THE CONSOLATION OF Philosophy.  
LONDON, Printed by James Flesher for the Author, 1664.   

The Preface and Occasion of this Melancholic Divertisement.  
ALthough many may and needs must remember the Sadness of the late Times, which called the greatest Knaves on earth Honest men, and the justest Loyalty on earth Treason, and which rewarded and punished both Titles as preposterously as they named them, forgetting the holy Prophet's woes against such Hypocritical Misnomers: yet 'tis as much to be remembered that all have not the like causes of memory; some Families being but so wounded as easily curable; others died in the place; to others— Haeret lateri lethalis arundo. Among these last Tho. Coningsby of North-Mimms in the County of Hartford, of a most ancient Family, and as plentiful Fortune, having been high-Sheriff of that County in the year 1638, was, (upon the Confidence of Loyalty the late Blessed King had found and tried in him) by a Commission sent from Redding, again made his Majestie's high-Sheriff in the year 1642▪ and together with his Commission received this gracious Letter following under that King's own hand of Blessed Memory.  
CHARLES R.  
TRusty and wellbeloved, We greet you well, and do hereby give you Our assurance, that although We have at this present made choice of you to be Our high-Sheriff of Our County of Hartford, We have done it out of no other respect then as a mark and testimony of Our Favour, and Confidence of the utmost of your Service in these Times, wherein We intent to employ Persons of greatest Integrity and known Affections to Us, and the good of Our Kingdom; of which you have formerly given sufficient testimony. And although it may bring upon you great Expense and Trouble; yet We are confident you will not value it, in regard of Our Service, and the good of that Our County; which shall not be forgotten by Us on all occasions. So We bid you hearty farewell.  
From our Court at Redding this 11 ●h of Novemb. 1642.  
Soon after he received also a Writ and Proclamation, sent from Oxford, which declared the late Earl of Essex and his Adherents Traitors, and authorised him to array the County for the King's Service. The like Command other Sheriffs received: and the Sheriff of Essex that then was did thereupon address himself to the Parliament, as if he would beg leave of them to execute the Writ against them, and entreat their favour to declare them to be (what they were) Traitors. For which treacherous Flattery he had their Fatherhoods thanks, was caressed, made their Treasurer, grew rich, and to complete his reward is now Sir Baronet. But Mr. Coningsby, of another temper; according to his trust and place; executes his Writ at S. Alban, and was there with the peril of his life (happy if he had then perished) taken Prisoner by Cromwell, (who had the thanks of the House too for his exploit) is carried to London, committed to London-house, where he continued Prisoner till the year 1643. and was then adjudged (by a then Committee-man, now a real Judge) to be within their Ordinance for Sequestration, though made after his fact, by virtue of those words (Whoever have or shall:) as if he could have divined that any such transcendent Impudence would appear in the world, as would confirm Wickedness, and punish Duty by a Law. And yet if he could, he could not have failed in his Duty; for he knew not fear. This was quickly smelled out by that famous Vulture Sir Will. Brereton, who alleged it against him, and that he had sent one of his Sons into the King's Army (true, but not proved:) and thereupon got the Sequestration and Plunder of his Estate; robbing him at once of more than two thousand pounds. They seized also on his Real Estate, which then was not less than fifteen hundred pounds per annum.  
After this he is removed from London-house to the Tower, where with much barbarous usage he was held seven years more, under several Gaolers; when at last broken and languishing in Body through Restraint, and Sickness contracted by it, his Son, by a pious deceit of bribing underhand, and being bound for him, (who would never have consented to his own Safety on those terms, for his Generous Soul scorned to petition Rebels) gained him into the Country, where he found as great objects for his Grief as he did in thraldom itself. For than he saw how during the time of his Imprisonment they had, besides his Goods and Rents, wasted and destroyed his Woods and Houses, to the value of more than three thousand pounds; and that in this seeming Liberty he did but behold his own and his family's Ruin at a nearer view, the Sequestrators and their Harpies continuing before his face to prey upon him and their own Masters too, the lesser Vermin preying on and cheating the greater, converting (as was afterwards made appear against them before the King's Commissioners sitting at the Savoy) more than two thousand pounds out of his Estate, from the general Sink to their own particulars, as he in the Satirist,  

— damnatus inani  
Judicio (quid enim salvis infamia nummis?)  
Exul ab octavo Marius bibit, & fruitur Diis  
Iratis, at tu—   
In this just disdain he offers to contest his Right against them at Law: But they, as if this had been the higher Crime, got an Order to imprison him again, and breaking open his Daughter's house, in the greatest inhumanity imaginable seized on him, being very sick and weak, enforce him to ride to London in great torment, and have him committed Prisoner to the Serjeant's man; where growing weaker than ever, and more discomposed, he is again by the same religious craft gained into the Country by his Son with a nominal Liberty; where soon after he was, in the year 1654., (after twelve years worrying) finally released by Death.  
He was the Son of Sir Ralph Coningsby, who had for the more immediate Stem of his House Sir Humphrey, a Wise and Learned Judge in the Reign of King Henry the Seventh, but as to his remoter Root, was lineally descended from a long and Noble Race of Ancestors that were Barons of this Kingdom both before and after the Conquest. He was of a middle Stature, his Hair black, his Complexion ruddy, his Eyes black, full, and exceedingly piercing; in all so Comely, that those who knew his youth would say, as the Prince of Poets does of his Deiopeia, that he was praestanti Corpore: but for his Spirit; so great and undaunted, that it was not at all to be bowed by Terrors or Miseries, disdaining in the whole story of his Life to submit his native and gallant Freedom to the frowns of any that were but his Fellow-subjects, though in greater authority, as was often proved. Once in a long Suit he had about a right of his Predecessors in Enfield Chase, with no worse man than King James, the Judge then sitting required him to produce his Evidences in Court. He said he would produce so much as concerned the matter in hand. The Judge said he would make him produce the whole, and that he would, if he could, pick a hole in them. To which he replied, That it were better the Skin were plucked over his ears, then that he should sit on that Bench to that purpose. The King being told it, and that it was taken as an Affront and Contempt of his Authority, swore by his Soul, (his usual Oath) that Coningsby said right, and that he should have right.  
He was of a nature so severely and superlatively just, that he would wrong no man; and, though it were to his prejudice, did not seldom protect others from wrong: and when he observed any man of Power do wrong, he used to say, That man has kindled a Fire will burn his own House. Out of this apprehension, when he was leaving the world, though he pardoned all personal Injuries, yet he did prophetically bequeath the old Cause and its Fautors to that Destiny some of them came to, the Gallows, saying, as a well-built Christian might, That it was impossible that the righteous God should permit them to go unpunished always. But Cur bonis viris mala fiant is yet a riddle. He was a person of admirable Parts; but such are too commonly the more unfortunate; and among his Misfortunes it was not the least, that he had such Parts, and wanted a Profession to stir them, and keep his large Soul from rust and Idleness. His last and great Character, which speaks him born for this trying Age, was, that he lived and died Honest, preferring his Conscience and Loyalty to his Life, Liberty and Estate; choosing rather to leave his Family which was numerous, but dear to him, (for a better Father never lived) poor and distressed, then rendered infamous and stained by any unworthy act of his.  
His Misfortunes ended not with his Life; for after his Death his Estate was adjudged by the Rebels to be sold, (by the name of Tho. Coningsby deceased) and his Son could not enjoy it but by purchase: by which means, together with his Piety in supplying and preserving his Father, and his own constant Sufferings, he contracted such heavy Debts, that he was enforced to sell above one thousand pounds a year, with his best House, (built by his great Grand father, Sir Henry Coningsby, upon the most noble part of his Inheritance) worth more than ten thousand pounds, not considerable in purchase. Sure no man can think he could do this without the greatest reluctancy and regret in the world, being the sad Presage of the utter extinction and fall of that Family, and the just cause of sorrow to succeeding generations, which more concerns him then his own Calamity: for as to himself, he yet inherits his Father's Mind, though not his Possessions. Fatum sub pedibus dedit superbum. In the midst of the Calamitous Times, (not forgetting his addresses to him who only can help) to alleviate his troubled Mind, he made English Lipsius his Constantia; so deceiving tedious hours, till it pleased Heaven to restore the King. Many then expected a Law de Repetundis, at least against such as were able and fatter Villains: but instead of this other things were done, in favour of some indeed, but to the prejudice (which was the foulest Partiality) of others, (as was made too apparent before the Commissioners at the Savoy as before.) Upon this rushed in a Deluge of Vices, whose rage broke down the former Banks, and divided the Affections of those whom former Miseries seemed to have fast bound; thereby showing that Fortune only, not Honesty, was both their Pilot and Cement, and that they held together more out of Destiny than Virtue; of all men the most to be detested. This did the Son of this suffering Father dearly prove, and as sadly consider: for that he having better Principles of Honour and Honesty from him whose Blood he glories in, and being willingly defective in what those people boast of, Impudence and Falsehood, he found no worse recompenses from any then those should most have assisted him. They said he was too great a Sufferer to be relieved; and some, that had they had Honour should have most lifted him up, bandied against him. This made him accuse Fortune in the fit. But now humble and wiser reflections on Providence, by which it comes to pass that what seems most otherwise proves often for our good, and considering the Person and Fate of our most Gracious Sovereign, who but a few months before His happy Restauration (when He was entertained with the highest Caresses imaginable) passed through the States of Holland unregarded, and was in other places worse used; considering this, and the giddy rollings of Fortune, with the rude insultations she makes on the Highest and Worthiest of men, retiring to recreate himself, he (as you see) put the brave and stout BOETHIUS into an English dress; which though ruder and courser than it should have been, is so much the more like his own Condition, and gives himself satisfaction, though not others: a poor satisfaction and pitiful comfort to a lost Family; yet he leaves it as a Relic of his Honest Mind, reposing his trust in Almighty God, who when he pleases can raise up those are cast down lowest: at least by this Posterity will know how, and in what unhappy Times, and for what cause it was the Storm came upon him and ruined him, and learn to decline the fondness of this mutable World, and seek the never-sading Treasure.   

PARENTALIA in memoriam nobilissimi T. C. Arm. Hartford. facta.  

COnduntur sub his moenibus sicut decet Templi ful●ra,  
Ossa magnanimi Heröis, Thomae,  
Radulphi Conings by Militis filii dignissinti,  
Qui talis vivus fait qualem vetat Pictas mori;  
Et vix credent Posteri seculo isthoc vixisse,  
Nisi quòd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 gerat certissimum, honestam miseriam.  
Summae Probitatis reum summa Infelicitas probat,  
Virúmque ad optima natum, quia sustalit pessuma.  
Acerrimus Aequi bonique sed nunquam turbidus Assecla▪  
Justitiae cultor strenuus, nec non minùs Pacis;  
Assertor Patriae, sed nullus desertor Regis;  
Libertatis publicae Vindex, sed fine Perduellionc;  
Civis eximius, sed non deterior Subditus.  
Pro Jure veteri dimicavit contra novam Praerogativam;  
Quod Jacobus Rex Carolúsque sentiunt, diligúntque simul;  
Nempe integram dignoscentes fidem, etiam sic con … … tem.  
Ob haec, personâ Regiâ indutus, quando Regem ipsum  
Satagit profanum Vulgas (vah nefas!) exuere,  
Non deserit Principem quem prius gravem habuit,  
Minùs oppressum ferens, quàm opprimentem Dominum;  
Qui justum expertus, neminem aptiorem duxit  
Justis qui plectat poenis concitatam Plebem.  
Hujus vesanam Rabiem dum coercere accinctus  
Vicecomes fidus fortiter officio fungitur,  
Eheu! rebellibus armis violatus libertate priv●tur,  
Per Conciliabulum istud quod ●ueri libe●os prae se tulit.  
Saevitiam cujus carnificinámque impiam  
Variis rapinis carceribúsque refertam;  
Quae divina omnia humanáque raepit atque excuti●,  
Piè dedignans, animo infracto pertulit.  
Scilicet, Bona sua perdere maluit quàm Virtutem;  
Nec moratur Fortunas, unici Aestimator Honoris.  
Pudet Haereditatem emere taentis Majoribus relictam,  
Vel cauponari terras quas sola Pietas prodidit;  
Ditiorem se reputans propter jacturas tales,  
Magisque beatum dummodo innocenter pauperem.  
At non sic pris●ae Fidei Pacisque Raptores,  
Qui gr●gem tantum deglubentes esuriunt adhuc,  
Et ferculis tot plenis absorptis, manent sordidum pecus;  
Non enim repl●tur haec mala Bestia vel maledicta.  
Ità demum proscissis Legibus Legúmque Patrono,  
Serenissimo Dei Uncto sacrilegè trucidato,  
Libertate, Fide, rebus Sacris pessundatis,  
Corruentibus Ecclesiâ funditus aetque Republicâ,  
Circumspicit omnia, caeterùm nil dignum vitâ intuens,  
Heu! perfidus terras fugit, coelum spirans,  
Martyris penè nomen adeptus, at Confessoris haeud dubi●.  
Illic fulgens Anima ditescit nunquam spolianda,  
Et pace fruitur quae spernit turbas Parricidales;  
Indè jam Orco maturum Senatulum despicit,  
Atque ipsis nequ●ores Daemonibus Latrones ridet.   
Vitâ functus est Octob. 1 ●●, Sepultus 5 to, Annóque Aetatis 63. Incarcerationis 12. Salutis Hum. 1654.   

On the same.  

SO then, He's quit at last, and now hath gained  
What baffled Justice never had obtained;  
Has finished all at once, and found a friend  
By whom two Compositions meet one end.  
That of his Humane frame which they so oft  
Had torn and bruised is sor'd one half aloft,  
Where they must never reach it, nor come nigh,  
B'ing so weighed down with Blood and Villainy.  
And for the other, though refined and grown  
Purer than their Souls by Affliction,  
So that like agile Vapour seem it might  
To have made ready for the Spirits flight,  
And cast off all its grosser weight, that so  
It might keep pace and with like vigour go  
As did its swift Companion; yet because,  
Breaking none else, he would keep Nature's Laws,  
See, here it falls among the noble dust  
Of old progenitors alike good and just,  
And fitly with Sir Harry and Sir Ralph  
Now mingling Ashes sleeps as calm and safe:  
Whose honest bones did welcomly give way  
For his, that were as stout and true as they,  
And seemed in their cold Mother's lap to kiss  
And hug each others common fame and bliss.  
Where let them rest, till that auspicious Morn  
Shall dawn, will all their Loyalty return.   

And now this broken thus and thus dissolved,  
The second bursts, wherein he was involved,  
The Body Politicks Chain, or rather Snare,  
In which three Nations bound and tortured are;  
That tearing Engine, on whose hooks we find  
None caught, but leave their skin and flesh behind;  
Our English Inquisition, which exceeds  
That under which th' Hesperian Sinner bleeds:  
For there unhappy wretches only weep  
For breaking Laws, but here because they keep:  
There if they take Estates they take Life too;  
A civil Cruelty; but we undo,  
And rob, and swallow all that should preserve,  
Then shake whole Families off to beg and starve.  
We do not  at once the spreading Oak,  
Nor kill his goodly pride at one fair stroke;  
But pill and bark it first, and so 'tis pined,  
And dies inglorious torn with every wind.  
Which barbarous Zeal none but a Jesuit can  
Defend, or viler Presbyterian;  
None but the Rabbi Sme●, whose vafrous Name  
Will Guido and his Tribe excuse in shame;  
Who are now Brethren, and by dire consent  
Have knit so fast a League 'twixt them and Trent,  
That though they look big on't and face it still  
In other points, yet both are one in Ill:  
Whilst to resist, depose and murder Kings,  
Are not proclaimed now such horrid things  
As our ●ame simple Fathers held, who were  
Too innocent to be Godly, and did fear  
God more than needs; and who, if they lived now,  
And would not humbly to this Idol bow,  
Would not for swear, and plunder, and rebel,  
And freely at their Order run to Hell,  
Must through the dire Committees furnace pass,  
Though seven times hotter than the Prophet's was.  
And so did this great Hero prove, who felt  
Their twelve-years Limbo, whose hot flames did melt  
And eat up both his Body and his Land,  
Though he scorned both, that he might Loyal stand.  
But now the kinder Grave hath all acquit,  
Disdaining that the State out-spoiled it,  
And grew more ravenous and dreadful more  
By their new Tophets than was his before:  
So that 'twas harder Villanage to get  
Through their two Halls, then pay old Nature's debt;  
And the deep wounds of Death were looked upon  
As milder fate than Sequestration.  
On wh●ch the Prince of Terrors jealous grew  
Lest they would rival his Dominion too,  
And cloud his Name, which, before theirs, none durst  
Of all things Horrible deny the first.  
Therefore he served against them here, who hath  
So long obeyed their irreligious wrath,  
Rescuing this Martyr from the Harpies rape,  
Just as their eager throats did widest gape.  
For which we thank him, and shall thence begin  
Fair hopes that he who their long friend hath been  
May now turn foe, and pay back their base fears  
With as much ruin and as many tears  
As they have caused: unless they can as well  
Covenant with Death as they have done with Hell.   
M. S. D. D. G.   


THE FIRST BOOK Of the CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY.  

I That was wont to sing full merrily,  
Am forced sad tones to howl in misery:  
The tattered Muses bid me for to write  
A mournful Song, while they with tears indite▪  
No terror could affright these Sister's free,  
But of my griefs Companions they would be.  
The glory of my happy youth does give  
Some comfort to the cares in which I live.  
Unwelcome age (that never-failing thief)  
Intrudes himself, and mixes with my grief.  
My hairs untimely from my head do fall,  
My skin is lose, and joints do tremble all.  
That death is happy that blithe Youth does spare,  
But comes when called by one oppressed with Care.  
Alas! he will not close the weeping eye,  
And deaf he is to souls in misery.  
Whiles fickle Fortune fanned me with her wing,  
Each hour fear of death with it did bring.  
But now that she has changed her cozening face,  
Death takes delight to come a Tortoise pace.  
O friends, why did you oft me happy call?  
He ne'er was firmly seated that could fall.  
While thus I musing lay alone,  
Designing how t'express my moan,  
Above my head appeared to me  
A Woman of bright majesty,  
With Eyes that shined clear and bright,  
And pierced beyond all common sight;  
Of lively colour and full strength,  
Although her years had drawn a length  
Beyond what any mortal does.  
Her Stature too was various,  
Sometimes o'th' common size of men;  
But to the heavens she would then  
Lift up her head, and pierce the sky,  
Deluding the beholder's eye.  
Her Robes were made of finest thread,  
And without seam were perfected:  
And, as I after came to know,  
With her own hands she woven them so.  
Like as old Pictures do appear  
In smoky rooms, their colour were:  
And in the lower bordering  
The letter TWO was weaved in green;  
And in the upper see you might  
The letter Θ weaved in white.  
Between the letters there were set  
As 'twere a ladder up to get,  
So climbing the degrees, to move  
From Earth below to Heaven above.  
But some rude hand her Robe did tear,  
And every one catcht for a share.  
In her Right hand a Book she held,  
A Sceptre did her Left hand wield.  
When she the Muses had descried,  
They standing all by my bed's side,  
As willing for to comfort me,  
On them she cast an angry eye,  
And, Who unto this languishing  
Sick man, said she, these whores did bring?  
With poisons they his fancy please,  
But give no Physic him can ease.  
These, these are they that Reason's corn  
Destroy, with planting fruitless thorn;  
These trouble, not relieve, the mind:  
And could you none but this man find?  
Had you but only drawn apart  
A rude, profane or vulgar heart,  
I had not cared; but to ensnare  
Him who has been my only care,  
In Wisdome's School brought up and nursed?  
Go, go, ye Sirens, go accursed,  
And leave this sick man's cure to me.  
This said, th'whole choir did agree  
In one sad look, confessed that they  
For shame did blush, so went away.  
Tears dazzled had my eyes, and I  
Affrighted all this while did lie;  
Wondering who this same should be  
Commanded with such majesty:  
And silently I did me bear,  
Expecting what next I should hear.  
She me approached, and did sit down  
On my bed's side; then with a frown  
She me beheld, who grieved did lie,  
And on the ground had fixed my eye.  
But thus, she seeing me in pain,  
Of man's disquiet did complain.   

O how (cast down with care)  
men's minds oppressed are,  
Who leaving bright daylight,  
Run grovelling in the night,  
While clogged with things below,  
Vexations on them grow?  
He, while he lived free,  
The heavenly Orbs did see,  
The splendour of the Sun,  
And course of the cold Moon,  
What course each wandering Star  
Through each Orb did bear.  
All these he firmly knew,  
And all the causes true:  
How shrill loud Winds do make  
The Pontic Sea to quake,  
What spirit rolls the world,  
How Hesperus that's hurled  
Down nightly, shines each morn;  
Who 'tis that does adorn  
The Earth i'th' Spring with Flowers;  
Who giveth fertile Showers,  
Makes Autumn's grapes to swell.  
He wont was to tell  
Dame Nature's secret laws;  
But now knows not the cause  
Why he oppressed does lie,  
With sad and downcast eye.  
The foolish world him took,  
Thence on it he does look.   

What boots it though, said she, to chide?  
'Twere better Physic were applied.  
Then fiercely she on me did look,  
Art thou the child, said she, I took,  
Fed thee with milk and many a cate,  
Until thou cam'st to man's estate,  
Then gave thee Arms, which had kept thee  
(Hadst thou kept them) unconquered, free?  
Dost know me? what, is't shame or fear  
Does make thee silent? would it were  
Ingenuous Shame; but I do see  
'Tis stupid Fear oppresses thee.  
But when not only silent I  
But speechless seemed, than she, to try  
My health, upon my breast she laid  
Her hand: Danger there's none, she said;  
A lethargy (the common ill  
Of minds seduced from good to ill)  
He has, he's stupefied; but lo,  
When come to's self, he will me know.  
Let's wipe from's eyes (that so he may)  
This cloud of mortal things away.  
Her vestment then folding in plies,  
She wiped therewith my watery eyes.   

Darkness left me now and night,  
my sight came to me clear:  
Just as when bright Phoebus' light  
at noon cannot appear,  
For that clouds have round about  
the hemisphere beset,  
So fixed, that it is a doubt  
the Heaven's motion's let:  
Boreas sent from Thracian den  
i'th' evening retrives  
The light o'th' Sun, whose beams then  
strike the beholder's eyes.   

So sorrow's clouds being dispelled,  
I looking up, found I beheld  
And knew the face that brought me cure:  
Then looking on her, Thou art sure  
My Nurse that brought me up, said I,  
Th' all-powerful Philosophy.  
Art thou from heaven also sent  
To exile, that thou dost frequent  
These solitudes? or art thou come  
Me to accuse, as falsely some  
Already have? Darling, said she,  
Why shouldst thou think I will leave thee,  
And not part of the burden take  
Which thou dost bear for my name's sake?  
Philosophy would sure be shent,  
If she should leave the Innocent.  
Fear would me seize, as if in sight  
Some hideous thing did me affright.  
What? 'tis but now as it has been;  
Wisdom full often has been seen  
By wicked manners to be torn.  
Of old, (our Plato not yet born)  
How oft have I with Foolishness  
Had strong contests? wise Socrates,  
His Master, for me did see die,  
Yet dying gained the victory.  
Stoics and Epicures by name  
Unto his wisdom have laid claim,  
And others too what came to hand  
(Though I did call and did withstand)  
Did catch as pray, they tore my Coat  
Which with my own hands I had wrought,  
And every one did get a part,  
Believed they'd all, they did departed.  
'Mongst these, 'cause something did appear  
Like me, Imprudence thought they were  
Of mine; so the mad multitude  
She did pervert with Errors rude.  
Perhaps thou dost not know the flight  
Of Anaxagoras, nor spite  
That Socrates endured, nor  
The torments Zeno suffered, for  
That they were strangers: yet thou knowst  
That glorious memory can boast  
The Canii, Sorans, Seneca's;  
Recent are the fames of these.  
Why was't these Virtuous men did fall?  
'Cause in my manners they were all  
Instructed, lose minds could not like  
Their manners, so to theirs unlike.  
So that no wonder 'tis at all,  
If in the conflict they do fall  
Whose Maxims are for to displease  
The bad, whose number's numberless,  
Yet to be scorned, for that no guide  
But ERROR, who draws them aside,  
They have; who if 'gainst us in sight  
He do draw up, and us does fright,  
Our chieftain presently does place  
Her forces in a secure place.  
They instantly in vain employ  
Themselves, our strength for to destroy;  
While we above sit and deride  
Their plunderings and foolish pride.  
Thus from their fury we retire,  
Sat safe, where Folly can't aspire.   

