,
(Teares which our Soule doth for her sins let fall)
Take all a brackish taft, and Funerall, 10
And even these teares, which should wash sin, are sin.
We, after Gods _Noe_, drowne our world againe.
Nothing but man of all invenom'd things
Doth worke upon itselfe, with inborne stings.
Teares are false Spectacles, we cannot see 15
Through passions mist, what wee are, or what shee.
In her this sea of death hath made no breach,
But as the tide doth wash the slimie beach,
And leaves embroder'd workes upon the sand,
So is her flesh refin'd by deaths cold hand. 20
As men of China,'after an ages stay,
Do take up Porcelane, where they buried Clay;
So at this grave, her limbecke, which refines
The Diamonds, Rubies, Saphires, Pearles, and Mines,
Of which this flesh was, her soule shall inspire 25
Flesh of such stuffe, as God, when his last fire
Annuls this world, to recompence it, shall,
Make and name then, th'Elixar of this All.
They say, the sea, when it gaines, loseth too;
If carnall Death (the yonger brother) doe 30
Usurpe the body,'our soule, which subject is
To th'elder death, by sinne, is freed by this;
They perish both, when they attempt the just;
For, graves our trophies are, and both deaths dust.
So, unobnoxious now, she'hath buried both; 35
For, none to death sinnes, that to sinne is loth,
Nor doe they die, which are not loth to die;
So hath she this, and that virginity.
Grace was in her extremely diligent,
That kept her from sinne, yet made her repent. 40
Of what small spots pure white complaines! Alas,
How little poyson cracks a christall glasse!
She sinn'd, but just enough to let us see
That God's word must be true, All, sinners be.
Soe much did zeale her conscience rarefie 45
That, extreme truth lack'd little of a lye,
Making omissions, acts; laying the touch
Of sinne, on things that sometimes may be such.
As _Moses_ Cherubines, whose natures doe
Surpasse all speed, by him are winged too: 50
So would her soule, already'in heaven, seeme then,
To clyme by teares, the common staires of men.
How fit she was for God, I am content
To speake, that Death his vaine hast may repent.
How fit for us, how even and how sweet, 55
How good in all her titles, and how meet,
To have reform'd this forward heresie,
That women can no parts of friendship bee;
How Morall, how Divine shall not be told,
Lest they that heare her vertues, thinke her old: 60
And lest we take Deaths part, and make him glad
Of such a prey, and to his tryumph adde.


[Elegie _&c. _ _1633-54:_ An Elegie _&c. _ _1669:_ _similarly_,
_A18_, _A25_, _B_, _C_, _Cy_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_,
_Lec_, _N_, _P_, _S96_, _TC_]

[6 And breaks _1633-54:_ To break _1669_

bankes _D_, _Cy_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _P_,
_TCC:_ bounds _A25_, _C:_ banke, _1633-69_, _N_ (s _added_),
_TCD_]

[8 firmament,] firmament. _1633_]

[10 Funerall, _Ed:_ Funerall. _1633-69_]

[11 these _D_, _H49_, _Lec:_ those _1633-69_]

[12 after Gods _Noe_, drowne _1633-54_ (_No_, _1633-54_):
after God, new drown _1669_

our world _1669_, _B_, _D_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_,
_P_, _S96_, _TCD:_ the world _1633-54_, _A18_, _A25_, _JC_,
_TCC_]

[16 mist] mistes _Cy_, _L74_, _N_, _TCD_]

[19 embroder'd _1635-54:_ embroderd _1633:_ embroider'd
_1669_]

[21 stay, _Ed:_ stay _1633-69_]

[25 which _Ed:_ which, _1633-69_]

[28 then, _1633:_ then _1635-39:_ them _1650-69_]

[34 and both deaths dust. _Ed:_ and both Deaths' dust.
_Grolier:_ and both, deaths dust. _1633:_ and both death's
dust. _1635-69 and Chambers:_ and both dead dust. _D_, _Cy_,
_H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _S96_. _See note_]

[36 loth, _Ed:_ loth. _1633-69_]

[37 die; _Ed:_ die, _1633-69_]

[42 cracks _1633-69_, _A25_, _Cy_, _P_ (crackt): breakes
_A18_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_,
_S96_, _TC_

glasse! _Ed:_ glasse? _1633-69_]

[44-5 _omitted in 1633 between foot of one page and top of
next_]

[45 rarefie,] rectify, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _S96_]

[48 sometimes _1633 and MSS. :_ sometime _1635-69_, _and
Chambers_]

[52 teares,] tears _Chambers_

the . . . men _in brackets_ _A18_, _N_, _TC_]

[54 Death _D:_ death _1633-69_]

[58 women _1635-69_, _A18_, _A25_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_,
_Lec_, _N_, _P_, _TC:_ woman _1633_, _Cy_

parts] parte _Cy_, _JC_. _This line written in large letters
in several MSS. _]

[60 vertues, _1633-35_, _1669:_ vertue, _1639-54_

thinke] thinks _1639_

old: _Ed:_ old. _1633-69_]

[62 tryumph _1633-69_, _A25_, _D_, _H40_, _Lec:_ triumphes
_A18_, _B_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S96_, _TC_]




_Elegie on M^{ris}_ Boulstred.


