Petrarchs seuen penitentiall psalmes paraphrastically translated: with other philosophicall poems, and a hymne to Christ vpon the crosse. Written by George Chapman

Poems.

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of a good man.

1 A Good and wise man (such as hardly one Of millions, could be found out by the Sun) Is Iudge himselfe, of what stuf••e he is wrought, And doth explore his whole man to a thought. What ere great men do; what their sawcie bawdes; What vulgar censure barks at, or applauds: His cariage still is chearfull and secure; He, in himselfe, worldlike, full, round, and sure. 2 Lest, through his polisht parts, the slendrest staine Of things without, in him should sit, and raigne; To whatsoeuer length, the fierie Sunne, Burning in Cancer, doth the day light runne; How faire soeuer Night shall stretch her shades, When Phoebus gloomie Capricorne inuades; He studies still; and with the equall beame,

3His ballance turnes; himselfe weighs to th'extreme. Lest any crannie gaspe, or angle swell Through his strict forme: and that he may compell His equall parts to meete in such asphere, That with a compasse tried, it shall not erre: What euer subiect is, is solide still: Wound him, and with your violent fingers feele All parts within him, you shall neuer find An emptie corner, or an abiect mind. He neuer lets his watchfull lights descend, To those sweet sleepes that all iust men attend, Till all the acts the long day doth beget, With thought on thought laid, he doth oft repeate: Examines what hath past him, as forgot:

What deed or word was vsde in time, what not. Why this deed of Decorum felt defect? Of reason, that? What left I by neglect? Why set I this opinion downe for true, That had bene better chang'd? Why did I rue Need in one poore so, that I felt my mind (To breach of her free powres) with griefe declin'd? Why will'd I what was better not to will? Why (wicked that I was) preferr'd I still Profite to honestie? Why any one Gaue I a foule word? or but lookt vpon, With count'nance churlish? Why should nature draw More my affects, then manly reasons law? Through all this thoughts, words works, thus ma∣king way, And all reuoluing, frō the Euen till Day:

Angrie, with what amisse, abusde the light, Palme and reward he giues to what was right.

A great Man.

1 A Great and politicke man (which I oppose To good and wise) is neuer as he showes. Neuer explores himselfe to find his faults: But cloaking them, before his conscience halts. Flatters himselfe, and others flatteries buyes, Seemes made of truth, and is a forge of lies. Breeds bawdes and sycophants, and traitors makes To betray traitors; playes, and keepes the stakes, Is iudge and iuror, goes on life and death: And damns before the fault hath any breath. Weighs faith in falsehoods ballance; iustice does To cloake oppression; taile-like downward groes: Earth his whole end is: heauen he mockes, and hell: 2 And thinkes that is not, that in him doth dwell. Good, with Gods right hand giuē, his left takes t'euil:

When holy most he seemes, he most is euill. Ill vpon ill he layes: th'embroderie Wrought on his state, is like a leprosie, The whiter, still the fouler. What his like, What ill in all the bodie politike Thriues in, and most is curst: his most blisse fires: And of two ils, still to the worst aspires. When his thrift feeds, iustice and mercie feare him: And (Wolf-like fed) he gnars at all men nere him. Neuer is chearefull, but when flatterie trailes On squatting profite; or when Policie vailes Some vile corruption: that lookes red with anguish Like wauing reeds, his windshook cōforts languish. Paies neuer debt, but what he should not ow; Is sure and swift to hurt, yet thinks him slow. His bountie is most rare, but when it comes, Tis most superfluous, and with strook-vp drums.

Lest any true good pierce him, with such good As ill breeds in him, Mortar▪ made with blood Heapes stone-wals in his heart, to keepe it out. His sensuall faith, his soules truth keepes in doubt, And like a rude, vnlearn'd Plebeian, Without him seekes his whole insulting man. 1 Nor can endure, as a most deare prospect, To looke into his owne life, and reflect Reason vpon it, like a Sunne still shining, To giue it comfort, ripening, and refining: But his blacke soule, being so deformd with sinne, He still abhorres; with all things hid within: And forth he wanders, with the outward fashion, Feeding, and fatting vp his reprobation. Disorderly he sets foorth euerie deed, Good neuer doing, but where is no need. If any ill he does, (and hunts through blood, For shame, ruth, right, religion) be withstood,

The markt withstander, his race, kin, least friend, That neuer did, in least degree offend, He prosecutes, with hi••'d intelligence To fate, defying God and conscience, And to the vtmost mite, he rauisheth All they can yeeld him, rackt past life and death. In all his acts, he this doth verifie, The greater man, the lesse humanitie. While Phebus runs his course through all the signes, He neuer studies; but he vndermines, Blowes vp, and ruines, with pretext to saue: Plots treason, and lies hid in th'actors graue. Vast crannies gaspe in him, as wide as hell, And angles, gibbet-like, about him swell: Yet seemes he smooth and polisht, but no more Solide within, then is a Medlars core. The kings frown fels him, like a gun-strooke fowle: When downe he lies, and casts the calfe his soule. He neuer sleepes but being tir'd with lust: Examines what past, not enough vniust▪ Not bringing wealth enough, not state, not grace: Not shewing miserie bedrid in his face: Not skorning vertue, not depra••ing her,

Whose ruth so flies him, that her Bane's his cheare. In short, exploring all that passe his guards, Each good he plagues, and euerie ill rewards.

A sleight man.