Who in a quiet state  
With an undaunted look  
Can trample on proud Fate,  
Good and bad Fortune brook,  
Not him the foaming threats  
Of rough Seas yelling death,  
Nor Vesuvus fierce heats  
That strive to stop his breath,  
Nor Lightning wild, which coming from above  
Full oft high towers does consume, can move.  
Do not for Tyrant's care,  
Who without force do rage,  
Nor hope thou, nor yet fear:  
Their fury thou'lt assuage.  
But who does trembling stand,  
Wishing for what's not sure,  
Has left for to command,  
And must (enslaved) endure.  
The fool has made a Chain, and 'tis most fit  
That he that made it should be bound with it.   

Dost thou yet understand? or do  
I to a Goose yet velvet show?  
Why dost thou weep? why tears dost shed?  
Speak, show thy Reason is not dead.  
If thou'lt be cured done't be shy  
Thy wounds to show. My mind's force I  
Collecting then, this answer made,  
Does not fell Fortune me invade?  
What need I further it declare?  
This place itself does make't appear  
Is this at all like to that place  
Which thou didst choose for thy solace,  
My Library, where thou and I  
Oft did descant on the beauty  
Of things both humane and divine?  
Did I then thus my arms entwine?  
Or did I thus dejected look,  
When we disclosed hid Nature's book;  
When with thy Jacob's staff thou me  
Instructed'st in Geometry,  
And didst describe the spangled Sky,  
That I should guide my life thereby?  
And is this all that they do earn  
That thee do serve? did not I learn  
From Plato's mouth, as thy decree,  
Those Commonwealths should happy be,  
Where either wise men bear the sway,  
Or else, where to wise Guardians they  
Committed are? by him also  
Thou with good arguments dost show,  
That honest men endeavour should  
To sit at helm, and not be fooled,  
Nor let lewd Citizens to grow,  
Who would the good quite overthrow.  
This thou me taught'st, and I desired  
To practise what thou hadst inspired.  
Thou and my God (who thee did place  
In wise men's minds) are witnesses  
That nothing but the good o'th' State  
Brought me to be a Magistrate.  
Hence all my mischiefs grew, 'cause I  
With wicked men could not comply.  
The wicked ones I did offend;  
Though ne'er so great, I them contemned.  
I could not Conigastus brook  
When he the goods of poor men took.  
How oft Triguilla (though he were  
The King's great Houshold-officer)  
Have I restrained from ills before,  
Such as were passed made him restore?  
How often did I interpose  
My power, with hazard, to save those  
Who marked were for sacrifice  
By the Barbarians cruelties?  
No man did ever me withdraw  
From doing right: that without Law  
By Pillage and by Taxes rife  
The people suffered, was my grief,  
As much as theirs. Before the King  
In a great Famine I did bring  
The Praetor, urged the heavy rate  
Laid on Campania, and that State  
Saved from impov'rishing. I drew  
Paulinus Consul (when a crew  
Of ravening wolves did go about  
Him to devover) safely out.  
When Cyprian Albin did accuse,  
Him till his trial to excuse  
I did myself to th' hate expose  
Of his accuser. All these foes  
For others cause I now do prove.  
My safety then should others move,  
Since that there is no way for me  
Now left, by Courtiers to be free,  
'Cause I was good. But by what way  
Was my fall wrought? why, even they  
Who Basil had accused before,  
And him displaced, now being poor,  
They him did hire me to accuse.  
Opilio also they did use,  
And lewd Gaudentius, two that were  
For cheating banished, and for fear  
Did take Asyle; the King advised  
Did judge them to be stigmatised,  
If not soon gone: yet these 'gainst me  
Were heard: unheard-of cruelty!  
Was it my cause, or their offence,  
Made them so righteous evidence?  
Fortune (if not to see me blamed,  
At least so basely) was ashamed.  
But what great Crime? in short 'twas this;  
I wished the Senate's happiness.  
And how? I stood in the defence  
O'th' Senate, quashed the evidence  
Prepared to make them Traitors all.  
Now judge you whether that I shall  
Rather this heinous crime deny,  
And so shame thee, or justify  
It as a truth. I'll be no liar,  
I did and ever wilt desire.  
Shall I confess it an offence?  
I then must own the evidence.  
But was't a crime to wish them well?  
Their own Decrees 'gainst me do tell  
That it was so: but Folly's elf  
(Which ever does belly itself)  
Can't change the merit of the cause.  
Nor ought I by Socratic laws  
To hid the truth, or grant a :  
If so, then in what fault am I?  
But this to thee and all wise men  
I leave to judge; yet with my pen  
I'll write it down, that all may know,  
Present and future, what I do.  
Why should I name those Letters feigned,  
By which I falsely was arraigned  
The Roman liberty to hope?  
The craft of them had been laid ,  
If the confession▪ might that day  
(Which in all business most does sway)  
Of my accusers have been ta'en.  
'Las! hopes of freedom none remain.  
I well may wish, but answered had  
In Canius words, when it was said  
By Caius Caesar, he was one  
That wrought the Conjuration  
Which was contrived against him,  
If I had knowned ', thou hadst not been.  
But sorrow has not so me dulled,  
Only to whine because Vice would  
'Gainst Virtue strive: but I admire  
Her to o'ercome he should aspire.  
Weakness may prompt us unto ill:  
But that we should conceive our Will  
(God seeing) against Innocence  
Should conquer, monstrous is to sense.  
From hence one of your family,  
Not ill, thus reasoned, If there be  
A God, from whence does evil come?  
If none, whence good? but to come home,  
Grant wicked men, who sought the blood  
O'th' Senate, and of all were good,  
Sought mine, who did the Senate serve;  
From them too did I it deserve?  
When did I either say or do,  
But thou didst me instruct thereto?  
Thou knowst, not dreading danger, how  
The Senate's good I did avow,  
Whenas th'insatiate greedy King  
Did (at Verona) cause to bring  
Albinus Treason on them all,  
That in his guilt they all might fall.  
That all these things are true thou knowst,  
That of myself I ne'er did boast.  
For he does lessen his good name,  
Who by a brag does catch at fame.  
But see th'event: for Virtue true,  
I'm paid with what to th'Wicked's due.  
When free confession at a Bar  
Is made, those Judges cruel are  
Who humane frailty don't respect,  
Nor on false Fortune do reflect.  
Had I burnt Churches, killed the Priests,  
Made righteous blood run through the streets,  
Yet present I should have been tried;  
But now five hundred miles aside  
I by the Senateam condemned  
(Because that I did them defend)  
To death and to proscription.  
O worthy that ne'er any one  
Should so offend! but they did see  
Of my great guilt the dignity;  
Which for to blind they did allege,  
Falsely, that I by Sacrilege  
My conscience had defiled, t'attain  
My honours: but thou knowst that gain  
Of Worldly things thou far away  
Didst from my mind remove, nor may  
It be believed, who in thy sight  
Does live, can such a crime commit.  
This Pythagorean daily thou  
Into my ears and thoughts didst sow,  
FOLLOW THOU GOD: nor was it right  
That he should use an unclean sprite,  
Whose excellence thou mad'st so free,  
That like to God he seemed to be.  
At home my innocent Retreat,  
Of honest Friends the concourse great,  
The sweet society I held  
With holy Symmachus, dispelled  
Even suspicion of such crimes.  
But O the wickedness o'th' times!  
They with this crime did me asperse,  
'Cause with thy doctrine and manners  
I was replete: so not enough  
That thou no help shouldst me allow,  
But for me too thou shouldst be torn.  
One evil more not to be born  
Was, that most men did think it right,  
They not the Cause, but Fortune's spite  
Beholding, crying all things down  
But what th'Event does happy crown.  
Who Fortune leaves, it haps to those  
Their good esteem they first do lose.  
To think on't is vexation great,  
How busily the Vulgar treat.  
And 'tis most true, The heaviest weight  
Of adverse Fortune is, that straight  
Who is accused, and falls thereby,  
Is thought to suffer worthily.  
And I from my estate thrust out,  
Stripped of my honours, and no doubt  
Of my good name, thus suffer must  
For goodness punishments unjust.  
Besides, methinks I plainly see  
The wicked making jollity,  
And egging each trapanning knave,  
No matter how, the good t'enslave;  
Who by my fall deterred, do lie  
Open unto their villainy:  
Who dare do mischief 'cause that they  
Unpunished are, and will for prey.  
This to the innocent is hard,  
Not only for to be debarred  
Of safety, but of his defence.  
Then loud to cry is no offence.   

O thou most High,  
that sittest on thy eternal Throne,  
Who to th' whole Sky  
gav'st rules for it to move alone,  
That mad'st the Moon  
by th' Sun's reflex to shine so bright,  
Small Stars to drown,  
he from her hid, to lose her light.  
One Star thou mad'st  
t'attend the Sun each night new born,  
Which then invades  
the circle to bring up the morn.  
When Winter does  
the trees divest, to have short light;  
When Summer clothes  
them, than thou dost contract the night.  
Throughout the year  
the seasons ruled are by thy power:  
What's nipped by th' Bear,  
the West-wind's fresh again restore;  
And when benign  
Arcturus gravidates the earth,  
Then thou dost bring  
hot ripening Sirius to the birth.  
All things we see  
by thy fixed law thou dost direct;  
And can it be  
that Man alone thou shouldst neglect?  
How, or from whence,  
is't fickle Chance does him pursue,  
And Innocence  
receive the hire to th' wicked due?  
That wicked men  
set in high place the good deride,  
Whilst in a den  
bright virtue's forced her head to hid,  
And the Just man  
a villain's deemed, whilst perjuries  
Do him crapan,  
and neatly-close-composed lies?  
But if that they  
get strength, insulting they none spare,  
But make a prey  
of mighty Kings whom all do fear.  
Thou that guid'st all,  
behold this miserable Earth,  
And the no small  
part of it, Man, thy dearest birth.  
Fortune's his foe,  
but thy great power her rage can lay.  
Then us below,  
as thou above dost, rule we pray.   

When I with grief had this snarled out,  
She smiled, and nothing moved, No doubt  
(Said she) I made, when I did see  
Thee weep, thou wert in misery,  
And banished, but how far from home,  
Hadst thou not told me, I'd not known.  
But from your Country, as 've said,  
You are not banished, but have strayed.  
Or if you'd rather think it true,  
'tis you yourself has banished you:  
For no man living else could do't.  
Remember that your offspring's root  
Is not Athenian Anarchy,  
But in one King blest Monarchy,  
Who joys in many Subjects free,  
Does none thrust out, by's laws to be  
Guided, and's justice to obey  
Is the full sum of all we pray.  
Dost thou not of thy Country know  
The ancient law, the which does show  
That no man can be banished thence  
That there would make his residence?  
For who within its bounds does keep,  
Can't fear he can deserve to sleep  
In exile: but who would it quit,  
Quits therewithal desert and wit.  
So not the place, but thy disguise  
Me moves. For why? I do not prise  
Thy Library so richly wrought,  
But thy own Mind with Virtue's fraught,  
Which not of Books, but Knowledge great,  
I once with care had made the seat.  
Thou hast with truth spoke thy good will  
To th'common good, but with small skill  
Thou hast thy own deserts laid out.  
That thou art honest none do doubt:  
All know the falsehood they did use.  
Thou hast done well not to accuse,  
But gently, thy accusers hate,  
Because all tongues do it relate.  
Thou blamest the Senate's foul decree,  
Thou grievest they have accused me,  
Bewail'st the loss of my good name,  
And then Fortune dost exclaim.  
With bitterness thou dost complain,  
That virtue's recompensed with pain.  
At last thou thy sharp verse dost close  
With prayer, on earth, for heaven's repose.  
By all which plainly we may see  
Sadness and grief distracteth thee.  
So that in this mind thou art in,  
With easy things we must begin.  
Those perturbations that thee swell  
A gentle handling may dispel.  
So fitted them for to endure,  
With sharper medicines we'll thee cure.   

Who seasons does not know,  
But does i'th' Solstice sow,  
'Tis fit he should want Bread,  
And be with Acorns fed.  
No Violets you'll find,  
When Frost the earth does bind;  
Nor on the withered tree  
Fresh branches will you see.  
'Tis Autumn, all can tell,  
When Bacchus' clusters swell.  
God does unto each time  
A proper use assign;  
And it so fast has bound,  
Nothing can it confound:  
But what does it forsake,  
A sad account does make.   

With a few questions first must I,  
With your good leave, you move and try;  
That so I may know your disease.  
Ask me, said I, e'en what you please,  
I'll answer make. Then she replied,  
Dost think that Chance this world does guide?  
Or thinkest thou Reason does it rule?  
Then said I, I am no such fool  
To think rash Chance at all can move  
Such certainties; 'tis God above  
To his own work does sure preside,  
Nor will, nor have I it denied.  
'Tis true, said she, you so did sing  
When Man you grieved to be the thing  
Only from care Divine left out.  
But of the rest you made no doubt.  
And truly I do wonder how  
You can be ill, that this do know.  
But we will higher seek to find,  
For that I guests something's behind.  
Then tell me, since thou dost believe  
That God to th' world does order give,  
By what means does he govern it?  
I cannot frame an answer fit,  
Since scarce thy scope by me's conceived.  
Then I, said she, was not deceived,  
Thinking a breach was open left  
By which disturbances in crept.  
But canst thou tell of things the ends,  
Or unto what whole Nature tends?  
I've heard, but grief makes me forget.  
Dost know who all things did beget?  
Yes, God, said I. And how can't be  
That you the Rise, yet End don't see?  
Troubles of mind ('tis often found)  
Do man in's Reason much confound,  
But not destroy. Answer me than,  
Dost thou remember thou'rt a Man?  
Why yes, said I, most perfectly.  
And canst thou tell what 'tis to be  
A Man? Strange question asked, as though  
Me rational I did not know,  
And mortal too; I do confess.  
Dost thou, said she, know nothing else?  
Why, no: Then thy disease is plain,  
Self-ignorance does cause thy pain.  
And now the cause I have found out,  
Thee for to cure I do not doubt.  
Confounded by Oblivion vile,  
Thou grievest thy plunders and exile:  
Not knowing of all things the close,  
Thou vile men happy dost suppose:  
Forgetting how the world is swayed,  
Thou thinkest that Chance has thee betrayed.  
Not cause of Sickness hence alone,  
But Death itself may easily come.  
That yet thou dost in safety live,  
To God thou'rt bound thy thanks to give.  
Of Health a symptom great I find  
By th'sense thou hast of the world's mind,  
That Chance therein does not abide,  
But Godly Reason does it guide.  
Then do not fear, this spark so small  
In thee life's fire kindle shall.  
But for yet 'tis not time t'apply  
Strong remedies, therefore will I  
(Knowing by nature minds up take  
Opinions when they truth for sake,  
From whence Disturbances arise,  
And darken their truth-seeing eyes)  
This cloud of Errors dissipate,  
Or gently it attenuate.  
From falshood's darkness so set free,  
Truth's glorious splendour thou may'st see.   

In clouded sky  
the Stars no light can give.  
When Winds blow high,  
at Sea we scarce can live.  
A Flood down hill  
with ready current goes,  
But does stand still  
when Rocks do it oppose.  
So Truth's bright charms  
if thou wilt clearly see,  
Clouds, Rocks and Storms  
must first removed be.  
Nor Hope, nor Fear,  
nor Joy, nor Grief obey;  
Minds clouded are  
and. biased where these sway.    

THE SECOND BOOK.  

WHile silently on me she gazed,  
Her modesty my attention raised.  
Then she began; If truly I  
The causes of thy grief espy,  
Thy former Fortune thou dost grieve,  
The change of which thou dost believe  
Thy Mind has altered. I well know  
The many wiles of this siend foe.  
Most friendly she does ever use  
Those whom she most means to abuse,  
With saddest grief them casting down,  
When unexpected she does frown.  
But if thou wilt but lay to heart  
Her manners, nature, and desert,  
In her was nothing worth thy cost,  
Nor by her haste thou gained or lost.  
But this into thy mind to bring,  
I think will be an easy thing.  
With my wise say thou wert wont  
(When she thee courted) her to hunt.  
But nothing new does us come nigh  
Without the mind's reluctancy.  
Hence 'tis that thou a while art gone  
From thine own quiet station.  
But time it is that thou do take  
Some pleasing Cordials, thee to make  
More fit strong medicines to receive;  
Soft, sweet Persuasives I conceive,  
Which only then have their right use,  
When they our dictates don't abuse.  
With them let music's sweet delight  
Strike notes now solemn, and now light.  
What is't, I pray, has wrought this teen?  
Hast thou ought new, not heard of seen?  
If thou blamest Fortune for this change,  
Thou errest; her nature is to range:  
She her own law has kept with thee,  
In keeping Mutability.  
Such was she when she thee did lure,  
And with false joys did thee allure.  
Her double Deity to thee  
Discovered is, which few else see.  
And if you like her, don't complain;  
If not, then do thou her disdain.  
And this which now does thee oppress,  
Should cause thy ease and quietness.  
She thou has left; if not, 'tis sure  
Thou never couldst have been secure.  
Do fading joys so rich appear?  
Are Fortune's smiles to thee so dear?  
Why, thou canst neither trust her stay,  
Nor brook that she should go away.  
Then if that none can her retain,  
Nor let her go without great pain,  
What is this slippery Deity,  
But index of Calamity?  
For what time present does commend,  
Prudence regards not, but the End.  
And who both ways her nature meats,  
Nor kindness hopes, nor fears her threats.  
With a contented mind then bear  
What's done in Fortune's theatre,  
Since thou art under her command.  
For with what reason can it stand,  
She should not her own freedom use,  
Whom for thy mistress thou didst choose?  
Thou at thy Fortune may'st repine,  
But canst not change one stroke i' th' line.  
If Sails to th' winds committed are,  
The Ship no certain course can steer;  
Nor thou to thy designed Port go,  
But thither where the winds do blow.  
Thou sow'st thy ground good Corn to bear,  
But ofttimes comes a barren year.  
Fortune's thy Mistress, her obey.  
But thou her turning wheel wouldst stay.  
Fool of all fools! if once that she  
Stands still, she Fortune leaves to be.   

While thus with haughty pride she does run round,  
And like a torrent all does drowned,  
Cruel, she without awe on Kings does tread,  
And falsely smiling mounts the abject head.  
She hears no plaints, nor cares for pain,  
But laughs at them that do complain.  
Those who her trust she cousin's, by her power.  
Showing them blest and cursed the selfsame hour.   

But yet let Fortune have fair play,  
Then judge if ought but right she say.  
Why dost thou daily me accuse,  
O man? how do I thee abuse?  
What is't that from thee I have ta'en?  
Choose thy own Judge, 'fore him complain.  
Of Wealth and Honours me implead;  
I willingly will back concede  
All that thou ask'st, if it can be shown  
That any mortal them does own.  
When first to live thou didst begin,  
Naked and poor I took thee in:  
With my own goods I cherished thee,  
For which thou now dost rail at me.  
I brought thee up with tenderness,  
And with abundance did thee bless.  
Well; now from thee these things are rend:  
Be thankful I so long them lent;  
And not complain that thou art crossed,  
As if thy own goods thou hadst lost.  
No violence on thee does light;  
Wealth, Honours, Pleasures are my right;  
Me for their mistress they do own,  
With me they come, with me they're gone.  
Thou rashly dost to them lay claim,  
And falsely dost thy loss proclaim.  
Shall only I be barred my right?  
The Heavens we see do bring forth Light,  
And it again with Darkness hid.  
Each year the Earth decks as a bride,  
With Fruits, and Leaves, and Flowers gay;  
Then with chill Frosts nips them away.  
Calm Seas and quiet now entice,  
Now into horrid Storms do rise.  
Yet me (that fickle am by kind)  
Insatiate Man to him will bind.  
I, having power, i' th' world do play,  
And sporting turn a wheel always;  
Pleasing myself to see how I  
The high turn down, the low bring high.  
If thou do for thy pleasure climb,  
To throw thee down is my pastime.  
And yet no injury to thee,  
To use my own, I being free.  
Dost thou not know rich Croesus sat,  
Whom Cyrus great did fear of late,  
Himself had burnt in his rich tower,  
Had Heavens not quenched it with a shower?  
Hast thou forgot how pious Paul  
Did grieve his prisoner Perses fall?  
What do all Tragedies deplore  
But Fortune's turning Kingdoms o'er?  
When yet a youth, wert thou not taught  
That at Jove's threshold there were wrought  
Two Vessels, one replete with Ills,  
The other Goodness wholly fills?  
What if too much thou took'st of one,  
If yet from thee I am not gone?  
What if this change a just cause be  
That thou shouldst better hope of me?  
Then faint not, nor desire to be,  
Where all are subject, only free.   

If as the sands  
the Seas cast up on high,  
Or as the bands  
of Stars i' th' spangled sky,  
If so with Wealth  
rich plenty should us store;  
Yet want of pelf  
vain man would still deplore.  
If God each one  
Honours and Wealth should grant;  
Still they would moon  
Honours and Wealth to want.  
Rapine does still  
insatiately require:  
No bridle will  
hold in untamed desire.  
None have so much  
but still desire more:  
He's never rich  
that thinks that he is poor.   

If Fortune thus to thee should say,  
How couldst thou answer her, I pray?  
Now if thou canst thy plaints defend,  
Speak forth, and I'll attention lend.  
Then I; These are but specious shows,  
Music and Rhetoric, God knows,  
Which while we hear do only please;  
But to deep Griefs do give no ease.  
When from the ear the sound is gone,  
Grief more the heart does work upon.  
'Tis true, said she; these foments are  
Applied but only to prepare  
To cure thy unruly grief.  
But that which must bring thee relief  
Must deeper pierce, which I'll apply  
When 'tis fit time the same to try.  
To be in misery to profess,  
Is to forget thy Happiness.  
Thy Father dead thou wert took in  
By the chief men, and joined in kin  
(Alliance which is only good)  
First to their love, and then their blood.  
Who did not emulate thy joys  
Blest with such Father, Wife, and Boys?  
But these as common I pass by;  
Nor will I name the dignity  
With which thy Youth did Age excel:  
The top of thy blessed Hap I'll tell.  
If that in mortal things we see  
Aught that is blessed, can it be  
A cloud the light should so obscure  
That memory should not endure?  
When thy two Sons thou didst behold  
Carried from home, Consuls enrolled,  
The Senators them waiting on,  
And people's acclamation;  
When thou the King's praise didst dilate  
Before them placed in chairs of state;  
When thou 'twixt them, while throngs did press,  
Triumphal largess didst disperse:  
While Fortune thus did favour thee,  
While of her bounties she was free,  
While none so much her minion was,  
Thou her good words didst give, I guess.  
Let thee and Fortune reckon now.  
What though that she has bend her brow?  
Number thy Joys and Sadnesses,  
Thou happy yet will't thee confess.  
And if that thou do therefore moon,  
Because thy Joys are past and gone:  
Like reason bids thee mourning stay,  
Since sorrows also pass away.  
Art into th' world but newly come?  
Dost look here for Elysium?  
What's in this life of certainty,  
When every hour men do die?  
And could we Fortune's self insure,  
She could but until death endure.  
What difference then, whether by dying  
Thou leave her, or she thee by flying?   

