WITHER'S MOTTO.  
Nec habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.  
LONDON printed for john Marriott 1621.   

The Explanation of the Emblem.  

This little Emblem here doth represent,  
The blessed condition, of a man Content.  
The Place he lies on, is a mighty Rock:  
To show, that He Contemns and makes a mock  
Of Force, or underminers. We express,  
What others think him, by his Nakedness.  
His Mantle, with Hearts-ease y wrought doth show,  
What He, doth of his own well being, know.  
The Pillar, on whose Base, his head doth rest;  
Hath Fortitude and Constancy expressed.  
The Cornucopia that so near him lies;  
Declares, that He enough hath to suffice:  
And that He can be pleased, with what the Fields,  
Or what the fruitful Tree, by Nature yealds.  
That pleasant Prospective, in which you see,  
Groves, Rivers ●ndes, and Palaces there be;  
Lies far below Him: and is that, in which,  
The truest-happy Man, is seldom rich.  
The words, NEC HABEO he doth there bestow;  
And what he means, doth with his finger show.  
Above him hover Angels, and his Eye,  
He fixing, on the glorious Heavens on high;  
(From whence a Ray into his breast descends)  
His other word NEC CAREO, thither sends:  
To intimate, that He can nothing need,  
Whom Angels guard, and God himself doth feed.  
By force, or sly Temptations, to prevail  
Both Temporal, and Ghostly Foes assail,  
His naked person: but, without a wound,  
Their Darts are broke; or, back on them rebound.  
So, with NEC CURO, Those he entertains:  
And to express, how highly He disdains,  
The best Contents, the World afford him may;  
A Globe Terrestrial, He doth spurn away.    

To any body.  
TO recreate myself, after some more serious Studies, I took occasion to exercise my Invention in the illustration of my Motto; which being thus finished, my friends made me believe it was worth the preserving; and grew so importunate for Copies thereof, that I could not deny them. But doubting, lest by often transcribing, it might be much lamed through the Scribes insufficiency (as many things of this nature are) I thought fitting, rather to exemplify the same, by the Press, then by the Penne. And to that end, delivered it over to some Stationers, to have only so many Copies, as I intended to bestow.  
Yet considering that other men (to whom I meant them not) might peradventure, come to the view of those Lines. I thought it not amiss, by way of Prevention, to remove such Cavils as may be made against me, by those unto whom I am unknown. Not, that I care to give every idle Reader, an account of my Intentions: But to show the Ingenuous, that the Carelessness expressed in this Motto, proseeds from an undistempered Care, to make all my Actions, (as near as I can) such, as may be decent, warrantable, and becoming an honest Man: And that those, who shall foolishly seek (from thence) to pick advantages against me: may know, I am too well advised to write any thing, which they shall be justly able to interpret, either to my hindrance, or disparagement.  
Let me want esteem among all good men, if I purposed (or have any secret desire in me) that any part of this, should be applied to any particular man; but so as every one ought to apply things unto his own Conscience; and he that believes me not, I fear is guilty. My intent was, to draw the true Picture of mine own heart; that my friends, who knew me outwardly, might have some representation of my inside also. And that, if they liked the form of it, they might (wherein they were defective) fashion their own minds thereunto. But, my principal Intention, was by recording those thoughts to confirm mine own Resolution; and to prevent such alterations, as Time and infirmites', may work upon me. And if there be no more reason inferred against me, to remove my opinion, than I am yet apprehensive of: I am confidently persuaded, that neither Fear, nor Force shall compel me, to deny any thing which I have affirmed in this Poem. For, I had rather be degraded from the greatest Title of Honour that could be given me; then constrained to deny this Motto.  
Proud Arrogance (I know) and enough too; will be laid to my charge. But those who both know me, and the necessity of this resolution, will excuse me of it. The rest (if they mis-censure me) are part of those things, I care not for.  
The Language is but indifferent; for, I affected Matter more than Words. The Method is none at all: for, I was loath to make a business, of a recreation. And we know, he that rides abroad for his pleasure, is not tied so strictly to keep Highways, as he that takes a journey.  
If the intermixing of sleight and weighty things together, be offensive to any. Let them understand, that if they well observe it, they shall find a seriousness, even in that which they imagine least momentary. And if they had aswell observed the conditions of men, as I have done: they would perceive that the greatest number (like Children which are alured to School with points and Apples) must be drawn on with some frivolous expressions, or else will never listen to the grave precepts of Virtue; which, when they once hear, do many times beget a delight in them, before they be aware.  
Many Dishes of meat which we affect not may be so Cooked, that we shall have a good appetit unto them: So, many men who take no pleasure to seek Virtue in grave Treatises of morality, may (perhaps) finding her unlooked for, masked under the habit of a light Poem, growenamord on her beauty.  
The foolish Canterbury Tale in my scourge of Vanity, (which I am now almost ashamed to read over) even that, hath been by some praised for a witty passage: And I have heard diverse, seriously protest, that they have much more feelingly been informed, & moved to detest the Vanity of the humour there skoffed at, by that rude Tale, than they were by the most grave precepts of Philosophy. And that makes me oftentimes affect some things, in regard of their usefulness: which being considered according to the Method of Art, and rules of Scholarship, would seem ridiculous.  
But I use more words for my Apology then needs: If this will not give you satisfaction, I am sorry I have said so much; and, if you know which way, satisfy yourselves. For, how I am resolved (if you think it worth the taking notice of) the book will tell you. Farewell.  
GEO: WITHER.   

WITHER'S Motto.  

Nec habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo. Nor Have I, nor Want I, nor Care I.  

HAh! will they storm? why let them; who needs care?  
Or who dares frown on what the Muses dare,  
Who when they list, can for a tempest call,  
Which thunder louder than their fury shall?  
And if men causelessly their power contemn,  
Will more than mortal vengeance fling on them?   

With thine own trembling spirit, thou didst view  
These freeborn lines; that doubtst what may ensue:  
For if thou feltst the temper of my soul  
And knewst my heart, thou wouldst not fear control.   

Do not I know, my honest thoughts are clear  
From any private spleen, or malice here?  
Do not I know that none will frown at this,  
But such as have apparent guiltiness;  
Or such as must to shame and ruin run,  
As some, once aiming at my fall have done?  
And can I fear those Idle scarecrows then?  
Those bugbear perils, those mere shades of men?  
At whose displeasure they for terror sweat,  
Whose heart upon the world's vain love is set?   

No; when this Motto first, I mine did make,  
To me I took it, not for fashion's sake:  
But that it might express me as I am;  
And keep me mindful to be still the same.  
Which I resolve to be: For, could the eye  
Of other men, within my breast espy  
My Resolution, and the Cause thereof;  
They durst not at this boldness make a scoff.   

Shall I be fearful of myself to speak;  
For doubt some other may exceptions take?  
If this Age hold; ere long we shall go near  
Of every word of our, to stand in fear.  
And (five to one) if any should confess  
Those sins in public, which his soul oppress:  
Some guilty fellow (moved thereat) would take it  
Unto himself; and so, a Libel make it.  
Nay; We shall hardly be allowed to pray  
Against a crying-sinne; lest great men may  
Suspect, that by a figure we intent  
To point out them: and how they do offend.  
As I have hope to prosper; e'er I'll fall  
To such a bondage, I'll adventure all:  
And make the whole world mad, to hear how I  
Will fearless write and rail at Villainy.  
But oh! beware (gray-hayrd discretion says)  
The Dog fights well that out of danger plays.  
For now, these guilty Times so captious be  
That such, as love in speaking to be free;  
May for their freedom, to their cost be shent;  
How harmless ere they be, in their intent:  
And such as of their future peace have care,  
Unto the Times a little servile are.   

Pish; tell not me of Times, or danger thus:  
To do a villainy is dangerous;  
But in an honest action, my heart knows  
No more of fears, than deadmen do of blows.  
And to be slave to Times, is worse to me  
Then to be that, which most men fear to be.   

I tell thee Critike; whatsoever Thou,  
Or any man, of me shall censure now:  
They, who for aught here written do accuse,  
Or with a mind malicious, tax my Muse;  
Shall nor by day awake, nor sleep by night,  
With more contentment, in their glories height;  
Then I will do, though they should lay me where  
I must in darkness, bolts of Iron wear.  
For, I am not so ignorant, but that  
I partly know what things I may relate:  
And what an honest man should still conceal,  
I know as well, as what he may reveal.   

If they be poor and base, that fear my strain:  
These poor base fellows are afraid in vain.  
I scorn to spurn a dog, or strike a fly,  
Or with such Grooms to soil my Poesy.  
If great they were, and fallen; let them know,  
I do abhor to touch a wounded foe.  
If on the top of honour, yet they be:  
'tis poor weak honour, if aught done by me  
May blot, or shake the same: yea, whatsoe'er  
Their Titles cost, or they would feign appear●,  
They are ignoble, and beneath me far;  
If with these measures they distempered are.  
For, if they had true Greatness, they would know,  
The spite of all the World, were far below  
The seat of Noblest Honour; and that He,  
In whom true worth, and real Virtues be,  
So well is armed: as that he fears no wrong  
From any Tyrant's hand; or Villain's tongue.  
Much less be startled at those Numbers would;  
Where Uertue's praised and proud Vice controlled.   

Is any man the worse if I express  
My Wants, my Riches, or my Carelessness?  
Or can my honest thoughts, or my content,  
Be turned to any man's disparagement,  
If he be honest? Nay, those men will find,  
A pleasure in this D●re of my Mind,  
Who honour Virtue, and instead of blame,  
Will (as they have done) love me for the same.   

You are deceined, if the Bohemian State  
You think I touch; or the Palatinate:  
Or that this aught of Eighty-eight contains;  
The Powder-plot, or any thing of Spain's:  
That their Ambassador need question me,  
Or bring me justly for it on my knee.  
The state of those Occurrences I know  
Too well; my Raptures that way to bestow.   

Nor need you doubt, but any friend you have,  
May play the fool, and if he list the knave,  
For aught here written: For it is not such  
As you suppose; nor what you fear so much.   

If I had been disposed to Satyrize,  
Would I have tamed my Numbers in this wise?  
No: I have Furies that lie tied in chains.  
Bold (English-mastive-like) adventurous Strains:  
Who fearless dare on any Monster fly,  
That wears a body of Mortality.  
And I had let them lose, if I had list,  
To play again the sharpe-fangd Satirist.   

That therefore you no more mis-title This,  
I say, it is my Motto; and it is.   

I'll have it so: For, if it please not me;  
It shall not be a satire, though it be.  
What is't to you (or any man) if I,  
This little Poem term as foolishly,  
As some do their children? Is it not,  
Mine own Minerva, of my brains begot?  
For aught I know, I never did intrude,  
To name your Whelps; and if you be so rude,  
To meddle with my Kitling (though in sport)  
'Tis odds, but she'll go near to scratch you for't.   

Play with your Monkey then, and let it lie:  
Or (if you be not angry) take it pray,  
And read it over.—  
— So; the Critics gone,  
Who at these Numbers carped; and We alone:  
Proceed we to the matter.—    

Nec Habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.  

SOme having seen, where I this Motto w●it  
Beneath my Picture; asked, what meaned it.  
And many in my absence, do assay,  
What by these words, they best conjecture may:  
Some have supposed, that it doth express,  
An unadvised, desperate Carelessness.  
Some others do imagine, that I meant  
In little, to set forth a great Content.  
Some, on each member of the Sentence dwell:  
And (first) will, what I have not, seem to tell:  
What things I want not, they will next declare:  
And then they guess, for what I do not care.  
But that they might not from my meaning err,  
I'll now become my own Interpreter.   

Some things I have, which here I will not show;  
Some things I want, which you shall never know:  
And sometime I (perchance) do Careful grow;  
But we, with that, will nothing have to do.  
If good occasion be thereof to speak;  
Another time, we may the pleasure take.  
That, which to treat of, I now purpose (therefore,)  
Is what I neither have, nor want, nor care for.    

Nec Habeo.  

ANd first; that no man else may censure me,  
For Vaunting what belongeth not to me:  
Hear what I have not; for, I'll not deny  
To make confession of my poverty.   

I have not of myself the power, or grace,  
To be, or not to be; one minute space.  
I have not strength another word to write;  
Or tell you what I purpose to indite:  
Or think out half a thought, before my death,  
But by the leave of him that gave me breath.  
I have no native goodness in my soul;  
But I was over all corrupt and foul:  
And till another cleansed me, I had nought  
That was not stained within me: not a thought.  
I have no proper merit; neither will,  
Or to resolve, or act but what is ill.  
I have no means of safety, or content,  
In aught which mine own wisdom can invent.  
Nor have I reason to be desperate tho:  
Because for this a remedy I know.   

I have no portion in the world like this,  
That I may breathe that air, which common is:  
Nor have I seen within this spacious Round;  
What I have worth my joy or sorrow found.  
Except it hath for these that follow him;  
The Love of my Redeemer, and my sin.   