A Sleight, and mixt man (set as twere the meane Twixt both the first) frō both their heapes doth gleane: Is neither good, wise, great, nor polititick. Yet tastes of all these with a naturall tricke. Nature and Art, sometimes meet in his parts: Sometimes deuided are: the austere arts, Splint him together, set him in a brake Of forme and reading. Nor is let partake With iudgement, wit, or 1 sweetnesse: but as time, Terms, language, and degrees, haue let him clime, To learn'd opinion; so he there doth stand, Starke as a statue; stirres nor foote nor hand▪ Nor any truth knowes: knowledge is a meane To make him ignorant, and rapts him cleane, In stormes from truth. For what Hippocrates Sayes of foule 2 bodies (what most nourishes,

That most annoies them) is more true of minds: For there, their first inherent prauitie blinds Their powres preiudicate: and all things true Proposd to them, corrupts, and doth eschue: Some, as too full of toyle; of preiudice some: Some fruitlesse, or past powre to ouercome: With which, it so augments, that he will seeme With 3 iudgment, what he should hold, to contemne And is incurable. And this is he Whose learning formes not lifes integritie. This the mere Artist; the mixt naturalist, With foole quicke memorie, makes his hand a fist, And catcheth Flies, and Nifles: and retaines With heartie studie, and vnthrif••ie paines, What your composd man shuns. With these his pen And prompt tongue tickles th'••ares of vulgar men: Sometimes takes matter too, and vtters it With an admir'd and heauenly straine of wit: Yet with all this, hath humors more then can Be thrust into a foole, or to a woman.

As nature made him, reason came by chance, Held her torch to him, cast him in a trance; And makes him vtter things that (being awake In life and manners) he doth quite forsake. He will be graue, and yet is light as aire; He will be proude, yet poore euen to despaire. Neuer sat Truth in a tribunall fit, But in a modest, staid, and humble wit. I rather wish to be a naturall bred, Then these great wits with madnesse leauened. He's bold, and frontlesse, passionate, ••nd mad, Drunken, adulterous, good at all things bad. Yet for one good, he quotes the best in pride, And is enstil'd a man well qualifide▪ These delicate shadowes of things vertuous the•• Cast on these vitious, pleasing, patcht vp men, Are but the diuels cousenages to blind Mens sensuall eyes, and choke the enuied mind. And where the truly learnd is euermore Gods simple Image, and true imitator:

These sophisters are emulators still (Cousening, ambitious) of men true in skill. Their imperfections yet are hid in sleight, Of the felt darknesse, breath'd out by deceipt, The truly learn'd, is likewise hid, and failes To pierce eyes vulgar▪ but with other vailes. And they are the diuine beames, truth casts round About his beauties, that do quite confound Sensuall beholders. Scuse these rare seene then, And take more heede of common sleighted men.

A good woman.

A Woman good, and faire (which no dame can Esteeme much easier found then a good man) Sets not her selfe to shew, nor found would be: Rather her vertues flie abroad then she. Dreames not on fashions, loues no gossips feasts, Affects no newes, no tales, no guests, no ieasts: Her worke, and reading writs of worthiest men: Her husbands pleasure, well taught childeren: Her housholds fit prouision to see spent, As fits her husbands will, and his consent: Spends pleasingly her time, delighting still, To her iust dutie, to adapt her will.

Vertue she loues, rewards and honors it, And hates all scoffing, bold and idle wit: Pious and wise she is, and treads vpon This foolish and this false opinion, That learning fits not women▪ since it may Her naturall cunning helpe, and make more way To light, and close affects: for so it can Courbe and compose them too, as in a man: And, being noble, is the noblest meane, To spend her time: thoughts idle and vncleane, Preuenting and suppressing▪ to which end She entertaines it: and doth more commend Time spent in that, then houswiferies low kinds, As short of that, as bodies are of minds. If it may hurt, is powre of good lesse great, Since food may lust excire, shall she not eate? She is not Moone-like, that the Sunne, her spouse Being furthest off, is cleare and glorious: And being neare, growes pallid and obscure: But in her husbands presence, is most pure, In all chast ornaments, bright still with him, And in his absence, all retir'd and dim: With him still kind and pleasing, still the same; Yet with her weeds, not putting off her shame:

But when for bed-rites her attire is gone, In place thereof her modest shame goes on. Not with her husband lies, but he with her: And in their loue-ioyes doth so much prefer Modest example, that she will not kisse Her husband, when her daughter present is. When a iust husbands right he would enioy, She neither flies him, nor with moods is ••oy. One, of the light dame sauours▪ th'other showes Pride, nor from loues ingenuous humor flowes. And as Geometricians approue, That lines, nor superfie••es, do moue Themselues, but by their bodies motions go: So your good woman neuer striues to grow Strong in her owne affections and delights, But to her husbands equall appetites, Earnests and ieasts, and lookes austerities, Her selfe in all her subiect powres applies. Since lifes chiefe cares on him are euer laid, In cares she euer comforts, vndismaid,

Though her heart grieues, her lookes yet makes it sleight, Dissembling euermore, without deceit. And as the ••wins of learn'd Hippocrates, If one were sicke, the other felt disease: If one reioyc't; ioy th'others spirits fed: If one were grieu'd, the other sorrowed: So fares she with her husband; euery thought (Weightie in him) still watcht in her, and wrought. And as those that in Elephants delight, Neuer come neare them in weeds rich and bright▪ Nor Buls approch in scarlet; since those hewes, Through both those beasts, enrag'd affects diffuse: And as from Tygres, men the Timbrels sound And Cimbals keepe away; since they abound Thereby in furie, and their owne flesh teare: So when t'a good wife, it is made appeare, That rich attire, and curiositie In wires, tires, shadowes, do displease the eye Of her lou'd husband; musicke, dancing, breed•• Offence in him; she layes by all those weeds, Leaues dancing, musicke; and at euery part Studies to please; and does it from her heart.