Death I recant, and say, unsaid by mee
What ere hath slip'd, that might diminish thee.
Spirituall treason, atheisme 'tis, to say,
That any can thy Summons disobey.
Th'earths face is but thy Table; there are set 5
Plants, cattell, men, dishes for Death to eate.
In a rude hunger now hee millions drawes
Into his bloody, or plaguy, or sterv'd jawes.
Now hee will seeme to spare, and doth more wast,
Eating the best first, well preserv'd to last. 10
Now wantonly he spoiles, and eates us not,
But breakes off friends, and lets us peecemeale rot.
Nor will this earth serve him; he sinkes the deepe
Where harmelesse fish monastique silence keepe,
Who (were Death dead) by Roes of living sand, 15
Might spunge that element, and make it land.
He rounds the aire, and breakes the hymnique notes
In birds (Heavens choristers,) organique throats,
Which (if they did not dye) might seeme to bee
A tenth ranke in the heavenly hierarchie. 20
O strong and long-liv'd death, how cam'st thou in?
And how without Creation didst begin?
Thou hast, and shalt see dead, before thou dyest,
All the foure Monarchies, and Antichrist.
How could I thinke thee nothing, that see now 25
In all this All, nothing else is, but thou.
Our births and lives, vices, and vertues, bee
Wastfull consumptions, and degrees of thee.
For, wee to live, our bellowes weare, and breath,
Nor are wee mortall, dying, dead, but death. 30
And though thou beest, O mighty bird of prey,
So much reclaim'd by God, that thou must lay
All that thou kill'st at his feet, yet doth hee
Reserve but few, and leaves the most to thee.
And of those few, now thou hast overthrowne 35
One whom thy blow makes, not ours, nor thine own.
She was more stories high: hopelesse to come
To her Soule, thou'hast offer'd at her lower roome.
Her Soule and body was a King and Court:
But thou hast both of Captaine mist and fort. 40
As houses fall not, though the King remove,
Bodies of Saints rest for their soules above.
Death gets 'twixt soules and bodies such a place
As sinne insinuates 'twixt just men and grace,
Both worke a separation, no divorce. 45
Her Soule is gone to usher up her corse
Which shall be'almost another soule, for there
Bodies are purer, then best Soules are here,
Because in her, her virtues did outgoe
Her yeares, would'st thou, O emulous death, do so? 50
And kill her young to thy losse? must the cost
Of beauty,'and wit, apt to doe harme, be lost?
What though thou found'st her proofe 'gainst sins of youth?
Oh, every age a diverse sinne pursueth.
Thou should'st have stay'd, and taken better hold, 55
Shortly, ambitious; covetous, when old,
She might have prov'd: and such devotion
Might once have stray'd to superstition.
If all her vertues must have growne, yet might
Abundant virtue'have bred a proud delight. 60
Had she persever'd just, there would have bin
Some that would sinne, mis-thinking she did sinne.
Such as would call her friendship, love, and faine
To sociablenesse, a name profane;
Or sinne, by tempting, or, not daring that, 65
By wishing, though they never told her what.
Thus might'st thou'have slain more soules, had'st thou not crost
Thy selfe, and to triumph, thine army lost.
Yet though these wayes be lost, thou hast left one,
Which is, immoderate griefe that she is gone. 70
But we may scape that sinne, yet weepe as much,
Our teares are due, because we are not such.
Some teares, that knot of friends, her death must cost,
Because the chaine is broke, though no linke lost.


[Elegie on M^{ris} Boulstred. _1633-69_, _A18_, _A25_, _B_,
_Cy_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_,
_TCC_, _TCD:_ _in_ _Cy_, _O'F_, _P_ _this and the_ Elegie,
Death, be not proud (_p. _ 416) _are given as one poem_. _See
note_]

[5 there are set] and the meate _A18_, _L74_, _N_, _TC_]

[6 dishes _1633_, _1650-69:_ dished _1635-39_, _A18_, _L74_,
_N_, _O'F_, _S96_, _TC_]

[10 first,] fruite _or_ fruites _A18_, _H49_, _L74_, _N_,
_TC:_ first fruit _P_]

[14 keepe, _1635-39:_ keepe. _1633_, _1650-69_]

[15 by Roes _1633:_ the Roes _1635-54:_ the Rows _1669:_ by
rows _A18_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S96_, _TC_]

[18 birds _Ed:_ birds, _1633-69_ (Heavens choristers)]
_brackets from HN_]

[27 lives, _1635-69_, _A25_, _Cy_, _O'F_, _P_, _S:_ lifes,
_HN:_ life, _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_,
_TC_]

[34 to thee. _1633:_ for thee. _1635-69_]

[35 thou hast _1633-69:_ hast thou _HN_]

[36 blow] blow, _1633_]

[41 King _1633_, _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _HN_,
_Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _TC:_ Kings _1635-69_]

[45 worke _1633-69_, _HN_, _O'F_, _S:_ workes _A18_, _Cy_,
_D_, _H49_, _L74_, _N_, _P_, _TC:_ makes _Lec_. _See note_]

[56 Shortly,] Shortly _1633_

ambitious; _1635-69:_ ambitious, _1633_]

[62 mis-thinking] mistaking _Cy_, _HN_, _O'F_ (_but altered to
text_)]

[64 profane; _1669:_ profane, _1635-54:_ profane. _1633_]

[74 though _1635-69_, _A18_, _A25_, _HN_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_,
_P_, _S_, _S96_, _TC:_ but _1633_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _Lec_]

[_Here follow in 1635-54_ By our first strange (_p. _ 111),
Madame, That I (_p. _ 291), _and_ Death be not proud, (_p. _
422). _In 1669_ My Fortune and (_p. _ 292) _precedes_ Madame,
That I]




ELEGIE.

_Death. _


Language thou art too narrow, and too weake
To ease us now; great sorrow cannot speake;
If we could sigh out accents, and weepe words,
Griefe weares, and lessens, that tears breath affords.
Sad hearts, the lesse they seeme the more they are, 5
(So guiltiest men stand mutest at the barre)
Not that they know not, feele not their estate,
But extreme sense hath made them desperate.
Sorrow, to whom we owe all that we bee;
Tyrant, in the fift and greatest Monarchy, 10
Was't, that she did possesse all hearts before,
Thou hast kil'd her, to make thy Empire more?
Knew'st thou some would, that knew her not, lament,
As in a deluge perish th'innocent?
Was't not enough to have that palace wonne, 15
But thou must raze it too, that was undone?
Had'st thou staid there, and look'd out at her eyes,
All had ador'd thee that now from thee flies,
For they let out more light, then they tooke in,
They told not when, but did the day beginne. 20
She was too Saphirine, and cleare for thee;
Clay, flint, and jeat now thy fit dwellings be;
Alas, shee was too pure, but not too weake;
Who e'r saw Christall Ordinance but would break?
And if wee be thy conquest, by her fall 25
Th'hast lost thy end, for in her perish all;
Or if we live, we live but to rebell,
They know her better now, that knew her well.
If we should vapour out, and pine, and die;
Since, shee first went, that were not miserie. 30
Shee chang'd our world with hers; now she is gone,
Mirth and prosperity is oppression;
For of all morall vertues she was all,
The Ethicks speake of vertues Cardinall.
Her soule was Paradise; the Cherubin 35
Set to keepe it was grace, that kept out sinne.
Shee had no more then let in death, for wee
All reape consumption from one fruitfull tree.
God tooke her hence, lest some of us should love
Her, like that plant, him and his lawes above, 40
And when wee teares, hee mercy shed in this,
To raise our mindes to heaven where now she is;
Who if her vertues would have let her stay
Wee'had had a Saint, have now a holiday.
Her heart was that strange bush, where, sacred fire, 45
Religion, did not consume, but'inspire
Such piety, so chast use of Gods day,
That what we turne to _feast_, she turn'd to _pray_,
And did prefigure here, in devout tast,
The rest of her high Sabaoth, which shall last. 50
Angels did hand her up, who next God dwell,
(For she was of that order whence most fell)
Her body left with us, lest some had said,
Shee could not die, except they saw her dead;
For from lesse vertue, and lesse beautiousnesse, 55
The Gentiles fram'd them Gods and Goddesses.
The ravenous earth that now wooes her to be
Earth too, will be a _Lemnia_; and the tree
That wraps that christall in a wooden Tombe,
Shall be tooke up spruce, fill'd with diamond; 60
And we her sad glad friends all beare a part
Of griefe, for all would waste a Stoicks heart.