I none of those great Privileges have,  
Which make the Minions of the Time, so brave.  
I have no sumptuous Palaces, or Bowers  
That overtop my neighbours with their Towers.  
I have no large Demeanes or Princely Rents,  
Like those Heroes; nor their discontents.  
I have no glories from mine Ancestors;  
For want of real worth to brag of theirs,  
Nor have I baseness in my pedigree;  
For it is noble, though obscure it be.   

I have no gold those honours to obtain,  
Which men might heretofore, by Virtue gain,  
Nor have I wit, if wealth were given me;  
To think, bought Place or Title, honoured me.  
I (yet) have no belief that they are wise,  
Who for base ends, can basely temporise:  
Or that it will at length be ill for me,  
That I lived poor, to keep my Spirit free.   

I have no Causes in our Pleading Courts.  
Nor start I at our Chancery Reports.  
No fearful Bill hath yet affrighted me,  
No Motion, Order, judgement, or Decree.  
Nor have I forced been to tedious journeys,  
Betwixt my Counsellors and my Attorneys.  
●e no need of those long-gowned warriors,  
Who play at Westminster, unarmed at Barriers:  
Nor gamester for those Common-pleas am I,  
Whose sport is marred, by the Chancery.   

I have no juggling hand, no double tongue;  
Nor any mind to take, or do a wrong.  
I have no shifts or cunning flights, on which  
I feed myself, with hope of being rich.  
Nor have I one of these, to make me poor;  
Hounds, Humours, running horses, Hawks or Whore,   

I have no pleasure in acquaintance, where  
The Rules of State, and Ceremony, are  
Observed so seriously; that I must dance,  
And act o'er all the Compliments of France,  
And Spain, and Italy; before I can  
Be taken, for a well bred Englishman:  
And every time we meet, be forced again,  
To put in action that most idle Scene.  
'Mong these, much precious time (unto my cost)  
And much true-hearty meaning have I lost.  
Which having found: I do resolve therefore,  
To lose my Time, and Friendship, so no more.   

I have no Compliments; but what may show,  
That I do manners, and good breeding know.  
For much I hate, the forced, Apish tricks,  
Of those our home-disdaining Politics:  
Who to the Foreign guise are so affected,  
That English Honesty is quite rejected:  
And in the stead thereof; they fu●isht home,  
With shadows of Humanity do come.  
Oh! how judicious in their own esteem,  
And how completely, Traveled they seem;  
If in the place of real kindnesses,  
(Which Nature could, have taught them to express)  
They can with gestures, looks, and ●guage sweet,  
Fawn like a Courtesan, on all they meet:  
And vie, in humble and kind speeches; when,  
They do most proudly, and most falsely mean.  
On this: too many falsely set their face,  
Of Courtship and of wisdom: but 'tis base.  
For, servile (unto me) it doth appear,  
When we descend, to sooth and flatter, where  
We want affection: yea, I hate it more,  
Then to be borne a slave; or to be poor.  
I have no pleasure, or delight in aught,  
That by dissembling must to pass be brought.  
If I dislike, I'd sooner tell them so,  
Then hide my face, beneath a friendly show.  
For he, (who to be just, hath an intent,  
Needs nor dissemble, nor a lie invent.  
I rather wish to fail with honesty,  
Then to prevail in aught by treachery.  
And with this mind I'll safer sleep, than all  
Our Machavillian Politicians shall.   

I have no Mind to fl●tter; though I might,  
Be made some Lord's companion; or a Knight.  
Not shall my Verse for me on begging go,  
Though I might starve, unless it did do so.   

I have no Muses that will serve the turn,  
At every Triumph; and rejoice or mourn,  
Upon a minute's warning for their hire;  
If with old Sherry they themselves inspire.  
I am not of a temper, like to those,  
That can provide an hours sad talk in Prose,  
For any Funeral; and then go Dine,  
And choke my grief, with Sugar-plums and Wine.  
I cannot at the Claret sic and laugh,  
And then half tipsy, write an Epitaph;  
Or howl an Epicoedium for each Groom,  
That is, by Fraud, or Niggardise, become  
A wealthy Alderman: Nor, for each Gull,  
That hath acquired the stile of Worshipful.  
I cannot for reward adorn the Hearse,  
Of some old rotten Miser, with my Verse:  
Nor like the Poetasters of the Time;  
Go howl a doleful Elegy in Rhyme,  
For every Lord or Ladyship that dies:  
And then perplex their Heirs, to Patronise  
That muddy Poesy. Oh! how I scorn,  
Those Raptures, which are free, and nobly borne,  
Should Fidler-like, for entertainment scrape  
At stranger's windows: and go play the Ape,  
In counterfeiting Passion, when there's none,  
Or in good earnest, foolishly bemoan  
(In hope of cursed bounty) their just death;  
Who, (living) merit not, a minute's breath  
To keep their Fame alive, unless to blow,  
Some Trumpet which their black disgrace may show.   

I cannot (for my life) my Pen compel,  
Upon the praise of any man to dwell:  
Unless I know, (or think at least) his worth,  
To be the same, which I have blazed forth.  
Had I some honest Suit; the gain of which,  
Would make me noble, eminent, and rich:  
And that to compass it, no means there were  
Unless I basely flattered some great Peer;  
Would with that Suit, my ruin I might get:  
If on those terms I would endeavour it.   

I have not been to their condition borne,  
Who are inclined to respect, and scorn;  
As men in their estates, do rise or fall:  
Or rich, or poor, I Virtue love in all.  
And where I find it not, I do despise  
To fawn on them; how high so ere they rise,  
For, where proud Greatness without worth I see:  
Old Mordecay had not a stiffer knee.   

I cannot give a Plaudit (I protest)  
When as his Lordship thinks, he breaks aieast,  
Unless it move me; neither can I grin,  
When he a causeless laughter doth begin.  
I cannot swear him, truly honourable;  
Because he once received me to his table;  
And talked as if the Mases glad might be,  
That he vouchsased such a grace to me.  
His slender worth, I could not blaze on so,  
By strange Hyporboles, as some would do.  
Or wonder at it, as if none had been  
His equal, since King William first came in.  
Nor can I think true Virtue ever cared  
To give or take, (for praise) what I have heard.   

For if we peyze them well; what goodly grace,  
Have outward Beauties, Riches, Titles, Place,  
Or such; that we, the owners should commend,  
When no true virtues, do on these attend?  
If beautiful he be, what honour's that?  
As fair as he is many a Beggars brar.  
If we, his noble Titles would extol;  
Those Titles. he may have and be a fool.  
If Seats of justice he hath climbed (we say)  
So Tyrants, and corrupt oppressors may.  
If for a large estate his praise we tell:  
A thousand Villainies, may be praised as well.  
If he, his Princes good esteem be in;  
Why, so hath many a bloody Traitor been.  
And if in these things he alone excel,  
Let those that list, upon his praises dwell.  
Some other worth I find, ere I have sense  
Of any praise-deseruing excellence.   

I have no friends, that once affected were,  
But to my heart, they sit this day as near,  
As when I most endeared them (though they seem,  
To fall from my opinion or esteem:)  
For precious Time, in idle would be spent;  
If I with All, should always compliment.  
And till, my love I may to purpose show;  
I care not wher'they think I love or no.  
For sure I am, if any find me changed;  
Their greatness, nor their meanness me estranged.   

I have not prized men's loves, the less or more,  
Because I saw them, either rich, or poor;  
But as their love, and Virtues did appear,  
I such esteemed them, whosoever they were.   

I have no trust, or confidence in friends,  
That seek to know me, merely for their ends,  
Nor have I ever said, I loved yet;  
Where I expected more than Love for it,  
And let me fail of that where most I loved,  
If that with greater joy I be not moved  
By twentyfold, when I my kindness show,  
Then when their favours they on me bestow.   

I have not that vile mind; nor shall my breast  
For ever, with such baseness be possessed;  
As in my anger (be it ne'er so just)  
To utter aught committed to my trust  
In time of friendship: though constrained so,  
That want of telling it, should me undo.  
For, whosoever hath trust reposed in me;  
Shall ever find me true, though false he be.   

I have no lo●o Country, Prince or Friend;  
That can be more, or less, or have an end.  
For whatsoever state they raised me to;  
I would not love them; better than I do.  
Nor can I hate them; though on me they should  
Heap all the scorn, and injury they could.   

I have no do●ing humour, to affect  
Where love I find rewarded with neglect.  
I never was wit● melancholy fit  
Oppressed in such stupid manner, yet,  
A▪ that ungently to my friends I sp●ke;  
O● beed to their contentment, did not take:  
Nor have I felt my Anger so inflamed  
But that with gentle speech it might be tamed.   

I have no private cause of discontent;  
Nor grudge against the public government.  
I have no spite, or enure in my breast,  
Nor doth another's peace disturb my rest.  
I have not (yet) that dunghill humour, which  
Some Great-men have; who, so they may be rich,  
Think all gain sweet, and nought ashamed are,  
In vile, and rascal Suits to have a share.  
For I their baseness scorn: and ever loathed  
By wronging others, to be fed or clothed,  
Much more, to have my pride, or lust maintained,  
With what, by foul oppression hath been gained.   

I have not been enamoured on the Fate  
Of men, to great advancements fortunate.  
I never yet a Favourite did see  
So happy, that I wished to be he:  
Nor would I, whatsoever of me became;  
Be any other man, but who I am.  
For, though I am assured the destiny  
Of millions tendeth to felicity:  
Yet, those dear secret comforts, which I find,  
Unseen, within the closet of my mind:  
Give more assurance of true happiness,  
Then any outward glories can express.  
And 'tis so hard, (what shows soe'er there be)  
The inward plight of other men to see:  
That my estate, with none exchange I dare,  
Although my Fortunes more despised were.   

I have not hitherto divulged aught,  
Wherein my words dissented from my thought.  
Nor would I fail; if I might able be,  
To make my manners, and my words agree.  
I have not been ashamed to confess  
My lowest Fortunes, or the kindnesses,  
Of poorest men: Nor have I proud been made,  
By any favour from a great Man, had   

I have not placed so much of my Content,  
Upon the goods of Fortune, to lament  
The loss of them; more than may seemly be,  
To grieve for things, which are no part of me.  
For, I have known the worst of being poor;  
Yea lost, when I to lose have had no more,  
And though, the Coward World more quakes for fear  
Of Poverty, than any plagues that are:  
Yet, He that minds his End, observes his Ward,  
The Means pursues, and keeps a heart prepared:  
Da●es, Scorn and Poverty as boldly meet;  
As others gladly. Fame, and Riches greet.  
For those, who on the stage of this proud World,  
Into the paws of Want and Scorn are hurled:  
Are in the Master-prize, that trieth men;  
And Virtue fighteth her brav'st Combat, then,   

I no Antipathy (as yet) have had,  
'twixt me, and any Creature, God hath made:  
For if they do not scratch, nor bite, nor sting,  
Snakes, Serpents, Toads, or Cats, or any thing  
I can endure to touch, or look upon:  
(So cannot every one whom I have known.)   

I have no Nation on the earth abhorred,  
But with a jew, or Spaniard can accord,  
As well, as with my Brother; if I find  
He bear a Virtuous, and Heroic mind.   

Yet (I confess) of all men, I most hate  
Such, as their manners do adulterate.  
Those Lins●-woolsie people, who are neither  
French, English, Scotch, nor Dutch: but altogether  
Those, I affect not; rather wish I could,  
That they were fish, or flesh, or hit, or cold:  
But none among all them, worse brook I, than  
Our mere Hispaniolized English men.  
And if we scape their Treacheries at home,  
I'll fear no mischies, where soe'er I come.   

I have not feared who my Religion knows:  
Nor ever for preferment, made I shows  
Of what I was not. For, although I may  
Through want, be forced, to put on worse ar●y,  
Upon my Body; I will ever find,  
Means so maintain, a habit for my Mind,  
Of Truth in grain: and wear it, in the sight  
Of all the world: in all the world's despite.   

ay, their presumption, have not, who dare blame,  
A fault in others; and correct the same  
With grievous punishments: yet guilty be,  
Of those offences in more high degree.  
For, oh! how bold, and impudent a face,  
(And what unmoved hearts of Flint and Brass)  
Have those corrupted Magistrates, who dare,  
Upon the seat of judgement sit; and there  
Without an inward horror preach abroad,  
The guilt of Sin, and heavy wrath of God;  
(Against offenders pleading at their Bar)  
Yet know, what plots, within their bosoms are?  
Who; when (enthroned for justice) they behold,  
A reverend Magistrate, both grave, and old;  
And hear how sternly, he doth aggravate  
Each little crime, offenders perpetrate:  
How much the fact he seemeth to abhor;  
How he, a just correction labours for;  
How he admires, and wonders that among  
A people, where the Faith hath flourished long  
Such wickedness should reign which (he hath heard)  
The Heathen to commit, have been afeard.   