As greatnesse in a Steed; so dignitie Needs in a woman, courbe, and bit, and eie, If once she weds, shee's two for one before: Single againe, she neuer doubles more.

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of Play.

DEspise base gaine; mad Auarice hurts the mind: Ye wise, shun fraud; beleeue y^e learn'd, ye blind. At play put passions downe, as monies are. He playes secure, whose trunks hold crowns to spare: Who brings all with him, shall go out with none: A greedie gamester euer ends vndone. Peace holy is to men of honest minds; If ye will play, then courbe your warring splenes: No man wins alwayes. It shames mans true worth, Of but three Furies, to fare like a fourth. Correct your earnest spirits, and play indeed: At staid yeares be not mou'd: nere play for need.

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of wine and women.

BE not enthrall'd with wine, nor womens loue, For both by one meanes hurt: as women proue Meanes to effeminate, and mens powres decline: So doth the too much indulgence of wine, Staggers the vpright steps a man should take, Dissolues his nerues, and makes his goers weake. Blind loue makes many all their thoughts expresse, Whose like effect hath brainlesse drunkennesse. Wilde Cupid oft beates vp warres sterne alarmes, As oft fierce Bacchus cals our hands to armes. Dishonest Venus made Mars Ilion sease: And Bacchus lost with warre the Lapithes. Lastly, when both make mad misgouern'd minds, Feare, shame, all vertues vanish with the winds. With Giues make Venus hold her legs together, And bind Liaeus in his iuie with her. Let wine quench thirst, sweet Venus children beare, Whose bounds once broke, ye buy their pleasures deare.

VIRGILS EPIGRAM of this letter Y.

THis letter of Pythagoras, that beares This forkt distinction, to conceit prefers The forme mans life beares. Vertues hard way takes Vpon the right hand path: which entrie makes (To sensuall eyes) with difficult affaire: But when ye once haue climb'd the highest staire, The beautie and the sweetnesse it containes, Giue rest and comfort, farre past all your paines. The broad-way in a brauery paints ye forth (In th'entrie) softnesse, and much shade of worth: But when ye reach the top, the taken Ones It headlong hurles downe, to••••e at sharpest stones. He then, whom vertues loue, shall victor crowne, Of hardest fortunes, praise wins and renowne: But he that sloth and fruitlesse luxurie Pursues, and doth with foolish warinesse flie Opposed paines, (that all best acts befall) Liues poore and vile, and dies despisde of all.

A FRAGMENT OF the Teares of peace.

O That some sacred labour would let in The ocean through my womb, to clense my sin; I, that belou'd of Heauen, as his true wife, Was wont to bring forth a delightsome life To all his creatures: and had vertues hand To my deliuerance, decking euery land (Where warre was banisht) with religious Temples, Cloisters and monuments in admir'd examples Of Christian pietie, and respect of soules, Now drunke with Auarice and th'adulterous boules Of the light Cyprian, and by Dis deflowr'd, I bring forth seed, by which I am deuour'd: Infectuous darknesse from my intrails flies, That blasts Religion, breeds blacke heresies, Strikes vertue bedrid, fame dumb, knowledge blind, And for free bounties (like an Easterne wind) Knits nets of Caterpillers, that all fruites Of planting peace, catch with contentious suites. And see (O heauen) a warre that inward breeds Worse farre then Ciuill, where in brazen steeds, Armes are let in vnseene, and fire and sword

Wound and consume men with the rauenous hord Of priuate riches, like prickt pictures charm'd, And hid in dunghils, where some one is arm'd With armes of thousands; and in such small time, (Euen out of nakednesse) that the dismall crime Stickes in his blasing forehead like a starre, Signall of rapine and spoile worse then warre, These warres giue such slie poison for the spleene, That men affect and studie for their teene, That it recures the wolfe in auarice, And makes him freely spend his golden thies: Yet no one thought spends on poore Vertues peace. Warres, that as peace abounds, do still increase. Warres where in endlesse rout the kingdome erres, Where misers mightie grow the mightie misers, Where partiall Lucre Iustice sword doth draw: Where Eris turnes into Eunomia, And makes Mars weare the long robe, to performe A fight more blacke and cruell, with lesse storme, To make for stratageme, a policie driuen Euen to the conquest▪ ere th'alarme be giuen. And for set battels where the quarrell dies, Warres that make lanes through whole posterities, A••achne wins from Pallas all good parts,

To take her part, and euery part conuerts His honie into poison: abusde Peace Is turn'd to fruitlesse and impostum'd ease, For whom the dwarfe Contraction is at worke In all professions; and makes heauen lurke In corner pleasures: learning in the braine Of a dull linguist, and all tight in gaine, All rule in onely powre, all true zeale In trustlesse auarice: all the commonweale In few mens purses. Volumes fild with fame Of deathlesse soules, in signing a large name Loue of all good in selfe loue: all deserts In sole desert of hate. Thus Ease inuerts My fruitfull labours, and swolne blind with lust, Creepes from her selfe, trauailes in yeelding dust; Euen recking in her neuershifted bed: Where with benumd securitie she is fed: Held vp in Ignorance, and Ambitions armes, Lighted by Comets, sung to by blind charmes. Behind whom Danger waites, subiection, spoyle, Disease, and massacre, and vncrowned Toyle: Earth sinkes beneath her, heauen fals: yet she deafe Heares not their thundring ruines: nor one leafe

Of all her Aspen pleasures, euer stirres; In such dead calmes her starke presumption erres.

For good men.