[Elegie. _1633:_ Elegie XI. Death. _1635-54_ (_being places
among the_ Elegies): Elegie XI. _1669:_ An Elegie upon the
death of M^{ris} Boulstred. _A18_, _B_, _Cy_, _H40_, _L74_,
_N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _TCC_, _TCD:_ _no title, HN_]

[2 sorrow _1633_, _B_, _Cy_, _H40_, _HN_, _L74_, _N_, _P_,
_TC:_ sorrowes _1635-69_, _O'F_, _S_]

[8 desperate. _Ed:_ desperate; _1633-69_]

[10 Tyrant, _1633_, _1669_ (_no comma_): Tyran, _1635-54_]

[20 beginne. _Ed:_ beginne; _1633-69_]

[21 for _1635-69:_ to _1633_]

[26 for in her _1633 and all the MSS. :_ in her we _1635-69_,
_Chambers_]

[28 They . . . that . . . well; _1633_, _Cy_, _H40_, _HN_, _L74_,
_N_, _S_, _TC:_ That know her better now, who knew her well.
_1635-69_, _B_, _O'F_, _P_, _S96_]

[29 and pine, and] or pine, or _Cy_, _H40_, _HN_, _O'F_, _P_,
_S_, _S96:_ or pine, and _L74_, _TCC_]

[30 miserie. _Ed:_ miserie; _1633-69_]

[34 The Ethicks speake _1633_, _A18_, _Cy_, _H40_, _L74_, _N_,
_P_, _TC:_ That Ethickes speake _1635-69_, _B_, _O'F_, _S:_
The ethenickes spake _HN_

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

[36 that kept out] to keep out _HN_, _P_

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

[37 She had no more; then let in death for we _1669_]

[38 tree. _Ed:_ tree; _1633-69_]

[41-2 And when we see his mercy shewne in this 'Twill _&c. _
_S_]

[44 holiday. _Ed:_ holiday; _1633-69_

_All the MSS. omit_ have, _but O'F inserts it later_]

[48 That what _1633-69:_ That when _HN_

turne] turn'd _Cy_, _HN_, _P_, _S96_

to _feast_, _Ed:_ to feast, _1633-69_

feast] feasts _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC_

to _pray_, _Ed:_ to pray, _1633-69_]

[50 last. ] last; _1633_]

[53 Her body left _1633_, _A18_, _HN_, _N_, _TC:_ Her bodie's
left _1635-69_]

[56 fram'd] fain'd _Cy_, _P:_ form'd _H40_, _HN_]

[57 wooes] woes _1633_

be] be, _1633_]

[58 _All the MSS. omit_ a _before_ Lemnia, _but O'F inserts_]

[61 sad glad _1633-69:_ glad sad _B_, _Cy_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_,
_P_, _S_, _S96_]

[62 waste _1633_, _A18_, _Cy_, _H40_, _HN_, _L74_, _N_, _P_,
_TC:_ breake _1635-69_, _B_, _O'F_]




_Elegie on the L. C. _


Sorrow, who to this house scarce knew the way:
Is, Oh, heire of it, our All is his prey.
This strange chance claimes strange wonder, and to us
Nothing can be so strange, as to weepe thus.
'Tis well his lifes loud speaking workes deserve, 5
And give praise too, our cold tongues could not serve:
'Tis well, hee kept teares from our eyes before,
That to fit this deepe ill, we might have store.
Oh, if a sweet briar, climbe up by'a tree,
If to a paradise that transplanted bee, 10
Or fell'd, and burnt for holy sacrifice,
Yet, that must wither, which by it did rise,
As we for him dead: though no familie
Ere rigg'd a soule for heavens discoverie
With whom more Venturers more boldly dare 15
Venture their states, with him in joy to share.
Wee lose what all friends lov'd, him; he gaines now
But life by death, which worst foes would allow,
If hee could have foes, in whose practise grew
All vertues, whose names subtile Schoolmen knew. 20
What ease, can hope that wee shall see'him, beget,
When wee must die first, and cannot dye yet?
His children are his pictures, Oh they bee
Pictures of him dead, senselesse, cold as he.
Here needs no marble Tombe, since hee is gone, 25
He, and about him, his, are turn'd to stone.


[Elegie _&c. _ _1635-69_, _following_ Death be not proud (_p. _
422): Elegie, Funerall Elegie, _or no title_, _B_, _Cy_, _HN_,
_O'F_, _S96:_ Elegie VI. (_being placed among the_ Elegies)
_1633:_ Elegie. (_being eighth among_ Elegies) _D_, _H49_,
_Lec:_ Elegia tercia. _S:_ Elegie XIII^a. _JC_, _W_]

[1 who _1633-39:_ that _1650-69_]

[2 prey. _1633:_ prey, _1633-54:_ Pay. _1669_]

[4 thus. _1669:_ thus; _1633-54_]

[13 dead: _1633-69:_ dead. _HN_, _Grolier_]

[16 Venture their states] Venter estates _B_

share. _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _W:_ share _1633:_ share, _1635-69_,
_Chambers and Grolier_. _See note_]

[17 him;] him, _1633_]

[20 names] name _1635-69_

knew. _Ed:_ knew; _1635-69_]

[24 he. _1650-69:_ he, _1633-39_]




_An hymne to the Saints, and to Marquesse Hamylton. _

_To Sir Robert Carr. _

SIR,

_I Presume you rather try what you can doe in me, then what I can
doe in verse; you know my uttermost when it was best, and even then
I did best when I had least truth for my subjects. In this present
case there is so much truth as it defeats all Poetry.
Call therefore this paper by what name you will, and, if it bee not
worthy of him, nor of you, nor of mee, smother it, and bee that the
sacrifice. If you had commanded mee to have waited on his body to
Scotland and preached there, I would have embraced the obligation
with more alacrity; But, I thanke you that you would command me
that which I was loath to doe, for, even that hath given a
tincture of merit to the obedience of_

Your poore friend and
servant in Christ Jesus

I. D.


[2 verse; _1635-69:_ verse, _1633_]

[3 best] at the best _A18_, _TCC_

subjects. _1635-69:_ subjects, _1633:_ subject, _A18_, _TCC_]

[6-7 of him . . . sacrifice. _1635-69:_ of you nor of him, we
will smother it, and be it your sacrifice. _1633:_ of him, nor
of you, nor of anye; smother it, and bee that the sacrifice.
_A18_, _TCC_]

[9 the _1635-69:_ your _1633_, _A18_, _TCC_

more] much _1633_]