When Phoebus galloping amain  
scatters his orient light,  
The lesser Stars to fly are fain  
from his all-dazling sight.  
When Zephyrus doth gently blow,  
the Earth a blush puts on;  
But ruffling Austere he doth throw  
death's paleness her upon.  
When courted with a gentle grace,  
the Seas are smooth and clear:  
But then put on an angry face,  
when Boreas does appear.  
If nothing in this world be sure,  
but all to change is bend;  
Trust if thou wilt to Fortune's lure;  
trust what's not permanent.  
But know that every thing that's made  
lies under this decree,  
To rise, to flourish, and to fade,  
and then no more to be.   

Lady of Virtues, than said I,  
All thou hast said is verity:  
A prosperous swift course I had,  
Which to remember makes me sad:  
For of all mischief that is seen,  
The worst is to have happy been.  
Opinion thee does vex, said she;  
From which the things themselves are free▪  
If the vain name of Loss thee stound,  
Let's see how much thou dost abound.  
If thou the best dost still retain,  
How canst thou of misfortune plain?  
If thou keep'st still of Fortune's store  
What is most rich, thou art not poor▪  
Thy Father, mankind's ornament,  
Best Symmachus, to Virtue bend  
And holy Wisdom, for whose health  
Thou wouldst lay down thy life and wealth,  
He safe from injuries does moon  
Thy miseries, as if his own.  
Thy Wife does live, commended high  
For modest wit and chastity;  
No more to say, her father's like,  
For thee does live, though in dislike  
Of life: in which one thing I grant  
Thou full felicity dost want;  
For that she wishing thy relief,  
Does pine away herself with grief.  
Thy Children, who have Consuls been,  
Maintain th' uprightness of their kin.  
Since Life then is the thing most rare,  
For which all mankind does take care;  
How blessed wouldst thou thyself confess,  
If thou knewest thy own happiness,  
Enjoying still, as't does appear,  
What then life's self is far more dear?  
Then cease to grieve, and things miscall,  
Since Fortune has not shipwreckt all.  
That Anchors stick, and sound's the Rope,  
Gives comfort now, and future hope.  
Pray God they hold, and still be sound;  
For if they hold, we shall not drowned.  
But thou dost see how we are torn,  
How overboard our goods are born.  
I'm glad, said she, thou moved art,  
And that thy grief is but for part.  
But I thy niceness can't digest,  
And plaints, 'cause thou'rt not wholly blest.  
For who so full content can find,  
That something won't displease his mind?  
Humane affairs still doubt procure,  
Or never gained, or never sure.  
One does abound, but's shamed by's Birth;  
Another Noble, wanteth earth.  
One stored with both wails single life:  
Another happy in a Wife  
Wants Children, and does grieve to see  
Another Child his Heir must be.  
Another having Children store,  
Grieves they are wicked, or else poor.  
So none with Fortune are content,  
But their Condition still lament.  
They're ignorant, her have not tried;  
And they that have, can't her abide.  
Add, those men that most happy are,  
Have quickest sense of their ill fare:  
If Fortune but a little frown,  
With smallest gusts they are cast down.  
An easy thing distracts the state  
Of those that are most fortunate.  
How many dost thou daily see,  
Would think themselves in heaven to be,  
If they the least part did possess  
Of that which yet thy life does bless?  
This place which thou call'st Banishment,  
The Natives live in with content.  
So nothing's ill, but what's so thought;  
And unless so, there's happy nought.  
Who is so happy, but (if he  
Once angry grow) a change would see?  
With what a world of bitterness  
Is seasoned humane happiness?  
Which though it please whileed does remain,  
Yet none could ever it retain.  
See then the miserable bliss  
That in all mortal things there is,  
Which stay not with those are content,  
Nor please the froward while they're lent.  
Why mortals then seek bliss without,  
The which within they need not doubt,  
Is for that Error them does drowned,  
And Ignorance does them confound.  
The centre of true bliss I'll show.  
Dost thou to any thing more owe  
Then to thyself? why, no: then why  
Enjoyest thou not thyself wholly?  
In doing so thou shalt enjoy  
What Fortune's self can't take away.  
And that these casual things do owe  
No Blessedness, thou thus may'st know.  
If Blessedness be the chief Good  
By Humane Reason understood,  
And that the chiefest Good is not  
Which does depend upon a lot;  
For that that same excel it must  
Which Chance nor Power out can thrust:  
'Tis manifest that Bliss is higher  
Than Fortune's fopp'ries can aspire.  
This more; Who Happiness does row,  
Or knows she'll change, or does not know.  
If he don't know, what blessedness  
Can be in ignorant blindness?  
And if he know, his fears are still  
He shall her lose, since go she will.  
So being in fear continually,  
'Tis sure he happy cannot be.  
And if her loss he can neglect,  
So that no way it him deject,  
'Tis a poor Bliss that will not cross  
Him that enjoys it, in the loss.  
But since by many ways thou'rt known  
To be a person who does own  
That humane minds not mortal are,  
And that this one thing more is clear,  
That Death this Happiness does end;  
Then if no further it extend,  
No doubt but all mankind that die,  
By Death fall into misery.  
But we have many known that have  
Sought Blessedness even in the grave,  
By Death not only, but have so  
By torments and afflictions too:  
Then in this Life what can us bless,  
Whose end only gives Blessedness?   

Who would him seat  
With caution great,  
Where is no fear  
That Winds should tear,  
Nor Waves that threat  
A downfall great;  
Let him not fly  
To Mountains high,  
Where Winds that blow  
May overthrow;  
Nor on Sands rear  
Which cannot bear:  
But set him down  
In a low ground,  
Where Winds that roar  
Can't turn him o'er.  
Thus quiet he,  
May happy be,  
Scorning their rage  
Throughout his age.   

But since that I these foments find  
Already sink into thy mind,  
I stronger medicines now will try.  
Grant Fortune's goods had certainty:  
What's in them that is worth the while,  
Or well considered is not vile?  
Are Riches thine, or of such count?  
Does Gold or Money so surmount?  
Why, in the spending, these by far  
(Then in th' acquist) more glorious are.  
Base Avarice is hated still;  
Bounty does mouths with praises fill.  
And since Wealth can with no man stay,  
Wealth's precious then when given away.  
For should one man keep all the store,  
All other men must needs be poor.  
Words without Cost all men may spare,  
But Riches spent diminished are.  
Why, then 'tis of necessity,  
Who parts with's Wealth, he poor must be.  
How poor a thing is Riches then,  
Which cannot be enjoyed by men?  
Nor without making many poor  
Can any man make up a store.  
Does Jewels lustre thee entice?  
If ought be in them of great price,  
'Tis from the Jewels, not the Men.  
Why so admired, I wonder then.  
What in a senseless thing can seem  
So fair, that Reason so't should deem?  
Which though they by creation are,  
In their degree, exceeding fair;  
Yet far below thee they are placed,  
Nor do deserve to be so graced.  
Do pleasant Fields else thee delight?  
Why not? no doubt 'tis a fair sight.  
So does the Sea delight the eye,  
The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Sky.  
But what are all these things to thee?  
Darest thou at all boast their beauty?  
Dost thou sweet May adorn with flowers?  
Is Earth made fertile by thy showers?  
Why of vain joys dost so much make?  
External, for thine own dost take?  
Fortune will never make that thine  
Which does by Nature thee decline.  
The Earth no doubt her fruits does bring  
To nourish every living thing.  
And if enough will thee suffice,  
Scorn Fortune's superfluities.  
Nature with little is content;  
And if on her there more be spent,  
'Twill or not please, or hurtful be  
With nauseous satiety.   

Dost thou delight for to appear  
In several Suits gorgeous and dear?  
If they at all the fancy raise,  
The stuff or Tailor has the praise.   

Will many Servants make thee blest?  
If bad, they are a household pest:  
If good, another's probity,  
Pray, what shall that redound to thee?  
By all which it is plainly shown,  
What thou countest thine is not thine own.  
And if no beauty be in these,  
Why should they anger thee, or please?  
And if by nature they are fair,  
And so thee please, what needest thou care,  
Since thou may'st all their beauty see,  
Though they possessed by others be?  
For they not precious are therefore,  
'Cause thou hast made them of thy store:  
But thou hast them in great esteem,  
Because that they do precious seem;  
And huntest them with great earnestness,  
For fear that want should thee oppress▪  
In this thou art deceived also,  
Since still thou want'st to make a show:  
For this of all hands we must grant,  
They that have most, they most do want.  
Who nature only would suffice,  
Cares not for superfluities.  
Have you no inward sweet content,  
On outward things you are so bend?  
Or how is your condition free?  
With a divine soul dost agree,  
To boast the glory of thy state  
In goods that be inanimate?  
Their own contents each other thing:  
But you, whose Mind from Heaven does spring,  
With low things would yourself adorn,  
Whereby you your Creator scorn.  
God would have Man all things excel:  
He, them to serve, himself does sell.  
For if that good more precious is  
Then that which does that good possess,  
And you base things your good esteem,  
You truly them to serve do seem.  
Which justly does upon you light,  
Of Man not having the foresight,  
To know, all things he does excel  
Whenas himself he does know well:  
And if himself he cease to know,  
He puts himself the Beasts below.  
For Ignorance the nature is  
Of Beasts, but 'tis of Man the vice.  
You do yourself but make a scorn,  
When you with what's not yours adorn.  
For what is seen we only prise;  
What's hid, in its own ordure lies.  
I do deny that good to be  
Which does the owner injury.  
Am I in this deceived, or no?  
I'm sure that thou wilt not say so.  
But oft who Riches do possess,  
By them are brought to heaviness.  
Since every rogue does think that he  
Has right to them as well as thee.  
And thou who now thy throat dost fear,  
And for false goods dost take such care,  
If thou those goods away wouldst fling,  
Before the Thief thou'dst leap and sing.  
Then worldly Wealth great joy has sure,  
While whoed enjoys can't be secure.   

Happy that Age  
who their own Fields did till;  
Can Hunger's rage  
with Acorns easily fill;  
Did not their Wine  
with honey mixed confound,  
Nor made them fine  
with Tyrian die unsound;  
Who on the grass  
did take their quiet rest,  
Drink Water was,  
and under Pines did feast:  
When dangerous Trade,  
which with it Wealth did bring,  
Was not yet made  
of Vice the fatal spring.  
No Trumpets did  
the Soldier's minds elate,  
No weapons hid  
in wounds through mortal hate.  
What could invite  
men then to kill and slay?  
For none would fight  
if it were not for pay.  
O would again  
those manners might return!  
But love of gain  
like Aetna's fire does burn  
Ah! who was he  
that first did treasures find?  
Man lived free  
they in their cells confined.   

Of powers and of dignities,  
Which you extol unto the skies,  
Not knowing truly what they are,  
I will unto thee now declare.  
If they in wicked hands do light,  
Not Aetna's flames can show such spite,  
Nor Inundations do such harm.  
Of this let Consuls power warn,  
Which first ta'en up for Liberty,  
So great a burden grew to be,  
Your Fathers sought to lay't aside,  
As Kings before were for their pride.  
And if by chance (as 'tis but rare)  
Honours conferred on good men are,  
What is in them that can delight  
But Courtesy and doing right?  
So that there is no honour due  
To Dignity without Virtue.  
For Virtue only does confer  
Honour on those in power are.  
And what is this desired thing?  
What does this glorious Power bring?  
Did you but see, you would deride  
Those poor things to which you preside.  
O things of Clay! if among Mice  
The itch of Honour should entice,  
And one for highest place should crowd,  
Would it not make you laugh aloud?  
For if the Body thou look on,  
What poorer thing is made then Man,  
Who oft destroyed is by a Fly,  
Whom oft a Worm does cause to die?  
Now none can greater power have,  
Then this poor Body to enslave,  
Or that which far inferior is,  
The goods of Fortune, fools chief bliss.  
For no man the free Mind commands,  
Nor moves, which firm on Reason stands.  
When once (we read) a Tyrant King  
By cruel torments sought to bring  
A bold free spirit to relate  
Who with him did confederate,  
With's teeth he did his tongue displace,  
And threw it in the Tyrant's face.  
So to his virtue bravely he  
Did turn the Tyrant's cruelty.  
What to another can one do  
That he himself's not subject to?  
Busiris who his guests did kill,  
His blood great Hercules did spill.  
And Regulus, who oft in bands  
The Poeni led, they bond his hands.  
Then what great power is in man,  
Who his own harms not hinder can?   

Again, if that in Dignities  
Any essential good there lies,  
The wicked could not them attain:  
For these are rules that are certain,  
Things naturally contrary,  
And things opposed cannot agree.  
Since bad men than we see oft-time  
Unto these dignities to climb,  
We may affirm in them to be  
No good, they do so well agree.  
So may be put on the same score  
The rest of Fortune's goodly store;  
For that most often they them share  
Who of all men most wicked are.  
These things may be considered too:  
They valiant are, valiantly do;  
Who's swift, we nimble-footed call;  
And Music makes men musical;  
Physic Physicians, a sweet tongue  
To Rhetoricians does belong.  
Nature gives all in all respects  
What's proper, not contrar' effects.  
And in all things that are her due  
All opposition does eschew.  
But Wealth can't Avarice repel;  
Nor Power make him not to swell,  
Whom vicious lusts do strongly bind  
In fetters not to be untwined.  
And Dignities which bad men gain  
Make them not worthy, but the stain  
Of their unworthiness does show.  
That this is so, we come to know  
Because to things a name you rear  
Which their effects will no way bear.  
For these are neither Wealth, nor Might,  
Nor Dignities so called of right:  
But if their right names they do bear,  
They are Vexations, Trouble, Care.  
Lastly, who's wise the like concludes  
Of all false Fortune's interludes,  
In which, as it is manifest,  
There's nothing good, nought that makes blest:  
Which neither to good men are sent,  
Nor make them good to whom they're lent.   

What ruins did he make  
that Rome did fire,  
The Fathers brought to stake,  
and to aspire  
His Brother's blood caused spill,  
Mother to die,  
That he might gaze his fill  
where he did lie!  
Ah! cruel sure was he,  
without a tear  
Her entrails torn could see  
that did him bear.  
Yet this man did bear sway  
from the Sun's rise,  
Unto where ends the day  
i' th' western skies;  
From where congealed to ice  
men wine do eat,  
To where the world not nice  
stark naked treat.  
And would this power vast  
his mind assuage?  
No; he with sword did waste,  
with poison rage.   

Thou knowst, said I, Ambition ne'er  
To worldly greatness did me rear.  
But being stored with Learning, I  
Thought fit in silence not to die.  
Then she replied, This is the thing  
That oftentimes great wits does bring  
(Even such as at high virtue aim)  
To hazard all on Fortune's game.  
Desire of Glory and high place  
Puts on a seeming lovely face:  
But how they vile, nay nothing are,  
By what I'll show will plain appear.  
First then, by demonstrations all  
Which we call Astrological,  
'Tis plain, to heaven's vast extent  
The whole Earth's bulk is but a point,  
So small, that to the Globe if we  
Compared, it nothing seems to be.  
Of this small point not the fourth part  
(Well known by Geometric art)  
With living creatures planted is.  
From whence take Lakes, and Bogs, and Seas:  
Consider this, thou wilt find then  
There's scarce an atom left for Men.  
Then if of this small point thou art  
Shut up within the smallest part,  
How poor a thing is thirst of Fame,  
Or perpetrating of a Name?  
Or how can Glory great be found  
Cooped up within so narrow bound?   

Next let us add this one thing more▪  
This little point is filled with store  
Of Nations, who all are at strife  
In manners, language, course of life:  
'Mongst whom Fame is not greatly spread,  
'Cause commerce is prohibited,  
Travel is hardly undergone,  
And to be tongue-ty'd's vexation.  
Then for a single Man a name  
To get, is hard, when Towns want fame.  
Tully in his time does relate,  
The fame of Rome was not dilate  
Beyond mount Caucasus, yet she  
Then the World's Mistress seemed to be.  
Thou than dost see how straight and poor  
The glory is thou labourest for.  
That fame, dost think, Rome could not gain,  
One Roman should to it attain?  
Besides, as Nations divers are,  
Their Laws and manners differ far:  
For what one people think worth praise,  
Another with chastisement pays.  
So that whoever takes delight  
In Fame's high busie-winged flight,  
(Which in most Countries can't have vent,)  
Let home-spread glory him content.  
That Fame called Immortality  
Must in one Nation tethered be.  
More famous men forgot have died  
Then are by Writers dignified.  
Or can Records eternize men?  
No; Time consumes Writers and them.  
But you immortal call that same  
Which is indeed but future fame.  
Consider but th'infinity,  
Of ever-blessed Eternity,  
And you will find the joy you seek  
Is not a mote in a bright week.  
Ten thousand Years let be the case,  
With it compare one Moment's space;  
Yet definite both spaces are,  
Though small, they some proportion bear.  
Then multiply this manifold,  
Yet no comparison will hold.  
Finite things 'mong themselves may be  
Compared, not with Infinity.  
Then though that time do fame long spare,  
It with Eternity compare,  
Thou'lt find it is not only small,  
But seemeth not to be at all.  
But you think nought can you commend,  
If vulgar praise don't it attend.  
Conscience nor Virtue you regard;  
From vulgar mouths you seek reward.  
Learn how he truly did deride  
One swelled with this vainglorious Pride.  
Injuriously he did contend  
With one who Virtue did pretend,  
Called himself a Philosopher:  
And now, said he, it shall appear  
Whether that name you rightly use,  
And more and more did him abuse.  
All which he patiently did bear,  
Seeming no whit for it to care.  
At last insultingly said he  
Now that 'tis true you plainly see.  
But bitingly he did reply,  
Thy foolish tongue does thee descry.  
But at what is't brave men do aim,  
Such as by Virtue only claim?  
(For these are only worth my breath)  
What is't that they gain after death?  
For if (the which we credit not)  
Men in the Grave do wholly rot,  
No Glory sure the Grave retains,  
If nought of him whose 'tis remains.  
But if a soul unspotted, free  
From this Earth's prison upward flee,  
Enjoying Heaven, she'll despise  
All earthly sought-for vanities.   

Who headlong does  
upon vainglory run,  
And does suppose  
chief Good to build thereon,  
Let him behold  
the spacious Heaven fair,  
And the pinfold  
of Earth with it compare:  
And if with Fame  
this spot he cannot fill,  
He will with shame  
condemn his towering will.  
Why should fond Pride  
its self aim for to free  
From that which tried  
no mortal man can be?  
Though Fame do fly  
to Regions far remote,  
With titles high;  
death Glory values not.  
But high and low  
suffer alike Death's groans.  
Who now can show  
Faithful Fabricius bones?  
Where's Brutus wit,  
and rigid Cato's care?  
In some small script  
'tis only said, they were.  
Then by Records  
a Name is only shown,  
A toy of words,  
the Man lies still unknown.  
But thee to quell,  
if thus to live thou choose,  
Let me thee tell,  
a second Death pursues.   

But lest that thou shouldst think that I  
Am Fortune's utter enemy;  
I'll grant there is a time that she  
Deserves of men esteemed to be,  
When she herself does open lay.  
Well understand me what I say:  
For 'tis a wonder I relate,  
The which I scarce can explicate.  
To be great truth I do aver,  
Then Good, Bad Fortune's better far.  
For She deceives most certainly  
In promising Felicity:  
But This does Fortune truly show  
Inconstant, changing to and fro.  
She falsely cheating men does fool;  
But This presides in wisdome's school,  
She does men's minds in fetters bind,  
Falsely pretending to be kind;  
But This from bondage sets them free  
By making known th' uncertainty.  
So One you see to be a blast,  
The Other sober and steadfast:  
One foolishly deceived with lies,  
The Other grown by practice wise.  
In fine, the Happy man still strays  
From the direct into byways:  
Whereas the Other to the right  
Reduces men by a clear light.  
And dost thou think it a small thing,  
That this harsh fortune thee does bring  
To know who faithful is to thee,  
Discovers false friends treachery?  
She parting, with her goes her train;  
But thy true friends do still remain.  
This to have known at how dear rate  
Wouldst thou have bought when fortunate?  
Then leave to moan that thou hast lost  
Thy Wealth, since thou canst truly boast  
That thou thy faithful Friends canst tell,  
Which does all Treasure far excel.   

Constant though, the world  
Change does evermore;  
Seeds i'th' earth though hurled,  
Forced are to restore;  
Phoebus to make Day  
Riding gloriously,  
Phoebe for to sway,  
The small light o'th' sky;  
Seas bounded to be,  
Though the Earth above:  
This rare Concord he  
Made that is all Love.  
Let him lose the rain,  
All things Love combine,  
Hurry do amain  
To wars intestine:  
Social Loves are lost  
Which fair order keep,  
And the World is tossed  
As Ships in the deep.  
People joined in peace,  
He for them does care:  
Jarrs he makes to cease  
'Twixt the Married pair.  
Laws he does prescribe,  
Binding faithful friends,  
Which them fairly guide  
Unto honest ends.  
Happy are they sure  
That thus guided are  
By that Love so pure  
Guides the Heaven's fair.    

THE THIRD BOOK.  

HER Song did so much ravish me,  
That stupefyed I seemed to be.  
But recollecting, O thou blessed,  
Said I, reducer unto rest!  
How have these thy instructions free  
And pleasant singing cherished me?  
So that henceforth I think I shall  
Fell Fortune's strokes not fear at all.  
And those Remedies the which thou  
Both harsh and bitter called'st but now,  
I do not henceforth hate to prove,  
But cordially I them do love.  
Then she replied, When I did find  
That thou didst my instructions mind,  
Then did I know thou wouldst comply  
Not onl' in form, but seriously.  
Those which remain that nature bear,  
Tasted they by't, sweet swallowed are.  
But that which thee does now invite  
With so much pleasure and delight,  
How much wouldst thou it more intent  
If thou the scope didst comprehend?  
Why, what's the final drift? said I.  
What? perfect true Felicity;  
Which thou dost dream for to attain,  
But cheated art with fancies vain.  
Then I replied, I th' humbly pray  
Me this to show without delay.  
Most willingly I will, said she:  
But first I must declare to thee  
Things contrary, that thou thereby  
Mayst know true Bliss more perfectly.   

Who will a good Ground till,  
All Weeds he first must kill,  
And then most certainly  
He shall grow rich thereby.  
Who sweet would taste, he must  
His palate first disgust.  
Stars than do shine most bright  
When darkest is the Night.  
And when Morn does appear  
The Sun does shine most clear.  
So thou from darkness free,  
Most clearly then wilt see;  
Dark Error laid aside,  
Bright Truth will be thy guide.   