A Good man want? will God so much deny His lawes, his witnesses, his ministrie? Which onely for examples he maintaines Against th'vnlearnd, to proue, he is, and raignes: And all things gouerns iustly: nor neglects Things humane, but at euery part protects A good man so, that if he liues or dies, All things sort well with him? If he denies A plenteous life to me, and sees it fit I should liue poorely; What, alas, is it? But that (refusing to endanger me In the forlorne hope of men rich and ••ie,) Like a most carefull Captaine, he doth sound Retraite to me▪ makes me come backe, giue ground To any, that hath least delight to be A scuffler in mans warre for vanitie? And I obey, I follow, and I praise My good Commander. All the cloudie daies Of my darke life, my enuied Muse shall sing

His secret loue to goodnesse: I will bring Glad tidings to the obscure few he keepes: Tell his high deeds, his wonders, which the deepes, Of pouertie, and humblesse, most expresse, And weepe out (for kinde ioy) his holinesse.

Please with thy place.

GOd hath the whole world perfect made, & free; His parts to th'vse of all. Men then, that be Parts of that all, must as the generall sway Of that importeth, willingly obay In euerie thing, without their powres to change. He that (vnpleasd to hold his place) will range, Can in no other be containd, thats fit: And so resisting all is crus••t with it. But he that knowing how diuine a frame The whole world is, and of it all can name (Without selfe flatterie) no part so diuine As he himselfe, and therefore will confine Freely, his whole powres, in his proper part: Goes on most god-like. He that striues t'inuert The vniuersall course, with his poore way: Not onely, dustlike, shiuers with the sway;

But (crossing God in his great worke) all earth Beares not so cursed, and so damn'd a birth. This then the vniuersall discipline Of manners comprehends: a man to ioyne Himselfe with th'vniuerse, and wish to be Made all with it, and go on, round as he. Not plucking from the whole his wretched part, And into streights, or into nought reuert: Wishing the complete vniuerse might be Subiect to such a ragge of it, as he. But to consider great necessitie, All things, as well refract, as voluntarie Reduceth to the high celestiall cause: Which he that yeelds to, with a mans applause, And cheeke by cheeke goes, crossing it, no breath, But like Gods image followes to the death: That man is perfect wise, and euerie thing, (Each cause and euerie part distinguishing) In nature, with enough Art vnderstands, And that full glorie merits at all hands, That doth the whole world, at all parts adorne, And appertaines to one celestiall borne.

Of sodaine Death.

VVHat action wouldst y^u wish to haue in hand, If sodain death shold come for his cōmand. I would be doing good to most good men That most did need, or to their childeren, And in aduice (to make them their true heires) I would be giuing vp my soule to theirs. To which effect if Death should find me giuen, I would with both my hands held vp to heauen, Make these my last words to my deitie: Those faculties thou hast bestowd on me To vnderstand thy gouernment and will I haue, in all fit actions offerd still To thy diuine acceptance, and as farre As I had influence from thy bounties starre, I haue made good thy forme infusde in me: Th'anticipations giuen me naturally, I haue with all my studie, art, and prayre Fitted to euerie obiect, and affaire My life presented, and my knowledge taught. My poore saile, as it hath bene euer fraught With thy free goodnesse, hath bene ballast to With all my gratitude. What is to do,

Supply it sacred Sauiour: thy high grace In my poore gifts, receiue againe, and place Where it shall please thee: thy gifts neuer die But, hauing brought one to felicitie, Descend againe, and helpe another vp, &c.

Height in Humilitie.

WHy should I speak impe••ious courtiers faire? Lest they exclude thee, at thy Court repaire. If they shall see me enter willingly, Let them exclude me. If necessitie Driue me amongst them, and they shut the dore, I do my best, and they can do no more. Gods will, and mine, then weigh'd: I his preferre, Being his vow'd lackey, and poore sufferer: I trie what his will is, and will with it: No gate is shut to me; that shame must fit Shamelesse intruders. Why feare I disgrace To beare ill censure by a man of face? Will any thinke that impudence can be An equall demonstration of me? Tis kingly, Cyrus (said Antisthenes) When thou doest well, to heare this ill of these.

But many pitie thy defects in thee. I mocke them euer that so pittie me. Strangers they are, and know not what I am; Where I place good and ill, nor euer came Where my course lies: but theirs the world may know: They lay it out, onely to name and show. If comfort follow truth of knowledge still, They meete with little truth; for if their skill Get not applause, their comfort comes to nought. I studie still to be, they to be thought. Are they lesse frustrate of their ends then I? Or fall they lesse into the ils they flie? Are they industrious more? lesse passionate? Lesse faltring in their course? more celebrate Truth in their comforts? But they get before Much in opinion. True, they seeke it more.

For stay in competence.

THou that enioyst onely enough to liue, Why grieu'st thou that the giuer does not giue Foode with the fullest, when as much as thou He thinkes him emptie? Tis a state so low That I am fearefull euerie howre to sinke.

