Several poems compiled with great variety of wit ...

Several poems compiled with great variety of wit 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 epitome of the three first monarchyes, viz, the Assyrian, Persian, Grecian. And beginning of the Romane common-wealth to the end of their last king: with diverse other pleasant & serious poems, by a gentlewoman in New-England. The second edition, corrected by the author and enlarged by an addition of several other poems found amongst her papers after her death. By Anne Dudley Bradstreet (1612-1672). Boston, Printed by John Foster, 1678.

Stained glass window, St. Botolph's Church, Boston, Lincolnshire, England.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.
[Created for the convenience of the modern reader.]

Untitled [by Reverend John Woodbridge, Anne Bradstreet's brother-in-law]
    Kind Reader: iii
Untitled by N. W. [Nathaniel Ward.]
    Mercury shew'd Apollo, Bartas Book, v
To my dear Sister, the Author of these Poems by I. W. [John Woodbridge]
    Though most that know me, dare (I think) affirm vi
Upon the Author; by a known Friend. by B. W. [Benjamin Woodbridge]
    Now I believe Tradition, which doth call ix
Untitled by C. B.
    I cannot wonder at Apollo now ix
In praise of the Author, Mistris Anne Bradstreet by N. H.
    What golden splendent star is this so bright, x
Upon the Author by C. B.
    'Twere extream folly should I dare attempt, xi
Another To Mrs. Anne Bradstreet by H. S.
    I've read your Poem (Lady) and admire, xi
An Anagram
     Deer neat An Bartas. xi
Another
    Artes bred neat An. xi
Upon Mrs. Anne Bradstreet Her Poems, &c. by J. Rogers [John Rogers]
    Madam, twice through the Muses grove I walkt xii

Poems by Anne Bradstreet

To her most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq;
    Dear Sir of late delighted with the sight 1
The Prologue
    To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings, 3
The Four Elements
    The Fire, Air, Earth and Water did contest 5
Of the four Humours in Mans Constitution.
    The former four now ending their discourse, 22
Of the four Ages of Man.
    Lo now four other act upon the stage, 43
The four Seasons of the Year.
    Another four I've left yet to bring on, 59
Untitled
    My Subjects bare, my Brain is bad, 68
The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first
    When time was young, & World in Infancy, 69
The Second Monarchy, being the Persian,
    Cyrus Cambyses Son of Persia King 91
The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian,
     Great Alexander was wise Philips son, 125
The Romane Monarchy, being the fourth and last
    Stout Romulus, Romes founder, and first King, 186
An Apology
    To finish what's begun, was my intent, 191
A Dialogue Between Old England and New
    Alas dear Mother fairest Queen and best, 192
An Elegie upon that Honourable and renowned Knight Sir Philip Sidney
    When England did enjoy her Halsion dayes, 203
In honour of Du Bartas
    Among the happy wits this age hath shown 206
In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess Queen Elizabeth
    Although great Queen thou now in silence lye, 210
Davids Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan.
    Alas slain is the Head of Israel, 215
To the Memory of my dear and ever honoured Father, Thomas Dudley, Esq.
    By duty bound, and not by custome led 217
An Epitaph On my dear and ever honoured Mother Mrs. Dorothy Dudley
    A worthy Matron of unspotted life, 220
Contemplations
    Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide, 221
The Flesh and the Spirit
    In secret place where once I stood 229
The Vanity of all worldly things
    As he said vanity, so vain say I 233
The Author to her Book
    Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain, 236
Upon a Fit of Sickness, Anno 1632.
    Twice ten years old, not fully told 237
Upon some distemper of body
    In anguish of my heart repleat with woes, 238
Before the Birth of one of her Children
    All things within this fading world hath end, 239
To my Dear and loving Husband
    If ever two were one, then surely we. 240
A Letter to her Husband, absent upon Publick employment
    My head, my heart, mine Eyes, my life, nay more, 240
Another
    Phœbus make haste, the day's too long, be gone, 241
Another
    As loving Hind that (Hartless) wants her Deer, 243
To her Father with some verses
    Most truly honoured, and as truly dear, 244
In reference to her Children, 23. June, 1659
    I had eight birds hatcht in one nest, 245
In memory of my dear grand-child Elizabeth Bradstreet
    Farewel dear babe, my hearts too much content, 248
In memory of my dear grand child Anne Bradstreet.
    With troubled heart & trembling hand I write. 249
On my dear Grand-child Simon Bradstreet
    No sooner come, but gone, and fal'n asleep, 250
To the memory of my dear Daughter-in-Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet
    And live I still to see Relations gone, 250