Who, that observes all this; would think that He  
Did but an hour before, receive a fee,  
Some Innocent (by law) to murder there?  
Or else, from Children fatherless to tear  
Their just Inheritance? and that when this  
Were done (as if that nought had been amiss)  
He could go sleep upon a deed so foul;  
And neither think on man's, or God's control?  
I have not a stupidity so mad,  
And this presumption, I would no man had.   

I have no question made, but some there are,  
Who, when of this my Motto they shall hear;  
Will have a better stomach, to procure  
That I may check, or punishment endure,  
Then their own evil manners to amend:  
For that's a work, they cannot yet intend.  
And though, they many view (before their face)  
Fallen, and each minute falling to disgrace;  
(For less offences far then they commit)  
Without remorse, and penitence they sit.  
As if that They, (and they all one) had been,  
Without the compass of reproof of sin.   

I have no great opinion of their wit,  
Nor ever saw their actions prosper, yet,  
Who wedded to their own devices be;  
And will nor counsel hear, nor danger see,  
That is foretold them by their truest friends:  
But rather, list to them, who for their ends  
Do soothe their fancies. And the best excuse;  
That such men can, to hide their folly use;  
(When all their idle projects come to nought)  
Are these words of the fool. I had not thought.   

I have not their delight, who pleasure take  
At Nature's imperfections scoffs to make.  
Nor have I bitterness against that sin,  
Which thorough weakness hath committed been.  
(For I myself, am to offences prone;  
And every day commit I many a one)  
But at their hateful crimes I only glance  
That sin of pleasure, pride, and arrogance.   

I have not so much knowledge as to call  
The Arts in question; neither wi● so small,  
To waste my spirits, those things to attain;  
Which all the world hath laboured for in vain.   

I have not so much beauty, to attract  
The eyes of Ladies: neither have I lacked  
Of that proportion which doth well suffice  
To make me gracious, in good people's eyes.   

I have not done, so many a holy deed;  
As that of JESUS CHRIST, I have no need.  
And my good-works I hope are not so few;  
But that in me a living Faith they show.  
I have not found ability so much.  
To carry Millstones; yea, and were it such,  
I should not greatly vaunt it: for, in this,  
A scurvy packhorse far my better is.  
I love his manly strength, that can resist  
His own desi●es: force passage when he list  
Through all his strong affections, and subdue,  
The stout attempts of that rebellious cr●we.  
This, were a braver strength than Samson got:  
And this, I covet, but I have it not.   

I have not so much heedlessness of things,  
Which appertain unto the Courts of Kings;  
But that from my low station, I can see  
A Prince's love may oft abused be.  
For many men their Country injure dare  
At home; where, all our eyes upon them are,  
And (of the world's Protector) I implore,  
The trust abroad, be not abused more.   

I have no Brother, but of younger age,  
Nor have I Birthright without heritage:  
And with that land, let me inherit shame;  
Unless I grieve when I possess the same.   

The value of a penny have I not,  
That was by bribry, or extortion got.  
I have no Lands that from the Church were piled,  
To bring (hereafter) ruin to my Child.  
And hitherto, I think, I have been free  
From Widows, or from Orphant's cursing me.   

The Spleen, the Colic, or the Lythargy,  
Gouts, Palsies, Dropsies, or a Lunacy.  
I (by inheritance) have none of these:  
Nor reigning sin; nor any foul disease.   

I have no debts, but such as (when I can)  
I mean to pay; nor is there any man  
(To whom I standingaged by aught I borrow)  
Shall loss sustain, though I should dye to morro●  
And if they should (so much my friends they be)  
Their greatest loss they'll think the loss of me.  
And well they know, I took not whatthey lent,  
To wrong their loves, or to be idly spent.   

Except the Devil, and that cursed brood,  
Which have dependence on his Devil-hood,  
I know no foes I have; for, if there be,  
In none, more malice, than I find in me:  
The earth, that man (at this time) doth not bear  
Who would not, if some just occasions were;  
(e'en in his height of spleen) my life to save,  
Adventure with one foot, into his grave.   

To make me careful; Children I have none;  
Nor have I, any Wife to get them on;  
Nor have I, (yet to keep her) had I one;  
Nor can this spoil my Marriage being known.  
Since I am sure, I was not borne for her,  
That shall before my worth, her wealth prefer:  
For, I do set my Virtues, at a rate,  
As high as any prize their Riches at.  
And if All count, the venture too much cost,  
In keeping it myself there's nothing lost.  
For, she I wed, shall some what think in me  
More worthy Love, then great revenues be.  
And if I find not one, of such a mind,  
(As such indeed, are jewels rare to find)  
I'll clasped in mine own embraces lie:  
And never touch a woman till I die.   

For, shall a Fellow, whom (the Usurer)  
His father, by extortion did prefer  
Unto an heritage in value clear,  
Above four times a thousand pounds a year,  
So worthily or so confident become?  
(By means of that his goodly annual somme,  
Which may be lost to morrow) as to dare  
Attempt a Nymph of Honour for his fere?  
Shall he, that hath with those four thousand pounds  
A gaming vain; a deep mouthed cry of Hounds,  
Three cast of Hawks, of Whores as many brace,  
Six hunting Naggs, and five more for the race:  
(Perhaps a numerous brood of fighting-Cocks)  
Physicians, Barbers, Surgeons for the Pox;  
And twenty other humours to maintain;  
(Beside the yearly charges of his train)  
With this revenue? Most of which, or all  
To mortgage must be set? perhaps to sale  
To pay his creditors, and yet all fail  
To keep his crazy body from the jail?  
Shall this dull Fool, with his uncertain store  
(And in all honesty and Virtues poor)  
Hope for a Mistress, noble, rich, and fair?  
And is it likely, that I can despair  
To be as happy, if I seek it would?  
Who such a matchless fortune have in hold;  
That though the World my ruin plot and threat,  
I can in spite of it be rich, and great?   

A silly Girl, no sooner understands,  
That she is left in Portion, or in Lands;  
So large a fortune, that it doth excel  
The greatest part, who near about her dwell:  
But strait begins to rate, and prise herself  
According to the value of her pelf.  
And though to Gentry, nor good breeding born;  
Can all, that have estates beneath her, scorn.   

This wit a Woman hath: and shall not I,  
Who know I have a Wealth, which none can buy  
For all the world; expect a nobler fere  
Than suits unto a hundred pounds a year?  
Shall love of Truth, and Virtue make of me  
A match no better worthy, then is He  
Who knows not what they mean? and doth possess  
In outward fortunes neither more nor less?   

Have I oft heard so many fair ones plain  
How fruitless Titles are? how poor and vain  
They found rich greatness, where they did not find,  
True Love, and the endowments of the mind?  
Have fairest Ladies often sworn to me  
That if they might, but only Mistress be  
Of true affection; they would prise it more  
Than all those glories, which the most adore:  
Have I observed how hard it is to find  
A constant heart? a just and honest mind?  
How few good natures in the world there are,  
How scanty true affection is? how rare?  
And shall I pass as true a Heart away,  
As hath conceived an honest thought to day:  
As if in value to no more it came,  
Then would endear me to a vulgar Dame  
On equal terms? or else undo me with  
Some old rich Crone, that hath outlived her teeth?  
I'll rather break it with proud scorn; that dead;  
The worms may rifle for my Maidenhead.   

I have no love to beauties, which are gone  
Much like a Rose in june, as soon as blown.  
Those painted Cabinets and nought within,  
Have little power my respect to win.  
Nor have I, yet, that stupid love to pelf.  
As for the hope thereof, to yoke myself  
With any female; betwixt whom, and me,  
There could not in the soul, a marriage be.  
For whosoever join without that care;  
Fools, and accursed in their matches are;  
And so are you, that either hear or view  
What I aver; unless you think it true.   

I have no meaning, whensoe'er I wed,  
That my companion, shall become my head.  
Nor would I (if I meant to keep my right)  
So much as say so, though that win her might.  
Not though a Duchess: for, the means I'll use  
To keep my worth, though my reward I lose,  
Yea, from a prison had she raised me,  
Lord of her fortunes, and herself to be:  
I that respect, would still expect to have,  
Which might become her Husband: not her slave.  
And should I spouse a Beggar; I would show,  
What love, and honour, to a wife were due.  
I have not, yet, of any scorned binn;  
Who●e good opinion, I have sought to win.  
Nor have I (when I mean to woe) a fear,  
That any man, shall make me, willow wear.   

I have not, eyes so excellent, to see  
Things (as some men can do) before they be.  
Nor purblind sight; which crimes far off can mark●  
Yet seem, no faults, which are more near me, dark.  
I have not cares for every ●ale that's told:  
Nor memory, things frivolous to hold.  
I have not their credulity that dare,  
Give credit unto all reports they hear.  
Nor have I subject to their dulness been,  
Who can bele●ue no more than they have seen.   

I have no feeling of those wrongs that be  
By base unworthy fellows, offered me:  
For, my contentment; and my glory lies  
Above the pitch, their spite, or malice flies.   

I have not need enough, as yet, to serve:  
Nor impudence to crave, till I deserve.  
I have no hope, the world's esteem to get:  
Nor could a fool, or knave, ere brook me yet.  
I have not villainy enough, to pray  
Upon the weak: or friendship to betray.  
Nor have I so much love to life, that I  
Would seek to save it by dishonesty:   

I have not Cowardice enough to fear,  
In honest actions; though my death be there:  
Nor heart, to perpetrate a wilful sin:  
Though I with safety, large renown might win;  
And for omitting it, were sure to dye,  
Ne'er to be thought on, but with infamy.   

I have not their base cruelty, who can  
Insult, upon an over-grieved man:  
Or tread on him, that at my feet doth bow.  
For, I protest, no villainy I know  
That could be done me; but if I perceived  
(Or thought) the doer, without feigning grieved:  
I truly could forgive him; as if he  
Had never in a thought abused me.  
And if my love to mercy, I belie  
Let God deny me mercy when I dye.   

I have not that unhappiness, to be  
A Rich man's Son; For he had trained me,  
In some vain path; and I had never sought,  
That knowledge which my poverty hath taught.   

I have no inclination to respect  
Each vulgar compliment, nor neglect  
An honest show of friendship: For, I swear,  
I rather wish, that I deceived were;  
Then of so base a disposition be,  
As to distrust, till cause were given me.   

I have no Constitution, to accord  
To aught dishonest, sooner for a Lord,  
Then for his meanest Groom; and hopes there be  
It never will be otherwise with me.   

I have no policies to make me seem  
A man well worthy of the world's esteem.  
Nor have I hope, I shall hereafter grow,  
To any more regard, for saying so;   

I have no doubt, though here a slighted thing;  
But I am favourite, to Heaven's great King.  
Nor have I fear but all that's good in me;  
Shall in my Life, or Death, rewarded be.   

But yet, I have not that attained, for which  
Those who account this nothing, think me rich:  
No● that, which they do reckon worth esteem;  
To whom the riches of the min●e, do seem  
A scornful poverty. But let that go,  
Men cannot prise the Pearls they do not know.  
Nor have I power to teach them: for if I,  
Should here consume my gift of Poesy▪  
(And wholly waste my spirits, to express  
What rich contents, a poor estate may bless)  
It were impossible, to move the sense  
Of those brave things, in their intelligence.   

I have not found, on what I may rely;  
Unless it carry some Divinity  
To make me confident: for, all the glory,  
And all hopes fail; in things mere transitory.   

What man is there among us, doth not know,  
A thousand men, this night to bed will go,  
Of many a hundred goodly things possessed;  
That shall have nought to morrow but a Chest,  
And one poor Sheet to lie in? What I may,  
Next morning have, I know not; But to day,  
A Friend, Meat, Drink, and fitting Clothes to wear;  
Some Books and Papers, which my jewels are;  
A Servant and a Horse: all this I have,  
And when I dye, one promised me 〈◊〉 Grave.  
A Grave; that quiet close● of Content:  
And I have built myself a Monument.  
But (as I live) excepting only this;  
(Which of my wealth the Inventory, is)  
I have so little; I my oath might save:  
If I should take it, that I, nothing have.    

Nec Careo.  

ANd yet, what Want I? or who knoweth how,  
I may be richer made than I am now?  
Or what great Peer, or wealthy Alderman,  
Bequeath, his son, so great a Fortune can?  
I nothing want that needful is to have;  
Sought I no more, than Nature bids me crave.  
For; as we see, the smallest 〈◊〉, may  
As full as greatest Glasses be; though they  
Much l●sse contain: So, my small portion gives  
Th● full content to me; in which he lives,  
Who most possesseth: and with larger store,  
I might fill others, but myself, no more.   

I want not Temperance to rest content  
With what the providence of God, hath lent;  
Nor want I a sufficiency, to know;  
Which way to use it, if he more bestow.  
For, as when me, one horse would easier bear▪  
To ride on two at once, it madness were:  
And, as when one small Bowl might quench my thirst  
To lift a Vessel, that my back might burst  
Were wondrous ●olly: So absurd a thing,  
It were in me; should I neglect a Spring,  
(Whose plenty may a Countries want supply)  
To dwell by some small Pool that would be dry?  
If therefore ought do happen in the way;  
Which on a just occasion seek I may:  
I want not resolution, to make trial;  
Nor want I patience, if I have denial.   