[10 loath] loather _1633_]

in Christ Jesus] _om. _ _A18_, _TCC_]




Whether that soule which now comes up to you
Fill any former ranke or make a new;
Whether it take a name nam'd there before,
Or be a name it selfe, and _order_ more
Then was in heaven till now; (for may not hee 5
Bee so, if every severall Angell bee
A _kind_ alone? ) What ever order grow
Greater by him in heaven, wee doe not so.
One of your orders growes by his accesse;
But, by his losse grow all our _orders_ lesse; 10
The name of _Father_, _Master_, _Friend_, the name
Of _Subject_ and of _Prince_, in one are lame;
Faire mirth is dampt, and conversation black,
The _household_ widdow'd, and the _garter_ slack;
The _Chappell_ wants an eare, _Councell_ a tongue; 15
_Story_, a theame; and _Musicke_ lacks a song;
Blest _order_ that hath him! the losse of him
Gangreend all _Orders_ here; all lost a limbe.
Never made body such hast to confesse
What a soule was; All former comelinesse 20
Fled, in a minute, when the soule was gone,
And, having lost that beauty, would have none;
So fell our _Monasteries_, in one instant growne
Not to lesse houses, but, to heapes of stone;
So sent this body that faire forme it wore, 25
Unto the spheare of formes, and doth (before
His soule shall fill up his sepulchrall stone,)
Anticipate a Resurrection;
For, as in his fame, now, his soule is here,
So, in the forme thereof his bodie's there. 30
And if, faire soule, not with first _Innocents_
Thy station be, but with the _Pænitents_,
(And, who shall dare to aske then when I am
Dy'd scarlet in the blood of that pure Lambe,
Whether that colour, which is scarlet then, 35
Were black or white before in eyes of men? )
When thou rememb'rest what sins thou didst finde
Amongst those many friends now left behinde,
And seest such sinners as they are, with thee
Got thither by repentance, Let it bee 40
Thy wish to wish all there, to wish them cleane;
Wim _him_ a _David_, _her_ a _Magdalen_.


[An hymne _&c. _ _1633-69_, _in all of which it is classed with
the_ Divine Poems, _following_ Resurrection. _In 1635-69 it
is preceded by the letter_ To Sir Robert Carr. : _in 1633 the
letter follows_, _and has no heading:_ _similarly in_ _A18_,
_O'F_, _TCC_. _See note_]

[1 Whether] Whither _1633_, _and so in_ 3]

[2 new; _Ed:_ new, _1633-69_]

[6 so,] so? _1633_]

[7 alone? ) _1635-54:_ alone;) _1633:_ alone) _1669_]

[8 so. _Ed:_ so; _1633-69_]

[12 are _1633_, _A18_, _TCC:_ is _1635-69_, _O'F_]

[16 song; _1633:_ song. _1635-69_]

[17 him! _Ed:_ him, _1633-69_]

[18 Gangreend _1635-69:_ Gangred _1633_

limbe. _1633-35:_ limbe: _1639-69_]

[22 none; _Ed:_ none: _1650-69:_ none, _1633-39_]

[23 one instant _1633:_ an instant _1635-69_]

[25 this _1633_, _A18_, _TCC:_ his _1635-69_]

[29 For, as in his _1633-39:_ For, as it his _1650-54:_ For,
as it is his _1669_]

[30 there. _Ed:_ there; _1633-39:_ there, _1650-69_]

[36 in eyes] in the eyes _A18_, _O'F_, _TCC_]




EPITAPHS.


EPITAPH ON HIMSELFE.

_To the Countesse of Bedford. _


MADAME,

That I might make your Cabinet my tombe,
And for my fame which I love next my soule,
Next to my soule provide the happiest roome,
Admit to that place this last funerall Scrowle.
Others by Wills give Legacies, but I 5
Dying, of you doe beg a Legacie.
My fortune and my will this custome breake,
When we are senselesse grown to make stones speak,
Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou
In my graves inside see what thou art now: 10
Yet th'art not yet so good; till us death lay
To ripe and mellow there, w'are stubborne clay,
Parents make us earth, and soules dignifie
Vs to be glasse, here to grow gold we lie;
Whilst in our soules sinne bred and pampered is, 15
Our soules become worme-eaten Carkasses.


[Epitaph. _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_

On himselfe. _1635-69_

To the Countesse of Bedford. _O'F_, _S96:_ _no heading, and
epistle only_, _A25_, _C_ _The introductory epistle, and
the first ten lines of the epitaph, the whole with heading_
Elegie. , _is printed 1635-54 among the_ Funerall Elegies. _The
full epitaph without epistle and with heading_ On himselfe.
_is included among the_ Divine Poems, _where it follows the_
Lamentations of Jeremy. _In his note Chambers_ (II. 234)
_reverses these facts_. _In 1669_ On himselfe. _is transferred
to the_ Funerall Elegies _and is followed immediately by the_
Elegie, _i. e. the epistle and incomplete epitaph_. _They are
here given for the first time in a separate group_]

[5 Others by Wills _1635-69:_ Others by testaments _A25_, _C_,
_O'F_ (_altered to_ wills), _S96:_ Men by testament _B:_ Then
by testament _H40:_ O then by testament _D_, _H49_]

[10 now: _1650-69:_ now, _1635-39_]

[12 there, _1635_, _1669:_ thee, _1639-54_]




_Omnibus. _


My Fortune and my choice this custome break,
When we are speechlesse grown, to make stones speak,
Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou
In my graves inside seest what thou art now:
Yet thou'art not yet so good, till death us lay 5
To ripe and mellow here, we are stubborne Clay.
Parents make us earth, and soules dignifie
Vs to be glasse; here to grow gold we lie.
Whilst in our soules sinne bred and pamper'd is,
Our soules become wormeaten carkases; 10
So we our selves miraculously destroy.
Here bodies with lesse miracle enjoy
Such priviledges, enabled here to scale
Heaven, when the Trumpets ayre shall them exhale.
Heare this, and mend thy selfe, and thou mendst me, 15
By making me being dead, doe good to thee,
And thinke me well compos'd, that I could now
A last-sicke houre to syllables allow.


[Omnibus. _D_, _H49:_ To all. _H40_, _RP31:_ Another on the
same. (_i. e. M^{rs} Boulstred_) _P:_ On himselfe. _1635-69:_
_no title_, _B_, _S96:_ _in MSS. this complete epitaph follows
the epistle_ (_p. _ 291); _but in B they are separated by
various poems and in P the epistle is not given_]

[3 tell] tel _1635_]

[4 seest] see _D_, _H49:_ _compare incomplete version_. ]

[5 Yet _1635-69:_ Nay _S96_

thou'art _Ed:_ thou art _1635-69_]

[8 lie. _Ed:_ lie; _1635-69_]

[14 them] then _1669_]

[16 to thee, _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _O'F_, _S96:_ for thee,
_1635-69_]




INFINITATI SACRUM,

16. _Augusti_ 1601.