A Funeral Elogy [by John Norton]
    Ask not why hearts turn magazines of passions, 252

Attributions of authorship for materials not by Anne Bradstreet are based on The Works of Anne Bradstreet Edited by Jeannine Hensley, Foreword by Adrienne Rich, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, c.1967. The exception is identification of B. W. as Benjamin Woodbridge, found in Anne Bradstreet and Her Time by Helen Campbell (1839-1918). Boston: D. Lothrop Company, c1891.

A note on typefaces: I have taken the liberty of replacing the "VV" used in old typefaces with the modern Latin letter W. Similarly long s has been transcribed as a modern s. Otherwise, I have attempted to retain the spelling and punctuation of the original 1678 printing.

[Title Page]

[Full Image]

SEVERAL

POEMS

Compiled with great variety of Wit 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 Epitome of
the three first Monarchyes

Viz, The {

ASSYRIAN,
PERSIAN,
GRECIAN.

And beginning of the Romane Common-wealth
to the end of their last King:

With diverse other pleasant & serious Poems,

By a Gentlewoman in New-England.

The second Edition, Corrected by the Author,
and enlarged by an Addition of several other
Poems found amongst her Papers
after her Death.

Boston, Printed by John Foster, 1678.

[Page]

Kind Reader:

HAd I opportunity but to borrow some of the Authors wit, 'tis possible I might so trim this curious work with such quaint expressions, as that the Preface might bespeak thy further Perusal; but I fear 'twill be a shame for a Man that can speak so little, To be seen in the title-page of this Womans Book, lest by comparing the one with the other, the Reader should pass his sentence that it is the gift of women not only to speak most, but to speak best; I shall leave therefore to commend that, which with any ingenious Reader will too much commend the Author, unless men turn more peevish than women, to envy the excellency of the inferiour Sex. I doubt not but the Reader will quickly find more than I can say, and the worst effect of his reading will be unbelief, which will make him question whether it be a womans work and aske, Is it possible? If any do, take this as an answer from him that dares avow it; It is the Work of a Woman, honoured, and esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanour, her eminent parts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence in her place, and discreet managing of her Family [Page] occasions, and more then so, these Poems are the fruit but of some few houres, curtailed from her sleep and other refreshments. I dare adde little lest I keep thee too long; if thou wilt not believe the worth of these things (in their kind) when a man sayes it, yet believe it from a woman when thou seest it. This only I shall annex, I fear the displeasure of no person in the publishing of these Poems but the Author, without whose knowledg, and contrary to her expectation, I have presumed to bring to publick view, what she resolved in such a manner should never see the Sun; but I found that diverse had gotten some scattered Papers, affected them well, were likely to have sent forth broken pieces, to the Authors prejudice, which I thought to prevent, as well as to pleasure those that earnestly desired the view of the whole.

[Page]

MErcury shew'd Apollo, Bartas Book,

Minerva this, and wisht him well to look,

And tell uprightly, which did which excell,

He view'd and view'd, and vow'd he could not tel.

They bid him Hemisphear his mouldy nose,

With's crackt leering glasses, for it would pose

The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan,

Sex weigh'd, which best the Woman, or the Man?

He peer'd, and por'd, & glar'd, & said for wore,

I'me even as wise now, as I was before:

They both 'gan laugh, and said, it was no mar'l

The Auth'ress was a right Du Bartas Girle.