Men ask me what Preferment I have gained?  
What riches, by my Studies are attained?  
And those that fed, and fattened are with draff  
For their destruction; please themselves to laugh  
At my low Fate; As if I nought had got  
(For my enriching) cause they saw it not.  
Alas! that Mole-eyed issue, cannot see,  
What Patrimonies, are bestowed on me.  
There is a braver wealthiness, than what;  
They, (by abundance) have arrived at.  
Had I their wealth I should not sleep the more  
Securely for it; and, were I as poor  
In outward fortunes, as men Shipwrackt are;  
I should (of poverty) have no more fear,  
Then if I had the Riches and the powers;  
Of all the Eastern Kings, and Emperors.  
For, Grasse though trod into the earth may grow;  
And highest Cedars, have an overthrow.  
Yea. I have seen, as many beggared by  
Their father's wealth; and much prospe i y;  
As have by want misdone. And for each one,  
Whom by his riches, I advanced have known;  
I three could reckon, who through being poor,  
Have raised their Fortunes, and their friends the more.   

To what contents do men most wealthy mount,  
Which I enjoy not; if their Cares we count:  
My clothing keeps me full as warm as their,  
My Meats unto my taste, as pleasing are.  
I feed enough my hunger to suffice:  
I sleep, till I myself, am pleased to rise.  
My Dreams as sweet, and full of quiet be:  
My waking cares, as seldom trouble me.  
I have as oftentimes, a Sunny day:  
And sport, and laugh, and sing, as well as they.  
I breath as wholesome, and as sweet an Air;  
As loving as my Mistress, and as fair.  
My body is as healthy; and I find,  
As little cause of sickness, in my mind.  
I am as wise, I think, as some of those;  
And oft myself as foolishly dispose:  
For, of the wisest, I am none (as yet)  
And I have nigh, as little hair, as wit:  
Of neither, have I ought to let to farm,  
Nor so much want I, as may keep me warm.   

I find my Liver sound, my joints well knit:  
Youth, and good Diet, are my Doctors yet.  
Nor on Potatoes, or Eringoes feed I;  
No Meats restorative, to raise me, need I:  
N●r Ambergris, with other things confected,  
To take away the stink, of Lungs infected,  
I ne'er in need of Pothicary stood.  
Or any Surgeon's hand to let me blood:  
For since the Rod, my Tutor hurled by,  
I have not meddled with Phlebotomy.   

As good as other men's, my senses be;  
Each limb I have, as able is in me.  
And whether I, as lovely be, or no:  
'tis ten to one, but some do think me so.   

The wealthiest men, no benefits possess,  
But I have such; or better, in their place.  
As they my low condition, can contemn;  
So, I know how to fling a scorn at them.  
My Fame, is yet as fair, and flies as far,  
As some men's, that with Titles laden are.  
Yea, by myself much more I have attained,  
Then many, have with help of others gained.  
And my esteem, I will not change for their,  
Whose Fortunes are ten thousand more a year.  
Nor want I so much grace, as to confess;  
That God is Author of this happiness.   

I want not so much judgement, as to see  
There must 'twixt men and men, a difference be,  
And I, of those in place, account do make,  
(Though they be wicked) for good orders sake.  
But I could stoop to serve them at their feet,  
Where old Nobility, and Virtue meet.   

To find mine own defects, I want not sense:  
Nor want I will to grieve, for my offence.  
To see my Friend misdo, I want not eyes;  
Nor Love, to cover his infirmities.  
I want not Spirit, if I once but know  
The way be just, and noble that I go.  
My mind's as great as theirs that greatest are;  
Yet, I can make it fit the clothes I wear.  
And whether I ascend, or lower fall:  
I want not hope, but I preserve it shall.   

I want no slanders; neither want I brain,  
To scorn the Rascal humours, of the vain  
And giddy multitude, And (trust me) they  
So far unable are to talk away  
My resolution; that no more it fears  
The worst their ignorance, or malice dares:  
Then doth the Moon, when dogs and birds of night,  
Do barking stand, or whooting at her light.  
And if this mischief, no way shun I could,  
But that they praise me, or dispraise me would:  
I rather wish, their tongues should blast my name;  
Then be beholding to them for my fame.   

I want nor wit, nor honesty enough  
To keep my hand, from such base Rascal stuff,  
As if a Libel: For, although I shall  
Sometime let fly, at Vice in general,  
I spare particulars; No● shall a Knave  
In my Lines live, so much as shame to have.  
But in his own corruption, die, and ro●t;  
That all his memory may be forgot.   

I want not so much Knowledge, as to know,  
True Wisdom, lies not in a glorious 〈◊〉  
Of humane Learning; or in being able  
To ●e Authority innumerable.  
Nor in a new invention. But that man,  
Who make good use of every creature can:  
And from all things, that happen well, or ill,  
Contentment draws; (and keeps a Conscience still,  
To witness his endeavours to be good)  
That man is wisest; though he understood  
The language of no country but his own,  
Nor ever had he use of Lette●s known.   

To make fair shows, of Honesty and Arts;  
Of Knowledge and Religion, are the parts  
This Age doth strive to play: but few there are,  
Who truly are the same they do appear.  
And this is that, which daily makes us see  
So many, whom we honest thought to be,  
And Wise, and learned, (while some Scenes do last)  
Prove Fools, and Knaucs, before their Act be past.   

I want not sense, of those men's miseries;  
Who lulled asleep in their prosperities  
Must shortly fall; and with a heavy eye  
Behold their pomp, and pleasures vanish by:  
And how that Mistress they so doted on  
(Their proud Vainglory) will with scorn be gone.  
I feel me thinks with what a drooping heart,  
They, and their idle hopes, begin to part:  
And with what mighty burdens of unrest  
Their poor distempered souls, will be oppressed.  
How much they will repent I do foresee;  
How much confused, and ashamed they'll be,  
And as I praise their doom; e'en so I pray,  
Their shame, and sorrow, work their comfort may.  
I want not much experiment, to show  
That all is good God pleaseth to bestow;  
(What shape soever he doth mask it in)  
For all my former cares, my joys have been:  
And I have trust, that all my woes to come,  
Will bring my Soul, eternal comforts home.   

I do not find, within me, other fears;  
Then what to men, of all degrres appears.  
I have a conscience that is clean within;  
For, (though I guilty am of many a sin)  
A kind redeemer, I have found, and he  
His Righteousness imputeth unto me.   

The Greatest, have no Greatness, more than I,  
In bearing out a Want, or Misery.  
I can aswell, to passion set a bound:  
I brook aswell the smarting of a wound.  
Aswell endure I, to be hunger-bit;  
Aswell can wrestle, with an ague-fit.  
My eyes can wake as long as their I'm sure;  
And as much cold, or heat I can endure.  
Yea, let my dearest friends excused be,  
From heaping scorn, or injuries on me;  
(Come all the world) and I my heart can make,  
To brook as much, before it shrink, or break  
As theirs, that do the noblest Titles were;  
And slight as much their frown that mightst are.  
For, if in me at any time appear,  
A bashfulness (which some mistitle, fear)  
It is in doubt, lest I through folly may  
Some things unfitting me; or do, or say:  
But not that I am fearful to be shent;  
For dread of Men, or fear of punishment.   

And yet, no faults I want; nor want in me,  
Affections which in other men there be.  
as much I hate an incivility;  
as much am taken with a Courtesy;  
as much abhor I, brutish Vanities;  
as much allow I, Christian Liberties;  
as soon an injury, I can perceive;  
And with as free a heart, I can forgive.  
My hand in Anger, I as well can stay;  
And I dare strike as stout a man as they;  
And when I know, that I amiss have done;  
I am as much ashamed as any one.   

If my afflictions, more than others be:  
I have more comforts, to keep heart in me.  
I have a Faith will carry me on high:  
Until it lift me to Eternity.  
I have a Hope, that neither want, nor spite,  
Nor grim Adversity, shall stop this flight:  
But that undaunted, I my course shall hold,  
Though twenty thousand Devils cross me should.   

Yet (I confess) in this my Pilgrimage,  
I like some Infant am, of tender age;  
For, as the Child, who from his Father hath  
Strayed in some Grove, through many a crooked path:  
Is sometime hopeful, that he finds the way;  
And sometime doubtful, he runs more astray.  
Sometime, with fair, and easy paths, doth meet;  
Sometime with rougher tracts, that stay his feet.  
Here runs, there goes, and you amazed stays:  
Now cries, and strait for gets his care, and plays.  
Then hearing where his loving Father calls.  
Makes haste; but through a zeal il-guided, fall●;  
Or runs some other way: Until that He,  
(Who's love is more, than his endeavours be)  
To seek this Wanderer forth himself doth come,  
And take him, in his arms, and bear him home.   

So, in this Life, this Grove of ignorance;  
As to my homeward, I myself advance;  
Sometime aright, and sometime wrong I go;  
Sometime, my pace is speedy, sometime slow;  
Sometime I stagger, and sometime I fall:  
Sometime I sing, sometime for help I call.  
One while, my ways are pleasant unto me;  
Another while, as full of Cares they be:  
Now, I have Courage, and do nothing fear,  
Anon, my Spirits half dejected are.  
I doubt, and hope, and doubt, and hope again;  
And many a change of Passions I sustain,  
In this my journey: So that now and then,  
I lost may seem (perhaps) to other men.  
Yea, to myself a while, when sins impure,  
Do my Redeemers love, from me obscure.  
But (whatsoever betid) I know full well,  
My Father (who above the Clouds do dwell)  
An eye upon his wand'ring Child doth cast:  
And He, will fetch me, to my home at last.  
For, of God's love, a Witness want not I;  
And whom He loves, He loves eternally.   

I have within my breast a little Heart,  
Which seems to be composed, of a part,  
Of all my Friends: For, (truly) whensoe'er  
They suffer any thing, I feel it there.  
And they no sooner a Complaint do make,  
But presently, it falls to pant, and ache.   

I have a Love, that is as strong as Fate,  
And such, as cannot be impaired by Hate.  
And (whatsoever the success may prove)  
I want not yet, the comforts of my Love..   

These, are the jewels that do make me rich;  
These, while I do possess, I want not much;  
And I so happy am, that still I bear,  
These Riches with me: and so safe they are,  
Th●t Pirates, Robbers, no device of man,  
Or Tyrant's power, deprive me of them can.  
And were I naked, forced to exile;  
More Treasure, I should carry from this Isle;  
Then should be sold; though for it I might gain,  
The wealth of all America and Spain.  
For, this makes sweet my life; and when I dye,  
Will bring the sleep of Death on quietly.  
Yea, such as greatest pomp, in life time have;  
Shall find no warmer lodging, in their Grave.   

Besides; I want not many things they need,  
Who Me in outward Fortunes do exceed.  
I want no Guard, or Coat of Musket proof;  
My Innocence, is guardian strong enough.  
I want no Title; for, to be the Son,  
Of the Almighty; is a glorious one:  
I want no Followers: for, through Faith I see  
A troup of Angels, still attending me.   

Through want of Friendship, need I not repine,  
For God and Goodmen, are still friends of mine.  
And when I journey to the North, the East,  
The pleasant South, or to the fertile West;  
I cannot want for proffered Courtesies,  
As far as our Great-britaines' Empire lies.  
In every Shire, and Corner of the Land,  
To welcome me, do Houses open stand,  
Of best esteem: And Strangers to my face,  
Have thought me worth the Feasting, & more grac●  
Than I will boast of: lest you may suspect,  
That I those glories (which I scorn) affect.  
Of my acquaintance were a thousand glad,  
And sought it, though not wealth, nor Place I had,  
For their advantage, And, if some more high,  
(Who on the multitudes of friends rely)  
Had but a Fortune equal unto me,  
Their troop of Followers would as slender be:  
And those 'mong whom, they now esteem have wo●,  
Would scarcely think them, worth the looking on.   

I want no Office; for (though none be void)  
A Christian finds, he may be still employed.  
I want no Pleasures, for I pleasures make,  
What ever God is pleased, I undertake.  
Companions want I not, For know, that I,  
Am one, of that renowned Society:  
Which by the Name we carry, first was known,  
At Antioch, so many years agone.  
And greatest Kings, themselves have happy thought  
Tho●●o this noble Order, they were brought.   

I want not Arms, to sit me for the Field;  
My Prayers, are my Sword; my Faith, my Shield:  
By which, (how ere you prise them) I have got,  
Unwounded, thorough twenty thousand Shot.  
And with these Arms, I Heaven think to scale,  
Though Hell the Ditch were, & more high the Wall.   

A thousand other Privileges more,  
I do possess; in which the world is poor.  
Yea, I so long could reckon, you would grant,  
That though I nothing have; I nothing want.   