Then she a while did six her eye,  
Her thoughts retiring inwardly.  
At last, O how are men, she said,  
With many cares disquieted?  
All several ways do play their game,  
Yet all at the same End do aim;  
That is, chief Good, which I define  
To be Man's ultimate design:  
The which indeed the chief Good is,  
All others being comprised in this▪  
But if in all it don't agree,  
The chiefest Good it cannot be;  
For that there's something left without  
The which may cause desire and doubt.  
By which 'tis evidently shown,  
Chief Good has all Perfection.  
This for to get, men sev'rally,  
As I have said, themselves apply:  
To which men's minds most certainly  
Have natural propensity;  
But Error makes men to esteem  
What is not such, so such it seem.  
So Plenty some esteem the ground,  
Thence toil in Riches to abound.  
Others high Honours and great Place,  
Not spoke to, but, If't please your Grace.  
Others with Power and Command  
To rule do love, or near to stand.  
But who of Fame make most account,  
In Peace and War seek to surmount.  
Many in Mirth chief Good would find;  
These to all Pleasures are inclined.  
There are which seek for to acquire  
All these with different desire.  
As some do Riches love, only  
That Power and Pleasure they may buy.  
Some Power seek, thereby to gain  
Great Riches or a lasting Name.  
To these or other the like end  
All humane actions do intent:  
As Honour or a popular name,  
Thereby for to advance a fame;  
A Wife and Children pleasure bring.  
But Friendship's such a holy thing,  
Not to be named in Fortune's throng,  
To Virtue onlyed does belong.  
All other things do men invite  
For Power, or else for Delight.  
All goods o'th' Body easily  
To what is said referred may be.  
As Strength and all proportions fair  
An active body do declare:  
Beauty and bold Activity  
Do give Renown; Health, Jollity.  
By all which, all may plainly see,  
All men do seek Felicity.  
For what each man does most prefer,  
That his chief Good he does declare.  
But we chief Good define to be  
Beatitude. Then blest is he  
(At least so to himself does seem)  
Enjoys what he does most esteem.  
Lo then what 'tis that does express  
The All of humane Happiness;  
Wealth, Honour, Power, Glory, Pleasure.  
Which only by the Epicure  
Considered, made him to decree  
Pleasure his chiefest Good to be;  
For that from's mind each other state  
Seemed all delight to alienate.  
But to men's studies I'll revert,  
Which though they do their minds pervert,  
Yet still chief Good is the design.  
But as a man o'ercome with wine  
Cannot find his direct way home;  
So Self-conceit them overcome.  
But how can they be said to err,  
Who not to want do endeavour?  
For is there any state more blest  
Then that with Plenty is possessed,  
Which not on others does depend,  
And which its own self can defend?  
Or can those men be said to err,  
Who still the best things do prefer?  
No; for can that an ill be thought  
Which by all mortal men is sought?  
Must Power not be counted good?  
Must feeble it be understood  
Which does all other things surmount?  
Must Fame too be of no account?  
Why, all men must acknowledge this,  
What most excels most famous is.  
I were a fool, if I should tell  
This Blessedness does so excel,  
That it nor trouble has nor care,  
Nor subject is to grief or fear;  
When smallest things for to acquire  
That bring delight, men do desire.  
Hence 'tis they Riches do procure,  
Power, Rule, Glory, and Pleasure;  
That by these things they may obtain  
Respect, Delight, and splendid Fame.  
That it is Good than it is plain,  
That men do hunt with so much pain.  
To which how Nature does impel,  
Demonstratively all may tell;  
Since though to various studies bend,  
In this End, Good, they all consent.   

Kind Nature the whole World does guide,  
with Gordian knot does bind,  
Does certain Laws for it provide,  
Which now to warble is my mind.   

Although the Libyan Lions are  
with easy fetters bound,  
And take their meat at hand, and fear  
Their angry Master's whip and frown:   

Yet if they once do taste of gore,  
their nature then is seen;  
They hideously do yell and roar,  
And tear the ground, and fiercely grin.   

Then scorning both the whip and call,  
themselves they do untie,  
And on their Masters they do fall,  
Tearing them piecemeal greedily.   

The Bird used on the trees to sing,  
if he in cage be penned,  
Though best of dainties you him bring,  
Yet to his nature he will bend.   

And if that once he do get out,  
and in the woods be free,  
All your enticements he will flout,  
And chant his tunes melodiously.   

If that by force a tender Plant  
be made to ground to bend,  
Do you but once let lose your hand,  
It upward presently will tend.   

The Sun each night falls in the West,  
yet still he does return,  
Leaving all mortals to their rest,  
Till he again salutes the Morn.   

All things obliged are by this law,  
and joy thereto to bend;  
All do a perfect circle draw,  
Join their beginning with their end.   

So faintly you, O sons of Earth,  
Yet truly fancy your first birth;  
And the true ends of Bliss foretold,  
Though darkly, in each thought behold▪  
Nature to good all men does lead,  
But various Error does misled.  
Consider if the course men tend  
Can bring them perfect Bliss i'th' end.  
For if that Wealth or Honour can,  
Or ought like, make a happy man,  
Then we'll confess they happy are  
Who do of these get greatest share.  
But if that they their promise scant,  
If much of what is good they want,  
Do they not openly confess  
They bring but a false Happiness?  
First thee I will interrogate,  
Who didst with Wealth abound of late.  
With all that Wealth didst ever find  
Thou couldst possess a quiet Mind?  
'Tis true; my Mind was never free,  
But something still did trouble me.  
Was it not 'cause thou couldst not have  
Something thy Lust or Will did crave;  
Or else because thou couldst not get  
Rid of what fain thou wouldst be quit?  
'Tis true, said I. Then the presence  
Of this thou soughtest, of that th' absence.  
I do confessed. And does not he  
Want who still does desire? said she.  
'Tis true, said I. Then she replied,  
Who wants can't for himself provide.  
Why not, said I. And thou when rich  
Didst suffer this tormenting itch.  
I did. It seems that Wealth than can't  
Or give sufficient, or bar want.  
Yet this it promised. Nay, what's worse,  
Money in'ts nature has that curse,  
That none to keep it has the skill,  
But 'twill away against his will.  
I it confess. How canst deny't,  
When daily it is forced by might?  
Hence 'tis so many are outlawed  
For Monies kept by might or fraud.  
'Tis true. Then Wealth does want, said she;  
And to be kept must guarded be.  
I grant. But none this guard would have  
Were't not his Money for to save.  
No doubt. The case is altered then:  
For whereas Wealth was thought by men  
Sufficient all things to upbraid,  
Itself does want fewer aid.  
But is there any means that may  
This Want from Riches drive away?  
Can Hunger, Wealth, or Thirst endure?  
Or Winter's Cold can Riches cure?  
Yes, Wealth has power, you will say,  
Thirst, Hunger, Cold to drive away.  
'Tis true, thus Wealth may bring supply  
To Want, but not make't not to be.  
If Want with Wealth must be supplied,  
And never will be satisfied;  
If Want do always gape and crave,  
Wealth is to Want a very slave.  
A little Nature will suffice,  
But there's no bound to Covetise.  
Then if that Wealth can't Want confounded,  
Nay if that Wealth makes Want abound,  
What Devil is't possesses thee,  
To think Wealth has sufficiency?   

Though the Rich man  
With Gold abound,  
Yet no Wealth can  
Desire bound.  
Though rich adorned  
With nations spoil,  
Hundred beefs horned  
Do till his soil;  
Yet Care will still  
Oppress his mind:  
So makes his Will,  
Leaves all behind.   

But Dignity does this afford,  
Makes honourable and adored:  
And Magistrates no power want  
To root out Vice, and Virtue plant.  
But they do not Vice abrogate,  
But Vices more accumulate.  
Whence 'tis that we do oft misprise  
The wicked that to Greatness rise.  
Catullus Nonius Scab did call,  
Though placed i'th' chair Magisterial▪  
Dost thou not see how Dignity  
Does add unto the infamy  
Of wicked men, which less would show  
If Honours did not make it grow?  
Thou didst refuse to be elate  
Unto the glorious Chair of state,  
If Decorate were with thee joined,  
When thou didst see his sordid mind.  
For Honours we can't him respect  
Who of himself deserves neglect.  
But if a man with Wisdom we  
And Goodness do replenished see,  
We give him all the honours due  
To sacred Wisdom and Virtue;  
In whom alone it is innate  
Her goodnesses to propagate.  
Which worldly Honours cannot do,  
For that no proper good they ow.  
Again, if that a gen'ral scorn  
Does make men sordid and forlorn,  
Then Honours that don't bring Respect,  
Must bring Contempt and sore neglect.   

If Honours make men evil fare,  
Bad men with Honours even are,  
While they the Honours do defile.  
But further, listen yet awhile,  
And thou shalt see this painted place  
Can give small comfort, no true grace.  
'Mong the Barbarians let be seen  
A man that oft has Consul been,  
They won't with reverence 'bout him throng:  
But if to th' place it did belong,  
It would not cease the same to be  
In any Nation or Country;  
As Fire is in all parts Fire.  
But for their Worth does rise no higher  
Then what Opinion does it give,  
It therefore can no longer live,  
When it does come for to be seen  
'Mongst them who Honours don't esteem.  
And do they any better fare  
At home, whence they derived are?  
The Praefectship of old had power,  
Now but a Name and burden sour.  
Who for the people did provide,  
Was much esteemed, now vilifyed;  
For that some bad men were accused,  
That they that honour had abused.  
But as before I have made known,  
That Honour proper good has none,  
But from Opinion takes repute,  
As men the same do execute:  
If Honours then don't give respect,  
If ev'ly used they cause neglect,  
If change of times do them deface,  
And if Opinion them disgrace,  
If in themselves no beauty be,  
What pleasure can they give to thee?   

Though Nero fell,  
Proud and cruel,  
his body did adorn  
With Tyrian silk,  
Stones white as milk,  
he was the people's scorn.  
Though he did grace  
Proud men with place  
the Senate to keep under,  
Yet for to guests,  
Honours could bless  
by him bestowed, 's a wonder.   

Can Kingdoms than make men be great?  
Or can King's favours men elate?  
Why not, if they would always be?  
But these to change we oft do see.  
Time's past and present do show clear  
To Misery King's subject are.  
Is not that Power then most vain  
Which its own self cannot sustain?  
And if that Kingdoms make men blest,  
Of it the loss does them divest.  
Nay, if in Rule they are confined,  
Why, that brings trouble to their mind.  
There is no universal Crown,  
The vastest Kingdom has a bound:  
Where others power does it pin,  
There does anxiety begin,  
And makes them hapless; by which count  
Kings ill their good does far surmount.  
The which a Tyrant having tried,  
Great Princes fears he did deride,  
By pointing down a Sword i'th' air,  
Hung by a slender threatening hair.  
Is not then Power a fine thing,  
That can't of fear remove the sting?  
Who would, but can't, securely rest,  
How by their Power are they blest?  
And wouldst not thou that Power upbraid  
Which would, but cannot, be obeyed?  
Canst thou him mighty think to be,  
Who if not guarded is not free;  
Who, though to him they reverence bear,  
Yet he of them stands still in fear;  
Who with great Power to be graced,  
I'th' hands of Servants must be placed?   

And can Kings favours any save,  
When Kingdoms so much weakness have?  
These, oft disfavour do throw down,  
And oft they perish with the Crown.  
Think but how Seneca once fell,  
Whom cruel Nero did compel  
To choose his death; yet he had been  
Both Friend and Master unto him.  
And did not Antoninus send  
His Soldiers for to make an end  
Of Papinianus, whom before  
He favoured, Courtiers did adore?  
Both these their Power would have quit;  
And Seneca (if he'd thought fit)  
His wealth to Nero had resigned,  
And privately himself confined.  
But Greatness did them both destroy,  
Nor a poor wish could they enjoy.  
Is not then Power a fine thing,  
Which Fear to th' owner still does bring;  
Which is not safe to be enjoyed,  
Nor laid aside can harms avoid?  
What trust in such a Friend can be  
Who only c●●rts Prosperity?  
If Adverse fortune comes, than he  
Of Friend soon proves an Enemy.  
What greater plague can Pluto send,  
Then the feigned smiles of a false Friend?   

Who would be Great must his own Passions rule,  
Must not submit himself to be  
By Lusts enthralled, that should be free.  
Though he commands from Ind to farthest Thule,  
Yet if Care conquer him and plaints,  
He subject is, and Power wants.   

How false and filthy too is Fame!  
Which made the Tragic Bard exclaim,  
O Glory, Glory, for thy hire  
thou'rt cursed by those did thee desire.  
For many men have gained a Name  
By vulgar, false-opinioned Fame:  
Then which what can more base appear,  
When they must blush their praise to hear?  
But though the people true Worth sing,  
What to a Wise man does this bring,  
Who seeks not good by popular fame,  
But a good Conscience makes his aim?  
Then if a Name to propagate  
Men purchase would at so great rate;  
They sure would think't great injury  
Should not this Name extended be.  
But, as before I have declared,  
From many Nations is debarred  
A private Fame: nay more, what here  
Praiseworthy is, is slighted there.  
But I this windy popular Fame  
Do not think worthy for to name,  
Which without judgement is up blown,  
And lasts not to be called one's own.  
And now who is't that does not see  
How vain a thing's Nobility,  
Whose Glory, if we rightly weigh,  
Is not his own does it enjoy?  
Nobility that is not new,  
Is praise that is to Parents due.  
If Praise it be that Fame does give,  
They who are praised in Fame do live.  
Then if thy own Worth thee don't praise,  
Another's Worth cannot thee raise.  
Which since 'tis so, the good that is  
In Nobleness is only this;  
That he that's born of high estate,  
Is bound not to degenerate.   

All humane kind living,  
From one beginning spring,  
One governs every thing,  
the Father high.  
He made the Sun so bright,  
To th' horned Moon gave light,  
Made Earth of Men the site,  
set Stars i'th' sky.  
In Man he, him to grace,  
A heavenly Soul did place;  
So of a noble race  
all mortals are.  
From whence then is this cry,  
I'm born of Parents high?  
Each man i'th' Deity  
has equal share,  
Unless that he with vices base and foul  
Degrade his noble high-descended Soul.   

Of Luxury what shall I say,  
Whose appetite bears greatest sway?  
Yet not without anxiety,  
And 's cursed in the satiety.  
What sad diseases does it bring?  
What horrid pains do from it spring,  
As 'twere the fruits that it does bear?  
I skill not in these pleasures rare.  
But all shall find, them don't refrain,  
That Pleasure's end is certain pain.  
And if that these can make men blest,  
I see no cause t'exclude the Beast.  
Who wholly does himself apply  
These Pleasures for to satisfy.  
But of all Pleasures of this Life,  
The best is Children with a Wife.  
Yet feelingly one did repeat,  
My Children are my torments great.  
There's no Condition this can free,  
Thou long hast tried it true to be.  
That saying of Euripides  
I do acknowledge me does please,  
Who did proclaim Sterility  
A happy Infelicity.   

All Pleasure has this great malignity,  
To wound and to torment who have it had,  
like to the Bee,  
Who having lost her Honey does grow mad,  
And stings and swells the robbers, though she die.   

Then surly there is no doubt  
But who goes this way, does go out  
Of's way to Blessedness, nor can  
These Goods him render Happy man.  
Nay, these are Ills, I'll briefly show.  
Dost thou endeavour Rich to grow?  
Thou from another it must gain.  
Wouldst thou to Dignities attain?  
Thou must beseech the giver's grace,  
And to excel, thyself debase.  
Dost thou desire Power to have?  
Thou makest thyself to plots a slave.  
If thou great Glory do procure,  
Envy thee renders unsecure.  
Wouldst thou a life of Pleasure lead?  
Who would not Luxury down tread,  
And think it base to have his Mind  
To so base service be confined?  
And who the body's Beauty prize,  
How build they on uncertainties?  
Can they the bulk o'th' Elephant,  
Bull's strength, or Tiger's swiftness vaunt?  
See Heaven's firmness, space, and fire,  
Then leave these low things to admire.  
Nor yet are these worth thy least thought  
With him compared that them wrought.  
Then Beauty is but a frail thing,  
More fading than the Floweri'th ' Spring.  
Of which learned Aristotle cries,  
If one could see with Lynceus eyes,  
And with those eyes could penetrate  
The entrails nasty sordid state,  
The fair-framed Alcibiades  
Would the beholder nothing please.  
Thou canst not then thy Nature prize,  
But the infirm beholders eyes.  
〈◊〉 of thy Body be as proud  
〈◊〉 thou canst wish, so't be allowed  
That three day's Fever can destroy  
The thing in which you so much joy.  
From which we briefly may collect,  
These Goods which promise such respect,  
Nor can their promise keep, nor show  
That they do any goodness owe;  
So that they men nor bring to rest,  
Nor are at all, men by them blest.   

O how does Ignorance  
Erroneous ways advance!  
You seek not Trees for Gold,  
Nor Vines for crystals cold:  
You do not climb a Hill  
Fishes with nets to kill,  
Nor go to th' Ocean clear,  
To hunt the Fallow-deer.  
You careful are to know  
The times of ebb and slow;  
And in what coasts are bred  
White Pearls, where Coral red;  
What part o'th' Sea the Fin,  
What Shellfish does lie in.  
But what you most should mind,  
Chief Good, in that y'are blind:  
And seek for that below,  
Which 'bove the Stars does grow.  
They're cursed not to be wise,  
Who Wealth and Honour prize;  
Which when with pain 've got,  
Then Goods they know they're not.   

The forms of false Felicity  
As yet I've only showed to thee;  
Which if that thou do clearly know,  
I will true Bliss now to thee show.  
I see, said I, that no Wealth can  
Sufficient be for any man;  
No Kingdoms, howsoever great,  
Can give a Power that's complete;  
No Dignities, full Reverence;  
Nor Glory, wished for Eminence:  
No Pleasures can give Perfect Bliss.  
knowst thou the causes of all this?  
Methinks I see a glimmering:  
But you a clearer light may bring.  
The reason's plain; for that 'tis tried  
That humane Error does divide  
What's simple, perfect, and what's true,  
And it to Falsehood gives as due.  
Dost thou think what's in nothing scant,  
That the same thing can power want?  
Why not, said I. Thou thinkest then right:  
For if in aught it want full might,  
In that 'tis of necessity  
It must by others succoured be.  
That's true. Then the condition  
Of Power and Enough's all one.  
So't seems. What thinkest thou then? is't sit  
To slight this, or to honour it?  
Why, it to honour, there's no doubt,  
Since best of things it brings about.  
Why then, unto Sufficiency  
And Power let's add Dignity,  
And then these three but one appear.  
We must it add, if truth we'll hear.  
And now, said she, thinkest thou that this  
Obscure and base, or famous is?  
Consider too (since you do grant  
That is most glorious nought does want,)  
Whether this Glory▪ do want Fame,  
Which to itself it cannot frame,  
And so does seem to come below.  
I must needs grant it Famous too.  
Why then, in this we must agree,  
Fame differs not from th'other three.  
We must. Then that which nought does want,  
That which in Power is not scant,  
That which has Fame and Glory high,  
That is most pleasant certainly.  
But see, said I, I no way can,  
How Grief should seize on such a man.  
No; by what's said, we must confess  
That man does perfect joy possess.  
And this too's of necessity.  
Power, Fame, Respect, Sufficiency,  
And Pleasure, have a several name,  
But all in substance are the same.  
'Tis true, 'tis of necessity.  
Then this you'll grant, man's pravity  
Divideth what is simple, pure:  
Which while he strives for to procure  
By part, the which no parts contains,  
Nor whole nor part to him remains.  
How's this? said I. Who Wealth would have,  
Flies Want, but Power does not crave;  
Had rather live obscure and vile,  
From all delights himself exile,  
Then part with what he cannot hold,  
His dear-beloved darling, Gold.  
But by these means, most certainly,  
No man can have Sufficiency;  
Whom Power leaves, or Cares molest,  
Or Baseness hides, can have no rest.  
Again, who would to Power rise,  
Wastes Wealth, and Glory does despise;  
And without Power, Honour too  
Nor Pleasures can at all him woe.  
And yet when he has all his will,  
There's many things he wanteth still.  
Sometimes he Necessaries wants,  
Sometimes is vexed with Cares and Plaints;  
Of which since he can't rid his mind,  
He wants that Power he designed.  
With the same reason we may measure  
All Honour, Claritude, and Pleasure.  
For since that every one's the same  
With all the rest, he is to blame  
Does unto any one aspire,  
Losing thereby his own desire.  
What then? said I. If one address  
Himself to all, can they him bless?  
No, we have showed they cannot do't,  
Since they their promise can't make good.  
Nor can they Bliss bring to effect,  
Since each has singly his respect.  
I do confess that nothing can  
Then this be truer taught to man.  
The causes then and form, said she,  
Thou see'st of false Felicity.  
Now bend thy mind but contrary,  
And thou true Bliss shalt soon espy.  
When thou the causes of false Bliss  
Didst open, thou didst then clear this.  
For if I rightly construe thee,  
That's perfect, true Felicity,  
Which does sufficient render, and  
Gives Pleasure, Fame, Respect, Command.  
Further to make it plain to sight,  
That I do understand thee right;  
I do acknowledge that which shall  
Do truly one, performs them all:  
And then no doubt but this must be  
True, perfect, full Felicity.  
O happy thou that dost think so,  
If one thing more thou'lt add thereto!  
What's that? said I. Dost think there is  
In mortal things this perfect Bliss?  
Why not, said I; for thou hast made  
It out so plain more can't be said.  
Why then these things but represent  
The image of true Good, but can't  
Confer this perfect Good on men.  
I do agree, I answered then.  
Since that thou than hast so much gained,  
To know true Good from what is feigned,  
Of all remains this is the sum,  
To know from whence this Good does come.  
Why, that from thee I do expect.  
On Plato than I must reflect,  
Who taught, for things that least do weigh  
We ought the Heavenly Aid to pray.  
What then dost think is fit to do  
The sovereign Good to come unto?  
We must our prayers to him address,  
Who does all good beginnings bless.  
Thou rightly hast advised, said she;  
Then sung this Song melodiously.   

O thou that dost with Reason high  
all things in order guide,  
Thou whose bright Throne's above the sky,  
Yet governest all the world beside:   

Thou from all time makest Time to flow,  
Yet thou dost still remain;  
Thou giv'st to all things here below  
Alternate courses, joy and pain.   

No cause external thee did move  
this mighty work to frame:  
Only from thy internal Love,  
From envy free, it freely came.   

Th'examples of all things that are  
thou from above didst bring:  
For thou that art the fairest Fair,  
To thy fair Mind form'dst every thing,   

Commanding perfect All to be,  
Perfect to be each Part;  
Making the Elements to agree  
Which Nature does so widely part.   

Thou joyn'st the Moisture with the Flame,  
the Water with the Earth;  
Lest that the Fire all should tame,  
And Earth should not bring forth its birth.   

Thou in fit stations ordered hast  
the Soul that all does move;  
And so adaptly hast it placed,  
It's threefold nature joins in love.   

Which Soul two several Orbs does sway,  
them rolls with motion round,  
Winding about to its first way,  
Circles the Mind'bove all profound.   

By th' same command this Soul it drives  
Celestial motions all,  
Gives being to the lesser lives,  
And fosters all things on this Ball.   

'Bove all thou dost in chariots high  
our Souls cause for to ride;  
Making some fit to pierce the sky,  
Whiles others things terrestrial guide.   

The which, when they have run their round,  
by thy command benign,  
With thy eternal fire crowned  
They back to thee return again.   

Blessed Father, to thy glorious Throne  
let my dull mind ascend:  
Thou that the fountain art alone  
Of Good, grant I behold the end.   