Good sooth quoth the old Don, tell ye me so,

I muse whither at length these Girls will go;

It half revives my chil frost-bitten blood,

To see a Woman once, do ought that's good;

And chode by Chaucers Boots, and Homers Furrs,

Let Men look to't, least Women wear the Spurrs.

N. Ward.

[Page]

To my dear Sister, the Author of
these Poems.

THough most that know me, dare (I think) affirm

I ne're was borne to do a Poet harm,

Yet when I read your pleasant witty strains,

It wrought so strongly on my addle brains,

That though my verse be not so finely spun,

And so (like yours) cannot so neatly run,

Yet am I willing, with upright intent,

To shew my love without a complement.

There needs no painting to that comely face,

That in its native beauty hath such grace;

What I (poore silly I) prefix therefore,

Can but do this, make yours admir'd the more;

And if but only this, I do attain

Content, that my disgrace may be your gain.

If women, I with women, may compare,

Your works are solid, others weak as Air;

Some Books of Women I have heard of late,

Perused some, so witless, intricate,

So void of sense, and truth, as if to erre

Were only wisht (acting above their sphear)

And all to get, what (silly Souls) they lack,

Esteem to be the wisest of the pack;

[Page]

Though (for your sake) to some this be permitted,

To print yet wish I many better witted;

Their vanity make this to be enquired,

If Women are with wit and sence inspired:

Yet when your Works shall come to publick view,

'Twill be affirm'd, 'twill be confirm'd by you:

And I, when seriously I had revolved

What you had done, I presently resolved,

Theirs was the Persons, not the Sexes failing,

And therefore did be-speak a modest vailing.

You have acutely in Eliza's ditty,

Acquitted Women, else I might with pitty,

Have wisht them all to womens Works to look,

And never more to medele with their book.

What you have done, the Sun shall witness bear,

That for a womans Work 'tis very rare;

And if the Nine, vouchsafe the Tenth a place,

I think they rightly may yield you that grace.

But least I should exceed, and too much love,

Should too too much endear'd affection move,

To super-adde in praises, I shall cease,

Least while I please my self I should displease

The longing Reader, who may chance complain,

And so requite my love with deep disdain;

That I your silly Servant, stand i' th' Porch,

Lighting your Sun-light, with my blinking Torch;

Hindring his minds content, his sweet repose,

Which your delightful Poems do disclose

When once the Caskets op'ned; yet to you

Let this be added, then I'le bid adieu,

[Page]

If you shall think, it will be to your shame

To be in print, then I must bear the blame:

If't be a fault, 'tis mine, 'tis shame that might

Deny so fair an infant of its right,

To look abroad; I know your modest mind,

How you will blush complain, 'tis too unkind,

To force a womans birth, provoke her pain,

Expose her labours to the Worlds disdain:

I know you'l say, you do defie that mint,

That stampt you thus, to be a fool in print.

'Tis true, it doth not now so neatly stand,

As if 'twere pollisht with your own sweet hand;

'Tis not so richly deckt, so trimly tir'd,

Yet it is such as justly is admir'd.

If it be folly, 'tis of both, or neither,

Both you and I, we'l both be fools together;

And he that sayes,'tis foolish (if my word

May sway) by my consent shall make the third.

I dare out-face the worlds disdain for both,

If you alone profess you are not wroth;

Yet if you are, a Womans wrath is little,

When thousands else admire you in each Tittle.

I. W.

[Page]

Upon the Author; by
a known Friend.

NOW I believe Tradition, which doth call

The Muses, Virtues, Graces, Females all;

Only they are not nine, eleven nor three;

Our Auth'ress proves them but one unity.

Mankind take up some blushes on the score;

Monopolize perfection no more;

In your own Arts confess yourself out-done,

The Moon hath totally eclips'd the Sun

Not with her sable Mantle muffling him;

But her bright silver makes his gold look dim;

Just as his beams force our pale lamps to wink,

And earthly Fires, within their ashes shrink.