And did the King, but know how rich I were;  
I durst to pawn my Fortunes, he would swear,  
That were he not the King; I had been He,  
Whom he (of all men) would have wished to be.    

Nec Curo.  

THen, to vouchsafe me yet more favour here;  
He that supplies my Want, hath taken my Care.  
And when to bar me aught, he sees it fit,  
He doth infuse a Mind to sleight at it.   

Why, if He all things needful doth bestow,  
Should I for what I have not, careful grow?  
Low place I keep; yet to a Greatness borne,  
Which doth the World's affected Greatness scorn:  
I do disdain her glories and contemn,  
Those muddy spirits that delight in them.  
I care for no man's Countenance, or grace,  
Unless he be as good, as great in place.  
For no man's spite, or envy do I care:  
For none have spite at me, that honest are.  
I care not for that base wealth in which  
Vice may become, as well as Virtue rich.  
I care not for their friendship, who have spent,  
Love's best expressions, in mere Compliment:  
Nor for those Favours (though a Queens they were)  
In which I thought another had a share.   

I care not for their Praise, who do not show,  
That in their lives, which they in words allow.  
A rush I care not who condemneth me;  
That sees not what, my Souls intentions be.  
I care not though to all men known it were,  
Both whom I love, or hate; For none I fear.  
I care not though some Cou●tiers still prefer,  
The Parasite, and smooth-tongued Flatterer,  
Before my bold truth speaking Lines, And here,  
If these should anger them, I do not care.   

I care not for that goodly Precious Stone;  
Which Chemists have so fond dored on.  
Nor would I give a rotten Chip, that I  
Were of the Rosy-crosse, Fraternity:  
For, I the world too well have understood,  
As to be galled with such a Brotherhood.   

I care for no more knowledge, then to know:  
What I to God, and to my Neighbour owe.  
For outward Beauties I do nothing care,  
So I within, my fair to God appear:  
No other liberty I care to win,  
But to be wholly freeed from my sin.  
Nor more Ability (whilst I have breath)  
Then strength to bear my Crosses to my death.  
Nor can the Earth afford a happiness  
That shall be greater than this Carelessness.   

For such a Life I soon should Careless grow,  
In which I had not leisure more to know.  
Nor care I, in a knowledge pains to take,  
Which doth not those, who get it, wiser make:  
Nor for that Wisdom, do I greatly care;  
Which would not make me somewhat honester.  
Nor for that moral Honesty, that shall  
Refuse to join Religion, therewithal.  
Nor for that zealous seeming Piety.  
Which wanteth love and moral Honesty.  
Nor for their Loves, whose base affections be,  
More for their lust, then for aught good in me:  
Nor, for aught good within me should I care,  
But that, they sprinklings of God's goodness are.   

For many Books I care not; and my store  
Might now suffice me, though I had no more,  
Then Gods two Testaments, and therewithal  
That mighty Volume, which the World we call.  
For, these well looked on, well in mind preserved;  
The present Ages passages observed:  
My private Actions, seriously oreviewed.  
My thoughts recalled, and what of them ensued:  
Are Books, which better far, instruct me can,  
Then all the other Paper-workes of Man?  
And some of These, I may be reading to,  
Where e'er I come, or whatsoever I do.   

I care not though a sight of Idle Gulls,  
(With lavish tongues and ever-empty skulls)  
Do let my better tempered Labours lie;  
And since, I Termely make not Pamphlets fly,  
Say I am Idle, and do nothing now.  
As if that I were bound, to let Them know,  
What I were doing; Or to cast away  
My breath, and Studies, on such fools as They.  
I much disdain it: For, these Blocks be Those,  
That use to read my Verse like ragged Prose;  
And such as (so their Books be new), ne'er care  
Of what esteem, nor of what use they are.   

I care not, though a vain and spongy crew,  
Of shallow Critics, in each Tavern spew  
Their drunken censures on my Poesy,  
Until among their Cups, they sprawling lie.  
These poor, betattered Rhymers (now and then)  
With Wine and Impudence inspired can  
Some fustian language utter, which doth seem  
(Among their base admirers) worth esteem.  
But those base juie-poets never knew,  
Which way, a sprightly, honest Rapture flew:  
Nor can they relish, any strain of wit,  
But, what was in some drunken fury, writ.   

Those needy Poetasters; to prefer  
Their nasty stuff to some dull Stationer;  
With Impudence extol it: and will tell him,  
The very Title of their book shall sell him,  
As many thousands of them (wholly told)  
As ever of my Satyrs, have been sold,  
Yet, ere a twelvemonth by the walls it lies,  
Or to the Kitchen or the Pastry hies.  
Sometime, that these men's Rhymes may heeded be,  
They give (forsooth) a secret jerk at me.  
But so obscurely, that no man may know,  
Who there was meant, until they tell them so.  
For fearing me, They dare not to be plain,  
And yet my vengeance they suspect in vain.  
For I can keep my way, and careless be,  
Though twenty snarling Curs do bark at me.  
And while my Fame, those fools do murmur at,  
(And vex themselves) with laughing, I am fat.   

I am not much inquisitive to know,  
For what brave Action our last Fleet did go:  
What men abroad perform, or what at home,  
Who shall be Emperor, or Pope of Rome;  
What news from France, or Spain, or Turkey are;  
Whether of Merchandise, of Peace or War;  
Whether Mogul, the Sophy Prester-Iohn,  
The Duke of China or the I'll japhan,  
The mightier be: for, things impertinent  
To my particular, or my Content  
I little heed (though much thereof I know)  
Nor care I whether it be true or no.  
Not for because I careless am become,  
Of the neglected State of Christendom.  
But, cause (I am assured) what ever shall  
Unto the Church or Commonwealth befall;  
(Through Satan's spite, or humane Treachery,  
Or our relying on weak Policy)  
Gods promise to his glory shall prevail:  
Yea, when the fond attempts of men do fail,  
And they lie smoking, in th●infernall Pit;  
Then Truth and Virtue, shall in Glory sit.  
Those, who in love to things that wicked are;  
And those, who through Cowardice and fear,  
Became the damned Instruments, whereby  
To set up Vice and falsehoods Tyranny;  
e'en those shall perish by their own offence:  
And they who loved Truth and Innocence,  
Out of oppression shall advance their head:  
And on the ruin●s of those Tyrants tread.   

Oh! let that Truth and Innocence, in me  
For ever undefiled preserved be:  
And let me live no more: if then I care,  
How many miseries I live to bear.  
For, well I know, I should not weigh how great,  
The perils are, that my destruction threat.  
Nor chains, nor dungeons should my soul affright,  
Nor grimmest Apparitions of the Night:  
Though men from Hell could of the Devil borrow,  
Those ugly prospects, to augment my sorrow.  
But prove me guilty; and my Conscience than  
Inflicts more smart, then bloody Tortures can.  
And none (I think) of me could viler deem;  
Then I myself, unto myself should seem.   

If good, and honest my endeavours be,  
What day they were begun ne'er troubles me.  
I care not whether it be calm, or blow.  
Or rain, or shine, or freeze, or hail or snow:  
Nor whether it be Autumn, or the Spring;  
Or whether, first I hear the ●uckow sing,  
Or first the Nightingale: nor do I care  
Wh●ther my dreams of Flowers, or Weddings are.  
What B●ast doth cross me, care I not at all;  
Nor how the Goblet, or the Salt doth fall;  
Nor what aspect the Planets please to show;  
Nor how the Dial, or the Clock doth go.   

I do not care to be inquisitive,  
How many weeks, or months, I have to live.  
For, how is't like, that I should better grow,  
When I my Time shall twelvemonth longer know;  
If I dare act, a Villainy and yet,  
Know I may die, whilst I am doing it?   

Let them, whose brains are sick of that disease;  
Be sl●ues unto an Ephemerises.  
Search Constellations, and themselves apply;  
To find the Fate of their Nativity.  
I'll seek within me; and if there I find,  
Those Stars, that should give light unto my mind,  
Rise fair and timely in me and affect,  
Each other with a natural aspect.  
If in conjunction, there perceive I may  
True Virtue and Religion every day:  
And walk according to that influence,  
Which is derived unto me from thence:  
I fear no Fortunes, whatsoever they be,  
Nor care I, what my Stars do threaten me▪  
For He, who to that State can once attain,  
Above the power of all the Stars doth reign.  
And he that gains a knowledge wherewithal,  
He is prepared for whatsoever may fall:  
In my Conceit is far a happier man,  
Then such, as but foretell misfortunes can.   

I start not at a Friar's prophecy,  
Or those with which we Merlin do bely.  
Nor am I frighted with the sad relation,  
Of any neare-approaching Alteration.  
For things have ever changed, and ever shall,  
Until there be a change run over All.  
And he that bears an honest heart about him,  
Needs never fear, what changes be without him.   

The Eastern Kingdoms, had their times to florysh  
The Grecian Empire rising, saw them perish;  
That fell and then the Roman Pride began;  
Now scourged by the race of Ottoman.  
And if the course of things around must run,  
Till they have ending, where they first begun,  
What is't to me? who peradventure must,  
Ere that befall, lie moulthered into dust.   

What if America's large Tract of ground,  
And all those Isles adjoining, lately found?  
(Which we more truly may a Desert call,  
Then any of the world's more civil Pale.)  
What then? if there the Wilderness do lie,  
To which the Woman, and her S●xe must fly,  
To scape the Dragon's fury; and there bide,  
Till Europe's thankless Nations (full of pride,  
And all abomination) scourged are,  
With Barbarism as their neighbours were?   

If thus God please to do; and make our sin  
The cause of bringing o her People's in,  
His Church to be (as once he pleased was,  
The Gentiles calling should be brought to pass,  
The better, by the jewish unbelief,)  
Why, should his pleasure be my care, or grief?  
Oh! let his Name and Church more glorious grow;  
Although my ruin help to make it so.  
So I, my duty in my place have done,  
I care not greatly, what succeed thereon:  
For sure I am, if I can pleased be,  
With what God wills; all shall be well for me.   

I hate, to have a thought o'er▪ serious spent,  
In things mere trivial, or indifferent.  
When I am hungry, so I get a dish,  
I care not, whether it be flesh or fish;  
Or any thing, so wholesome food it be:  
Nor care I, whether you do carve to me,  
The head, the tail, the wing, the leg, or none;  
For, all I like, and all can let alone.  
I care not, at your Table where I sit;  
Nor should I think I were disgrac●t in it,  
(So much as you) if I should thence in scoff,  
To feed among your Grooms be turned off.  
For I am sure that no affront can blot,  
His Reputation, that deserves it not.  
To be o'er curious, I do not profess;  
Nor ever cared I, for uncleanliness.  
For I ne'er loved that Philosophy,  
Which taught men to be rude and slovenly.   

I care not what you wears, or You, or He,  
Nor of what fashion my next clothes shall be,  
Yet to be singular in Antique fashions,  
I hold as vain, as Apish imitations,  
Of each fantastic garb our Gallants wear:  
For some, as fond proud conceited are,  
To know, that the beholder, taketh note,  
How they still keep their Grandsires iusset Coat:  
As is the proudest Lady, when that she  
Hath all the fashions, that last extant be.   

I care for no more Credit, then will serve,  
The honour of the Virtuous to preserve:  
For, if the shows of honesty in me,  
To others Virtues, would no blemish be;  
(Nor make them deemed Hypocrites) if I  
Should falsely be accused of Villainy:  
Sure, whether I were innocent, or no;  
I should not think the World, worth telling so,  
Because to most men, nothing bad doth seem,  
Nor nothing virtuous; but as unto them,  
Occasion makes it good, or ill appear.  
Yea, foulest Crimes, while they unpunished are:  
Or bring in profit, no disgrace are thought;  
And truest Virtues, poor, are set at naught.   

I care for no more Pleasures than will make,  
The Way which I intent to undertake,  
So passable; that my unwealdy load  
Of frailties, incident to flesh and blood  
Discourage not my willing soul from that,  
Which she on good advice, hath aimed at.   

I care for no more Time than will amount,  
To do my work, and make up my account.  
I care for no more Money, then will pay  
The reckoning, and the charges of the day.  
And if I need not now, I will not borrow,  
For fear of wants, that I may have to morrow.   

What Kings, and Statesmen mean; I do not care;  
Nor will I judge, what their intentions are:  
For private censures, help not any way,  
But injure them in their proceedings may.  
Yet, Princes (by experience) we have seen,  
By those they love, have greatly wronged been.  
Their too much trust, doth often danger breed.  
And Serpents in their Royal bosoms feed.  
For, all the favours, gifts and places, which  
Should honour them; do but these men enrich.  
With those, they further their own private ends:  
Their faction strengthen, gratify their friends:  
Gain new Associates, daily to their parts,  
And from their Sovereign, steal away the hearts,  
Of such as are about them; For those be  
Their Creatures; and but rarely, thanks hath He,  
Because the Grants of Pension, and of Place;  
Are taken as Their favours, not His grace.   