Well said. Vnthankfull fearefull, eate and drinke, And feare to sterue still. Knowst thou not who sings Before the theefe? The penurie of things Whither conferres it? Drawes it not one breath With great satietie? End not both in death? Thy entrailes, with thy want, together shrinke; He bursts with cruditie, and too much drinke. Will not thy want then with a chearefull eye Make thee expect death? whom sterne tyrannie, Empire, and all the glut of thirstie store, Shun with pale cheekes affrighted ••uermore? Earth is a whore, and brings vp all her brats With her insatiate gadflie: euen her flats High as her ••il•• looke; lusting, lusting still, No earthly pleasure euer hath her fill. Turne a new leafe then: thirst for things past death; And thou shalt neuer thinke of things beneath. How should I thirst so, hauing no such heat••? Fast, pray, to haue it: better neuer eate, Then still the more thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the more des••re. But wilt thou quench this ouerneedie fire? Canst thou not write, nor reade, nor keepe a gate•• Teach children, be a porter. That poore state Were base and hatefull. Is that base to thee,

That is not thy worke? That necessitie Inflicts vpon thee? that inuades thee to Onely as head-aches and agues do? That the great Ordrer of th'vniuerse sees So good, he puts it in his master peece? But men will scorne me. Let them then go by, They will not touch thee: he that shifts his eye To others eye-browes, must himselfe be blind. Leau'st thou thy selfe for others? tis the mind Of all that God and euery good forsakes. If he goes thy way, follow: if he takes An opposite course, canst thou still go along, And end thy course? Go right, though all else wrong. But you are learn'd, and know Philosophie To be a shift to salue necessitie: Loue syllogismes, figures, and to make All men admire how excellent you spake. Your caution is to keepe a studious eye, Lest you be caught with carpes of sophistrie: To b•• a man of reading, when alas, All these are caught in a Plebeians case. None such poore fooles, incontinent, couetous, Atheisticall, deceitfull, villanous. Shew me thy studies end, and what may be

Those weights and measures, that are vsde by thee, To mete these ashes barreld vp in man. Is not the wreath his, that most truly can Make a man happie? And (in short) is that Any way wrought more, then in teaching what Will make a man most ioyfully embrace The course his end holds, and his proper place? Not suffering his affections to disperse, But fit the maine sway of the vniuerse.

Of the Will.

THe empire of the Will is euer sau'd, Except lost by it selfe, when tis deprau'd.

Of Man.

MAn is so soueraigne and diuine a state, That not contracted and elaborate, The world he beares about with him alone, But euen the Maker makes his breast his throne.

Of a Philosopher.

Does a Philosopher inuite, or pray Any to heare him? or not make his way, As meate and drinke doth? or the Sunne excite Onely by vertue of his heate and light?

Of Ambition.

Who, others loues and honors goes about, Would haue things outward, not to be without.

Of Friendship.

NOw I am old, my old friends loues I wish, As I am good; & more old, grow more fresh. Friends constant, not like lakes are standing euer, But like sweete streames, euer the same, yet neuer Still profiting themselues, and perfecting. And as a riuer furthest from his spring, Takes vertue of his course, and all the way Greater and greater growes, till with the sea He combats for his empire, and gets in, Curling his billowes, till his stile he win:

So worthy men should make good to their ends, Increase of goodnesse; such men make thy friends. Such nobler are, the poorer was their source; And though w^t crooks & turns, yet keep their course, Though till their strength, they did some weaknesse show, (All thankes to God yet) now it is not so. Will is the garden first, then Knowledge plants; Who knowes and wils well, neuer vertue wants: Though o••t he faile in good, he nought neglects; The affect, not the effect, God respects. But as the Academickes euer rate A man for learning, with that estimate They made of him, when in the schooles he liu'd; And how so ere he scatter'd since, or thriu'd, Still they esteeme him as they held him then: So fares it with the doomes of vulgar men; If once they knew a man defectiue, still The staine stickes by him; better he his skill, His life and parts, till quite refin'd from him He was at first; good drownes, ill still doth swim: Best men are long in making: he that soone Sparkles and flourishes, as soone is gone. A wretched thing it is, when nature giues A man good gifts, that still the more he liues,

The more they die. And where the complete man (Much lesse esteem'd) is long before he can The passage cleare, betwixt his soule and sense, And of his body gaine such eminence, That all his organs open are, and fit To serue their Empresse. Th'other man of wit, At first is seru'd with all those instruments▪ Open they are, and full, and free euents All he can thinke obtaines, and forth there flies Flashes from him, thicke as the Meteord skies, Like which he lookes, and vp drawes all mens eies, Euen to amaze: yet like those Meteors, (Onely in ayre imprest) away he soares, His organs shut: and twixt his life and soule, Sue a diuorce aliue. Such ne're enroule In thy brasse booke of Friendship: such are made To please light spirits, not to grow but fade. Nor friends for old acquaintance chuse, but faith, Discretion, good life, and contempt of death: That foes wrongs beare with Christian patience, Against which fighting, Reason hath no fence: That lay their fingers on their lips the more, The more their wrong'd simplicities deplore, And stop their mouthes to euery enemies ill,

With th'ill he does them. Thus good men do still, And onely good men friends are: make no friend Of fleshie-beast-men, friendship's of the mind.

Of plentie and freedome in goodnesse.

NOt to haue want, what riches doth exceed? Not to be subiect, what superior thing? He that to nought aspires, doth nothing need: Who breakes no law, is subiect to no King.

Of Attention.

WHen for the least time, y^u lett'st fall thine eare From still attending, things still fit to heare, And gin'st thy mind way to thy bodies will: Imagine not thou hold'st the raines so still, That at thy pleasure thou canst turne her in: But be assur'd that one dayes soothed sinne, Will aske thee many to amend and mourne: And make thy mind so willing to adiourne That instant-due amendment, that twill breed A custome to do ill; and that will need

A new birth to reforme. What? May I then (By any diligence, or powre in men) Auoid transgression? No, tis past thy powre: But this thou maist do; euery day and houre, In that be labouring still, that lets transgression: And worth my counsell tis, that this impression Fixt in thy mind, and all meanes vsde in man, He may trangresse as little as he can. If still thou saist, To morrow I will win My mind to this attention: therein Thou saist as much, as this day I will be Abiect and impudent: it shall be free This day for others to liue Lords of me, To leade and rule me: this day I will giue Reines to my passions, I will enuious liue, Wrathfull and lustfull: I will leaue the state Man holds in me, and turne adulterate, Vulgar and beastly. See to how much ill Thou stand'st indulgent. But all this thy will Shall mend to morrow: how much better twere This day thou shouldst mans godlike scepter beare: For if to morrow, in thy strengths neglect, Much more to day, while tis vncounter-checkt.

