Times curtaine dravvne, or the anatomie of vanitie VVith other choice poems, entituled; health from Helicon. By Richard Bathvvayte Oxonian.

Cares Cure, OR A figg for Care.

HAppie is that stat•• of his, Takes the World as it is, Loose hee honour, friendship, wealth, Loose hee libertie or health, Loose hee all that Earth can giue, Hauing nought whereon to liue; So prepar'd a mind's in him, Hee's resolu'd to sinke or swim.

Some will pule if they but heare, How next Summer will be deare, As th' Engrosser who doth heape Graine, laments when it is cheape: Gallants who haue run their race In all ryot, feare the Mace; Punkes whose trunkes of lucre smell, Feare the Bridewell more then Hell.

But when I remember these, Hermon, and Hermocrates,

Lesser flies are quickly tane While the Great breake out againe; Or so many Schismes and Sects Which foule Heresie detects, To suppresse the fire of zeale Both in Church and Common-weale!

Should I weepe to see some write To adde fuell to delight But no Taske to vndertake Any time for Conscience sake; Or to mourne to see the Doue Ever censur'd for her loue, While the Puttock flies away Priuiledg'd what ere he say!

Should I grieue when I'me in place That my foe should be in grace, Or in silent woe lament At my friends his discontent, Or repine that Men of worth Should want meanes to set them forth. Or disdaine my Wench should be kinde to any one but me!

Should I blind my eyes with teares, Or oppresse my heart with feares, When nor teares nor feares auaile Such whose choicest comforts faile, By conuerting that sweete ayre Of delight vnto despaire, For I know no enter-breath Limits these saue onely Death!

Should I sigh for that I see World goes not well with me, Or inveigh 'gainst envious Fate Still to lowre on my estate, Or reproue such as expresse Nothing saue vnthankfulnes. Or expose my selfe to griefe, Cause my woes are past reliefe!

Should I grieue because I giue No contentment where I liue, Though my best endeuours proue That my actions merit loue; Or repine at others ayme Gaining more then I can gaine, When their vaine mis-guided course Showes their humour to be worse!

Should I pine away and die Or my childish teares descrie 'Cause my Neighbors are vntoward Wilfull wife, and seruants froward, Or exclaime 'gainst destenie Who so crossely matched mee, Or desire no more to liue Since I liue the more to grie••e!

Should I mourne, repine, or mo•••• To be left distrest alone, Or wish Death approching nie With a bleered blubb'red eye,

Cause my Meanes I scarce can find Of proportion with my Minde, Or breath sadly 'cause my breath Drawes each minute neerer Death!

No there's nought on Earth I feare That may force from me one teare, Losse of Honour, Fredome, Health, Or that Mortall Idoll, Wealth; With These Babes may grieued be But they haue no power ore me; Lesse my substance lesse my share In my feare and in my care.

Feare he must that doth possesse Least his substance should grow lesse, Which oft driues him to extreames Both in broken sleepes and dreames; But so little doe I care For these Fethers in the ayre, As I laugh while others grieue Louing these which they must leaue.

Wretched Moles who pore on earth And conceiue no taste of mirth, But in hoording heape on heape What's the fruit in end they reape Saue returning to that slime Which they tugg'd for all their time? Sure I am, reduc'd to clay Poorest are as rich as they.

Care I would but not for this 'Cause it lessens care of Blisse; Yet not so as not to care What we spend or what we spare, For this carelesse course we call Meerely vaine and prodigall; But that Golden meane to keepe As no Care may breake our sleepe.

Thus to loue and thus to liue, Thus to take and thus to giue, Thus to laugh and thus to sing, Thus to mount on pleasures wing, Thus to sport and thus to speede, Thus to flourish, nourish, feede, Thus to spend and thus to spare Is to bid, A figg for Care.

FINIS.