METEMPSYCHOSIS.

_Poêma Satyricon. _

* * * * *


EPISTLE.


Others at the Porches and entries of their Buildings set their Armes;
I, my picture; if any colours can deliver a minde so plaine, and flat,
and through light as mine. Naturally at a new Author, I doubt, and
sticke, and doe not say quickly, good. I censure much and taxe; And
this liberty costs mee more then others, by how much my owne things
are worse then others. Yet I would not be so rebellious against my
selfe, as not to doe it, since I love it; nor so unjust to others, to
do it _sine talione_. As long as I give them as good hold upon mee,
they must pardon mee my bitings. I forbid no reprehender, but him that
like the Trent Councell forbids not bookes, but Authors, damning what
ever such a name hath or shall write. None writes so ill, that he
gives not some thing exemplary, to follow, or flie. Now when I beginne
this booke, I have no purpose to come into any mans debt[1]; how my
stocke will hold out I know not; perchance waste, perchance increase
in use; if I doe borrow any thing of Antiquitie, besides that I make
account that I pay it to posterity, with as much and as good: You
shall still finde mee to acknowledge it, and to thanke not him onely
that hath digg'd out treasure for mee, but that hath lighted mee a
candle to the place. All which I will bid you remember, (for I will
have no such Readers as I can teach) is, that the Pithagorian doctrine
doth not onely carry one soule from man to man, nor man to beast, but
indifferently to plants also: and therefore you must not grudge to
finde the same soule in an Emperour, in a Post-horse, and in a
Mucheron,[2] since no unreadinesse in the soule, but an indisposition
in the organs workes this. And therefore though this soule could not
move when it was a Melon, yet it may remember, and now tell mee,[3] at
what lascivious banquet it was serv'd. And though it could not speake,
when it was a spider, yet it can remember and now tell me, who used it
for poyson to attaine dignitie. How ever the bodies have dull'd her
other faculties, her memory hath ever been her owne,
which makes me so seriously deliver you by her
relation all her passages from her first making
when shee was that apple[4] which Eve
eate,[5] to this time when shee is
hee,[6] whose life you shall
finde in the end of
this booke.


[Infinitati _&c. _ _1633-69:_ (_in 1633 it is the first poem;
in 1633-69 it follows the_ Funerall Elegies, _from which it
is separated by some prose letters, and precedes_ Divine Poems
_as here_), _A18_, _G_, _N_, _TCC_, _TCD_

Metempsychosis. _1650-69:_ Metempsycosis. _1633-39_]


[Footnote 1: debt; _Ed:_ debt, _1633-69_]

[Footnote 2: Mucheron, _1633_, _N_, _TC:_ Mushrome, _G:_
Maceron, _1635-69_, _O'F_]

[Footnote 3: and can now tell mee, _1635-69_]

[Footnote 4: apple] aple _1633_]

[Footnote 5: eate, _1633-69:_ ate, _O'F:_ eat, _mod. editors_]

[Footnote 6: shee is hee, _1633_, _A18_, _G_, _N_, _TC:_ shee
is shee, _1635-69_]




THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE.


_First Song. _


I.

I sing the progresse of a deathlesse soule,
Whom Fate, which God made, but doth not controule,
Plac'd in most shapes; all times before the law
Yoak'd us, and when, and since, in this I sing.
And the great world to his aged evening; 5
From infant morne, through manly noone I draw.
What the gold Chaldee, or silver Persian saw,
Greeke brasse, or Roman iron, is in this one;
A worke t'outweare _Seths_ pillars, bricke and stone,
And (holy writt excepted) made to yeeld to none. 10


II.

Thee, eye of heaven, this great Soule envies not,
By thy male force, is all wee have, begot.
In the first East, thou now beginst to shine,
Suck'st early balme, and Iland spices there,
And wilt anon in thy loose-rein'd careere 15
At Tagus, Po, Sene, Thames, and Danow dine,
And see at night thy Westerne land of Myne,
Yet hast thou not more nations seene then shee,
That before thee, one day beganne to bee,
And thy fraile light being quench'd, shall long,
long out live thee. 20


III.

Nor, holy _Ianus_, in whose soveraigne boate
The Church, and all the Monarchies did floate;
That swimming Colledge, and free Hospitall
Of all mankinde, that cage and vivarie
Of fowles, and beasts, in whose wombe, Destinie 25
Us, and our latest nephewes did install
(From thence are all deriv'd, that fill this All,)
Did'st thou in that great stewardship embarke
So diverse shapes into that floating parke,
As have beene moved, and inform'd by this heavenly sparke. 30


IV.

Great Destiny the Commissary of God,
That hast mark'd out a path and period
For every thing; who, where wee of-spring tooke,
Our wayes and ends seest at one instant; Thou
Knot of all causes, thou whose changelesse brow 35
Ne'r smiles nor frownes, O vouch thou safe to looke
And shew my story, in thy eternall booke:
That (if my prayer be fit) I may'understand
So much my selfe, as to know with what hand,
How scant, or liberall this my lifes race is spand. 40


V.

To my sixe lustres almost now outwore,
Except thy booke owe mee so many more,
Except my legend be free from the letts
Of steepe ambition, sleepie povertie,
Spirit-quenching sicknesse, dull captivitie, 45
Distracting businesse, and from beauties nets,
And all that calls from this, and to others whets,
O let me not launch out, but let mee save
Th'expense of braine and spirit; that my grave
His right and due, a whole unwasted man may have. 50


VI.

But if my dayes be long, and good enough,
In vaine this sea shall enlarge, or enrough
It selfe; for I will through the wave, and fome,
And shall, in sad lone wayes a lively spright,
Make my darke heavy Poëm light, and light. 55
For though through many streights, and lands I roame,
I launch at paradise, and I saile towards home;
The course I there began, shall here be staid,
Sailes hoised there, stroke here, and anchors laid
In Thames, which were at Tigrys, and Euphrates waide. 60


VII.

For the great soule which here amongst us now
Doth dwell, and moves that hand, and tongue, and brow,
Which, as the Moone the sea, moves us; to heare
Whose story, with long patience you will long;
(For 'tis the crowne, and last straine of my song) 65
This soule to whom _Luther_, and _Mahomet_ were
Prisons of flesh; this soule which oft did teare,
And mend the wracks of th'Empire, and late Rome,
And liv'd when every great change did come,
Had first in paradise, a low, but fatall roome. 70


VIII.

