The tenth muse lately sprung up in America or severall poems, compiled with great variety of vvit and learning, full of delight. Wherein especially is contained a compleat discourse and description of the four elements, constitutions, ages of man, seasons of the year. Together with an exact epitomie of the four monarchies, viz. The Assyrian, Persian, Grecian, Roman. Also a dialogue between Old England and New, concerning the late troubles. With divers other pleasant and serious poems. By a gentlewoman in those parts.

Flegme.

PAtient I am, patient i'd need to be, To bear the injurious taunts of three, Though wit I want, and anger I have lesse, Enough of both, my wrongs for to expresse; I've not forgot how bitter Choler spake, Nor how her Gaul on me she causlesse brake; Nor wonder 'twas, for hatred there's not smal, Where opposition is diametrical: To what is truth, I freely wil assent, (Although my name do suffer derriment) What's slanderous, repel; doubtful, dispute; And when i've nothing left to say, be mute; Valour I want, no Souldier am, 'tis true, I'le leave that manly property to you; I love no thundering Drums, nor bloody Wars, My polish'd skin was not ordain'd for skars, And though the pitched field ••'ve ever fled, At home, the Conquerours, have conquered: Nay, I could tel you (what's more true then meet) That Kings have laid their Scepters at my feet, When sister Sanguine paints my Ivory face, The Monarchs bend, and sue, but for my grace; My Lilly white, when joyned with her red, Princes hath slav'd, and Captains captived: Country with Country, Grecce with Asia fights, Sixty nine Princes, all stout Hero Knights.

Under Troys wals, ten years wil wast away, Rather then loose, one beauteous Hellena; But 'twere as vain, to prove the truth of mine, As at noon day to tel, the Sun doth shine. Next difference betwixt us twain doth lye, Who doth possesse the Brain, or thou, or I; Shame forc'd thee say, the matter that was mine, But the spirits, by which it acts are thine; Thou speakest truth, and I can speak no lesse, Thy heat doth much, I candidly confesse, But yet thou art as much, I truly say, Beholding unto me another way. And though I grant, thou art my helper here, No debtor I, because 'tis paid else where; With all your flourishes, now Sisters three, Who is't or dare, or can compare with me; My excellencies are so great, so many, I am confounded, 'fore I speak of any: The Brain's the noblest member all allow, The scituation, and form wil it avow, Its ventricles, membrances, and wond'rous ner, Galen, Hipocrates, drives to a set. That divine Essence, the immortal Soul, Though it in all, and every part be whole: Within this stately place of eminence, Doth doubtlesse keep its mighty residence; And surely the Souls sensative here lives, Which life and motion to each Creature gives, The conjugations of the parts toth 'brain Doth shew, hence flowes the power which they retain; Within this high built Cittadel doth lye, The Reason, Fancy, and the Memory;

The faculty of speech doth here abide, The spirits animal, from whence doth slide, The five most noble Sences, here do dwel, Of three, its hard to say, which doth excel; This point for to discusse longs not to me, I'le touch the Sight, great'st wonder of the three; The optick nerve, coats, humours, all are mine, Both watry, glassie, and the christaline. O! mixture strange, oh colour, colourlesse, Thy perfect temperament, who can expresse? He was no foole, who thought the Soul lay here, Whence her affections, passions, speak so clear; O! good, O bad, O true, O traiterous eyes! What wonderments, within your bals there lyes? Of all the Sences, Sight shal be the Queen; Yet some may wish, oh, had mine eyes ne're seene. Mine likewise is the marrow of the back, Which runs through all the spondles of the rack, It is the substitute o'th royal Brain, All nerves (except seven paire) to it retain; And the strong ligaments, from hence arise, With joynt to joynt, the entire body tyes; Some other parts there issue from the Brain, Whose use and worth to tel, I must refrain; Some worthy learned Crooke may these reveal, But modesty hath charg'd me to conceal; Here's my epitome of excellence, For what's the Brains, is mine, by consequence; A foolish Brain (saith Choler) wanting heat, But a mad one, say I, where 'tis too great, Phrensie's worse, then folly, one would more glad, With a tame foole converse, then with a mad,

Then, my head for learning is not the fittest, Ne're did I heare that Choler was the witt'est; Thy judgement is unsafe, thy fancy little, For memory, the sand is not more brittle. Again, none's fit for Kingly place but thou, If Tyrants be the best, i'le it allow; But if love be, as requisite as feare, Then I, and thou, must make a mixture here: Wel, to be breif, Choler I hope now's laid, And I passe by what sister Sanguine said; To Melancholly i'le make no reply, The worst she said, was, instability, And too much talk; both which, I do confesse, A warning good, hereafter i'le say lesse. Let's now be freinds, 'tis time our spight was spent, Lest we too late, this rashnesse do repent, Such premises wil force a sad conclusion, Unlesse we 'gree, all fals into confusion. Let Sanguine, Choier, with her hot hand hold, To take her moyst, my moistnesse wil be bold; My cold, cold Melanchollies hand shal clasp, Her dry, dry Cholers other hand shal grasp; Two hot, two moist, two cold, two dry here be, A golden Ring, the Posey, Unity: Nor jars, nor scoffs, let none hereafter see, But all admire our perfect amity; Nor be discern'd, here's water, earth, aire, fire, But here's a compact body, whole, entire: This loving counsel pleas'd them all so wel, That Flegme was judg'd, for kindnesse to excel.