B. W.

I cannot wonder at Apollo now,

That he with Female Laurel crown'd his brow,

That made him witty: had I leave to chuse,

My Verse should be a page unto your Muse.

C. B.

[Page]

In praise of the Author, Mistris Anne Bradstreet,
Virtues true and lively Pattern, Wife of the
Worshipfull Simon Bradstreet Esq;

At present residing in the Occidental parts of the
world in America, Alias
NOV-ANGLIA.

WHat golden splendent STAR is this so bright,

One thousand Miles twice told, both day and night,

(From th' Orient first sprung) now from the West

That shines; swift-winged Phœbus, and the rest

Of all Jove's fiery flames surmounting far

As doth each Planet, every falling Star;

By whose divine and lucid light most clear

Natures dark secret mysteryes appear;

Heavens, Earths, admired wonders, noble acts

Of Kings and Princes most heroick facts,

And what e're else in darkness seem'd to dye,

Revives all things so obvious now to th' eye,

That he who these its glittering rayes views o're,

Shall see what's done in all the world before.

N. H.

[Page]

Upon the Author.

'TWere extream folly should I dare attempt,

To praise this Authors worth with complement;

None but her self must dare commend her parts,

Whose sublime brain's the Synopsis of Arts.

Nature and skill, here both in one agree,

To frame this Master-piece of Poetry:

False Fame, belye their Sex no more, it can

Surpass, or parrallel, the best of Man.

C. B.

Another To Mrs. Anne Bradstreet,
Author of this Poem.

I'Ve read your Poem (Lady) and admire,

Your Sex to such a pitch should e're aspire;

Go on to write, continue to relate,

New Historyes, of Monarchy and State:

And what the Romans to their Poets gave,

Be sure such honour, and esteem you'l have.

H. S.

An Anagram.

Anna Bradstreet.

Deer neat An Bartas.

So Bartas like thy fine spun Poems been,

That Bartas name will prove an Epicene.

Another.

Anne Bradstreet.

Artes bred neat An.

[Page]

UPON
Mrs. Anne Bradstreet
Her Poems, &c.

MADAM, twice through the Muses grove I walkt,

Under your blissful bowres, I shrowding there.

It seem'd with Nymphs of Helicon I talkt;

For there those sweet-lip'd Sisters sporting were;

Apollo with his sacred Lute sate by,

On high they made their heavenly Sonnets flye,

Posies around they strow'd, of sweetest Poesie.

Twice have I drunk the Nectar of your lines,

Which high sublim'd my mean born fantasie.

Flusht with these streams of your Maronean wines

Above my self rapt to an extasie,

Methought I was upon mount Hiblas top,

There where I might those fragrant flowers lop,

Whence did sweet odors flow, and honey spangles drop.

To Venus shrine no Altars raised are,

Nor venom'd shafts from painted quiver fly,

Nor wanton Doves of Aphrodites Carr,

Or fluttering there, or here forlornly lie,

Lorne Paramours, not chatting birds tell news

How sage Apollo, Daphne hot pursues,

Or stately Jove himself is wont to haunt the stews.

[Page]

Nor barking Satyrs breath, nor driery clouds

Exhal'd from Styx, their dismal drops distil

Within these fFairy, flowry fields, nor shrouds

The screeching night Raven, with his shady quill;

But Lyrick strings here Orpheus nimbly hitts,

Orion on his sadled Dolphin sits,

Chanting as every humour, age & season fits.

Here silver swans, with Nightingales set spells,

Which sweetly charm the Traveller, and raise

Earths earthed Monarchs, from their hidden Cells,

And to appearance summons lapsed dayes.

There heav'nly air, becalms the swelling frayes,

And fury fell of Elements allayes,

By paying every one due tribute of his praise.

This seem'd the Scite of all those verdant vales,

And purled springs, whereat the Nymphs do play,

With lofty hills, where Poets rear their tales,

To heavenly vaults, which heav'nly sound repay

By ecchoes sweet rebound, here Ladyes kiss,

Circling nor songs, nor dances circle miss;

But whilst those Syrens sung, I sunk in sea of bliss.