To liue with little.

VVHen thou seest any honour'd by the king, Oppose y^u this, thou thirsts for no such thing. When thou seest any rich, see what in sted Of those his riches thou hast purchased. If nothing, nothing fits such idle wretches. If thou hast that, that makes thee need no riches▪ Know thou hast more, and of a greater price, And that which is to God a sacrifice. When thou seest one linkt with a louely wife, Thou canst containe, and leade a single life. Seeme these things smal to thee? O how much more Do euen those great ones, and those men of store Desire those small things, then their greatest owne: That they could scorn their states so bladder-blown, Their riches, and euen those delicious Dames, That seast their blood with such enchanted flames? For haue not yet thy wits the difference found, Betwixt a feu'rie mans thirst, and one sound? He hauing drunke is pleasd: the other lies Fretting and lothing, vomits out his eyes: His drinke to choler turnes, and ten parts more His vicious heate inflames him, then befo••e.

So while the long fit of his drie desire Lasts in a rich man, such insatiate fire He feeles within him. While the like fit lasts In one ambitious, so he thirsts, and wasts. While the fit lasts, and lust hath any fewell: So fares the fond venerean with his iewell There being linkt to euery one of these Feares, emulations, sleeplesse Ielosies, Foule cogitations, foule words, fouler deeds. Enough be that then, that may serue thy needs, What thou canst keepe in thy free powre alone, Others affect, and thou reiect'st thine owne. Both will not draw in one yoke: one release And th'other vse, or neither keepe in peace Twixt both distracted. Things within thee prise; Onely within, thy helpe and ruine lies. What wall so fencefull? what possession So constant, and so properly our owne? What dignitie so expert of deceipts? All trade-like beggarly, and full of sleights. On which who sets his mind, is sure to grieue, Feed on faint hopes, neuer his ends atcheeue, Fall into that he shuns, and neuer rest, But bad esteeme his state, when tis at best.

Serue but thy mind with obiects fit for her, And for things outward thou shalt neuer care. Obtaine but her true, and particular vse And obtaine all things Nor let doubt, abuse Thy will to winne her, as being coy enclind, Nought is so pliant as a humane mind. And what shall I obtaine, obtaining her, Not wishing all, but some particular? What wouldst thou wish for her dowre more then these? To make thee pleasant, of one hard to please? To make thee modest, of one impudent; Temperate, and chast, of one incontinent: Faithfull, being faithlesse. Fit not these thy will? Affect'st thou greater? What thou dost, do still: I giue thee ouer, doing all I can, Th'art past recure, with all that God giues man.

To yong imaginaries in knowledge.

NEuer for common signes, dispraise or praise, Nor ar••, nor want of a••t▪ for what he saies Ascribe to any Men may both waies make

In forme, & speech, a mans quicke doome mistake. All then that stand in any ranke of Art, Certaine decrees haue, how they shall impart That which is in them: which decrees, because They are within men, making there the lawes To all their actions, hardly shew without: And till their ensignes are displaid, make doubt To go against or with them: nor will they So well in words as in their deeds display. Decrees are not degrees. If thou shalt giue Titles of learning, to such men as liue Like rude Plebeians, since they haue degrees, Thou shalt do like Plebeians. He that sees A man held learn'd do rudely, rather may Take for that deed, his learned name away, Then giu't him for his name. True learnings act▪ And speciall object is, so to compact The will, and euery actiue powre in man, That more then men illiterate, he can Keepe all his actions in the narrow way To God and goodnesse, and there force their stay As in charm'd circles. Termes, tongs, reading, all That can within a man, cald learned, fall; Whose life is led yet like an ignorant mans:

Are but as tooles to goutie Artizans, That cannot vse them; or like childrens arts, That out of habite, and by rootes of hearts, Construe and perce their lessons, yet discerne Nought of the matter, whose good words they learn: Or like our Chimicke Magi, that can call All termes of Art out, but no gold at all: And so are learn'd like them, of whom, none knows His Arts cleare truth, but are meere Ciniflos. But sacred learning, men so much prophane, That when they see a learn'd-accounted man Liue like a brute man; they will neuer take His learn'd name from him, for opinions sake: But on that false gound brutishly conclude, That learning profites not. You beastly rude, Know, it mor••s profites, being exact and true, Then all earths high waies chokt with herds of you. But must degrees, & termes, and time in schooles, Needs make men learn'd, in life being worse then fooles? What other Art liues into happy aire, That onely for his habite, and his haire, His false professors worth you will commend? Are there not precepts, matter, and an end To euery science? which, not kept, nor showne

By vnderstanding; vnderstanding knowne By fact; the end, by things to th'end directed, What hap, or hope haue they to be protected? Yet find such, greatest friends: and such professe Most learning, and will preasse for most accesse Into her presence, and her priuiest state, When they haue hardly knockt yet at her gate. Externall circumscription neuer s••rues To proue vs men: blood, flesh, nor bones nor nerues But that which all these vseth, and doth guide: Gods image in a soule eternifide, Which he that shewes not in such acts as tend To that eternesse, making that their end: In this world nothing knowes, uor after can, But is more any creature then a man. This rather were the way, if thou wouldst be, A true proficient in philosophie: Dissemble what thou studiest, till alone By thy impartiall con••e••tion Thou prou'st thee fit, to do as to professe. And if thou still professe it nor, what lesse Is thy philosophie, if in thy deeds Rather then signes, and shadowes, it proceedes? Shew with what temper thou dost drinke, and eate:

How farre from wrong thy deeds are, angers heat••▪ How thou sustainst, and abstainst; how farre gone In appetite and auersation▪ To what account thou doest affections call, Both naturall, and ad••entitiall: That thou art faithfull, pious, humble, kind, Enemie to enuie: of a chearefull mind, Constant, and dantlesse. All this when men see Done with the learnedst▪ them let censure thee; But if so dull, and blind of soule they are, Not to acknowledge heauenly Mulciber, To be a famous Artist by his deeds, But they must see him in his working weeds: What ill is it, if thou art neuer knowne To men so poore of apprehension? Are they within thee, or so much with thee As thou thy selfe art? Can their dull eyes see Thy thoughts at worke? Or how like one thats sworn To thy destruction, all thy powres are borne T'entrap thy selfe? whom thou dost hardlier please Then thou canst them? Arme then thy mind w^t these: I haue decrees set downe twixt me and God; I know his precepts, I will beare his lode, But what men throw vpon me, I reiect:

No man shall let the freedome I elect; I haue an owner that will challenge me, Strong to defend, enough to satisfie: The rod of Mercurie, will charme all these, And make them neither strange, nor hard to please▪ And these decrees, in houses constitute Friendship, and loue: in fields cause store of fruite: In cities, riches; and in temples zeale: And all the world would make one commonweale. Shun braggart glorie, seeke no place, no name: No shewes, no company, no laughing game, No fashion: nor no champion of thy praise, As children sweete meates loue, and holidaies: Be knowing shamefastnesse, thy grace, and guard, As others are with dores, wals, porters bard. Liue close awhile; so fruits grow, so their seed Must in the earth a little time lie hid; Spring by degrees, and so be ripe at last. But if the Eare, be to the blades top past Before the ioynt amidst the blade, be knit, The corne is lanke, and no Sunne ripens it. Like which art thou yong Nouice; florishing Before thy time, winter shall burne thy spring. The husbandman dislikes his fields faire birth,

When timelesse heate beates on vnreadie earth, Grieues lest his fruits with aire should be too bold, And not endure the likely-coming cold. Comfort the roote then first, then let appeare The blades ioynt knit, and then produce the Eare: So Natures selfe, thou shalt constraine, and be Blest with a wealthy crop in spite of thee.

Of Constancie in goodnesse.

Who feares disgrace for things wel done, y^e knows i•• Wrong euer does most harme to him that does it. Who more ioy takes, that men his good aduance, Then in the good it selfe, does it by chance: That being the worke of others; this his owne. In all these actions therefore that are common, Men neuer should for praise or dispraise care, But looke to the Decrees, from whence they are.

Of Learning.

LEarning, the Art is of good life: they then That leade not good liues, are not learned men.

For ill successe.

If thou sustainst in any sort an ill, Beare some good with thee to change for it still.

Of negligence.

When thou letst loose thy mind to obiects vain Tis not in thee to call her backe againe: And therefore when thy pleasure in her good Droopes, and would downe in melancholy blood, Feed her alacritie with any thought Or word, that euer her recomfort wrought.

Of iniurie.

When thou art wrong'd, see if the wrong proceed From fault within thy iudgement, word or deed: If not, let him beware that iniures thee, And all that sooth him; and be thy state fr••e.

Of Attire.

IN habite, nor in any ill to th'eie, Affright the vulgar from Philosophie: But as in lookes, words, workes, men witnesse thee Comely and checklesse, so in habite be.

For if a man shall shew me one commended For wit, skill, iudgement, neuer so extended, That goes fantastically, and doth fit The vulgar fashion; neuer thinke his wit Is of a sound peece, but hath bracks in it. If slouenly and nastily in weed•• Thou keep'st thy body, such must be thy deeds, Hence, to the desart, which thou well deseru'st, And now no more for mans societie seru'st. Externall want to this height doth expresse Both inward negligence, and rottennesse.

FRAGMENTS. Of Circumspection.

IN hope to scape the law, do nought amisse, The penance euer in the action is.

Of Sufferance.

IT argues more powre willingly to yeeld To what by no repulse can be repeld, Then to be victor of the greatest state, We can with any fortune subiugate.

Of the Soule.

THe Soule serues with her functions to excite, Abhorre, prepare, and order appetite, Cause auersation, and susception: In all which, all her ill is built vpon Ill receiu'd iudgements; which reforme with good; And as with ill she yeelded to thy blood, And made thy pleasures, God and man displease, She will as well set both their powres at peace, With righteous habits, and delight thee more With doing good now, then with ill before.

Of great men.

WHen Homer made Achilles passionate, Wrathfull, reuengefull, and insatiate In his affections; what man will denie He did compose all that of industrie? To let men see, that men of most renowne, Strong'st, noblest, fairest, if they set not downe Decrees within them, for disposing these, Of iudgement, resolution, vprightnesse. And vertuous knowledge of their vse and ends, Mishaps and miserie, no lesse extends

To their destruction, with all that they prisde, Then to the poorest, and the most despisde.