And when that I have found this Light,  
grant that on thee I may  
My mind fast fix with cleared sight,  
Casting all earthly things away.   

Surround me with thy splendid Rays:  
for rest I thee attend,  
For which all pious men thee praise,  
Who art Beginning, Way, and End.   

Now that the forms are understood  
Of perfect, and imperfect Good;  
I think it reason for to show  
In what this perfect Good does grow.  
In which we first ought to inquire,  
Whether that Nature can acquire  
Such Good as is before defined;  
Lest, contrary to what's designed,  
We be deceived with a show  
Of Truth and Knowledge, nothing so.  
But that there is, none can deny,  
A fountain of Felicity.  
For whatsoever imperfect is,  
'Tis but what does Perfection miss.  
Whence follows, if in any kind  
Something imperfect we do find,  
In it then of necessity  
Something that's perfect there must be.  
For where Perfection there is none,  
There can be no Imperfection.  
Nor from a lame imperfect thing  
Does Nature her beginning bring;  
But from what perfect is in all  
She does into defection fall.  
Which if't be so, as I've made plain,  
That there's imperfect, brittle, vain  
Felicity of Good, than who  
Can doubt but there is perfect too?  
Most rightly thou concludest, 'tis so.  
But where it dwells, said she, thus know.  
The common thought of humane kind  
Does prove that the most heavenly Mind,  
Which over all things does preside,  
Is good; nor can it be denied:  
For then God better who can guests,  
Than whom there better nothing is?  
So Reason, that does evidence  
That God is good, makes plain to sense  
That he is perfect; for else he  
Can not of all things ruler be.  
Something there is would him excel,  
In whom true perfect Good does dwell:  
Which must more ancient be also;  
For perfect things we all do know  
Before imperfect were: so then  
In infinitum we must run,  
Unless that we do God confess  
To be replenished with Goodness.  
But we before concluded this,  
What's perfect Good, that is true Bliss:  
Therefore 'tis of necessity  
True Bliss in the high God should be.  
This is so strong a truth, said I,  
None can gainsay it certainly.  
But mark, I pray thee, then said she,  
How thou approv'st inviolably  
That the high God we did profess  
To be replenished with Goodness.  
How's that? said I. Thou dost not sure  
Presume that this same Father pure  
Did so receive this chief Goodness,  
With the which he replenished is,  
That it from any other came:  
Nor dost thou think but 'tis the same  
To be God, who hath this Goodness,  
And the thing had, true Blessedness.  
For if that God did it receive,  
He's better sure that did it give.  
But we do worthily confess  
God all things does excel, all bless.  
But since of God we now do treat,  
If Goodness have in him a seat  
By nature from a divers cause,  
If he obeys fewer laws,  
Let him who can bring forth to light,  
Who did these divers things unite.  
Lastly, whatever thing is divers  
Cannot be that from which it differs.  
Wherefore what from the chiefest Good  
To differ may be understood,  
In its own nature's not the same;  
Which wicked were of God to name,  
Than whom there nothing better is▪  
For nought can better be then his  
Beginning; which if understood,  
Then God to be the chiefest Good  
(Who is the first substantially)  
We may conclude most certainly.  
'Tis true, said I. But I did press  
That chiefest Good was Happiness.  
You did. Then God we must confess  
Is th' only real Happiness.  
By thy first precepts I did gain,  
But these have made them far more plain.  
Thus than more firm I'll make't appear:  
Two sovereign Goods that  are  
Cannot subsist, for that 'tis plain  
That two Goods cannot be the same;  
So we must neither perfect grant,  
While one Good does the other want.  
And what not truly perfect is,  
That cannot be the chief Goodness.  
Wherefore the chiefest Good, we see,  
Not possibly can divers be.  
But we the chiefest Good aver  
God and Beatitude both are:  
Then that the highest Bliss must be  
That is the highest Divinity.  
Nothing is in itself more true,  
Nothing more firmly can accrue  
To Reason, nothing said can be  
More worthy God's high Majesty▪  
Farther, as Geometricians use  
All kind of knowledge to refuse  
But what their Propositions  
Infer by Demonstrations;  
So I will this same give to thee  
As it were a Corollary.  
As men by gaining Blessedness,  
Do gain thereby what does them bless,  
And Bliss is high Divinity;  
Then who gets this does get to be,  
As it is plain and manifest,  
Thereby most happy and most blessed.  
As men by Justice Just are said,  
By Wisdom men are Wise men made:  
So likewise of necessity  
Men Gods are by Divinity.  
Then who does gain this Blessedness,  
He then a God can be no less.  
I, but there can but one God be.  
That's true in nature verily;  
But yet there may be more than one  
By God's participation.  
Call you this a Corollary?  
A precious one it is, said I.  
But there is one more precious yet,  
Which Reason does persuade to knit.  
What's that? said I. Since it seems plain  
That Bliss does many things contain,  
Whether all these do conjugate  
In Parts to make this Blessed state;  
Or one Part of them does complete,  
For all the rest, this Bliss so great.  
I would, said I, that thou wouldst clear  
These things more in particular.  
Why, we aver that Blessedness,  
Said she, is the chiefest Goodness.  
'Tis true, said I. The same thou may'st,  
Said she, add unto all the rest.  
For it is chief Sufficiency,  
Chief Power, and chief Dignity,  
Chief Honour, and chief Pleasure too.  
And what have all these Goods to do,  
This Power, and Sufficiency,  
And all the rest of that degree?  
Are they but parts of Blessedness?  
Or do they Good entire comprise?  
I see what 'tis you go about:  
But how, said I, will you make't out?  
Why thus; If all these members be  
Of ever-blessed Felicity,  
Then each from other far escarts:  
For this the nature is of Parts,  
Of many, one entire to frame;  
But these are all one and the same.  
For these indeed no members be:  
For if, than this Felicity  
Would of one member be conjoined;  
Which cannot be. That's true, I find:  
But what remains I do desire.  
'Tis plain that all things do aspire  
To Good: therefore Sufficiency  
Is sought, 'cause Good therein does lie;  
And Power, deemed Good to procure.  
The same of Honour, Fame, Pleasure.  
The sum and cause of all desire  
Is this then, Good for to acquire.  
For what nor Good, nor Good is like,  
That has a general dislike.  
And contrary, what are not so  
By nature, if they make a show,  
They as true Goods desired are.  
So that the Sum, the Scope, the Care  
Of whatsoever desired is,  
Must be believed to be Goodness.  
For for what cause a thing is sought,  
That end to compass must be thought.  
As if a man for Health do ride,  
Though pleased his prancing Horse to guide,  
Yet more th' effect, his health, does take.  
So all things sought for Goodness sake  
Are not themselves so much desired,  
As Goodness self, to be acquired.  
But we already did profess  
That same for to be Blessedness  
For which all other things are sought:  
That therefore they are sought, we taught.  
By which it plainly does appear,  
Goodness and Bliss the same things are.  
I see no reason but 'tis so.  
But we did also plainly show  
That God and Bliss is the same thing.  
You did, said I. Thence then does spring,  
That God's whole substance placed is  
In Goodness self, that's perfect Bliss.   

Come hither all you that are ta'en  
In Lust's deceitful wicked chain,  
Whose minds mind nought but for to gain things terrestrial.  
Here from your labours you may rest,  
Here is a port with quiet blessed,  
Here is the refuge that is best for wretches all.  
The Gold that Tagus does afford,  
Nor what rich Hermus' banks has stored,  
Nor Gems of which the Indian's lord,  
the Mind can clear;  
But rather it obnubilate:  
For that which here gives best estate,  
And does men's minds most elevate,  
from earth they tear.  
In mines cannot be found that light  
Which does adorn the Heaven's bright,  
And which does pierce with so much might  
the souls impure.  
Which Light to whom it shall appear,  
Will his dark soul so fully clear,  
That thenceforth he may justly swear  
the Sun's obscure.   

With strongest Reason I agree,  
All things, said I, composed be.  
But how much more wouldst it esteem  
If Goodness self, said she, were seen?  
Why infinitely, said I then,  
Because by it I God should ken,  
Who Goodness is. Why this, said she,  
By reasons true I'll show to thee;  
Let but those things remain which I  
Already proved have certainly.  
They shall, said I. I've showed, said she,  
Those things which by most sought for be  
Nor true Goods, nor yet perfect are,  
Because amongst themselves they jar▪  
For if one from another swerve,  
They cannot perfect Good preserve,  
Which only then is true and right,  
When in one form they do unite.  
For that which is Sufficiency,  
The same is Power, Dignity,  
Fame, and Pleasure. If then that these  
Bened all the same, 've nought that please▪  
Then this a truth all must confess,  
What's discrepant is not Goodness.  
And if by being one they do  
Goodness become, than it is so  
That therefore they come good to be  
By the obtaining Unity.  
So't seems, said I. Then all that's good,  
To be good by 's understood  
By Good's participation.  
So 'tis, said I. Then to be one,  
And to be good, you do declare  
To be the same; for those things are  
Of the same substance whose effects  
By nature have the same respects.  
I can't deny't. knowst thou, said she,  
That all that is, so long will be  
As it is one, but perishes  
When Unity in it does cease?  
As how? said I. Why thus, said she;  
In Living creatures we it see,  
It does a living thing remain  
While Soul and Body are the same.  
But if that these asunder fall,  
No longer we do so them call.  
The Body too, while we it find  
With all the parts in one conjoined,  
The humane species seems to be:  
But if divided, Unity  
Being distraught, it is no more  
The thing that it appeared before.  
And so all other things we see  
Are lost by losing Unity.  
In all things I can think upon,  
This is no supposition.  
Why, is there any thing, said she,  
That does desire naturally  
To leave to be, and for to come  
To nothing, or destruction?  
In Living creatures, than said I,  
Who have nature's activity  
To will and nill, I do not find  
(Unless some outward force them bind  
For to obey) any 'ntention  
Of free and willing destruction.  
All living things their health defend,  
Shunning to come unto their end.  
But what of things called vegetal  
To think, I do not skill at all.  
But this too thou may'st also know,  
When Herbs and Trees thou findest to grow  
In Places for their nature fit,  
Wherein if they be firmly set,  
Their nature will not let them dry,  
Nor but by course of Nature die.  
In Plains, on Hills, in Fens some spring;  
Others hard Rocks, some Sands forth bring:  
Transplant but these, and presently  
They whither do away; and die.  
For Nature every thing does give  
What's fit, and willingness to live.  
And do not all these things get birth  
By thrusting down their heads i'th' Earth?  
The which does nourishment infuse  
To th' Root, and that does strength diffuse  
To th' Stock: what part most tender is,  
Within, like marrow, placed is:  
The Wood, like bone, this does secure,  
Then Bark to make it to endure.  
Again mark Nature's careful heed,  
Who multiplies all things by Seed;  
By which she seems for to endeavour  
To make them for to live for ever.  
And things that are Inanimate  
Seem to desire that same state  
Which most does tend to their welfare.  
Hence Levity does Flame up rear,  
By Weight the Earth is downward pressed,  
For that these motions suit them best.  
What does with every thing agree,  
That it conserveses most perfectly.  
And things by opposition  
Are brought unto destruction.  
Again, what's Hard, as Stones, defend  
Strongly their parts, resist their end.  
What Liquid is, as Air and Water,  
As soon unite as they do scatter.  
Fire does all division fly.  
Nor do we now at all descry  
The motions of the knowing Soul,  
But the intentions natural.  
Such are, how we our meat digest,  
Yet not thereon do think the least.  
Not knowing it, we breath in sleep.  
So does the creature a force keep  
Of preservation, not by th' will  
O' th' Soul, but Nature's principle.  
For Death, which Nature does abhor,  
Is by the Will oft pleaded for.  
The Generative act again,  
By which only all things remain,  
Sometimes is bridled by the Will,  
Though Nature do desire it still.  
Wherefore this self-affection grows,  
Not from the Will, but Nature's laws.  
For Providence did give to all  
Things that she made a natural  
Desire to remain, and this  
The chief cause of remaining is.  
Wherefore there is no reason thou  
Shouldst doubt that every thing should bow,  
By nature, up its self to bear,  
And all corruption do defer.  
I now confess I clearly see  
What seemed before incertainty.  
Moreover that which does desire  
To be, said she, that does aspire  
To be but one, which away ta'en,  
Being itself will not remain.  
That's true, said I. All things, said she,  
Then do desier Unity.  
This I did grant. But I said this,  
One is the same that Goodness is.  
You did. Then all things Good design,  
Which thus we truly may define;  
Good is the thing all things desire.  
Nothing, said I, can be thought higher.  
For either nothing does preside;  
Or if that any thing beside  
This Unity, all things would run  
Headlong into Confusion.  
And if that any thing there be  
Which to arrive at all agree,  
That thing must needs be understood  
To be the chief of all that's good.  
O how I do rejoice, said she,  
That thou this point of verity  
Dost apprehend? by this thou hast  
Discovered what before thou saidst  
Thou didst not know. What's that? my friend.  
What is of all things the true End.  
For that's the thing all things desire.  
And since then Good there's nothing higher,  
We must ingenuously confess,  
The End of all things is Goodness.   

Whoever with a knowing mind  
Will seek the perfect Truth to find,  
And will not be deceived, nor tread  
The paths that into Error lead,  
Let him look upon  
His own discretion,  
And bind his Notions in a round,  
Let him teach his Will,  
But only this skill,  
With its own treasures to abound.   

And then what lately hid did lie  
In clouds of Error, will thereby  
Break into splendour far more bright  
Than Phoebus' in's most glorious light.  
The thick Body's shade  
As yet has not made  
A full Eclipse upon the Mind:  
If Learning do glow,  
Seeds of Truth will grow,  
While inwardly they comfort find.   

If any one should question thee,  
Couldst thou an answer make him free?  
Was ever any one yet found  
With Reason's light did so abound,  
Unless God in love  
Him inspired from 'bove,  
And gave him a Prophetic strain?  
Give Plato his due,  
Who says 'tis full true,  
What's learned we can recall again.   

With Plato greatly I comply,  
For thou into my memory  
Now twice hast those instructions brought  
Which I'd not known hadst thou not taught:  
Once Sickness from me did them hid,  
Nor with my grief would they abide.  
Look back on what is said, said she,  
And then into thy memory  
Will be recalled with much ease  
What not to know thou didst confess.  
What's that? said I. How and which way  
God does this worldly fabric sway.  
I do remember then, said I,  
This same to know I did deny.  
What thou in this wilt say, although  
Far off I see, yet it to know  
More plainly, I desire from thee  
To hear expressed. Thou shalt, said she.  
But lately thou didst grant to me,  
God the world's Governor to be.  
I did, and do it now assever,  
Nor do it doubt, nor will do ever:  
And I will briefly tell thee why  
My Reason does with this comply.  
The World that's framed of many a part  
Can not have been reduced by art  
Into one form, unless that One  
Alone had made the Conjunction.  
Again, though they conjoined are,  
Their natures disagree so far,  
They would this Concord break again,  
Unless that One did them contain.  
Nor could Dame Nature certainly,  
Keep on her course so orderly,  
Nor keep her motions so direct  
In time, and place, and in effect,  
Unless a perfect Unity,  
Disposed of this variety.  
And this same One, whate'er it be,  
Which all things made, does all agree,  
I by the name of God do call,  
A name that used is by all.  
Since thou of these things thus dost think,  
Thou art, said she, even at the brink  
Of perfect true Felicity,  
And may'st again thy Country see.  
But our proposals let's review.  
Did we not grant Bliss did ensue  
Sufficiency, and did confess  
That God is that same Blessedness?  
'Tis true we did. Why then, said she,  
The World to govern wanteth he  
External help? if so, than he  
Has not a full Sufficiency.  
That cannot, said I, be denied.  
Then he alone does all things guide  
That must by all be understood.  
But God I showed to be chief Good.  
I do remember that beside.  
Then he as Good does all things guide,  
As well as by himself, and this  
Of rule the very Rudder is  
Which does this worldly Vessel guide,  
And safely makes all things abide.  
I grant, and I before did see,  
Though dimly, this sound verity.  
I do believe't. But now I find  
Thou dost more strictly bend thy mind  
The truth to see: but I'll declare  
What shall more plainly make't appear.  
What's that? said I. Since we confess  
God does rule all things with Goodness,  
And that all things to good incline  
By nature, and not by design,  
Who doubt can but they governed be  
Not forced, but voluntarily,  
And that each thing most freely does  
To's ruler's will its self dispose?  
This to be true I do esteem;  
Nor would the guidance happy seem,  
If that it should a yoke impose,  
Not leave a freedom to dispose.  
Then what does Nature's law obey  
Goes not from God a devious way.  
Why, no. And if it should, said she,  
What profit could it reap thereby,  
Since we most powerful him grant,  
'Cause he alone does nothing want?  
Why, none. Then there's nothing which would  
Or can resist this chiefest Good.  
Nothing, I think. Why then, said she,  
That the chief Good we must agree,  
Which firmly all things govern does,  
And sweetly does the same dispose.  
How these results not only do  
The height of Reason to me show?  
But thy words placed are so right.  
They give to me a high delight.  
Henceforth then imprudence and folly  
Will never vie with things so holy.  
Hast thou not heard, said she, the tale  
How Giants Heaven did assail?  
But them this power did confound,  
And worthily them threw to ground.  
But wilt thou that I farther yet  
Thy intellect with reasons whet?  
By this collision there's no doubt  
There will some sparks of Truth fly out.  
Do as you please. There's none, said she,  
Doubts God Omnipotent to be.  
None well in's wits. The word is so,  
Omnipotent can all things do.  
That's true. What then? can God do Ill?  
Why not, said I. Then follow will  
That Ill is nothing, since that who  
Can all things, cannot Evil do.  
Dost me delude, me thus to bring  
Into a labyrinth with reasoning?  
Thou me always dost put in doubt  
While thou thyself go'st in and out  
At pleasure: or dost complicate  
A winding circular estate  
Of the simplicity Divine?  
For but even now thou didst define,  
Beatitude chief Good to be,  
And that placed in the Deity:  
That God himself is this Goodness,  
As also perfect Blessedness.  
Hence followed, None can happy be  
That is not one o'th' Deity.  
Thou saidst the form of this Goodness  
The very substance of God is.  
This Good to be but one you taught,  
For that by all things it is sought.  
You farther also did decide,  
That God by good this World does guide:  
And that all things do with their will  
Obey; that Nature has no ill.  
To prove all this thou didst not bring  
Reasons which do at distance spring,  
But such as nigh and proper are,  
One still confirming the other.  
Why then I do not mock, said she;  
For by God's help that's proved, you see,  
For which we did agree before  
The heavenly aid for to implore.  
Such is the form of this Divine  
Substance, that it does not decline  
To outward things, nor does at all  
Accept things that are external.  
Of which Parmenides does say,  
A round is equal every way.  
And if that I have not gone far  
For reasons to prove this matter,  
But only have made use of those  
Which fitly from itself arose;  
Thou hast no reason me to blame,  
Since Plato taught the very same:  
Speech that to matter is applied  
To th' matter ought to be allied.   

Thrice happy is the man that can  
goodness clearly once behold,  
Thrice happy surely is the man  
whom earth's ties do not hold.  
Orpheus he  
Full mournfully  
his dear-beloved Wive's death did 'plain;  
While he did play  
Woods ran away,  
and Rivers fixed did remain.  
The Hind without all fear did lie  
close unto the Lion's side,  
Nor was the Hare scared with the cry,  
nor when she the Dogs espied.  
Yet inwardly,  
The fire did fry,  
and he who all things else could tame,  
Can not appease  
This fierce disease,  
nor quench this all-devouring flame.  
Full highly than he did complain,  
the Gods without mercy were,  
And his dear Wife for to regain,  
unto Hell he did repair.  
With measured feet  
And music sweet  
he did the hellhounds all disarm;  
His mother she,  
A Goddess free,  
did teach him how he them should charm.  
He did his grief before them lay,  
his lost Love did sadly mourn,  
And Pluto's self did humbly pray  
her to him for to return.  
With his sweet Song  
The Fiends among  
he Cerberus did chief move,  
Who him let in;  
Then all being for  
to solicit for his Love.  
Now Ixtion not turns the Wheel,  
Tantalus his Thirst forgets,  
Nor Titius does the Vulture feel,  
music all their torments lets.  
The shady King,  
When he did sing,  
could not deny to grant his boon,  
Give him, said he,  
Eurydice,  
with Music us he has o'ercome.  
But lest that he too high should swell,  
with this law I will him tie,  
If he look back on her in hell,  
he shall lose her instantly.  
But who with law  
Can Lovers awe?  
Love is a thing that has no bound.  
He by twilight  
Of her had sight,  
lost her, and did himself confound.  
This Fable does all them concern  
who to virtue do arrive,  
And then forget what they did learn,  
back again to darkness drive.  
Who does know Bliss,  
Yet will with this  
vain world give trouble to his mind;  
All he did gain  
With so much pain,  
by looking back, he lost will find.    

THE FOURTH BOOK.  

PHilosophy with a sweet voice  
Did sing this song, and kept a choice  
Decorum both in word and look;  
When I abruptly undertook  
(Not having yet my grief laid by)  
To speak: O light of truth, said I,  
Whatever yet thou hast laid forth  
Appears to be of divine worth,  
By reasons not to be repelled.  
Thou saidst these were from me with held  
By extreme grief, and yet but so,  
That heretofore I did them know.  
But of my grief the greatest cause  
Is this, to know that God, who laws  
To all does give, is good; then how  
Can Ills or be, or  go?  
This which does so much trouble me,  
I leave to be admired by thee.  
A greater yet (for to be plain)  
Is this, while wickedness does reign,  
Virtue has no reward at all,  
But stead thereof the wicked call  
It Vice, and punishments inflict.  
But that it should be a delict,  
And God should see't, who all does know,  
All power has, who will not do  
Any thing but what's very good,  
May be admired, not understood.  
That's right, said she, if that it were  
As thou dost think, it would more scare  
Then sight of ugliest monsters would,  
To think the Heavenly Father should  
In his well-ordered house respect  
The basest, and the best neglect.  
But 'tis not so: for if that that thou  
Our late Conclusions dost avow,  
By his help of whom now we speak  
Thou'lt know the Wicked are but weak,  
The Good are potent; and that Vice  
Is punished, Virtue held in price.  
The Good enjoy a happy state,  
The Wicked are unfortunate▪  
More may be said of the like strain  
Will make thee henceforth not complain.  
And since the form of perfect Bliss  
By me unto thee shown is,  
And that thou knowst where it is placed,  
The time I will no longer waste,  
But I to thee the way will show,  
How thou unto thy home may'st go.  
I will give wings unto thy Mind,  
By which thou shalt a safe way find,  
(Set free from all disturbances)  
Unto thy Country with much ease:  
Triumphantly thou home shalt ride,  
My skill and knowledge thee shall guide:   

For I have Wings of subtle make,  
which if the Mind puts on,  
'Twill soon above the Pole ascend,  
and Earth not look upon.   

'Twill soon pass through the Airy globe,  
and clouds will leave behind,  
With nimble course the Fire 'twill pass  
o'th' Sun, that mortals blind.   

The region cold that Saturn rules  
will not at all it stay,  
'Twill pass the Stars that paint the sky  
so bright i'th' Milky way.   

And having past the highest sphere,  
and left the Pole so bright,  
Upon the highest Orb 'twill stand,  
enjoying clearest light;   

Whereas the King of Kings does hold  
the Sceptre and the reins,  
And on his throne of Glory set  
all evil he restrains.   