Thus weltring in delight, my virgin mind

Admits a rape; truth still lyes undescri'd,

Its singular, that plural seem'd, I find,

'Twas Fancies glass alone that multipli'd;

Nature with Art so closely did combine,

I thought I saw the Muses trebble trine,

Which prov'd your lonely Muse, superiour to the nine.

[Page]

Your only hand those Poesies did compose,

Your head the source, whence all those springs did flow,

Your voice, whence changes sweetest notes arose,

Your feet that kept the dance alone, I trow:

Then vail your bonnets, Poetasters all,

Strike, lower amain and at these humbly fall,

And deem your selves advance'd to be her Pedestal.

Should all with lowly Congies Laurels bring,

Waste Floras Magazine to find a wreathe,

Or Pineus Banks 'twere too mean offering,

Your Muse a fairer Garland loth bequeath

To guard your fairer front; here 'tis your name

Shall stand immarbled; this your little frame

Shall great Colossus be, to your eternal fame.

I'le please my self, tho' I my self disgrace,

What errors here be found, are in Errataes place.

J. Rogers.

[Page]

To her most Honoured Father
Thomas Dudley Esq;
these humbly presented.

DEar Sir of late delighted with the sight		T.D. On the four
Of your four Sisters cloth'd in black and white,	{	parts of
Of fairer Dames the Sun ne'r saw the face;		the World.
Though made a pedestal for Adams Race;
Their worth so shines in those rich lines you show
Their paralels to finde I scarely know
To climbe their Climes, I have nor strength nor skill
To mount so high requires an Eagle's quill;
Yet view thereof did cause my thoughts to soar,
My lowly pen might wait upon those four
I bring my four times four, now meanly clad
To do their homage, unto yours, full glad:
Who for their Age, their worth and quality
Might seem of yours to claim precedency:
But by my humble hand, thus rudely pen'd
They are your bounden handmaids to attend

[Page 2]

These same are they, from whom we being have

These are of all, the Life, the Nurse, the Grave;

These are the hot, the cold, the moist, the dry,

That sink, that swim, that fill, that upwards fly,

Of these consists our bodies, Cloathes and Food,

The World, the useful, hurtful, and the good,

Sweet harmony they keep, yet jar oft times

Their discord doth appear, by these harsh rimes

Yours did contest for wealth, for Arts, for Age,

My first do shew their good, and then their rage.

My other foures do intermixed tell

Each others faults, and where themselves excell,

How hot and dry contend with moist and cold,

How Air and Earth no correspondence hold,

And yet in equal tempers, how they 'gree

How divers natures make one Unity

Something of all (though mean) I did intend

But fear'd you'ld judge Du Bartas was my friend.

I honour him, but dare not wear his wealth

My goods are true (though poor) I love no stealth

But if I did I durst not send them you

Who must reward a Thief, but with his due.

I shall not need, mine innocence to clear

These ragged lines, will do 't when they appear:

On what they are, your mild aspect I crave

Accept my best, my worst vouchsafe a Grave.

From her that to your self, more duty owes

Then water in the boundess Ocean flows.

March 20, 1642.

ANNE BRADSTREET.

[Page 3]

THE
PROLOGUE.

TO sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings,

Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun,

For my mean pen are too superior things:

Or how they all, or each their dates have run

Let Poets and Historians set these forth,

My obscure Lines shall not so dim their worth.

But when my wondring eyes and envious heart

Great Bartas sugar'd lines, do but read o're

Fool I do grudge the Muses did not part

'Twixt him and me that overfluent store,

A Bartas can, do what a Bartas will

But simple I according to my skill.

From school-boyes tongue no rhet'rick we expect

Nor yet a sweet Consort from broken strings,

Nor perfect beauty, where's a main defect:

My foolish, broken blemish'd Muse so sings

And this to mend, alas, no Art is able,

'Cause nature, made it so irreparable.