And (which is yet a greater wickedness)  
When these the loyal Subjects do oppress,  
And grind the faces of the poor, alive;  
They'll do it, by the King's Prerogative.  
They make Him Patron of their Villainy;  
And when He thinks they serve him Faithfully,  
Secure him in their Loves, and all things do,  
According both to Law and Conscience to;  
By Virtue of his Name, they perpetrate  
A world of Mischiefs: They abuse the State;  
His truer-hearted Servants, they displace;  
Bring their debauched Followers into grace;  
His Coffers rob; yea (worse far they use Him)  
The true affections of his people lose Him:  
And make those hearts (which did in him belieeve,  
All matchless Virtues) to suspect, and grieve.   

Now, (by that Loyalty I owe my Prince)  
This of all Treason, is the Quintessence.  
A Treason so abhorred, that to Me,  
No Treachery could half so odious be.  
Not though my death they plotted; for more dear,  
My honour, and my Friends affections are  
Then twenty Kingdoms, and ten thousand lives.  
And, whosoever, Me of that deprives:  
I find it would, a great deal harder be,  
To move my heart to pardon; then if he  
Conspired had, (when I least thought the same)  
To root out my posterity and Name.   

Who next in Court shall fall, I do not care:  
For, my delights, in no man's ruins are.  
Nor mean I, to depend on any, so,  
That his disgrace shall be my overthrow.   

I care as little, who shall next arise;  
For none of my Ambition that way lies.  
Those rising Stars, would never deign to shine,  
On any good endeavour, yet, of mine.  
Nor can I think there shall hereafter be,  
A man amongst them, that will favour Me.  
For, I a Scourge do carry, which doth fear them,  
And love too much Plain-dealing, to be near them.   

If my experience teach me any thing,  
I care not old Antiquities to bring;  
But can as well believe it to be so,  
As if 'twere writ, three thousand years ago.  
And where I find good ground for my assent,  
I'll not be haltered to a Precedent.   

If men speak reason, 'tis all one to me,  
Whether their Tenent, Aristotle's be;  
Or some Barbarian●, who scarce heard of yet;  
So much as with what Names the Arts we fit.  
Or whether, for an Author you infer,  
Some Fool, or some renowned Philosopher.   

In my Religion, I dare entertain,  
No fancies hatched in mine own weak brain;  
Nor private Spirits: But, am ruled by  
The Scriptures; and that Church Authority,  
Which with the ancient Faith doth best agree,  
But new opinions will not down with me.  
When I would learn, I never greatly care,  
So Truth they teach me, who my teachers were.  
In points of Faith I look not on the Man;  
Nor Beza, Calvin. neither Luther can  
More things, without just proof persuade me to,  
Then any honest Parish-Clarke can do.  
The ancient Fathers (where consent I find)  
Do make me, without doubting of their mind.  
But, where in his opinion any One  
Of these great Pillars, I shall find alone,  
(Except in questions which indifferent are,  
And such as till his Time, unmoved were)  
I shun his Doctrine; For, this swayeth me,  
No man alone in points of Faith can be.   

Old Ambrose, Austin, Jerome, Chrysostome,  
Or any Father; if his Reverence come,  
To move my free assent to any thing,  
Which Reason warrants not (unless he bring,  
The sacred word of God to give me for it)  
I prise not this opinion; but abhor it.  
Nay, I no faction 'gainst the Truth would follow,  
Although Divinest Paul, and Great Apollo,  
Did lead me; if that possible it were,  
That they should have permitted been to err.  
And whilst that I am in the right  
How wise, or learned. Them, you think, that are not, I care not   

I care not, who did hear me, if I said,  
That he who for a place of justice paid  
A golden Inn-come, was no honest Man,  
Nor he that sold it: for I prove it can,  
And will maintain it, that so long as Those,  
And Church-preferments, we to sale expose;  
Nor Commonwealth, nor Church shall ever be,  
From hateful Brib'ry, or damned Schism, free,   

I may be blamed, perhaps, for speaking t●ing this;  
But much I care not: for the truth it is.  
And were I certain, that to blaze the same,  
Would set those things (that are amiss) in frame.  
Shame be my end but I would undertake it,  
Though I were sure to perish when I spoke it.   

I care not for Preferments which are sold,  
And bought (by men of common worth) for gold,  
For, he is nobler who can those contemn.  
Then most of such, as seek esteem in them.   

I do not for those airy Titles care,  
Which fools, and knaves, as well as I may wear.  
Or that my Name (when ere it shall be writ)  
Should be obscured with twenty after it.  
For could I set my mind on vulgar Fame,  
I would not think it hard to make my Name,  
Mine own Name, purchase me as true renown,  
As to be called, by some old ruin'd Town.   

I love my Country, yet I do not care,  
In what Dominions my abidings are:  
For, any Region on the Earth shall be,  
(On good occasion) native Soil to me.   

I care not though there be a muddy crew,  
Whose blockishness (because it never knew  
The ground of this my Carelessness) will smile,  
As if they thought I raved, all this while.   

For, those the Proverb saith, That live in Hell  
Can ne'er conceive what 'tis in Heaven to dwell.   

I care not for those Places, whereunto  
Bad men do sooner climb then Good men do:  
And from whose ever-gogling station, all  
May at the pleasure of another, fall.  
But oh! How careless every way am I,  
Of their base minds, who living decently  
Upon their own Demeanes; there fearless might  
Enjoy the day from morning until night,  
In sweet contentments: rendering praise to Him,  
Who gave this blessings, and this rest to them;  
That free from Cares and Envies of the Court,  
They honoured in their Neighbours good report;  
Might twenty pleasures, that Kings know not, try,  
And keep a quiet Conscience, till they die?   

Oh God! how mad are they, who thus may do;  
Yet, that poor happiness to reach unto,  
Which is but painted; will those Blessings shun,  
And bribe and woe, and sweat to be undone?  
How dull are they? Who, when they home may keep  
And there, upon their own soft pillow sleep,  
In dear security; would roam about,  
Uncertain hopes, or pleasures to find out?  
Yea, strain themselves a slippery place to buy,  
With hazarding their states to beggary?  
With giving up, their Liberties, their Fame?  
With their adventuring on perpetual shame:  
With prostituting Nieces, Daughters, Wives,  
By putting into jeopardy their lives?  
By selling of their Country, and the sale  
Of justice, of Religion, Soul and All?  
Still dreaming on Content; although they may  
Behold, by new examples, every day  
That those hopes fail; and fail them not alone,  
In such vain things as they presumed on:  
But bring them also (manytimes) those cares,  
Those sad distractions, those despairs, and fears▪  
That all their glorious guilding, cannot hide  
Those woeful ruins on their inner-side.  
But, ten to one, at length they do depart,  
With loss, with shame, and with a broken heart.   

I care not for this Humour, but I had,  
Far rather lie in Bedlam chained and mad,  
Then be, with these men's frantic mood possessed:  
For there they do less harm, and have more rest.   

I care not when there comes a Parliament:  
For I am no projector, who invent  
New Monopolies, or such Suits, as Those,  
Who, wickedly pretending goodly shows,  
Abuses to reform, engender more;  
And far less tolerable, then before.  
Abusing Prince, and State, and Commonweal;  
Their (just deserved) beggaries to heal:  
Or, that their ill-got profit, may advance,  
To some Great Place, their Pride, and Ignorance.  
Nor by Extortion, nor through Bribery,  
To any Seat of justice, climbed am I;  
Nor live I so, as that I need to care,  
Though my proceedings, should be questioned there.  
And some there be, would give their Coat away,  
That they could this as confidently say.   

I care for no such thriving Policy,  
As makes a fool, of Moral Honesty.  
For, such occasions happen now and than:  
That He proves Wise, that proves an Honest man.  
And howe'er our Pr●iect-mongers deem,  
Of such men's Fortunes, and of them esteem;  
(How big soe'er they look; how brave soe'er,  
Among their base Admirers they appear:  
Though ne'er so trim, in others feathers dight;  
Though clad with Title of a Lord, or Knight;  
And by a hundred thousand crouched unto)  
Those gaudv Upstarts, no more prize, I do,  
Then poorest Kennel-rakers; yea, they are  
Things, which I count, so little worth my care;  
That (as I love fair Virtue) I protest,  
Among all honest men the beggerl'est,  
And most betattered Peasant, in mine eye,  
Is Nobler, and more full of Majesty;  
Then all that brave bespangled Rabblement,  
Composed of Pride, of Shifts, and Compliment.   

Let great and Courtly Pers'nages delight,  
In some dull Gest●r, or a Parasite;  
Or in their dry Buffoon, that gracefully,  
Can sing them bawdy songs, and swear, and lie;  
And let their Mastership (if so they please)  
Still favour more, the slaverings of These,  
Then my free Numbers. For, I care no more,  
To be approved, or esteemed, for  
A witty Makesport; then an Ape to be.  
And whosoever takes delight in me,  
For any quality that doth affect  
His Senses better, than his Intellect;  
I care not for his love. My dog doth so;  
He loves, as far as sensual love can go,  
And if how well he loved me, I did weigh,  
Deserves (perhaps) as much respect, as they.  
I have a Soul, and must beloved be  
For that which makes a lovely Soul in me;  
Or else, their Loves, so little care I for,  
That them, and their affections I abhor.   

I care not, though some Fellows, whose desert  
Might raise them, to the Pillory, or Cart,  
The Stocks, the Branding-yron, or the Whip.  
(With such like due Preferment) those do skip;  
And by their black endeavours purchase can,  
The Privileges of a Noble man.  
And be as confident, in what they do:  
As if by virtue they were raised thereto.  
For, as true Virtue hath a confidence,  
So, Vice, and Villains have their impudence.  
And manly Resolution, both are thought,  
Till both are to an equal Trial brought;  
But vicious Impudence, then proves a mock:  
And Virtuous Constancy, endures the Shocke.   

Though such unworthy Grooms, who t'other day,  
Were but their Master's Panders to purvey  
The fuel of their Lust; and had no more,  
But the Reversion of their meat, their Whore,  
And their old clothes to brag of. Though that these;  
(The foes to Virtue, and the Time's disease)  
Have now, to cover o'er their knavery,  
Got on the Robes, of Wealth, and Bravery;  
And dare behave their Rogueships saucily,  
In preseuce of our old Nobility:  
As if they had been borne to act a part,  
In the contempt of Honour, and Desert.  
Though all this be; and though it often hath  
Discouraged many a one, in Virtue's Path,  
I am the same, and Care not: For, I know,  
Those Butterflies, have but a Time to show  
Their painted wings; that when a storm is near,  
Our habits, which for any weather are,  
May show more glorious, whilst they shrinking lie,  
In some old crevice, and there starve and dye.   

Those Dues, which unto Virtue do belong,  
He that despiseth, offers Virtue wrong.  
So, he that follows Virtue for rewards;  
And more the Credit, than the Act regards;  
(Or such esteem as others seek, doth miss)  
Himself imagines worthier than He is.  
If therefore, I can tread the way I ought,  
I care not how ignoble I be thought:  
Nor for those Honours do I care a fly,  
Which any man can give me, or deny:  
For what I reckon worth aspiring to,  
Is got and kept, whe● others will or no.  
And all the world can never raise a man  
To such brave heights, as his own Virtues can.   

I care not for that Gentry, which doth lie  
In nothing but a Coat of Heraldry.  
One Virtue more I rather wish I had,  
Then all the Heralds to mine Arms could add:  
Yea, I had rather, by my industry  
I could acquire some one good quality,  
Then through the Families, that noblest be  
From fifty Kings to draw my Pedigree.   

Of Nations, or of Countries, I nought care,  
To be Commander; my Ambitions are,  
To have the Rule, and Sovereignty of things,  
Which do command, great Emperors, and Kings.  
Those strong, and mighty Passions, wherewithal  
Great Monarches have been foiled, & brought in th●all;  
I hope to trample on. And whilst that they  
Force but my body (if I disobey)  
I rule that Spirit; which would they constrain  
Beyond my will; They should attempt in vain.  
Yea, whilst they bounded within Limits here,  
On some few Mortals, only domineer,  
Those Titles, and that Crown, I do pursue,  
Which shall the Devils to my power subdue.   