If thou unto this place do come,  
which now thou hast forgot,  
This is my Country, thou wilt cry,  
here, here I claim my lot.   

Whence if that thou do look upon  
the place thou left'st behind,  
All the fell Tyrants on the earth  
thou wilt in exile find.   

Thou promisest great things, said I,  
Of which thou me wilt certify  
I make no doubt: but I thee pray,  
In clearing them make no delay.  
First, you do this acknowledge then,  
There's Power always in good men;  
And that all bad men are without  
All Power, thou canst make no doubt;  
Since one the other does make plain,  
For good and bad are wholly twain.  
If Goodness do no Power want,  
Then Evil Weak we needs must grant.  
And if Ill's Weakness does appear,  
Then Goodness Strength by its made clear.  
But that more easily there may  
Be credit given to what I say,  
My proofs I equally will bring,  
Now this, now that side marshalling.  
There are two things which in effect  
In men's affairs bear chief respect;  
That's Will, and Power: if these two  
Be not entire, all will not do.  
No man will go about to try  
What to his Will is contrary:  
And if that he no Power have,  
In vain his Will does strive or crave.  
Hence 'tis that if thou one dost see  
Who would get that that had can't be,  
'Tis want of Power does restrain  
That he that thing does not attain.  
Why this, said I, none can deny.  
Thou must confess then equally,  
That he who does whate'er he will  
Has Power the same for to fulfil.  
'Tis true. For it does Power show,  
According to the Will to do.  
The Will abridged, o'th' contrary,  
Does show an Imbecility.  
I it confess. But dost, said she,  
Remember that we did agree,  
In all intentions of the Will,  
Though diversely it use its skill,  
Still Blessedness by it's designed?  
I do. But dost thou bear in mind,  
That Blessedness is the true Good;  
By which it must be understood,  
Who Bliss does seek, means Good thereby?  
I do remember it, said I,  
And in my mind I hold it still.  
Then all men, whether good or ill,  
With one and the selfsame desire  
Do unto Goodness still aspire.  
That's certain truth. And so is this,  
That who gets Goodness he good is.  
But good men get what they desire.  
'Tis true. And evil lose their hire;  
For if that they do Good obtain,  
They do no longer ill remain.  
'Tis so. Then since they both desire  
Good, and the one does lose his hire,  
And th' other not, than it is plain  
That Power with good men does remain,  
Weakness with ill. whoever with sense  
The nature weighs and consequence  
Of these things, must agree thereot.  
She than replied, If there be two  
To whom by nature the same thing  
Proposed is; if one do bring  
The same to pass by a right course,  
The other strives by ways are worse  
The same to do, but can't complete  
The work, but onlyed imitate;  
Which of these two most Power has,  
Dost think? Although that I do guess  
What 'tis you mean, yet I would fain  
Have you describe it yet more plain.  
To move by walking (thou'lt not then  
Deny) is natural to men.  
'Tis so, said I. Nor canst deny  
But 'tis the feet move naturally.  
I can't. Why then, if one do use  
His feet, another does refuse  
This natural means, and he will go  
Upon his hands; which of these two  
Wilt thou the stronger deem to be?  
Make out the rest; for surely he  
Who goes the true and natural way,  
To be the strongest all will say.  
Why so, said she, the chiefest Bliss,  
Which equally proposed is  
To good and bad, the good apply  
To get by Virtue naturally;  
The bad by Lusts (but all in vain)  
Seek this chief Good for to attain.  
Dost think they can? Why not, said I;  
The sequel plainly does't descry.  
Then what is proved makes appear,  
The good are strong, the bad weak are.  
'Tis right, said she, and by this scope  
I do (as wont Physicians) hope  
Good strength of nature, since I find.  
To Knowledge a so ready mind.  
I will therefore more reasons bring.  
See if bad men have any thing,  
Who cannot unto that arrive  
To which their nature does them drive.  
And if their power in this be scant,  
Consider how much strength they want.  
For they no small rewards desire,  
But to the top of Bliss aspire,  
To which they no way can attain,  
Though night and day they take great pain.  
Which proves the strength of those are Good:  
For as it must be understood  
That he that runs and wins the goal  
Most able is; so thou must hold  
His power greatest, does acquire  
The utmost end of his desire.  
Which for the wicked cannot do,  
It plainly does their weakness show,  
Who leaving Virtue, follow Vice.  
Is't Blindness that does them entice?  
Why, what's more weak than Ignorance?  
Or do they know't, yet Lusts advance?  
This their intemperance Weakness is,  
And they are overcome by Vice.  
Or do they knowing, willingly  
Leave Virtue, and to Vices fly?  
By this from Strength they are so free,  
That thus they leave at all to be.  
For who the common end of all  
Does leave, leaves being therewithal.  
This to be strange perchance may seem,  
That wicked men, whom all do deem  
The greatest part of humane kind,  
Thus to be nothing we should find.  
Yet so it is. The wicked I  
For to be ill do not deny:  
But I do also say withal,  
That simply they are not at all.  
For though a carcase does make known  
This is a man, he's simply none.  
So wicked men I ill allow,  
Yet them to be I disavow.  
That is which order does retain,  
And keeps his nature: what does strain  
And swerve from it does leave to be  
(At least) what it is naturally.  
But ill men act, (though evilly)  
Thou sayest, and I it not deny.  
But this their Power not from Strength,  
But Weakness will appear at length.  
They can do ill, but not good too;  
If good, than they could not ill do.  
So that such Power does plainly show  
That they indeed can nothing do.  
For we before did this agree,  
Ill in itself nothing to be.  
Since nothing then a wicked man  
Can do but ill, he nothing can.  
'Tis so. But yet that more certain  
This may appear, by being more plain,  
We said (thou knowst) a while before  
The chiefest Good had greatest Power.  
You did. But it no ill can do,  
Said she. That's true. But dost thou know  
Any so mad, to think that men  
Can all things do? No. Yet they can  
Do evil. Yes; I would to God  
They tethered were that they could not.  
Since then this Power can all things do,  
And wicked men cannot do so;  
The Power than we must confess  
Of those do ill is much the less.  
Moreover Power counted is  
Among those things that do bring Bliss:  
And all those things to Good refer  
As to the top of their nature.  
But 'tis not possible that Ill  
At all should strive Good to fulfil.  
Therefore 'tis not to be desired.  
But Power is to be acquired.  
Then sure the possibility  
Of doing ill no Power can be.  
All which most plainly does confirm  
Good Powerful, Evil infirm.  
What Plato said, then does stand true,  
That only wise men they can do  
What they desire; they that do Ill,  
Do only exercise their will,  
But cannot unto that arrive  
Which they desire, for that they strive  
By wicked means for to obtain  
That good which they desire to gain.  
But of their end they needs must miss,  
For Wickedness leads not to Bliss.   

What though thou mighty Kings dost see,  
In Purple shining gloriously, mounted upon their Thrones of state,  
With armed men circled about,  
With a bend brow threats belching out, confounding others with proud hate?   

Yet look, thou inwardly wilt find,  
That fetters strong these Lords do bind: by Lusts their hearts are poisoned,  
So lie tormented by Excess.  
Then Anger does their minds possess: so a vexatious life they lead.   

One while they're wearied out with Grief,  
Then Hope does give them no relief.  
When thou dost see one thus assailed,  
ne'er wonder he cannot aspire  
To Good, the top of his desire,  
by so many fell Tyrants quailed.   

Thou than dost see they dirty are  
Who follow Vice, and they are fair  
Virtue embrace: so that 'tis plain,  
Good have reward, and Wicked pain.  
And 'tis but just it should be so:  
For every thing a man does do  
Is for reward; as who does run  
A race, he does expect the Crown.  
And we have showed that Blessedness  
Is that same Good for which all press.  
Then Good does (as reward) attend  
All humane actions in the end.  
'Tis Good gives a good man esteem,  
'Tis Good that so entitles him.  
So men are Vicious called from Vice:  
But Virtue always has a price.  
And though the Wicked rage and rail,  
The wise man's Crown will never fail:  
Let wicked men fret and repine,  
Their proper Virtue still will shine;  
Which dark would be, or rather none,  
If it were borrowed, not their own.  
For every man may claim his right,  
Or it may forced be by might.  
But 'cause that each man in regard  
That he is good has a reward,  
By consequence, if Good he leave,  
He a reward shall not receive.  
Lastly, if all Reward be sought  
Because it good to be is thought,  
Who him rewarded won't confess,  
That Good and Virtue does possess?  
But what reward? no mean one sure,  
But even the fairest and most pure.  
Remember that Corollary  
Which lately I did give to thee.  
Since Blessedness is the chief Good,  
And it must needs be understood,  
Who of this Goodness is possessed  
Must of necessity be blest;  
And that for to be blest, must be  
To be a God, we did agree:  
Then the reward the good partake  
(No time can end, no power shake,  
Nor wickedness can overthrow,)  
Is to be Gods. Which since 'tis so,  
Then wicked men can't be without  
Perpetual pain, there is no doubt.  
As Good and Ill are contrary,  
Reward and Pain so disagree.  
whate'er the good receive as gain,  
The bad receive as much in pain.  
Goodness to th' good a reward is,  
The bad with horror punished is.  
And he who finds but little ease,  
Can't doubt but he has some disease.  
Then if they this would call to mind,  
Themselves in pain they sure would find,  
For that they are not only tainted  
With Ill, but strongly are infected.  
But see by way of contrary,  
How wicked men tormented be.  
For all that is, to be but one,  
And that one good, to thee is known.  
Whence follows that whatever is  
Must needs be good: and so from this,  
Whatever Goodness does decline  
Does leave to be: thus then rejoin,  
The wicked are not what they were.  
But yet the shape of men they bear.  
I but by being wicked then  
The nature quite 've lost of men.  
For since that only Virtue can  
Lift Mortals up above what's Man,  
It of necessity does follow  
That Vice does cast them far below.  
So that if thou with Vice do see  
A man transformed, no man is he.  
Whoever does with griping wrest  
Another's goods, he is a Beast,  
And thou a Wolf may'st well him call.  
He who perpetually does brawl,  
And live unquiet, none does spare,  
Unto a Dog thou may'st compare.  
Who does by Fraud and Cheating live,  
The name of Fox thou well may'st give.  
Who in fierce Anger all does tear,  
A Lion's mind he sure does bear.  
Whom vain and idle Fear does strike,  
To Hare or Hind thou may'st him like.  
Who has a slow and stupid head,  
Like to an Ass his life does lead.  
Who is unconstant, wavering,  
From Birds he's no way differing.  
Who is with filthy Lusts besmeared,  
To th' filthy Sow may be compared.  
So he that does bright Virtue fly,  
To be a man does leave you see.  
Not being with divine right blest,  
He is transformed into a Beast.   

While that Ulysses did command  
his ten-years wand'ring Fleet,  
The East-wind drove them to the land  
Whereas they did fair Circe meet,  
And Sirens with their voices sweet.   

This Lady had in magic skill,  
skilled in all herbs that grow.  
Such liquor she to them did fill,  
And Siren's them enchanted so,  
That none could possibly them know.   

Like unto Swine she some did make,  
and some like to the Bear.  
Some did the shape of Lions take:  
These in their fury nothing spare,  
But with their teeth and claws do tear.   

Some Wolves, who when they up did lift  
their voice to weep, did howl,  
Some like to Indian Tigers swift,  
Who though endued with a mild soul,  
To live were forced for prey to prole.   

Though witty Hermes pitying  
the Captain, him did save,  
And unto him did Moly bring,  
She all the others did enslave,  
While they to tipole still did crave.   

Now beasts, to feed and walk like men  
they strove, but all in vain;  
Acorns good food, lodging a Den:  
For why, there nothing did remain  
Of voice, or body, like humane.   

Only their Minds were still the same;  
which grieved for to discern  
Their Bodies so exposed to shame.  
A weak it is and feeble Charm,  
That Bodies can, and Minds not harm.   

Man's strength is placed inwardly;  
if poisons take the Mind,  
They more deface Humanity:  
For though to th' Body they seem kind,  
The Soul they cruelly do grind.   

I do confess indeed, said I,  
That ill men without injury  
May into Beasts be said to swerve,  
Though humane shape they still conserve.  
But I'd not have their cruel will  
Have power to th' good for to do ill.  
Nor have they, as I▪ le show, said she,  
In place convenient unto thee.  
For if that same which seems a power  
Were ta'en away, 'twould be a cure,  
And so their punishment would ease.  
For it though credit some won't please,  
Yet wicked men are worse far  
When their desires perfect are,  
Then if they could not bring to pass  
Whatever their desire was.  
If ill to will be a great curse,  
In him ability is worse:  
Upon it too we may reflect  
When ill does come unto effect▪  
And who is guilty of these three,  
Endures a threefold misery.  
I grant, said I; but would to God  
That they this misery had not,  
Or that they quickly might it lose▪  
Sooner perhaps then you would choose,  
(Said she) or they do think 'twill be.  
And yet compare Eternity,  
Nothing in this life can be long.  
And if ost-times design of wrong  
Be frustrate by untimely end,  
This to their pain some ease does lend.  
For if that Wickedness do reign,  
The longer wicked, more the pain.  
Then he more wretched sure would be,  
If Death from ill did not him free.  
For if that we do right profess  
O'th' misery of Wickedness,  
As 'tis eternal, so 'tis right  
That it is also infinite.  
This thy illation, than said I,  
By me can hardly granted be:  
And yet I think it is no more  
Than has been granted heretofore.  
Thou rightly thinkest, but whosoever  
To make Conclusion shall forbear,  
Must show the Premises not true,  
Or that they do not raise a due  
Conclusion; or else otherwise  
What from the Premises arise  
If he do grant, he has no cause  
On the Conclusion for to pause.  
There's one thing more I will conclude,  
Which will no less seem strange and rude,  
Yet follows necessarily  
From what is agreed already.  
What's that? said I. Why, wicked men,  
When punished, are more happy, then  
If they at all not punished were.  
Nor do I go about to rear  
Up a position that to all  
Is known, that wicked manners are  
By Punishments restrained, and Fear  
Men to be honest does compel,  
Beside th' Example does do well.  
But for another reason I  
Judge them unhappy do go free,  
Though of Example there were none,  
Nor of Correction reason shown.  
What may that other reason be?  
Have we not granted this, said she,  
The bad unhappy, good are blest?  
Why yes, said I. Then if some rest,  
From Misery, some good do come,  
Is he not better than such one  
To whom no good does come at all,  
But lives in pain perpetual?  
Why, yes. But if to's misery  
More pain and greater added be,  
Is he not more unhappy yet  
Then he that does some easement get?  
Why yes, said I. Then wicked men  
When they are punished do find then  
Something that's good; for Punishment  
Is good, b'ing Justice instrument.  
And then not punished for to be  
Is further ill; Impunity  
To be an ill by 's confessed,  
'Cause Right it does and Justice wrest.  
I can't deny't. The wicked then  
Are far more miserable, when  
That pain does them unjustly spare,  
Then when they justly punished are.  
For this to Justice does belong,  
The other is to Justice wrong.  
None can deny't. Nor none, said she,  
One good, the other ill to be.  
All this does follow, than said I,  
From what before we did agree.  
But after Death for Souls dost thou  
No punishment at all allow?  
Yes marry, and that great, said she;  
And them twofold I think to be:  
One sharp and a dire punishment,  
The other a mild purgament.  
But these to treat of I not mean:  
The ground and reason of this theme  
Was only that it might be seen  
(What thou didst most unworthy deem)  
In wicked men no Power to be;  
And further too, that thou mightst see,  
That they who ills do perpetrate  
Do never punishments escape:  
And also that thou may'st conceive  
The Power (for which thou didst ask leave  
Soon for to end) not long to be;  
If long, 'twere the more unhappy;  
And most unhappy yet of all,  
If that it were perpetual.  
I said before, the wicked than  
Are far more miserable when  
That pain does them unjustly spare,  
Then when they justly punished are.  
The consequence of which is this,  
Their punishment most grievous is,  
When they seem punished not to be.  
To so great reasons I agree.  
But if to men they be referr'd,  
Who'll judge them worthy to be heard?  
'Tis true, said she; for their dim eyes  
To the clear light of truth can't rise.  
So like they are unto the Owl,  
Whose sight Night brightens, Day does foul.  
For while they on their own lusts look,  
And not into the secret book  
Of things, they judge impunity  
Of Ill a Happiness to be.  
But know this as a firm award,  
Thou needest no Judge thee to reward  
If Virtue thou and Good follow;  
Thou on thyself dost it bestow.  
Again, if thou thyself apply  
To Vice, thou needest no enemy:  
Thyself to judge thou wilt be free,  
Thou wilt thine own tormentor be.  
As if by turns thou shouldst uprear  
Thy sight unto the Heaven's fair,  
And then again shouldst cast it down  
Upon the filthy miry Ground,  
Even the very sense of Sight  
Would now show dark, and then show light.  
I, but the vulgar thus don't see.  
I prithee what is that to me?  
Must we be ruled, or with them join,  
Who to be Beasts we do define?  
What if a man that lost his sight,  
Forget should that he ere saw light,  
And should believe that he has all  
Perfection that is natural?  
If I should unto this agree,  
I surely were as blind as he.  
But when will this be credited  
By those who done't believe what's said,  
That they are much more unhappy,  
That do, then suffer injury?  
The reason I would know, said I.  
Thou canst not sure, said she, deny,  
That who with a wicked intent  
Does ill, does merit punishment.  
And it does many ways appear  
The wicked miserable are.  
All this is true. Then it is plain,  
They are unhappy, deserve pain.  
So 'tis, said I If then, said she,  
The case referred were unto thee,  
Which wouldst thou punish, him that did  
The wrong, or him that suffered it?  
No question I would certainly  
Him punish did the injury.  
Then more accursed he seems to thee  
Who did, then took the injury.  
It follows so. From this therefore,  
And from like reasons many more,  
'Tis plain that who does injury  
Upon himself brings misery.  
What need then Orators make moan,  
Judges to move to compassion  
O●… them that in afflictions are,  
And the wrongdoer not to spare,  
Whereas in truth they pity aught  
All those that have injustice sought?  
Who should a mild, not angry way  
Accused be, that so they may  
By counsel, as to patients foul,  
Cut off a part to save the whole.  
Who this considers would not use  
Defence, but rather would accuse  
Himself; and he who wicked is,  
If he of Virtue and of Bliss  
Can but a little glimmering see,  
And know he might delivered be  
From Vice's filth by punishment,  
Would surly be well content  
To suffer pain, and would refuse  
At all an Advocate to use;  
But would to his Accuser's hate  
And Judge's doom himself prostrate.  
By which he wholly would abate,  
In wise men, all inveterate hate.  
For none but Fools the Good decry;  
And they're more fools the Bad envy.  
As by disease the Body's pined,  
So Vice does macerate the Mind.  
And if that Sickness stir up love,  
Much more should they compassion move  
Where Wickedness the Mind does seize,  
For this is much the worse disease.   

Whence is't with so much eagerness ye do  
Pursue your fate? would you death woo?  
He is at hand: if Lion, Tiger, Bear,  
Serpent, nor Boar won't do't, yourselves you'll tear  
Whence does this cruelty proceed,  
Thus one another to make bleed?  
If 'cause Opinions differ you blood spill,  
This cause no reason has but depraved Will.  
Then learn to love the good, pity the ill.   

Here I do plainly see, said I,  
What is or the felicity,  
Or misery that does attend  
The good, or wicked does offend.  
But yet I am not satisfied,  
But that there's good and bad beside.  
For what wise man would banished be,  
Live poor and ignominiously,  
Rather than rich and honoured?  
This 'tis makes Wisdom credited,  
Whenas the governor's renown  
To th' people is transmitted down.  
Besides that Prisons, Whips and Racks,  
By Law provided for the backs  
Of wicked Citizens, do I  
Admire much they changed should be,  
And Punishments should good destroy,  
While as the ill rewards enjoy.  
I pray render me a reason  
Of this unjust confusion.  
For I myself should wonder less,  
If I thought Chance all things did press.  
But now I much astonished am,  
When I consider that they come  
From God, that he does distribute  
Oft-times what's pleasant to the good,  
What's sharp to th' bad, again that he  
The good keeps short, to th' bad is free.  
Unless I may the cause discern,  
Why all's not Chance I ne'er shall learn.  
No marvel, said she, if any thing,  
The cause not known, confusion bring.  
But though the cause thou dost not know  
Why that things are disposed so;  
Yet since the World must God obey,  
ne'er doubt but he does rightly sway.   

Who does not know Arcturus course,  
What him about the Pole does force,  
How slow Boötes guides his horse,   

Why he so late to bed does go,  
I'th' morn himself so soon does show,  
Must needs the rest o'th' Heavens not know.   

What is't that when the Moon's i'th' full  
Her glorious light from her does pull,  
Whose splendour all the Stars did dull?   

The reason being hid to some,  
Made them with Kettle and with Drum  
And Cries unto her aid to come.   

None wonders that strong Winds do raise  
The waves, nor that the Snow not stays  
When looked upon by Phoebus' rays.   

These things seem easy to be known:  
Those things the mind do vex alone  
Which seldom unto it are shown.   

Things sudden do the vulgar move:  
But if blind Error we remove,  
They no way wonderful will prove.   