Nor can I, like that fluent sweet-tongu'd Greek,

Who lisp'd at first, in future times speak plain

By Art he gladly found what he did seek

A full requital of his, striving pain

[Page 4]

Art can do much, but this maxime's most sure

A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue

Who says my hand a needle better fits.

A Poets pen all scorn I should thus wrong.

For such despite they cast on Female wits:

If what I do prove well, it won't advance,

They'l say it's stoln, or else it was by chance.

But sure the Antique Greeks were far more mild,

Else of our Sexe why feigned they those Nine

And poesy made, Calliope's own child;

So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts Divine:

But this weak knot, they will full soon untie,

The Greeks did nought, but play the fools & lye.

Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are.

Men have precedency, and still excell.

It is but vain unjustly to wage warre,

Men can do best, and women know it well

Preheminence in all and each is yours;

Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.

And oh ye high flown quills that soar the Skies,

And ever with your prey still catch your praise,

If e're you daigne these lowly lines your eyes

Give Thyme or Parsley wreath; I ask no bayes,

This mean and unrefined ore of mine

Will make you glistring gold, but more to shine:

[Page 5]

The
Four Elements

THe Fire, Air, Earth and Water did contest

Which was the strongest, noblest and the best,

Who was of greatest use and might'est force;

In placide Terms they thought now to discourse,

That in due order each her turn should speak;

But enmity this amity did break

All would be chief, and all scorn'd to be under

Whence issu'd winds & rains, lightning & thunder.

The quaking earth did groan, the Sky lookt black

The Fire, the forced Air, in sunder crack;

The sea did threat the heav'ns, the heavn's the earth,

All looked like a Chaos or new birth:

Fire broyled Earth, & scorched Earth it choaked

Both by their darings, water so provoked

That roaring in it came, and with its source

Soon made the Combatants abate their force

The rumbling hissing: puffing was so great

The worlds confusion, it did seem to threat

Till gentle Air, Contention so abated

That betwixt hot and cold, she arbritrated

The others difference, being less did cease

All storms now laid, and they in perfect peace

[Page 6]

That Fire should first begin, the rest consent,

The noblest and most active Element.

Fire.

What is my worth (both ye) and all men know,

In little time I can but little show,

But what I am, let learned Grecians say,

What I can do well skil'd Mechanicks may:

The benefit all living by me finde,

All sorts of Artists here declare your mind.

What tool was ever fram'd, but by my might?

Ye Martilists, what weapons for your fight,

To try your valour by, but it must feel

My force? Your Sword, & Gun, your Lance of steel,

Your Cannon's bootless and your powder too

Without mine aid, (alas) what can they do;

The adverse walls not shak'd, the Mines not blown

And in despight the City keeps her own;

But I with one Granado or Petard,

Set ope those gates, that 'fore so strong were bar'd.

Ye Husband-men, your Coulters made by me

Your Hooes your Mattocks, & what e're you see

Subdue the Earth, and fit it for your Grain

That so it might in time requite your pain:

Though strong limb'd Vulcan forg'd it by his skill

I made it flexible unto his will;

Ye Cooks, your Kitchen implements I frame

Your Spits, Pots, Jacks, what else I need not name.

[Page 7]

Your dayly food I wholsome make, I warm

Your shrinking Limbs, which winter's cold doth harm.

Ye Paracelsians too in vain's your skill

In Chymistry, unless I help you Still.

And you Philosophers, if e're you made

A transmutation it was through mine aid,

Ye silver Smiths, your Ure I do refine

What mingled lay with Earth I cause to shine;

But let me leave these things, my fame aspires

To match on high with the Celestial fires:

The Sun an Orb of fire was held of old,

Our Sages new another tale have told:

But be he what they will yet his aspect

A burning fiery heat we find reflect,

And of the self same nature is with mine

Cold sister Earth, no witness needs but thine;

How doth his warmth, refresh thy frozen back

And trim thee brave, in green, after thy black:

Both man and beast rejoyce at his approach,

And birds do sing, to see his glittering Coach

And though nought, but Salamanders live in fire

And fly Pyrausta call'd, all else expire,

Yet men and beast Astronomers will tell

Fixed in heavenly Constellations dwell,

My Planets of both Sexes whose degree

Poor Heathen judg'd worthy a Diety;

There's Orion arm'd attended by his dog;

The Theban stout Alcides with his Club;

The valiant Perseus, who Medusa slew,

The horse that kil'd Belerophon, then flew.