Yet no low roome, nor then the greatest, lesse,
If (as devout and sharpe men fitly guesse)
That Crosse, our joy, and griefe, where nailes did tye
That All, which alwayes was all, every where;
Which could not sinne, and yet all sinnes did beare; 75
Which could not die, yet could not chuse but die;
Stood in the selfe same roome in Calvarie,
Where first grew the forbidden learned tree,
For on that tree hung in security
This Soule, made by the Makers will from pulling free. 80


IX.

Prince of the orchard, faire as dawning morne,
Fenc'd with the law, and ripe as soone as borne
That apple grew, which this Soule did enlive,
Till the then climing serpent, that now creeps
For that offence, for which all mankinde weepes, 85
Tooke it, and t'her whom the first man did wive
(Whom and her race, only forbiddings drive)
He gave it, she, t'her husband, both did eate;
So perished the eaters, and the meate:
And wee (for treason taints the blood) thence die and sweat. 90


X.

Man all at once was there by woman slaine,
And one by one we'are here slaine o'er againe
By them. The mother poison'd the well-head,
The daughters here corrupt us, Rivolets;
No smalnesse scapes, no greatnesse breaks their nets; 95
She thrust us out, and by them we are led
Astray, from turning, to whence we are fled.
Were prisoners Judges, 'twould seeme rigorous,
Shee sinn'd, we beare; part of our paine is, thus
To love them, whose fault to this painfull love yoak'd us. 100


XI.

So fast in us doth this corruption grow,
That now wee dare aske why wee should be so.
Would God (disputes the curious Rebell) make
A law, and would not have it kept? Or can
His creatures will, crosse his? Of every man 105
For one, will God (and be just) vengeance take?
Who sinn'd? t'was not forbidden to the snake
Nor her, who was not then made; nor is't writ
That Adam cropt, or knew the apple; yet
The worme and she, and he, and wee endure for it. 110


XII.

But snatch mee heavenly Spirit from this vaine
Reckoning their vanities, lesse is their gaine
Then hazard still, to meditate on ill,
Though with good minde; their reasons, like those toyes
Of glassie bubbles, which the gamesome boyes 115
Stretch to so nice a thinnes through a quill
That they themselves breake, doe themselves spill:
Arguing is heretiques game, and Exercise
As wrastlers, perfects them; Not liberties
Of speech, but silence; hands, not tongues, end heresies. 120


XIII.

Just in that instant when the serpents gripe,
Broke the flight veines, and tender conduit-pipe,
Through which this soule from the trees root did draw
Life, and growth to this apple, fled away
This loose soule, old, one and another day. 125
As lightning, which one scarce dares say, he saw,
'Tis so soone gone, (and better proofe the law
Of sense, then faith requires) swiftly she flew
To a darke and foggie Plot; Her, her fates threw
There through th'earths pores, and in a Plant hous'd her anew. 130


XIV.

The plant thus abled, to it selfe did force
A place, where no place was; by natures course
As aire from water, water fleets away
From thicker bodies, by this root thronged so
His spungie confines gave him place to grow: 135
Just as in our streets, when the people stay
To see the Prince, and have so fill'd the way
That weesels scarce could passe, when she comes nere
They throng and cleave up, and a passage cleare,
As if, for that time, their round bodies flatned were. 140


XV.

His right arme he thrust out towards the East,
West-ward his left; th'ends did themselves digest
Into ten lesser strings, these fingers were:
And as a slumberer stretching on his bed,
This way he this, and that way scattered 145
His other legge, which feet with toes upbeare.
Grew on his middle parts, the first day, haire,
To show, that in loves businesse hee should still
A dealer bee, and be us'd well, or ill:
His apples kindle, his leaves, force of conception kill. 150


XVI.

A mouth, but dumbe, he hath; blinde eyes, deafe eares,
And to his shoulders dangle subtile haires;
A young _Colossus_ there hee stands upright,
And as that ground by him were conquered
A leafie garland weares he on his head 155
Enchas'd with little fruits, so red and bright
That for them you would call your Loves lips white;
So, of a lone unhaunted place possest,
Did this soules second Inne, built by the guest,
This living buried man, this quiet mandrake, rest. 160


XVII.

No lustfull woman came this plant to grieve,
But 'twas because there was none yet but Eve:
And she (with other purpose) kill'd it quite;
Her sinne had now brought in infirmities,
And so her cradled child, the moist red eyes 165
Had never shut, nor slept since it saw light;
Poppie she knew, she knew the mandrakes might,
And tore up both, and so coold her childs blood;
Unvirtuous weeds might long unvex'd have stood;
But hee's short liv'd, that with his death can doe most good. 170


XVIII.

To an unfetterd soules quick nimble hast
Are falling stars, and hearts thoughts, but slow pac'd:
Thinner then burnt aire flies this soule, and she
Whom foure new comming, and foure parting Suns
Had found, and left the Mandrakes tenant, runnes 175
Thoughtlesse of change, when her firme destiny
Confin'd, and enjayld her, that seem'd so free,
Into a small blew shell, the which a poore
Warme bird orespread, and sat still evermore,
Till her inclos'd child kickt, and pick'd it selfe a dore. 180

XIX.

Outcrept a sparrow, this soules moving Inne,
On whose raw armes stiffe feathers now begin,
As childrens teeth through gummes, to breake with paine,
His flesh is jelly yet, and his bones threds,
All a new downy mantle overspreads, 185
A mouth he opes, which would as much containe
As his late house, and the first houre speaks plaine,
And chirps alowd for meat. Meat fit for men
His father steales for him, and so feeds then
One, that within a moneth, will beate him from his hen. 190

XX.

In this worlds youth wise nature did make hast,
Things ripened sooner, and did longer last;
Already this hot cocke, in bush and tree,
In field and tent, oreflutters his next hen;
He asks her not, who did so tast, nor when, 195
Nor if his sister, or his neece shee be;
Nor doth she pule for his inconstancie
If in her sight he change, nor doth refuse
The next that calls; both liberty doe use;
Where store is of both kindes, both kindes may freely chuse. 200


XXI.

Men, till they tooke laws which made freedome lesse,
Their daughters, and their sisters did ingresse;
Till now unlawfull, therefore ill, 'twas not.
So jolly, that it can move, this soule is,
The body so free of his kindnesses, 205
That selfe-preserving it hath now forgot,
And slackneth so the soules, and bodies knot,
Which temperance streightens; freely on his she friends
He blood, and spirit, pith, and marrow spends,
Ill steward of himself, himselfe in three yeares ends. 210

XXII.

Else might he long have liv'd; man did not know
Of gummie blood, which doth in holly grow,
How to make bird-lime, nor how to deceive
With faind calls, hid nets, or enwrapping snare,
The free inhabitants of the Plyant aire. 215
Man to beget, and woman to conceive
Askt not of rootes, nor of cock-sparrowes, leave:
Yet chuseth hee, though none of these he feares,
Pleasantly three, then streightned twenty yeares
To live, and to encrease his race, himselfe outweares. 220


XXIII.