'Tis so, said I: but since that thou  
The hidden cause of things canst show,  
I thee desire to bring to light  
The reasons so wrapped up in night.  
Above all others pray thee tell  
(Me for to ease) this miracle.  
Then she a little smiling said,  
Thou hast a suit unto me made  
Which to perform a matter is  
So difficult, best skill may miss.  
The matter it is so abstruse,  
One doubt resolved, thousands produce:  
Like Hydra's heads they do increase;  
Nor will they come to any peace,  
Unless they purely be calcined,  
With a quick fire of the Mind.  
For in this we must explicate  
Mild Providence, and rugged Fate,  
Unlooked-for Chance, divine Cognition,  
, and dark Predestination.  
The weight of these thou well may'st guests.  
But thee to cure since I profess,  
Though time be short, I'll use it so  
That thou in part shalt them all know  
And if my verse delights thy ear,  
Thou must the same awhile forbear,  
Till I do utter orderly  
Some reasons. As you please, said I.  
Then she, as if she new began,  
Her speech to me this wise did frame.  
The generation of all things,  
All Nature's changing proceed,  
All whatsoever things do move,  
The Cause, Form, Order from above.  
The high Mind set composedly  
I'th' tower of true Simplicity,  
Thence issues out a firm decree  
How every thing shall governed be.  
Which for that purely 'tis divine,  
We do it Providence define.  
But if to th' things we it refer,  
Which by this Mind disposed are,  
We call it Fate. That this is clear▪  
By both their natures will appear.  
For Providence that Reason is  
Divine, which constituted is  
In God himself, who all does guide:  
But Fate in low things does abide.  
By Providence Fate orderly  
Disposes all things variably.  
Providence does all things unite,  
Though divers, or though infinite.  
Fate singly does them cause to move,  
As Time or Form or Place approve▪  
So temporal things for to know right  
United into God's foresight,  
Is Providence; and the same union  
By time digested and made known,  
Is Fate: distinct, they have one End;  
For one on th' other does depend.  
Order of Fate is guided by  
Providence's simplicity.  
For as a good Artificer,  
(Does a form in's mind decipher,)  
In time and order brings to pass  
What but before in his mind was:  
So God does by his Providence  
Dispose all things i'th' future tense;  
And what things he does so dispose,  
Fate does in order them disclose.  
Then whether Fate's web woven be  
By Spirits which immediately  
Serve Providence, or by the Soul,  
Or Nature which does serve the whole,  
Or by the motions of the Spheres,  
Or Angels, or the Devil's cares,  
Or some, or all of these, yet hence  
Full clear it is that Providence  
Is an unmoved and simple form  
Of such things as are yet unborn,  
But Fate's an engine movable,  
The which does orderly fulfil  
What the divine Simplicity  
In time does order for to be.  
Whence all things that do Fate obey  
To Providence allegiance pay.  
And Fate must unto it submit;  
For under Providence are set  
Some things which Fate itself surmount.  
Among the which we well may count  
Such as are sixth unmovably  
Nigh the all-ruling Deity.  
For as when many circles spin  
About one centre, that within  
To th' centre's stableness comes nigh,  
And is as 'twere the hinge whereby  
All those that placed are without  
Do make their motions round about;  
But that which outermost does turn,  
A great circumference does run,  
The more it from the centre goes,  
The larger spaces from it grows;  
But what to th' centre is fast knit,  
Does stableness enjoy with it:  
So all those that are placed far  
From the first Mind, perplexed are  
With more and greater snares of Fate;  
And he enjoys a freer state  
Who out at distance does not lie,  
But to the centre does draw nigh.  
And if unto the high Mind he  
Can fixed be by stability,  
Above all second things he's born,  
And Fate's necessity may scorn.  
Wherefore as we Discourse do find  
To be the product of the Mind;  
And what begotten is, we see  
Is still the fruit of the same tree;  
Eternity produces Time,  
And Circles from the Centre climb:  
So moving Fate has a firm ty  
To Providence's certainty;  
Which does alone the Heavens move,  
Which joins the Elements in love,  
Which makes all growing things proceed  
From the corruption of the Seed,  
Which does men's acts and fortunes chain  
In links that firm and sure remain.  
Then since they claim their principle  
From Providence ,  
It must be of necessity,  
They have immutability.  
And then all things best governed are,  
When the divine Mind takes the care,  
And with his own Unmovedness  
Represses their Confusedness.  
Hence 'tis that though this Order seem  
To you to be of small esteem,  
For that all things confused appear;  
Yet God hereby does take such care,  
That he disposes all to good.  
This 've already understood:  
For ill, as ill, there's none takes care,  
No not those that most wicked are;  
But they with wicked error do  
Seek good which way so ere they go.  
But if chief Good the centre be  
Of this same Order, certainly,  
It no man can turn out o'th' way.  
I but Confusion 'tis, you'll say,  
Good men to have Prosperity,  
And then again Adversity;  
And Wicked men for to enjoy  
Their will, and then again annoy.  
But are there any men that live  
So wise, that they can sentence give  
Who wicked are, and who upright?  
Or must they be so 'cause they say't?  
How comes it then to pass there lies  
In judgements such incertainties,  
So that whom one thinks worthy gain,  
Another censures unto pain?  
But let us grant that some man can  
Discern the good from the bad man.  
Can he also the temper see  
O'th' Soul? with it these may agree.  
Who ignorantly then does say  
He wonders, as well wonder may  
Why to one's body that is sound  
Sweet things are only proper found;  
T'another's thats as sound as he,  
Sharp things and bitter do agree.  
Some sick men are with Lenitives,  
And some are cured with Corrosives.  
But the Physician that does know  
Each temper, and can reason show  
Of this man's health, that man's disease,  
No admiration does himself.  
Now of the Soul is Verity  
The index of Salubrity,  
And Vice the Sickness of the same.  
Then who, than God, a fit can  
Physician be, who knows so well  
Good to conserve, bad to expel?  
Who does from his high Throne of Bliss  
See what for each man fitting is;  
And what is fit he does assign  
Him, by his Providence divine?  
This all the wonder is of Fate;  
When he that knows the best estate,  
Most knowingly for it does care,  
The ignorant astonished are.  
But now in brief I will explain  
What humane Reason can attain  
Of secrets purely divine.  
Whose Virtue thou thinkest most to shine,  
Who most serves Truth and Equity,  
The eye of Providence does see  
Quite otherwise: hence Lucan does  
Ingeniously admonish us,  
The Victor's cause the Gods did please,  
The Vanquished, Cato. If in these  
Then transitory things thou see  
What thou thinkest evil done to be;  
Believe 'tis dimness of thy sight,  
But divine order is still right.  
But if there any be so just  
That God and man approve him must;  
Yet possibly his Mind's so weak,  
His Innocence he will forsake,  
If him in Bliss it won't maintain,  
But rather is the cause of pain.  
This man the alwise God does spare,  
Foreseeing that he cannot bear  
Adversity, so growing worse  
It would be unto him a curse.  
Another man so virtuous is,  
So like to God in Holiness,  
Him Providence does not think fit  
In any case for to afflict,  
So that so much as Sickness she  
Should him assail, will not agree.  
For as one who me far excels  
From sacred knowledge freely tells,  
The Carcases of Holy men  
Of Virtue are composed. And then  
As it does often happen that  
Virtue does good men elevate,  
It is to keep the wicked low,  
Which otherwise would all o'erflow.  
Again she mixes one with tother,  
As she does see minds them can bear.  
Some she does prune, some she does mow,  
Lest they too rank should overgrow  
With long Prosperity, some she  
With hardships suffers vexed to be,  
That so the Virtues of the Mind  
By Patience may assurance find.  
What's easy to be born, some fear,  
Others do ssight what they can't bear.  
These she afflicts with Misery,  
That they their strength of mind may try  
Some for the glory of a Name,  
Do catch at Death, to purchase Fame.  
Others, by strange enduring pain,  
By their example have made plain  
That Virtue cannot conquered be  
By all this worldly misery.  
Which things since right and orderly  
They are disposed, no doubt can be  
But that they do the good procure  
Of them that do the same endure.   

Now that the wicked do enjoy  
Sometimes their will, and then annoy,  
From the same causes doth arise.  
That they are punished, none that's wise  
Can wonder, or condemn; for why,  
It does both others terrify,  
And does mend them: besides the joy  
The wicked have aloud does cry  
To th' good, that they should learn thereby  
How vain a thing's Prosperity.  
I also more consider this;  
Perhaps one's nature so fierce is,  
That Poverty would make him worse:  
Then him to free from this fame curse,  
Kind Providence for remedy  
Stores him with Money plenteously.  
Another who does Vice affect,  
Upon his fortunes does reflect.  
And fears the loss would more displease,  
Then now the spending does him please;  
Does change his life, and while he fears  
To lose his state, his Vice forbears.  
One lately raised to Happiness,  
With Pride does on destruction press.  
To others there is Power lent  
For to inflict dire punishment,  
The good thereby to exercise,  
The wicked thereby to chastise.  
For as no correspondence can  
Be between a good and wicked man;  
So do the wicked still deny  
Among themselves for to comply.  
And how can it be otherwise,  
Since they being guilty of Vice,  
Within themselves perplexed are,  
And being mad, they none do spare?  
From whence by Providence is oft  
This miracle seen to be wrought,  
That ill men, ill men good do make;  
For that from them they damage take:  
So hating of their wickedness,  
They fly to Virtue for redress,  
Detesting for to be like them  
Whom they do hate above all men.  
For only strength that is divine  
Can out of evil good refine.  
Which it does do in this respect,  
By giving it a good effect.  
For Order does all things entwine;  
And what from Order does decline,  
Does so but seem, keeps the right way:  
For where that Providence does sway,  
There sure can no Confusion be.  
But it cannot be showed by me,  
How God, who does to all preside,  
Does by his Providence them guide.  
Let it suffice that we do see  
That God, who did Nature decree,  
By mortals must be understood  
For to dispose all things to good.  
For that all things he does produce  
He to his likeness does reduce:  
And does all Evil banish by  
Course of fatal necessity  
From out his kingdom: so that we  
Considering the Deity,  
Must know on earth ill can't abound,  
Since no place for it can be found.  
But I do see you weary are,  
This weighty burden for to bear;  
Though't reason be, prolixity  
Must needs be tedious unto thee:  
Therefore I thee to recreate  
Some verses sweet will modulate.  
Take them as a refection,  
Thy journey better thou'lt go on.   

If thou the Laws of the most High  
Wilt with a knowing mind descry,  
Behold the motions are above,  
How they do keep both peace and love.  
Though Phoebus be hot,  
Yet he doth not  
his Sister Phoebe's cold restrain:  
But they mutually  
Do friendly comply,  
to warm and cool the Earth again.   

Nor does the Pole, on which the world  
Is turned, desire to be hurled  
Into the Sea, although he see  
All other Stars there drenched ●o be.  
The Evening-star  
Does always prepare  
the coming of the shady Night:  
The Morn-star does bring  
The joyful tiding  
of every Day's approaching light.   

So that they do perpetually  
In Love agree and Unity:  
This Love does banish from the Stars  
All discord, strife, and civil wars.  
By this Unity  
Th' Elements agree,  
so that the moist yields to the dry,  
The cold joins in love  
With Fire that's above,  
and weighty Earth below does lie.   

This Love and this blessed Unity  
Causes the Spring so gay to be,  
Causes the Summer ripe the Corn,  
And Autumn to blow Plenty's horn,  
That well drive away  
Cold Winter we may:  
gives us all things that life sustain;  
And when that we die,  
Brings us presently  
to our beginning back again.   

While their Creator set on high  
Does govern them full orderly;  
As King and Lord he all does sway,  
So from their order they can't stray.  
Yet he by his will  
Can make that stand still  
whose order is to flow amain;  
And that make to stray  
Whose order to stay,  
for none his power can restrain.   

But did not he the creatures bound,  
And them compel into a round,  
They soon exorbitant would grow,  
And would all order overthrow.  
'Tis Love mutual  
To good drives them all,  
and makes them that they do remain.  
‛ Tis. Love is the thing  
That all things does bring  
to their beginning back again.   

Dost thou the consequence now see  
Of all I have declared to thee?  
What's that? said I. Even all, said she,  
Fortune, what ever, good to be.  
And how, said I, can that same be?  
Attend, and thou shalt see, said she.  
Since that all Fortune, mild or hard,  
Conferred is or for Reward,  
Or trial of the good; or for  
The Punishment o'th' wicked, or  
For their correction; it is plain  
'Tis good, 'cause just, or for 'tis gain.  
Thou truly dost the question state;  
And if I Providence and Fate  
(As thou to me hast lately taught)  
Consider, it is firmly wrought.  
But I do think it may be placed  
Among those things that time do waste;  
For thou didst lately tell to me,  
Some things believed may not be.  
Let this be one. For why? said she.  
Because that men do commonly  
Assever they ill Fortune have.  
And if that thou the same do crave,  
The vulgar speech I'll not refuse,  
But all humanity will use.  
Do as you please, said I. Then she;  
Dost thou not think that good to be  
That profitable is? I do,  
Said I. Thou canst not then but know  
That all whatever does correct,  
Or trial make, 's good in th'effect.  
'Tis true, said I. It must be good,  
Or else thou hadst not understood  
This their condition for to be  
Who, virtuous, with adversity  
A war do wage, nor those that do,  
From Vice reclaimed, Virtue pursue.  
'Tis plain, said I, unto me now.  
But prithee further, what thinkest thou  
Of what the good have as reward?  
Does the rude vulgar think that hard?  
Why not, said I; but good, as ' 'tis.  
But what do they think then of this,  
What bitter is, and does restrain  
By punishment the wicked man?  
Do they think this same good to be?  
No, but the worst of misery.  
Then see, said she, how following  
The Vulgar's foolish bellowing,  
That same thing now is visible,  
That you would have incredible.  
As how? said I. The consequence  
Of this is plain to every sense,  
That they who Virtue do possess,  
Or towards her are in progress,  
Their Fortune is concluded good;  
But by the Vulgar's understood,  
That they who wicked do remain  
Bad Fortune have, if they have pain.  
It follows so. But who is wise,  
Said she, does think Adversities  
To be a trial, does make head,  
And no more does the issue dread,  
Then does the valiant Chieftain do  
When to the battle trumpets blow.  
The difficulty is the thing  
Which unto both does honour bring:  
One seeks in Glory for to rise,  
The other is esteemed Wise.  
And Virtue does its name derive  
From Vis, 'cause it does strongly strive.  
And you who in the progress are  
Towards Virtue, surely do take care  
Not to be pampered with delights,  
Nor to be pined with affrights:  
But 'gainst both Fortunes you put on  
A conquering resolution.  
Lest you Delights should overflow,  
Or Sorrows should you overthrow,  
You strongly do a Mean endeavour.  
For it is sure that whosoever  
Or short does stay, or further go,  
May have Felicity in show,  
But never shall reward obtain,  
For all his labour and his pain.  
But if you will uprightly live,  
You to yourselves your Fortune give.  
For whatsoever Fortune ill  
Does seem, it is good Fortune still:  
For it the good does exercise;  
Or else correct, or punish vice.   

What greater pleasure on the earth is found,  
Then with strong Difficulties for to cope,  
And then with victory for to be crowned?  
Of this stout Agamemnon had great hope,  
When before Troy he ten whole years did lie;  
Filled with disdain, he thought the time not long,  
And ended it with glorious victory,  
By fire expiating his Brother's wrong.  
Which rather then he would not bring to pass,  
He sacrificed his only Daughter dear,  
Who to the Gods o'th' Wind a victim was,  
That Neptune safe the Grecian Fleet might bear.  
Ulysses his Companions did bewail,  
Whom cruel Cyclops in his den did eat;  
But he with blindness did the Cyclops quail,  
Then joy did mitigate his sadness great.  
Great Hercules renowned is for toil:  
He did the proud ambitious Centauris tame,  
And from the raging Lion took the spoil,  
And men-devouring Birds he made his game.  
He from the watchful Dragon did fetch out  
The Golden Apples, and did Horses feed  
With Kingly flesh; the Hell-dog led about,  
And from the monster Hydra the world freed.  
He made swift Achelous back to go,  
And quelled Antaeus on the Libyan sand:  
He did the fiery Cacus overthrow,  
Nor could the huge-tusked Boar his force withstand.  
With his stiff neck and brawny shoulders he  
The heavens upheld. For these he gained at last  
Up to the Gods translated for to be,  
So who the heavens upheld, the heavens hold fast.  
These high examples let brave minds regard.  
Who toils in Virtue, has a sure reward.    

THE FIFTH BOOK.  

WHen this was said, she did begin  
Quite other matters to wove in.  
Then I, her interrupting, said,  
Thy exhortation is well laid,  
And aught observed for to be  
Coming from thy authority.  
But since that I do find it true  
Now by experience, that which you  
Of Providence to me did tell,  
That many questions thence would swell,  
From thee I do desire to know  
Whether that Chance or be, or no,  
And what it is. I will, said she,  
Make good my promise unto thee;  
And unto thee the way will show,  
How thou in safety home may'st go.  
The things I was about to say,  
Although that they much profit may,  
Yet they from our set purpose were;  
But I did offer them, for fear  
Lest with these heavy burdens pressed,  
Thou shouldest tyre for want of rest.  
Of that, said I, no fear can be,  
They rather ease do bring to me.  
Besides, if thy discourse appear  
With Truths on all sides to be clear,  
Of all which does thereof arise  
There's no man sure will doubt that's wise,  
Thy way, said she, I'll follow then;  
And in this manner she began.  
If that without a Cause be lent  
Unto rash motion an Event,  
If any one this Chance do call,  
I do aver there's none at all:  
And a vain voice it is alone,  
Without signification.  
For where can Chance have any room  
Where God to order all does doom?  
That Nothing does from nothing rise,  
Is truth confirmed by th' ancient wise,  
Even by those could nothing tell  
Of the effecting principle;  
But all their knowledge only was  
Material subject, nature, cause.  
But if that any thing doth spring  
From no Cause, it does from Nothing  
Seem to come: but if this can't be,  
Then neither can there possibly  
Be that same Chance lately defined.  
And what, said I, can we then find  
In the whole world nothing at all  
That Fortune we or Chance may call?  
Or is there something (lies unknown  
To th' Vulgar) by these terms is shown?  
In Aristotle's Physics thou  
Truly mayest the reason know.  
As how? said I. When any thing,  
Says he, by accident does bring  
To light some other thing than was  
Intended by the moving cause,  
This is called Chance: as if a man  
For tillage does plough up a lawn,  
And does a hidden treasure find,  
'Tis presently to Chance assigned;  
But wrongly, since it does not pass  
From nothing, for it causes has;  
The which, 'cause they were not foreseen,  
A Chance does make it for to seem.  
For if the Husband man had not  
The ground broke up, nor the other put  
The treasure there, it had not been found.  
Now thou dost see the cause and ground;  
It does from several causes come,  
Not from the Agent's intention.  
For neither he that hide the gold,  
Nor he that did the plough-staff hold,  
Intended it should come to pass;  
But, as I said, it only was  
Concurring causes that did bid  
The one dig up what th' other hid.  
Then Chance by us may be defined,  
Event from Causes that are joined.  
Now Causes do concur and grow  
From a Connexion which does flow  
From that inevitable Read  
Which does from Providence proceed,  
Which does all things (seen in the close)  
In time and place rightly dispose.   

Among the rocks  
whereas those people dwell  
Who do with mocks  
their enemies all quell,  
Whilst flying they  
Do with their deadly darts  
Their followers slay,  
them piercing to the hearts,  
There Tigris does,  
there does Euphrates rise;  
This one way goes,  
that th' other swiftly flies.  
Should they unite  
and both together run,  
With all the might  
of Floods that to them come,  
There's nothing could  
their raging force withstand,  
Destroy they would  
all the whole neighbouring land.  
Trees they would tear  
from out the firmest ground;  
They nought would spare,  
but all things would confound;  
If not consigned  
their channels for to keep,  
By that high Mind  
that law gives to the Deep.  
It is just so  
with Fortune's raging spite;  
Who all does know,  
does force her to do right.   

I do it understand, said I,  
And with thy judgement do comply.  
But with thy Causes dost thou  
To man at all  allow?  
Or does this fatal Chain up tie  
men's minds, that they move not freely?  
No, there's no nature reasonable,  
But is endued with .  
What things soever Reason do  
By nature use, use Judgement too,  
By which they with a lively sense  
Easily discern the difference  
'Twixt what is good and what is bad;  
What's to be left, what's to be had.  
Then who of Reason has the skill,  
He freedom has to will, or nill.  
But I'll not say that unto all  
This Freedom is alike equal:  
For that the substances Divine  
Have Judgements that are clear and fine,  
Wills uncorrupted, and what they  
Do will, they by their Power may.  
But it is of necessity  
That humane minds most free should be,  
When they in speculation are  
Of the High God: less when they care  
For th' body take▪ least when that they  
Let earthly vanities them sway.  
But yet their greatest bondage is,  
When they do sell themselves to Vice:  
Reason's possession than they quit;  
And putting from their eyes the light  
Of Truth, they into darkness fall,  
And lewd affections worst of all;  
To which consenting, they do bring  
Upon themselves a languishing,  
And they by this their being free  
Throw themselves into slavery.  
Yet still high Providence does see  
All things from all eternity,  
And to the merits of each state  
Does give, as they're predestinate.  
All things does he  
Both hear and see.   

Homer did sweetly sing  
bright Phoebus' praise:  
Yet he cannot look in  
the Earth's dark ways;  
Nor can he pierce with's eye  
the Ocean clear.  
To him that made the Sky  
all things appear;  
No Earth does stand between  
his knowing sight,  
Nothing by him's unseen  
i' th' darkest night.  
With one thought of his mind  
he clear does see  
Whatever was designed  
or ere shall be.   

Then he that does behold the total sum,  
He truly may be called the brightest Sun.  
I now, said I, confounded am  
Far more than when that you began.  
How can that be? said she: yet I  
Conjecture where your doubts do lie.  
These things, said I, too much oppose  
To be believed, That God foreknows  
All things that are, or ere shall be,  
And to believe the Will is free.  
For if that God does all things see,  
And by no means deceived can be,  
It is a necessary case,  
What he foresees must come to pass.  
Wherefore if from eternity  
Not only deeds, but counsels he  
And darkest thoughts of men foreknew,  
Then a  cannot be true.  
For there no Act can be alone,  
But Will also there can be none,  
Hid from the divine Providence,  
In his unerring prescience.  
For if that things another way  
Then was foreseen quite alter may,  
Foreknowledge certainly there's none,  
But rather an Opinion.  
Which to believe of God above  
Is impious. Nor do I approve  
The reason, which some men resolve  
This knotty question does dissolve.  
They say that nothing comes to pass  
‛ Cause it foreseen or foreknown was;  
But contrary, for that 'twould be,  
High Providence did it foresee.  
If so, the same necessity  
As well is for the contrary.  
For 'tis not necessary that  
What is foreseen must therefore hap;  
But this does necessary seem,  
Whatever does hap, it was foreseen.  
As if we laboured for to know  
Which of these two the cause should show;  
Whether Foreknowledge rises from  
Necessity of things to come,  
Or the Necessity does grow  
From the Foreknowledge. But I'll show  
That howsoe'er things ordered be,  
Th' event of things is necessary,  
Though Providence don't seem it infer  
Necessity. For if that there  
One sit, and I him sitting view,  
That he does sit I do think true:  
Again, if that my thought be true,  
That he does sit must be true too.  
In both then there's necessity,  
To sit, and also true to be.  
But therefore sure he does not sit,  
Because that I so think of it:  
But therefore I so think of it,  
Because 'tis true that he does sit.  
So though the cause of truth proceed  
But from one part, yet there is need  
Of relative community,  
Or we this point shall ne'er agree.  
We must make the like inference  
Of Future things, and Providence;  
Who 'cause things must be, does foresee,  
But her foresight don't make them be.  
So necessary it does seem  
That things to come should be foreseen,  
Or else what things God does foresee  
Should fall out necessarily.  
So take't which way soe'er you will,  
It must needs overthrow .  
Besides, is't not preposterous,  
That worldly things should be the cause  
Of God's eternal Prescience?  
And pray what other is't in sense,  
To say, because that things must be,  
That therefore God does them foresee,  
Then for to say, what's come to pass,  
Of Providence the great cause was?  
Besides, if I do know a thing,  
I know also it has being:  
And if that I know aught shall be,  
I know it necessarily.  
Whence follows that no man can shun  
What in Foreknowledge must be done.  
Lastly, if any one conceive  
A thing to be, that may deceive,  
That is no Knowledge certainly,  
But Opinion's uncertainty,  
Which from the truth of Knowledge is  
Far discrepant. Then truth it is,  
That if a thing be for to be,  
But yet not of necessity,  
It cannot possibly be shown,  
That the same thing could be foreknown:  
For Knowledge is a thing so pure,  
It not false mixture will endure;  
So that if aught conceived be  
By it, it is of certainty.  
For this cause Knowledge cannot lie,  
Because that of necessity  
Whatever it does apprehend  
Must be the same unto the end.  
How then? by what means can God know  
That things uncertain will be so?  
For if he thinks that things will be  
Inev'tably, that may not be,  
He is deceived: which for to speak  
Or think of God is wicked, weak.  
Again, if so that he foresee  
Things as they are, such for to be,  
Or not to be, to come to pass,  
Or not to come, what skill, alas,  
Is this, which does not comprehend  
What stable is or sure i'th' end?  
It as ridiculous must be  
As was Tiresias Prophecy;  
What▪  I say, or sure must be,  
Or sure it is it must not be.  
In what does Divine Providence  
Excel the skill of humane sense,  
If that, as men, uncertain he  
Does judge th' event of things to be?  
But if that nought uncertain can  
Be unto him that is certain,  
Then the event must certain be  
Of whatsoever he does foresee.  
Which thing all Liberty expels  
From humane actions and counsels;  
If all these without falsity  
The Heavenly Mind does surely see,  
And them does bind and does constrain  
Unto events that are certain.  
This granted, what confusion  
Must all humane affairs put on?  
In vain Rewards propounded are  
To th' good, Pains to the ill, if there  
Be no free motion of the mind,  
But Necessity does it bind.  
And that will high Injustice seem  
Which we most just do now esteem,  
The wicked for to punish, or  
The good reward; since neither's for  
Their own delict or probity  
Received, but of necessity.  
Virtue or Vice there will be none,  
But of all things confusion.  
And then, (than which there nothing can  
Be more blasphemous thought by man)  
If Providence do all things guide,  
And humane Will to it be tied,  
It follows that our Vices must  
Be laid on him that is most just.  
Nor will there any reason sway  
Why either we should hope, or pray.  
For what does hope or prayer avail,  
If the determined end can't sail?  
No conversation there will be  
'Twixt Mortals and the Deity.  
For if no hope at all remain,  
To pray will be esteemed but vain.  
But if by just Humility  
We have access to th' Deity,  
And by it do of grace partake,  
Which is the only means can make  
Us happy, and by which men can  
With God have Conversation,  
By which they to that light are joined  
Inaccessible by mankind,  
And do there by all good obtain;  
If that, I say, prayer be made vain  
By holding of Necessity,  
Then by what other means shall we  
Stick fast unto, and be made one  
With the great Prince of Union?  
All men it must to ruin bring,  
If (as thou didst but lately sing)  
They from their fountain severed are,  
And in the Deity don't share.   