Of learned men

Who knows not truth, knows nothīg; who what's best Knowes not, not 1 truth knowes. Who (alone profest In that which best is) liues bad: Best not knowes, Since with that Best and Truth, such ioy still goes, That he that finds them, cannot but dispose His whole life to them. Seruile Auarice can Prophane no liberall-knowledge-coueting man. Such hypocrites, opinion onely haue, Without the 2 minds vse: which doth more depraue Their knowing powres, then if they 3 nought did know. For if with all the sciences they flow, Not hauing that, that such ioy brings withall, As cannot in vnlearn'd mens courses fall: As with a 4 tempest they are rapt past hope Of knowing Truth, because they thinke his scope Is in their tongues, much reading, speech profuse, Since they are meanes to Truth in their true vse:

5 But tis a fashion for the damned crue, One thing to praise, another to pursue: As those learn'd men do, that in words preferre Heauen and good life, yet in their liues so erre, That all heauen is not broade enough for them To hit or aime at, but the vulgar streame Hurries them headlong with it: and no more They know or shall know, then the r••dest Bore.

FINIS.

Notes

• 1

  The Sunn•• vsurpe for Apollo; whose Oracle being aske for such a man, ••ound onely Socrates.
• 2

  Externae nequid labis per laeuia sidat. This verse Ascensius ioynes with the next before; which is nothing so; the sence being vtterly repug∣nant, as any impar••••all and iudiciall conferrer (I suppose) will confirme.
• 3

  Cogitat, & iusto trutinae se examine pensat▪ This verse is likewise mis••yned in the order of Ascenscius, which makes the period to those before.
• I here needlesly take a little li∣cence: for the word is Amussis, the mind of the Author being as well exprest in A compasse. Sit solidum quodcunqu•• subest, nec inania subtus. Subest and subtus Ascens••con founds in his sence; which the presnesse and matter of this Poem allowes not: it being in a Translator sooner and better seen then a Commentor. He would turne digitis pellentibus, to di∣gitis palantibus. To which place, the true order is hard to ••it. And that truth in my conuersion (how opposite soeuer any may stand) with any conference, I make no doubt I shall perswade.
• I here needlesly take a little li∣cence: for the word is Amussis, the mind of the Author being as well exprest in A compasse. Sit solidum quodcunqu•• subest, nec inania subtus. Subest and subtus Ascens••con founds in his sence; which the presnesse and matter of this Poem allowes not: it being in a Translator sooner and better seen then a Commentor. He would turne digitis pellentibus, to di∣gitis palantibus. To which place, the true order is hard to ••it. And that truth in my conuersion (how opposite soeuer any may stand) with any conference, I make no doubt I shall perswade.
• I here needlesly take a little li∣cence: for the word is Amussis, the mind of the Author being as well exprest in A compasse. Sit solidum quodcunqu•• subest, nec inania subtus. Subest and subtus Ascens••con founds in his sence; which the presnesse and matter of this Poem allowes not: it being in a Translator sooner and better seen then a Commentor. He would turne digitis pellentibus, to di∣gitis palantibus. To which place, the true order is hard to ••it. And that truth in my conuersion (how opposite soeuer any may stand) with any conference, I make no doubt I shall perswade.
• Miseratus egentē, cur aliquē fracta persensi mente dolo∣rem. Ascens very iudicially makes this good man in this di••tie, opposite to a good Christian, since Christ (the president of all good men) enioynes vs, vt supra omnia misericordes simus. But his meaning here is, that a good and wise man should not so piti•• the want of any, that he should want manly patience himselfe to sustaine it. And his reason Ser••ius alledgeth for him is this, saying, In quem cadit vna mentis perturbatio, posse in eum omnes cadere: sicut potest omni virtute pollere cui virtus vna contigerit.
• 1

  A great & politike man, such as is, or may be opposed, to good or wise.
• 2

  The priuation of a good life, and therein the ioyes of heauen, is hell in this world.
• As Wolues and Tigers horribly gnarre, in their feeding: so these zealous, and giuen-ouer great ones to their own lusts and ambitions: in aspiriring to them, and their ends, fare, to all that come nere them in comp••tencie; or that resist their de••o••∣ring.
• This alludeth to hounds upon the traile of a squa•• Hare, and making a chearefull crie about her, is applyed to the forced cheare or flatterie this great man ••hewe••h, when he hunts for his profite.
• Plebeij status & nota est nunquam à seipso vel dam∣n••m expectare, vel vtilitatem, sed à rebus externis.
• 1

  How a good great man should employ his greatnesse.
• The most vnchristian disposition of a great and ill man, i•• following any that withstand his ill.
• This hath reference (as most of the rest hath) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the good man before, being this mans opposite.
• 1

  Intending in his writing, &c.
• 2

  Quo magis alantur, co magis ea laedi.
• 3

  To be therefore instructed in the truth of knowledge, or a••spire to any egregious vertue; not stiffe & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Art serues▪ but he must be help•• besides, benigniore nascendi hor••. Accor∣ding to this of Inusual.—plus etenim fati valet hora benigni, Quam fi te Veneris commendet epistola Marti.
• The truly learned imitateth God, the sophi••te•••• emul••••eth man. His imperfections are hid in the mists imposture breathes: the others perfections are unseene by the brightnesse truth casts about his temples, that dazle ignorant and corrupt beholders, or ••pprehenders.
• Geometrae dicunt, lineas & superficies, non seipsis moue••i, sed motus corporum comitari.
• A good wife in most cares, should euer vn••••smaid comfort her husband.
• Simile.
• A good wife watcheth her husbands serious thoughts in his looke•• and applies her owne to them.
• Simile.
• Ease and Securitie described.
• Resp.
• 1

  Si absit scientia optimi, nihil scitur.
• 2

  Qui opinioni absque mente, consenserint.
• 3

  Prodest multis non nosse quicquā.
• 4

  Nonne merit••, multa tempestate iactabitur••
• 5

  Absurdam alia laudare, alia sequi.