This cole with overblowing quench'd and dead,
The Soule from her too active organs fled
T'a brooke. A female fishes sandie Roe
With the males jelly, newly lev'ned was,
For they had intertouch'd as they did passe, 225
And one of those small bodies, fitted so,
This soule inform'd, and abled it to rowe
It selfe with finnie oares, which she did fit:
Her scales seem'd yet of parchment, and as yet
Perchance a fish, but by no name you could call it. 230


XXIV.

When goodly, like a ship in her full trim,
A swan, so white that you may unto him
Compare all whitenesse, but himselfe to none,
Glided along, and as he glided watch'd,
And with his arched necke this poore fish catch'd. 235
It mov'd with state, as if to looke upon
Low things it scorn'd, and yet before that one
Could thinke he sought it, he had swallowed cleare
This, and much such, and unblam'd devour'd there
All, but who too swift, too great, or well armed were. 240


XXV.

Now swome a prison in a prison put,
And now this Soule in double walls was shut,
Till melted with the Swans digestive fire,
She left her house the fish, and vapour'd forth;
Fate not affording bodies of more worth 245
For her as yet, bids her againe retire
T'another fish, to any new desire
Made a new prey; For, he that can to none
Resistance make, nor complaint, sure is gone.
Weaknesse invites, but silence feasts oppression. 250


XXVI.

Pace with her native streame, this fish doth keepe,
And journeyes with her, towards the glassie deepe,
But oft retarded, once with a hidden net
Though with greate windowes, for when Need first taught
These tricks to catch food, then they were not wrought 255
As now, with curious greedinesse to let
None scape, but few, and fit for use, to get,
As, in this trap a ravenous pike was tane,
Who, though himselfe distrest, would faine have slain
This wretch; So hardly are ill habits left again. 260


XXVII.

Here by her smallnesse shee two deaths orepast,
Once innocence scap'd, and left the oppressor fast.
The net through-swome, she keepes the liquid path,
And whether she leape up sometimes to breath
And suck in aire, or finde it underneath, 265
Or working parts like mills or limbecks hath
To make the water thinne, and airelike faith
Cares not; but safe the Place she's come unto
Where fresh, with salt waves meet, and what to doe
She knowes not, but betweene both makes a boord or two. 270


XXVIII.

So farre from hiding her guests, water is,
That she showes them in bigger quantities
Then they are. Thus doubtfull of her way,
For game and not for hunger a sea Pie
Spied through this traiterous spectacle, from high, 275
The seely fish where it disputing lay,
And t'end her doubts and her, beares her away:
Exalted she'is, but to the exalters good,
As are by great ones, men which lowly stood.
It's rais'd, to be the Raisers instrument and food. 280


XXIX.

Is any kinde subject to rape like fish?
Ill unto man, they neither doe, nor wish:
Fishers they kill not, nor with noise awake,
They doe not hunt, nor strive to make a prey
Of beasts, nor their yong sonnes to beare away; 285
Foules they pursue not, nor do undertake
To spoile the nests industrious birds do make;
Yet them all these unkinde kinds feed upon,
To kill them is an occupation,
And lawes make Fasts, and Lents for their destruction. 290


XXX.

A sudden stiffe land-winde in that selfe houre
To sea-ward forc'd this bird, that did devour
The fish; he cares not, for with ease he flies,
Fat gluttonies best orator: at last
So long hee hath flowen, and hath flowen so fast 295
That many leagues at sea, now tir'd hee lyes,
And with his prey, that till then languisht, dies:
The soules no longer foes, two wayes did erre,
The fish I follow, and keepe no calender
Of the other; he lives yet in some great officer. 300


XXXI.

Into an embrion fish, our Soule is throwne,
And in due time throwne out againe, and growne
To such vastnesse as, if unmanacled
From Greece, Morea were, and that by some
Earthquake unrooted, loose Morea swome, 305
Or seas from Africks body had severed
And torne the hopefull Promontories head,
This fish would seeme these, and, when all hopes faile,
A great ship overset, or without faile
Hulling, might (when this was a whelp) be like this whale. 310


XXXII.

At every stroake his brazen finnes do take,
More circles in the broken sea they make
Then cannons voices, when the aire they teare:
His ribs are pillars, and his high arch'd roofe
Of barke that blunts best steele, is thunder-proofe: 315
Swimme in him swallow'd Dolphins, without feare,
And feele no sides, as if his vast wombe were
Some Inland sea, and ever as hee went
Hee spouted rivers up, as if he ment
To joyne our seas, with seas above the firmament. 320


XXXIII.

He hunts not fish, but as an officer,
Stayes in his court, at his owne net, and there
All suitors of all sorts themselves enthrall;
So on his backe lyes this whale wantoning,
And in his gulfe-like throat, sucks every thing 325
That passeth neare. Fish chaseth fish, and all,
Flyer and follower, in this whirlepoole fall;
O might not states of more equality
Consist? and is it of necessity
That thousand guiltlesse smals, to make one great, must die? 330


XXXIV.

Now drinkes he up seas, and he eates up flocks,
He justles Ilands, and he shakes firme rockes.
Now in a roomefull house this Soule doth float,
And like a Prince she sends her faculties
To all her limbes, distant as Provinces. 335
The Sunne hath twenty times both crab and goate
Parched, since first lanch'd forth this living boate;
'Tis greatest now, and to destruction
Nearest; There's no pause at perfection;
Greatnesse a period hath, but hath no station. 340


XXXV.

Two little fishes whom hee never harm'd,
Nor fed on their kinde, two not throughly arm'd
With hope that they could kill him, nor could doe
Good to themselves by his death (they did not eate
His flesh, nor suck those oyles, which thence outstreat) 345
Conspir'd against him, and it might undoe
The plot or all, that the plotters were two,
But that they fishes were, and could not speake.
How shall a Tyran wife strong projects breake,
If wreches can on them the common anger wreake? 350


XXXVI.

The flaile-finn'd Thresher, and steel-beak'd Sword-fish
Onely attempt to doe, what all doe wish.
The Thresher backs him, and to beate begins;
The sluggard Whale yeelds to oppression,
And t'hide himselfe from shame and danger, downe 355
Begins to sinke; the Swordfish upward spins,
And gores him with his beake; his staffe-like finnes,
So well the one, his sword the other plyes,
That now a scoffe, and prey, this tyran dyes,
And (his owne dole) feeds with himselfe all companies. 360


XXXVII.