How does Erinnys break the league of things?  
What spirit is't that such contention slings  
Between two truths, such mighty warfare brings?   

How is't that singly things do clearly stand,  
But joined so dark are, none them understand?  
Or is't, that all truths do go hand in hand?   

No but the Soul, that here is but a guest,  
With cloudy members of dull flesh oppressed,  
Cannot attain to know what things are best.   

Why should she then with zeal burn like to fire?  
Why hidden ways of Truth should she desire,  
Whenas she here can nought but doubts acquire?   

If she the things that she desires does know,  
Why then with scruples does she vex them so?  
Why does she toil so much them to re-know?   

If she knows not, why does she, being blind,  
Seek them to know? who ever wished to find  
He knew not what, or sought to catch the wind?   

What if she find them? yet they being found,  
How shall she know their natures for to bond,  
When she herself in ignorance is drowned?   

Or for that she first came from God above,  
Must all things which here and above do move  
No Causes have, but what she does approve?   

She now with cloudy flesh is mantled o'er;  
And though some things of what she knew before  
She does retain, her knowledge is but poor.   

Yet who seeks Truth, he does not do amiss;  
Though he can't come to know't, yet he gains this,  
That he not wholly thereof ignorant is.   

Some things he does to memory commit;  
High thing●●e does admire, and high wit  
He scans with reason, and retains what's fit▪   

This, said she, is an old complaint,  
Canvased and scrutined by that acquaint  
Distributer of Divination,  
Cicero; and thyself art one  
That much has toiled in't: but as yet  
There's none of you has had the wit  
Sufficiently to find it out.  
The reason of it is, no doubt,  
'Cause blindness of Humanity  
Can't see Divine Simplicity,  
Nor comprehend the notions great  
Of heavenly things in her conceit:  
To which if that she could attain,  
There would not doubt at all remain.  
But I the same with my best skill  
Open to lay endeavour will.  
But first I must those doubts remove  
Are by thee moved, and do thee move.  
And first I do demand of thee,  
Why thou not reason it to be  
Dost think, that nothing comes to pass  
'Cause it Foreseen or Foreknown was.  
It only seeks for to maintain  
Prescience, don't  restrain;  
Nor it at all the cause to be  
Of the Event's necessity.  
Dost thou bring any arguments  
For the necessity of Events,  
But 'cause that God does them Foresee  
They must be of Necessity?  
But if Foreknowledge does not bring  
Necessity upon the thing,  
As thou thyself didst late express,  
When thou the same thing didst confess,  
How is't, of things voluntary  
That the Event must certain be?  
I will thee an example show,  
Thereby the consequence to know.  
Suppose there were no Prescience,  
Couldst thou, dost think, affirm in sense,  
That what proceedeth from the Will,  
Necessity does it compel?  
Why, no. Let's then again suppose  
Prescience, and that it does impose  
On nothing a Necessity.  
The Freedom of the Will will be  
As absolute the same alone,  
As if Prescience there were none.  
But thou wilt say, Although there be  
By Prescience no necessity  
Of the Event, a sign it is  
Things so to happen cannot miss.  
By the same reason, the same thing  
Had happed had no Prescience been.  
A Sign does always something show,  
But does not cause it to be so.  
Wherefore who this does not allow,  
Must first demonstratively show,  
That certainly nothing can be  
But it is from Necessity,  
Before that he can make't appear  
Foreknowledge does this title bear.  
If there be no Necessity,  
Then Prescience no Sign can be  
Of what is not. Besides proofs must  
Not upon men by Signs be thrust,  
But by firm Reasons, proofs well wrought,  
From causes necessary brought.  
But by what means may things not be;  
Which for to be God does Foresee?  
'Tis true there is no means, but that  
What God Foresees to be must hap.  
For though I don't believe at all  
What God Foresees must not befall,  
Yet though it must befall, say I,  
It is not of necessity  
From its own nature. This to be  
A truth I'll plainly show to thee.  
There's many a thing before our eyes,  
While doing, that this truth descries.  
As he that drives a Coach or Cart,  
Does many things to show his art.  
For should Necessity compel,  
In vain the Artist should excel.  
So other things conclude may we  
Not to be of necessity.  
Which as 've no necessity  
Of being, before that they be,  
So they without necessity  
Do happen, when they come to be.  
It follows then some things be free,  
In th' event, from Necessity.  
And yet there's none will say what's done,  
Before 'twas done, was not to come.  
By this th' event of things is shown  
For to be free, although Foreknown,  
For as there's no necessity  
Of knowing things that present be,  
●ut as they're done, or left undone;  
Just so it is of things to come.  
But likely 'tis thou dost suppose  
There no Foreknowledge is of those  
Things whose events not necessary,  
Because their natures disagree.  
For thou may'st think of Prescience  
Necessity the consequence;  
And if there's no Necessity,  
Then no Foreknowledge can there be;  
For Knowledge nought can comprehend  
That is not certain in the end.  
And if th' event uncertain be,  
And it as certain we foresee,  
'Tis plain that Knowledge it is none,  
But dark and cloudy Opinion.  
For otherwise a mind to bear  
Of things, or Causes, than they are,  
Thou thinkest it much averse to be  
To Knowledge's integrity.  
The cause of which thy error's this,  
Because thou thinkest that what known is,  
By its own force and nature's known;  
But the contrary shall be shown.  
All that is known, is not known by  
The force that in itself does lie;  
But the force lies, as I suppose,  
I' th' faculty of him that knows.  
That this a perfect truth must be,  
I'll by example show to thee.  
Suppose a body round to be,  
The Eye this body's form does see,  
The Hand it feels; that it is round  
We by two  ways have found.  
The Eye it viewing with sight clear,  
Unto the Mind its form does bear:  
The Hand, by joining to the thing,  
And round about it compassing,  
Does so the roundness of it find,  
And it conveys unto the Mind.  
So Sense a Man does one way see,  
Imagination diversely,  
Reason a way not like these other,  
And understanding quite another.  
By Sense the figure as 'tis placed  
In the material thing's embraced.  
Imagination form does see  
Without Materiality.  
But Reason yet does higher fly,  
Considers universally  
The Species of every kind,  
In the particulars assigned.  
But Understanding yet more high  
Does soar, and fixes its bright eye,  
While it with knowing beams does pierce  
Above the frame o' th' Universe,  
And with pure sight o' th' Mind does see  
The simple form from all these free.  
So 'tis, that the superior  
Comprehends the inferior;  
But the inferior in no wise  
To the superior can arise.  
So that the Sense no Sense can find,  
If it to th' Matter be not joined;  
Imagination cannot see  
Of Kind th' Universality;  
Neither can Reason comprehend  
Of simple Forms the utmost end:  
But Understanding, from an high  
Once casting down her knowing eye,  
Does strait the simple forms conceive  
Of all things that are underneath;  
But she the Forms discerneth so,  
As none o' th' rest can them so know.  
Reason's Univeriality,  
Sense's Materiality,  
Imagination's Form, all these  
She comprehendeth with much ease;  
Yet Reason does and Sense refuse,  
Nor does Imagination use,  
But with one stroke o' th' mind does she  
See and know all things Formally.  
The same thing Reason, whenas she  
Beholds Universality,  
Imagination does not use,  
And totally does Sense refuse,  
Yet things Imaginable and  
Sensible she does comprehend.  
For Reason does describe truly  
Thus her Universality.  
A Man's a creature animal,  
That's two-footed, and rational.  
This is a notion known to all  
Int self to be universal;  
Yet it Imagination does  
And Sense contain, every man knows:  
Though it no use at all does make  
In all the notions it does take  
Of Sense, or Imagination,  
But Rational conception.  
Imagination does the same:  
Though she all Forms and Figures frame  
I' th' mind, by sense of Touch and Sight,  
Yet they laid by, she judges right  
Of things, not by any reason  
Of Sense, but Imagination.  
Then dost thou not now plainly see,  
I' th' knowledge of all things that be,  
All their own Power and Faculty  
Do use, not theirs, they are known by?  
Nor is this any injury;  
For since all Judgement judged must be  
The act of him the judgement gave,  
'Tis necessary he should have  
Full power unto him consigned,  
Not by another be consigned.   

The ancient Chairs and Schools were filled  
with old men and obscure,  
Who into th' minds of men instilled  
Outward things only, did procure  
To th' Mind Ideas that were sure.   

As when we have in readiness  
a paper that is white,  
We wont are on it to impress  
Letters that do resemble night;  
So we the Minds Ideas write.   

But if the Mind no motions make  
that are her proper own,  
But does from outward things them take,  
Like Glasses show but what is shown,  
Whence she sees all things would be known;   

Whence she all single things beholds,  
or them divided knows;  
Whence 'tis that she all things enfolds,  
What from the highest Heaven flows,  
And what on the Earth's surface grows:   

With this same knowledge she   
with Truth does Falsehood gall.  
No Knowledge sure can be so great  
Which does from outward Objects fall,  
As that which comprehends this all.   

Yet living creatures Passions have,  
which do the Mind excite;  
Each Object does attention crave,  
Both of the Hearing and the Sight:  
And this their forms does bring to light.   

And thus the Mind to outward things  
her knowledge does apply:  
Not that the outward Object brings  
Unto it any novelty,  
For it kn●w all intrinsicly.   

And if in Bodies it be so,  
Their outward forms by Sense to know,  
The outward Object must reflect  
Upon the Sense and it affect;  
And that we do the Passions find  
Precede the Actions of the Mind,  
And do provoke the Soul to stir  
Those inward forms lie hid in her;  
If that these bodies right to know,  
The Mind to Passions this does owe,  
Although she Passions do at length  
Subdue by her own force and strength;  
How much more do those things that be  
From Corporal Affections free,  
The outward Objects not attend,  
But to the Mind their powers bend?  
Wherefore there is of Knowledges  
Like difference as of Substances.  
Some creatures motionless, have Sense,  
But they want all other science;  
As Shellfish, which to rocks stick fast,  
And thence do nourishment exhaust.  
The Beasts and Birds that use motion,  
Have Sense and Imagination,  
By which they fit things covet do,  
And seek all dangers to eschew.  
Reason does only Man define,  
And Understanding is divine.  
So that same Knowledge excels sure  
Which excels of its own nature,  
And does not only its own show,  
But does all others Objects know.  
If Sense and Imagination  
Then should rise up against Reason,  
And this same their contest should be,  
There's no Universality,  
As Reason thinks she does behold,  
And thus their argument should hold;  
Whatever thing is Sensible,  
Or that is Imaginable,  
That Universal cannot be:  
If Reason's judgement true then be,  
Then nothing can be Sensible,  
No nor yet Imaginable;  
For many things to her are known  
Subject to Imagination  
And Sense; then vain is the conceit  
Of Reason, which does Objects treat  
That in their natures Single be  
With her Universality.  
Thus Reason's answer would be free,  
That in Universality  
She does behold what's Sensible,  
And what is Imaginable,  
But their weak Knowledge cannot fly  
Up to Universality,  
'Cause they no Knowledge have at all  
'Bove Figures and Forms Corporeal.  
Then certainly we must affirm,  
That Knowledge for to be most firm,  
As also to be most perfect,  
Which knows both Form and the Effect.  
In this contention, surely we,  
Endued with Reason's faculty,  
That have Imagination  
And Sense also to work upon,  
Cannot in reason but attest,  
That Reason's cause is much the best.  
Just so it is, when Reason does  
Think that God's Understanding knows  
Things yet to come no otherwise  
Then she does think she them descries:  
For thus thou sayest, If th' event be  
Not certain and necessary,  
Then a Foreknowledge of the same  
Also can no way be certain.  
Hence, of these things thou dost allege  
That there can be no Foreknowledge;  
And if there be, nought certainly  
Can hap, but of necessity.  
If as we have of Reason part,  
God Judgement would divine impart,  
As we already did conclude  
All Sense and Thought for to be rude,  
'Cause they to Reason would not yield,  
So Reason must submit the field  
To th' Understanding Divine Mind.  
Then granting that our Reason's blind,  
Let us unto that height aspire,  
Where Reason, when she has got higher,  
Will see those things, and plainly too,  
Which in herself she could not do;  
Which is, that those things which have no  
Certain event, God does Foreknow;  
And that Opinion this is none,  
But rather highest notion,  
Bound up in that Simplicity  
That by nothing can bounded be.   

On earth what several kinds  
of creatures are!  
Poison the Serpent lines.  
yet he is fair:  
His skin no soil will take,  
though he does creep,  
Yet he does furrows make,  
and dust does sweep.  
Birds use their wings to fly  
upon the wind,  
And in the air full high  
a passage find.  
Beasts going on the ground,  
their steps appear,  
By which in Woods oft found,  
they hunted are.  
All several formed you see  
in Nature's book;  
Yet all in this agree,  
on Earth they look  
Man only does erect  
his stately crown,  
To th' Earth gives no respect,  
nor eye throws down.  
If Earth don't thee inchant,  
thy Form does teach,  
For all things thou canst want  
to Heaven to reach.  
But if thou Earth do love, and to it trust,  
Thy Body will above thy Soul be thrust.   

Then as to thee before was shown,  
whate'er is known, it is not known  
By its own nature, but by his  
By whom it comprehended is.  
Let's now the Divine substance see  
With care and with sobriety;  
That seeing it, we may also  
Know what it is that he does know.  
First then, God is confessed by all  
That Reason have, to b' eternal.  
The thing that must considered be  
Is, what is this Eternity.  
For this will unto us declare  
What's knowledge and what's nature are▪  
Eternitie's full possession  
Of life, without conclusion.  
This unto us will plain appear  
If temporal things we do compare.  
All things that live do proceed from  
Times past, go on to time to come;  
And there's no one that can embrace  
At one instant all the whole space  
Of his whole Life, knows not next day,  
Nor is what he was yesterday.  
Nor in this very present day  
Does he of's Life more time enjoy,  
Then one moment transitory,  
In which to Move, or Speak, or Die.  
Then none of time can be more free  
Than Time can make himself to be.  
Though that (as Aristotle said  
O'th' World) it no Beginning had,  
No End shall have, if Life, I say,  
With Time endure should for aye,  
It could not rightly be a thing  
That might be called Everlasting.  
For though that Life were infinite,  
It could not at one time unite  
All its whole course, being barred from  
All the whole time that is to come.  
Then that same which does comprehend  
All that whole Life which has no end,  
All that is passed knows certainly,  
All that's to come does plainly see,  
That same must the Eternal be.  
And this is of necessity;  
For that he in himself alone  
Has all perfect possession,  
Makes all things present him assist,  
And also carries in his fist  
The all and whole infinity  
Of Time, that has mobility.  
But very largely they mistake,  
Who from Plato's opinion, take  
This frame to be coeternal  
With him that framed this same All,  
Because that Plato this has penned,  
It nor Beginning had▪ nor End:  
And they do think to prove by this,  
The World (as God) Eternal is.  
For it is one thing for to have  
Life without end, which Plato gave  
To th' World, and it is another  
(As 'tis easy for to gather)  
At one instant for to embrace  
The whole and every part o'th' space  
Of this same Life, the which is plain  
Only in God for to remain.  
Nor yet does the Creator seem  
Then Creatures older to have been  
By time's stretched measured Quantity,  
But by's nature's Simplicity▪  
The world does strive to imitate  
God's present motionless estate;  
And since he cannot equal it,  
By motion he does vie with it,  
And stead of God's Simplicity,  
He, by infinite quantity  
Of time that's past and time to come,  
Does with him for the garland run.  
And since at once he can't embrace  
The whole and every part o'th' space  
Of his whole Life, by being still,  
He seems in part to have his will,  
Binding himself to each moment,  
That so he may be permanent;  
And unto all it question, can  
This answer truly make, I am.  
More words to speak he cannot stay,  
But to make't good he takes his way  
Of everlasting journeying,  
His Being so continuing;  
So going on, all that long space  
(He can't at once) he does embrace  
Wherefore if that of Plato we  
Will followers exactly be,  
We must high God Eternal call,  
And th' Universe Perpetual.  
Since then by nature it is so,  
That every judgement that does know  
Which under it is placed, and that  
God still enjoys a present state,  
And that his Knowledge does surmount  
All that can be in Time's account,  
And that he ever does remain,  
And in Simplicity does reign,  
And does the spaces infinite  
Of past and what's to come unite,  
And that they all unto him are  
As if they now at present were;  
If thus thou wilt God's Prescience  
Consider with an upright sense,  
Thou certainly wilt find, that he  
Does rather all things present see,  
Then that he does at distance roam  
At any thing that is to come.  
And for this cause, not Previdence  
It called is, but Providence;  
Because he from his high Aspect  
Has all the world in his Prospect.  
But why dost thou require should be  
Of those things a necessity  
Which the Divine mind does foreknow,  
And yet of Men thou dost not so?  
If thou a thing do present see,  
Does thy sight make't Necessity?  
Why no. Than if so be we dare  
Low things with High for to compare,  
As thou dost things at present see,  
So God does with's eternal eye.  
Nor does this Foreknowledge alter  
Or the property, or nature;  
Yet he in present does them see,  
As they in time to come will be,  
And with one glance of's mind does know  
What things must necessary flow,  
Also what things besides must be  
That are not of necessity.  
As when at once you with your eyes  
See a Man walk, and the Sun rise;  
Though at one glance you do descry  
Them both, yet you know certainly,  
That one is of necessity,  
The other's but voluntary.  
So God beholding from above  
Things that unto their end do move,  
Does not alter their quality,  
Or make them of necessity;  
Yet he does them all Present see,  
As they in Future are to be.  
So that Opinion this is none,  
But rather highest notion  
'Stablish'd in truth, when he does see  
That such a thing shall certain be,  
And yet withal he it does know  
Not from necessity to flow.  
If unto this thou do reply,  
What God sees of necessity  
Must come to pass, and me wilt tie  
Unto this word Necessity;  
I will confess it is most true,  
But such a truth as none can view  
Not well skilled in Divinity.  
For that may be necessary,  
If so that it referred be  
Unto the high Divinity,  
Which in its proper nature weighed  
May free and absolute be said.  
There's a twofold Necessity:  
One Simple, that All men must die;  
The other is Conditional,  
And may, or it may not befall;  
As if thou see a man to go,  
That he does go must needs be so.  
Then it is of necessity;  
For what thou knowst, that needs must be.  
But the Condition does not draw  
Simply with it that needful law;  
It does not from the Nature grow,  
But the Condition makes it so.  
Necessity did not compel  
Him for to go, or to stand still;  
But if he go, it then must be  
That he goes of necessity.  
Just so, if Providence do see  
Ought Present, 'tis necessary,  
Although that in'ts own property  
There is not a necessity.  
But God at present does see all  
That by freewill shall e'er befall.  
And this, if we do God respect,  
Is necessary in th' effect,  
By that condition which alone  
Is tied to the Divine notion.  
But if that it considered be  
In its own Nature, it is free.  
Without all doubt those things shall be  
Which Divine Providence does see:  
And yet of them there are some still  
Proceed, not forced, but from freewill,  
Which do not lose their nature, though  
By being they must needs be so;  
Because it might have been so, that  
Their being never might have happed.  
But what makes matter though they be  
In no manner necessary,  
If by that same condition  
Which is placed in God alone  
They do so happen for to be  
As if they were necessary?  
Just as I said awhile ago,  
The Sun does rise, a Man does go:  
Which while they do so, it can't be  
But their so doing must needs be:  
But yet before these came to pass,  
One of them necessary was,  
The other not. So every thing  
God present sees, time forth shall bring;  
But some from th' agent's power shall be,  
And others from necessity.  
Then rightly we do hence declare,  
If things to God referred are,  
Then they are of necessity;  
But if that by themselves they be  
Considered, they are wholly free  
From the bond of necessity.  
Just as it is of every thing  
That only have of Sense being,  
If you to Reason them refer,  
Then they all Universal are;  
If by themselves you them consider,  
They then all singular appear.  
But thou wilt say, If so it be  
That I to change my will am free,  
 frustrate Providence, if so  
I change from what she did foreknow?  
I answer, Thou indeed art free  
In thy own mutability;  
But whether thou do change or no,  
Or whatsoever 'tis thou dost do,  
Providence (that continually  
Is present) still the truth does see,  
And thou her Prescience canst not shun,  
No more than th' eye that sees things done,  
When freely thou thyself dost change  
To actions that are new and strange.  
But than thou'lt say, Shall I suppose  
That I God's knowledge can dispose?  
And if I this, now that will do,  
Will God his Knowledge vary so?  
No; for God's Foresight does prevent  
All future things, makes them present.  
Nor, as thou thinkest, at all does he  
Now one thing, now another see;  
But with one present look does see,  
And know thy mutability.  
Which things God does not comprehend  
Because such things shall have such end,  
But this divine Simplicity  
Is proper to the Deity.  
By which also that doubts made clear,  
Which thou didst lately seem to fear,  
That it is an unworthy thing  
That we should God's Foreknowledge bring  
On humane actions to depend  
Since that its force does comprehend  
At present all that is future,  
And to each thing appoints measure;  
But he receives nothing at all  
From whatsoever happen shall.  
Since than that all these things are plain,  
 to mortals does remain;  
Nor are those Laws unjust which do  
Propound Rewards and Pains unto  
All the free actions of the mind,  
Nor to necessity them bind.  
Th' all-knowing God too still is free,  
Who from above does all things see;  
And the present eternity  
Of this his sight does still agree  
With all the qualities that shall  
In all our future actions fall,  
Giving Rewards and Punishments  
To good and unto bad intents.  
Nor are your hopes or prayers in vain;  
If unto God you do not feign:  
If they be faithful and cordial,  
They'll not be ineffectual.  
Forsake then Vice, and Virtue prize,  
And let your hopes to th' height arise,  
Your humble prayers to God direct,  
They will produce a blessed effect,  
If from dissimulation free.  
And is't not of necessity  
That you in all things should do well,  
Since in your Judge's eye you dwell?    
THE END.