I care not for that Valour, which is got  
By furious Choler, or the Sherry-pot.  
Nor (if my Cause be ill) to hear men say,  
I fought it out, even when my bowels lay  
Beneath my feet. A desperateness it is,  
And there is nothing worthy praise in this;  
For I have seen (and you may see it to)  
That any Mastiff dog as much will do.  
He valiant is, who knows the disesteem,  
The vulgar have, or such as Cowards seem.  
And yet dares seem one, rather than bestow  
Against an honest cause, or word, or blow:  
Though, else he feared no more, to fight, or die,  
Than you to strike a dog, or kill a fly.  
Yea, him I honour, who new waked from sleeping,  
Finds all his Spirits so their temper keeping;  
As that he would not start, though by him there,  
Grim Death, and Hell, and all the Devils were.  
I care not for a Coward, for to me,  
No Beasts on Earth, more truly hateful be;  
Since all the villainies that can be thought  
Throughout the world, and altogether brought,  
To make one Villain; can make nothing more,  
Then he that is a Coward, was before.  
And he that is so, can be nothing less,  
Then the perfection of all wickedness.  
In him no manly Virtue's dwelling are,  
Nor any shows thereof, except for fear.  
In no brave resolution is he strong,  
Nor dares he bide in any goodness long.  
For, if one threatening from his foe there come,  
His vowed Resolution starts he from.  
And cares not what destruction others have,  
So he may gain but hope himself to save.  
The man that hath a fearful heart, is sure  
Of that disease that never finds a cure.  
For take and arm him through in every place,  
Build round about him twenty walls of Brass.  
Gird him with Trenches, whose deep bottoms lie  
Thrice lower, than three times the Alpes are hie.  
Provide (those Trenches, and those walls toward)  
A Million of old Soldiers for his guard,  
All honest men and sworn: His Fever will  
Break in (despite of all) and shake him still.  
To scape this fear, his Guard he would betray,  
Make cruelly his dearest friend away;  
Act any base, or any wicked thing,  
Be Traitor to his Country, or his King,  
Forswear his God, and in some fright go nigh  
To hang himself, to scape the fear to dye.  
And for these reasons, I shall never care,  
To reckon them for friends, that Cowards are.   

I care not for large Fortunes: For I find,  
Great wants, best try the Greatness of the mind.  
And though I must confess, such Times there be,  
In which the common wish, hath place in me.  
Yet, when I search my heart, and what content  
My God vouchsafe me hath; I count my Rent  
To be above, a thousand pound a year,  
More than it can unto the World appear.  
And with more wealth, I less content might find,  
If I with riches, had some rich-man's mind.  
A dainty palate would consume in cheer,  
(More than I do) an hundred pounds a year,  
And leave me worse sufficed than I am.  
Had I an inclination, much to game;  
A thousand Marks, would aunually away,  
And yet I want my full content at Play.  
If I in Hawks or Dogs had much delight,  
Twelve hundred Crowns it yearly waste me might;  
And yet, not half that pleasure bring me to,  
Which from one Line of This, receive I do.  
If I to brave Apparel were inclined;  
Five Students Pensions, I should ye●rely spend,  
Yet not be pleased so well, with what I wear,  
As now I am; Nor take so little Care  
I much for Physic might be forced to give,  
And yet a thousand fold, less healthy live.  
To keep my Right, the Law my goods might waste,  
And with vexation tire me out at last.   

These, and (no doubt) with these full many a thing  
To make me less Content, more wealth might bring,  
Yet more employ me to; for few I see  
Who owners of the greatest Fortunes be:  
But they have still, as they more riches gain,  
More State, more lusts, more troubles to maintain  
With their Revenues. That the whole account,  
Of their great seeming Bliss, doth scarce amount  
To half of my content. And can I less  
Esteem this rare acquired Happiness,  
Then I, a thousand pounds in Rent would prise?  
Since with less trouble, it doth more suffice?  
No; for as when the March is swift and long,  
And men have foes to meet, both fierce and strong;  
That Soldier in the Conflict best doth far,  
Who getteth Arms of proof, that lightest are:  
So I, who with a little, do enjoy  
As much my Pleasure and Content, as they.  
Whom far more wealth and business doth molest;  
Account my Fortune, and Estate the best.  
God's favour in it, I extol the more:  
And great possessions, much less care I for.   

I care not so I still myself may be,  
What others are, or who takes place of me.  
I care not for the times unjust neglect;  
Nor fear their frowns, nor praise their vain respect.  
For, to myself my worth doth never seem;  
Or more, or less, for other men's esteem.   

The Turk, the Devil, Antichrist, and all  
The Rabble of that body-mystical,  
I care not for; and I should sorry be,  
If I should give them cause to care for me.   

What Christians ought not to b● careful for▪  
What the Eternal Essence doth abhor,  
I hate as I am able; and for aught  
Which God approves not, when I spend a thought.  
I truly wish that from my eyes might rain,  
A shower of Tears, to buy it back again.   

I care not for their Kin, who blush to see,  
Those of their blood, who are in mean degree.  
For, that betrays unworthiness; and shows,  
How they by Chance, and not by Virtue rose.  
To say, My Lord, my Cousin, can to me  
(In my opinion) no such honour be;  
(If he from virtue's precepts go astray)  
As when my honest Kinsman) I can say.  
And they are fools, who, when they raised are;  
Feign their beginnings, nobler than they were.  
Yea, they do rob themselves of truest Fame,  
With some false honour to belie their Name.  
For, such as to the highest Titles rise,  
From poor beginnings, nobler than they were.  
To honour and observe them (far) then all  
That do succeed them, ever boast of, shall,  
For, being nothing more than they were borne,  
Men heed them not (unless they merit scorn)  
For some unworthiness. And then, perchance,  
As their forefather's meanness, did advance  
His praise the higher; so their Greatness shall,  
Make greater both their Infamy, and Fall.   

It is men's glory therefore, not a blot,  
When they the start, of all their Names have got;  
And it was worthless Envy, first begun,  
That false opinion, which so far hath run.  
Which well they know, whose Virtues honour win,  
And shame not to confess their poorest Kin.  
For, whensoever they do look on those,  
To God they praises give and thus suppose:  
Lo; when the hand of heaven, advanced us,  
Above our brethren, to be lifted thus;  
He let them stay behind, for marks to show,  
From whence we came, and whither we may go.   

To have the mind of those, I do not care,  
Who both so shameless, and so foolish are,  
That to acquire some poor esteem, where they  
Were never heard of, until yesterday,  
(And never shall perhaps, be thought on more)  
Can Prodigally there, consume their store:  
And stand upon their points of honour so,  
As if their credit had an overthrow,  
Without redemption: If in aught they miss,  
Wherein th'accomplish Gallant punctual is.  
Yet basely, every quality despise,  
In which true Wisdom, and true honour lies.   

If you, and one of those, should dine to day,  
'twere three to one, but he for all would pay:  
If but your servant light him to the door,  
He will reward him: If but he, and's whore,  
Carocht a Furlong are; the Coachman may,  
For seven-night after, let his Horses play,  
And yet, this fellow, whom abroad you shall  
Perceive so noble, and so liberal,  
(To gain a days, perhaps, but one hours' Fame)  
'Mong those that hardly, will inquire his name.  
At home (where every good, and every ill,  
Remains to honour, or to shame him still)  
Neglects Humanity. Yea, where he lives,  
And needs most love; all cause of hatred gives,  
To pool, to rack, to ruin, and oppress,  
The poor, the widow and the fatherless.  
To shift, to lie, to cousin, and delay,  
The labourer and the Creditor of pay,  
Are there his practices. And yet this Ass,  
Would for a man of worth, and honour pass,  
The Devil he shall as soon: and I will write,  
The Story of his being Convertite.   

I care not for the world's vain blast of Fame,  
Nor do I greatly fear the Trump of shame:  
For whatsoever good, or ill is done,  
The rumour of it in a week is gone.  
One thing put out another; and men sorrow,  
To day, yerhaps, for what they joy to morrow.  
And it is likely, that ere night they may,  
Condemn the man, they pleased yesterday?  
Hand him next morning, and be sorry then,  
Because he cannot be alive again.   

But, grant the fame of things had larger date:  
Alas! what glory is it if men prate  
In some three Parishes of that we do,  
When three great Kingdoms are but Molehills to,  
The earth's Circumference? and scarce one man  
Of twenty Millions, know our actions can?  
Believe me, it is worth so little thought,  
(If the offence to others were not aught)  
What men's opinions, or their speeches be;  
That were there not a better cause in me,  
Which moved to Virtue) I would never care,  
Whether my actions good or evil were.   

Though still unheeded of the World, I spend  
My Time and Studies, to the noblest end;  
One hair, I care not. For, I find reward,  
Beyond the World's requital, or regard.  
And since all men, some things erroneous do,  
And must in justice, somewhat suffer to,  
In part of my correction. This I take;  
And that I favoured am, account do make.   

I care not, though, there every hour, should be  
Some outward discontent to busy me.  
And, as I would not too much trial have;  
So, too much carnal peace I do not crave.  
The one, might give my Faith a dangerous blow;  
The other would pervert my life, I know.  
For, few love Virtue in adversity;  
But fewer hold it in Prosperity.  
Vain Hopes (when I had nought. but hopes alone)  
Have made me err: Then whither had I gone,  
(If I, the full possession had attained)  
When, but mere Hopes, my heart to folly trained?  
Smooth Ways would make me wanton: and my course  
Must lie, where Labour, Industry, and Force,  
Must work me Passage: or, I shall not keep  
My Soul from dull Securities, dead-sleepe:  
But, outward discontentments make me fly  
far higher, than the world's Contents do lie.   

I neither for their pomp, or glory care;  
Who by the love of vice advanced are.  
Fair Virtue is the lovely Nymph I serve;  
Her will I follow, her Commands observe;  
Yea, though the purblindworld perceive not where,  
The best of all her Favours I do wear.  
And, when great Ui●es, with fair baited hooks,  
Large promises of favour tempting looks,  
And twenty wiles, hath wooed me to betray,  
That noble Mistress; I have turned away:  
And flung defiance both at Them and Theirs,  
Inspite of all their gaudy Servitors.   

In which brave daring, I opposed have been  
By mighty Tyrants; and was plunged in  
More wants, than thrice my fortunes would have  
When our Heroes did, or fear, or scorn,  
To lend me succour (yea, in that weak age, borne,  
When I but newly entered on the Stage  
Of this proud world) So that, unless the King  
Had nobly pleased, to hear the Muses sing,  
My bold apology; Till now, might I  
Have struggling been, beneath their Tyranny.  
But all those threatening Comets, I have seen  
Blaze, till their glories quite extinct have been.  
And I, that crushed and lost was thought to be;  
Live yet, to pity those, that spighted me;  
Enjoying Hopes which so well grounded are,  
That, what may follow, I nor fear, nor care.  
Yet those I know there be, who do expect,  
What length my Hopes shall have, and what effect.  
With envious eyes awaiting every day,  
When all my confidence shall slip away.  
And make me glad, through those base paths to fly,  
Which they have trod, to raise their Fortunes by.   

They flout to hear, that I do Conscience make,  
What Place I sue for, or what Course I take.  
They laugh to see me spend my youthful time,  
In serious Studies; and to teach my Rhyme  
The Strains of Virtue; whilst I might perchance,  
By Lines of Ribaldry, myself advance  
To place of favour. They make scoffs, to hear  
The praise of Honesty; as if it were,  
For'none but vulgar minds. And since they live  
In brave prosperity, they do believe  
It shall continue: and account of Me,  
As one scarce worthy of their scorn to be.   

All this is Truth; yea, trust me, care I not;  
Nor love I Virtue, ought the worse a jot.  
For, I oft said, that I should live, to see  
My Way, far safer than their Courses be,  
And I have seen, nor one, nor two, nor ten,  
But (in few years) great numbers of those men,  
From goodly bravery, to rags decline,  
And wait upon as poor a Fate as mine.   

Yea those, whom but a day or two before,  
Were (in their own vain hopes) a great deal more  
Than any of our Ancient Baronage:  
(And such as many Wisemen of this age,  
Have wished to be the men) e'en those, have I  
Seen hurled down to shame, and beggary,  
In one twelve hours: and grow so miserable,  
That they became the scornful, hateful fablo  
Of all the Kingdom. And there's none so base,  
But thought himself, a man in better case.   

This, makes me pleased with mine own estate,  
And fearful to desire another's Fate.  
This makes me Careless of the world's proud scorn,  
And of those glories, whereto such are borne.  
And, if to have me, still kept mean and poor,  
To Gods great Glory, shall aught add the more:  
Or if to have disgraces heaped on me;  
(For others, in their way to Bliss) may be  
Of more Advantage, then to see me thrive  
In outward Fortunes, or more prized live:  
I care not though I never see that day,  
Which with one pinns-worth more enrich me may.   

Yea, by the eternal Deity I vow;  
Who knows I lie not, who doth hear me, now.  
Whose dreadful Majesty is all I fear,  
Of whose great Spirit, These the sparklings are,  
And who will make me, such proud daring, rue;  
If this my protestation be untrue.   

So I may still retain that in Peace,  
That love and taste, of the eternal Bliss;  
Those matchless comforts, and those brave desires,  
Those sweet Contentments, and immortal Fires,  
Which at this instant do inflame my breast;  
(And are to excellent to be expressed.)   

I do not care a Rush, though I were borne,  
Unto the greatest Poverty; and scorn:  
That (since God first infused it; with his breath)  
Poor flesh and blood, did ever groan beneath.  
Excepting only, such a load it were,  
As no Humanity was made to bear.   