Who will revenge his death? or who will call
Those to account, that thought, and wrought his fall?
The heires of slaine kings, wee see are often so
Transported with the joy of what they get,
That they, revenge and obsequies forget, 365
Nor will against such men the people goe,
Because h'is now dead, to whom they should show
Love in that act; Some kings by vice being growne
So needy of subjects love, that of their own
They thinke they lose, if love be to the dead Prince shown. 370


XXXVIII.

This Soule, now free from prison, and passion,
Hath yet a little indignation
That so small hammers should so soone downe beat
So great a castle. And having for her house
Got the streight cloyster of a wreched mouse 375
(As basest men that have not what to eate,
Nor enjoy ought, doe farre more hate the great
Then they, who good repos'd estates possesse)
This Soule, late taught that great things might by lesse
Be slain, to gallant mischiefe doth herselfe addresse. 380


XXXIX.

Natures great master-peece, an Elephant,
The onely harmlesse great thing; the giant
Of beasts; who thought, no more had gone, to make one wise
But to be just, and thankfull, loth to offend,
(Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend) 385
Himselfe he up-props, on himselfe relies,
And foe to none, suspects no enemies,
Still sleeping stood; vex't not his fantasie
Blacke dreames; like an unbent bow, carelesly
His sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie: 390


XL.

In which as in a gallery this mouse
Walk'd, and surveid the roomes of this vast house,
And to the braine, the soules bedchamber, went,
And gnaw'd the life cords there; Like a whole towne
Cleane undermin'd, the slaine beast tumbled downe; 395
With him the murtherer dies, whom envy sent
To kill, not scape, (for, only hee that ment
To die, did ever kill a man of better roome,)
And thus he made his foe, his prey, and tombe:
Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come. 400


XLI.

Next, hous'd this Soule a Wolves yet unborne whelp,
Till the best midwife, Nature, gave it helpe,
To issue. It could kill, as soone as goe.
Abel, as white, and milde as his sheepe were,
(Who, in that trade, of Church, and kingdomes, there 405
Was the first type) was still infested soe,
With this wolfe, that it bred his losse and woe;
And yet his bitch, his sentinell attends
The flocke so neere, so well warnes and defends,
That the wolfe, (hopelesse else) to corrupt her, intends. 410


XLII.

Hee tooke a course, which since, succesfully,
Great men have often taken, to espie
The counsels, or to breake the plots of foes.
To Abels tent he stealeth in the darke,
On whose skirts the bitch slept; ere she could barke, 415
Attach'd her with streight gripes, yet hee call'd those,
Embracements of love; to loves worke he goes,
Where deeds move more then words; nor doth she show,
Nor <make> resist, nor needs hee streighten so
His prey, for, were shee loose, she would nor barke, nor goe. 420


XLIII.

Hee hath engag'd her; his, she wholy bides;
Who not her owne, none others secrets hides.
If to the flocke he come, and Abell there,
She faines hoarse barkings, but she biteth not,
Her faith is quite, but not her love forgot. 425
At last a trap, of which some every where
Abell had plac'd, ends all his losse, and feare,
By the Wolves death; and now just time it was
That a quicke soule should give life to that masse
Of blood in Abels bitch, and thither this did passe. 430


XLIV.

Some have their wives, their sisters some begot,
But in the lives of Emperours you shall not
Reade of a lust the which may equall this;
This wolfe begot himselfe, and finished
What he began alive, when hee was dead; 435
Sonne to himselfe, and father too, hee is
A ridling lust, for which Schoolemen would misse
A proper name. The whelpe of both these lay
In Abels tent, and with soft Moaba,
His sister, being yong, it us'd to sport and play. 440


XLV.

Hee soone for her too harsh, and churlish grew,
And Abell (the dam dead) would use this new
For the field. Being of two kindes thus made,
He, as his dam, from sheepe drove wolves away,
And as his Sire, he made them his owne prey. 445
Five yeares he liv'd, and cosened with his trade,
Then hopelesse that his faults were hid, betraid
Himselfe by flight, and by all followed,
From dogges, a wolfe; from wolves, a dogge he fled;
And, like a spie to both sides false, he perished. 450


XLVI.

It quickned next a toyfull Ape, and so
Gamesome it was, that it might freely goe
From tent to tent, and with the children play.
His organs now so like theirs hee doth finde,
That why he cannot laugh, and speake his minde, 455
He wonders. Much with all, most he doth stay
With Adams fift daughter _Siphatecia_,
Doth gaze on her, and, where she passeth, passe,
Gathers her fruits, and tumbles on the grasse,
And wisest of that kinde, the first true lover was. 460


XLVII.

He was the first that more desir'd to have
One then another; first that ere did crave
Love by mute signes, and had no power to speake;
First that could make love faces, or could doe
The valters sombersalts, or us'd to wooe 465
With hoiting gambolls, his owne bones to breake
To make his mistresse merry; or to wreake
Her anger on himselfe. Sinnes against kinde
They easily doe, that can let feed their minde
With outward beauty; beauty they in boyes and beasts do find 470


XLVIII.

By this misled, too low things men have prov'd,
And too high; beasts and angels have beene lov'd.
This Ape, though else through-vaine, in this was wise,
He reach'd at things too high, but open way
There was, and he knew not she would say nay; 475
His toyes prevaile not, likelier meanes he tries,
He gazeth on her face with teare-shot eyes,
And up lifts subtly with his russet pawe
Her kidskinne apron without feare or awe
Of nature; nature hath no gaole, though shee hath law. 480


XLIX.

First she was silly and knew not what he ment.
That vertue, by his touches, chaft and spent,
Succeeds an itchie warmth, that melts her quite;
She knew not first, nowe cares not what he doth,
And willing halfe and more, more then halfe <loth>, 485
She neither puls nor pushes, but outright
Now cries, and now repents; when _Tethlemite_
Her brother, entred, and a great stone threw
After the Ape, who, thus prevented, flew.
This house thus batter'd downe, the Soule possest a new. 490


L.

And whether by this change she lose or win,
She comes out next, where the Ape would have gone in.
_Adam_ and _Eve_ had mingled bloods, and now
Like Chimiques equall fires, her temperate wombe
Had stew'd and form'd it: and part did become 495
A spungie liver, that did richly allow,
Like a free conduit, on a high hils brow,
Life-keeping moisture unto every part;
Part hardned it selfe to a thicker heart,
Whose busie furnaces lifes spirits do impart. 500


LI.

Another part became the well of sense,
The tender well-arm'd feeling braine, from whence,
Those sinowie strings which do our bodies tie,
Are raveld out; and fast there by one end,
Did this Soule limbes, these limbes a soule attend; 505
And now they joyn'd: keeping some quality
Of every past shape, she knew treachery,
Rapine, deceit, and lust, and ills enow
To be a woman. _Themech_ she is now,
Sister and wife to _Caine_, _Caine_ that first did plow.