[Page 8]

My Crab, my Scorpion, fishes you may see

The Maid with ballance, wain with horses three,

The Ram, the Bull, the Lion, and the Beagle,

The Bear, the Goat, the Raven, and the Eagle,

The Crown, the Whale, the Archer, Bernice Hare,

The Hidra, Dolphin, Boys that water bear,

Nay more, then these, Rivers 'mongst stars are found

Eridanus, where Phæton was drown'd.

Their magnitude, and height, should I recount

My story to a volume would amount;

Out of a multitude these few I touch,

Your wisdome out of little gather much.

I'le here let pass, my choler, cause of wars

and influence of divers of those stars

When in Conjunction with the Sun do more

Augment his heat, which was too hot before.

The Summer ripening season I do claim

And man from thirty unto fifty frame.

Of old when Sacrifices were Divine,

I of acceptance was the holy signe,

'Mong all thy wonders which I might recount,

There's none more strange then Ætna's Sulphry mount

The choaking flames, that from Vesuvius flew

The over curious second Pliny flew,

And with the Ashes that it sometimes shed

Apulia's 'jacent parts were covered.

And though I be a servant to each man

Yet by my force, master, my masters can.

What famous Towns, to Cinders have I turn'd?

What lasting forts my kindled wrath hath burn'd?

[Page 9]

The stately Seats of mighty Kings by me

In confused heaps, of ashes may you see.

Wher's Ninus great wall'd Town, & Troy of old

Carthage, and hundred more in stories told

Which when they could not be o'recome by foes

The Army, through my help victorious rose

And stately London, (our great Britain's glory)

My raging flame did make a mournful story,

But maugre all, that I, or foes could do

That Phœnix from her Bed, is risen New.

Old sacred Zion, I demolish'd thee.

So great Diana's Temple was by me,

And more than bruitish Sodom, for her lust

With neighbouring Towns, I did consume to dust

What shall I say of Lightning and of Thunder

Which Kings & mighty ones amaze with wonder,

Which made a Cæsar, (Romes) the worlds proud head,

Foolish Caligula creep under 's bed.

Of Meteors, ignis fatuus and the rest,

But to leave those to th' wise, I judge it best.

The rich I oft make poor, the strong I maime,

Not sparing Life when I can take the same;

And in a word, the world I shall consume

And all therein, at that great day of Doom;

Not before then, shall cease, my raging ire,

And then because, no matter more for fire.

Now Sisters pray proceed, each in your Course

As I, impart your usefulness and force.

[Page 10]

Earth.

The next in place Earth judg'd to be her due,

Sister (quoth shee) I come not short of you,

In wealth and use I do surpass you all,

And mother earth of old men did me call:

Such is my fruitfulness, an Epithite,

Which none ere gave, or you could claim of right

Among my praises this I count not least,

I am th' original of man and beast.

To tell what sundry fruits my fat soil yields,

In Vineyards, Gardens, Orchards & Corn-fields,

Their kinds, their tasts, their colors & their smells

Would so pass time I could say nothing else:

The rich the poor, wise, fool, and every sort

Of these so common things can make report.

To tell you of my countryes and my Regions,

Soon would they pass not hundreds but legions;

My cities famous, rich and populous,

Whose numbers now are grown innumerous.

I have not time to think of every part,

Yet let me name my Grecia, 'tis my heart.

For learning arms and arts I love it well,

But chiefly 'cause the Muses there did dwell.