Yea, let me keep these Thoughts; and let be hurled,  
Upon my back, the spite of all the world,  
Let me have neither drink, nor bread to eat,  
Nor clothes to wear, but those for which I sweat.  
Let me become unto my foes a slave;  
Or, causeless here the marks of justice, have;  
For some great villainy, that I ne'er thought,  
Let my best actions, be against me brought.  
That small repute, and that poor little Fame,  
Which have got; let men unto my shame  
Hereafter turn. Let me become the fable,  
A talk of fools Let me be miserable,  
In all men's eyes, and yet let no man spare,  
(Though that would make me happy) half a tear.  
Nay (which is more unsufferable far,  
Then all the miseries yet spoken are)  
Let that dear Friend, whose love is more to me,  
Then all those drops of Crimson liquor be,  
That warm my heart (and for whose only good:  
I could the brunt, of all this Care have stood)  
Let him forsake me. Let that prized Friend,  
Be cruel to; and when distressed, I send  
To seek his Comfort, let him look on me,  
With bitter scorn, and so hardhearted be;  
As that (although he know me innocent,  
And how those miseries I underwent,  
In love to him) He, yet deny me should,  
One gentle look, though that suffice me could.  
And (truly grieved, to make me) bring in place,  
My well known Foe, to scorn me to my face.   

Let this befall me; and with this, beside,  
Let me, be for the faulty friend belied.  
Let my Religion, and my honesty;  
Be counted till my death Hypocrisy.  
And, when I die, let till the general Doom,  
My Name, each hour into question come,  
For Sins I never did. And if to this,  
You aught can add, which yet more grievous is,  
Let that befall me to; So that, in Me,  
Those comforts may increase, that springing be,  
To help me bear it. Let that Grace descend,  
Of which I now, some portion apprehend:  
And then, as I already (heretofore)  
(Upon my Maker's strength, relying) swore,  
So, now I swear again; If ought it could,  
God's glory further, that I suffer should:  
Those Miseries recited: I nor care,  
How soon they seized me, nor how long they were:  
For, He can make them Pleasures, and I know;  
As long as he inflicts them, will do so.   

Nor unto this Assurance am I come,  
By any Apothegms, gathered from  
Our old, and much admired Philosophers.  
My Sayings are mine own, as well as theirs;  
For, whatsoever account of them is made,  
I have as good experience of them had:  
Yea, when I die (though now they slighted be)  
The Times to come, for Them, shall honour me,  
And praise that Mind of mine, which now perchance,  
Shall be reputed foolish Arrogance.   

Oh! that my Lines were able to express,  
The Cause, and Ground, of this my Carelessness.  
That I might show you, what brave things they be,  
Which at this instant are a fire in me.   

Fool's may deride me, and suppose, that This  
(No more) but some vainglorious Humour is;  
Or such like idle Motion, as may rise,  
From furious, and distempered Fantasies.  
But, let their thoughts be free; I know the Flame  
That is within me, and from whence it came;  
Such things have filled me, that I feel my brain,  
Wax giddy, those high Raptures to contain.  
They raise my Spirits, which now whi●ling be,  
As if they meant to take their leave of me.  
And could these Strains of Contemplation, slay  
To lift me higher still, but half a day:  
By that Time, they would mount to such a height,  
That all my Cares would have an end to Night.   

But oh! I feel the fumes of flesh and blood,  
To clog those Spirits in me, and like mud,  
They sink again. More dimly burn my fires;  
To Her low pitch, my Muse again retires:  
And as her Heavenly flames extinguishtbe,  
The more I find my Cares to burden me.   

Yet, I believe, I was enlightened so,  
That never shall my Spirit stoop so low,  
To let the servile thoughts, and dunghill cares,  
Of common Minds, entrap me in their snares.   

For, still I value not, those things of nought,  
For which the greatest part, take greatest thought.  
Much for the world I care not; and (confess)  
Desire I do, my care for it, were less.  
I do not care, (for aught they me could harm)  
If with more mischiefs, this last Age did swa●e;  
Yea such poor joy I have or Care to see  
The best Contents these Times can promise Me:  
And that small fear of any Plague at all,  
(Or Miseries) which on this Age may fall.  
That, but for Charity, I did not care  
If all those coming storms, which some do fear,  
Were now descending down: For Hell can make,  
No uproar, which my peaceful thoughts may shake.  
I founded have my Hopes on him that hath  
A shelter for me, in the day of wrath.  
And I have trust, I shall (without a maze,)  
Look up, when all burns round me in a blaze.  
And if to have these Thoughts, & this Mind known  
Shall spread Gods praise no further than mine own:  
Or, if This shall no more instructive be,  
To others; th● it glory is to Me:  
Here le● i● perish, and he ●led by,  
Into Oblivion everlastingly.  
For, with this Mind, I can be pleased; (as much)  
Though none but I myself did know it such.  
And, he that hath contentment, needs not care;  
What other me● opinions of it, are.  
I care not; though for many griefs to come,  
To live an hundred yeare●, it were my Doom.  
Nor care I though I summoned be, away,  
At Night to Morrow-m●ning, or to Day.   

I care not whether This, you read or no;  
Nor whether you believe it, if you do.  
I care no● whether any Man suppose  
All This from judgement, or from Rash●es flows.  
Nor mean I, to take Care what any Man,  
Will think thereof: Or Comment on it can.   

I care not who shall fond censure it;  
Because it was not with more Method writ:  
Or fram d in imitation, of the Strain.  
In some deep Grecian or old Roman vain.  
Yea, though that all men living should despise,  
These Thoughts in Me, to heed, or Patronise:  
I vow, I care not▪ And I vow, no less,  
I care not who dislikes this Carelessness.   

My mind's my Kingdom; and I will permit,  
No other● Will, to have the rule of it.  
For, I am free; and no man's power (I know)  
Did make me thus, nor shall unmake me now.  
But, through a Spirit none can quench in me:  
This Mind I got, and this, my Mind shall be.    

To Enuy.  

NOw look upon Me, Envy, if thou dare,  
Dart all thy Malice, shoot me every where:  
Try all the ways thou canst, to wake me feel,  
The cruel sharpness of thy poisoned steel.  
For, I am Enuy-proofe, and scorn I do;  
The worst, thy cankered spite, can urge thee to.  
This Word, I care not, is so strong a Charm,  
That He, who speaks it truly, fears no harm,  
Which thy accursed Rancour, harbour may;  
Or, his perversest Fortunes, on him lay.  
Go, hateful Fury; Hag, go, hide thou then,  
Thy snaky head, in thy abhorred Deu.  
And since thou canst not have thy will of Me:  
There; Damned Fiend, thine own Tormentresse ●e,  
Thy forked stings, upon thy body turn;  
With Hellish flames, thy scorched entrailes burn;  
From thy leave Carcase, thy black sinn●wes tear,  
With thine own Venom burst, and perish there.   Nec Habeo, nec Careo, nec Curo.  

A Postscript.  

QVite through this Island hath my Motto rung,  
And twenty days are past, since up I hung  
My bold Impreza: which defiance throws,  
At all the malice of fair Virtue's foes.  
The Good approve it; and so crown the Cause  
Of this my Resolution, with applause:  
That such as spite it, dare not to appear,  
In opposition to the Challenger.  
Their Malice would enforce them; but, it lies  
Oppressed yet, with fearful Cowardice;  
For, they so armed have found me, that they fear,  
I may (in spite of all their Envy) bear  
The Conquest from them: and upon the Face,  
Of their be-spotted Fame, stick more disgrace.   

This, makes them Storm in private, Slander, Rail,  
Threat, Libel, Rhyme, Detract; and to prevail  
Upon my Patience, try their utmost Art,  
But, I still mind my Mottoes latter-part,  
And Care not for it: which more makes them cha●e;  
And still the more they fret, the more I laugh.   

But, now their Envy's have so well conspired,  
That they have 〈◊〉 the Project they desired;  
And took such course, that (if their word you take)  
Shall move my Choler, and my Patience shake.   

Forsooth, some Rhymers they have hired, to chew  
Their rancour into Balladry, and spew  
Their black Despite, which to a drunken note,  
They, in a hundred Taverns, have by roate  
Already belched unto that Auditory,  
Who are the fittest Trumpets of their Story.   

When their Inventions (by the power Divine  
Of much-inspiring Sack and Claret-wine)  
Are ripened to the highest; then, they say  
The Stationer expects it every day:  
And that he may a saving bargain make,  
(A forehand) doth his Customers bespeak.   

But when these Braine-wormes crawling forth you  
(As pity 'twere, such wit should smothered lie)  
They will bewray the Sires; and make't appear, spy  
That Ignorance, and Envy Parents were  
To that despiteful Issue: So, that he  
Who shall a Rush the less, esteem of Me,  
For aught there Writ: e'en (He) is one of Them,  
Whose Hate, and whose Affection I contemn.   

The Instruments they get to serve the turn,  
Are those, that are unworthy of my Scorn:  
And if contend, or answer them I should;  
It more might wrong me, than their Rhyming could.  
As therefore, when an armed Soldier feels  
A testy Cur, in vain to gnaw his Heels;  
He minds not Him: but spends his blows upon  
Those churlish Peasants, that did set him on.  
So; I, that know these Dogs do but their kind;  
Well, let them bark, & f●arle, & spend their wind,  
Till they grow weary. But, let them sit strong.  
That urge them to it; or I lay along  
Their high Top-gallant; where each Groom shall see  
How worthy Scorn, and infamy they be.  
For, they who are their Patrons are such Foes,  
As I may somewhat worthily oppose:  
And I'll unmask them so, that you shall spy  
In them, Detractions true Anatomy.  
Yea, whereas they have by their malice, thought  
To have on me their spiteful pleasures wrought;  
I'll from their Censures, an occasion take  
To show how other men a sport shall make  
At all Detractions; So, those slaves undo,  
Who that base practice are inclined unto.   

Rail they that list: for, those men know not yet,  
What mind I have; who think the man that writ  
This Motto, can be ever brought to fear  
Such poor fond things, as idle Carpers are;  
Nay rather, from those Slanders they shall raise,  
I will advantage gather for my praise:  
While they that in my shame would take delight,  
Shall gnaw their flesh through vengeance, & despite  
To see how I, unmoved their envy mock,  
And make of them this Age's laughingstock.   

For, lest to have prevailed they should seem;  
And so grow wise men in their own esteem:  
(Or, by their foolish brags, dishearten such,  
Whose resolutions are not grown so much)  
When I at leisure am; for Recreation,  
●e merry make myself, to their vexation;  
Yet shall my Mirth from Malice be so free,  
That though I bitter to the guilty be.  
It shall appear that I in love do scourge them;  
That of their foul Corruptions I may purge them.  
And that it may be known how Virtue hath  
A sting to punish, though not moved to wrath.   

But go; and for the Pamphlet seek about,  
For, yet ere night ('tis thought) it will come out.  
Yet, when you find it; Do not look for there  
His wit alone, whose Name you see it bear:  
(For though you nothing can collect from thence,  
But foul-mouthed Language, Rhyme and Impudence)  
Yet there expect, (since 'tis the common cause  
Of all Crowe-Poets, and Poeticke-Dawes,  
Which I have touched) that all the Brotherhood,  
Will lend their wits to make the Quarrel good.  
For, to that purpose they are all combined;  
Yea, to their strong Confed'racy are joined,  
That Corporation, by whose Patronage,  
Such Poetry hath flourished in this Age:  
And some beside, that dare not yet be known,  
Have favour, to this goodly Project shown.   

But, let them join their force; For I had rather  
Ten Millions should themselves against Me gathers  
(And blot and practise for my overthrow)  
Then be the Conqueror of one base Foe.  
For, as mine enemy's increasing be;  
So, Resolution doth increase in me:  
And if I must have foes, my Fates shall friend me;  
If great and noble enemies they send me.   

But, whether on mean Foes, or great I light,  
My Spirit will be greater than their spite.     

An Epigram, written by the Author on his own Picture; where this Motto was inscribed.  

THus, others Loves, have set my shadow forth,  
To fill a Room, with Names of greater worth:  
And Me, among the rest, they set to show.  
Yet, what I am, I pray mistake not, tho.   

Imagine me, nor Earl, nor Lord, nor Knight;  
Nor any new advanced Favourite.  
For, you would swear; if This well pictured me,  
That such a One I ne'er were like to be.  
No child of purblind fortune's was I borne;  
For all that issue holdeth Me in scorn.  
Yet, He that made Me hath assured Me to,  
Fortune can make no such; nor such undo.  
And bids me, in no Favours take delight;  
But what I shall acquire, in Her despite.   

Which Mind, in Rags, I rather wish to bear,  
Then rise through baseness, bravest Robes to wear●  
Part of my Outside hath the Picture shown;  
Part of my Inside, by these Lines is known:  
And 'tis no matter of a rush to me,  
How This, or That, shall now esteemed be.   
FINIS.