Ile here skip ore my mountains reaching skyes,

Whether Pyrenean, or the Alpes, both lyes

On either side the country of the Gaules

Strong forts, from Spanish and Italian brawles,

[Page 11]

And huge great Taurus longer then the rest,

Dividing great Armenia from the least;

And Hemus, whose steep sides none foot upon,

But farewell all for dear mount Helicon,

And wondrous high Olimpus, of such fame,

That heav'n itself was oft call'd by that name.

Parnassus sweet, I dote too much on thee,

Unless thou prove a better friend to me:

But Ile leap ore these hills, not touch a dale,

Nor will I stay, no not in Tempi Vale,

Ile here let go my Lions of Numidia,

My Panthers and my Leopards of Libia,

The Behemoth and rare found Unicorn,

Poysons sure antidote lyes in his horn,

And my Hiæna (imitates mans voice)

Out of great numbers I might pick my choice,

Thousands in woods & plains, both wild & tame,

But here or there, I list now none to name;

No, though the fawning Dog did urge me sore,

In his behalf to speak a word the more,

Whose trust and valour I might here commend;

But time's too short and precious so to spend.

But hark you wealthy merchants, who for prize

Send forth your well man'd ships where sun doth rise,

After three years when men and meat is spent,

My rich Commodityes pay double rent.

Ye Galenists, my Drugs that come from thence,

Do cure your Patients, fill your purse with pence;

Besides the use of roots, of hearbs, and plants,

That with less cost near home supply your wants.

[Page 12]

But Mariners, where got you ships and Sails,

And Oars to row, when both my Sisters fails?

Your Tackling, Anchor, compass too is mine,

Which guides when sun nor moon nor stars do shine.

Ye mighty Kings, who for your lasting fames

Built Cities, Monuments, call'd by your names,

Were those compiled heaps of massy stones

That your ambition laid, ought but my bones?

Ye greedy misers, who do dig for gold

For gemms, for silver, Treasures which I hold,

Will not my goodly face your rage suffice

But you will see what in my bowels lyes?

And ye Artificers, all Trades and forts

My bounty calls you forth to make reports,

If ought you have, to use, to wear, to eat,

But what I freely yield, upon your sweat?

And Cholerick Sister, thou for all thine ire

Well knowst my fuel must maintain thy fire.

As I ingenuously with thanks confess,

My cold thy fruitfull heat doth crave no less:

But how my cold dry temper works upon

The melancholy Constitution;

How the autumnal season I do sway,

And how I force the grey-head to obey,

I should here make a short, yet true Narration,

But that thy method is mine imitation.

Now must I shew mine adverse quality,

And how I oft work mans mortality:

He sometimes finds, maugre his toiling pain

Thistles and thorns where he expected grain.

[Page 13]

My sap to plants and trees I must not grant,

The vine, the olive, and the figtree want:

The Corn and Hay do fall before the're mown,

And buds from fruitfull trees as soon as blown;

Then dearth prevails, that nature to suffice

The Mother on her tender infant flyes;

The husband knows no wife, nor father sons,

But to all outrages their hunger runs:

Dreadfull examples soon I might produce,

But to such Auditors 'twere of no use,

Again when Delvers dare in hope of gold

To ope those veins of Mine, audacious bold;

While they thus in mine entrails love to dive,

Before they know, they are inter'd alive.

Y'affrighted wights appal'd, how do ye shake,

When once you feel me your foundation quake?

Because in the Abbysse of my dark womb

Your cities and yourselves I oft intomb:

O dreadful Sepulcher! that this is true

Dathan and all his company well knew,

So did that Roman, far more stout then wise,

Bur'ing himself alive for honour's prize.

And since fair Italy full sadly knowes

What she hath lost by these remed'less woes.

Again what veins of poyson in me lye,

Some kill outright, and some do stupifye:

Nay into herbs and plants it sometimes creeps,

In heats & colds & gripes & drowzy sleeps;

Thus I occasion death to man and beast

When food they seek, & harm mistrust the least.

[Page 14]

Much might I say of the hot Libian sand

Which rise like tumbling Billows on the Land

Wherein Cambyses Armie was o'rethrown

(but windy Sister, 'twas when you have blown)

I'le say no more, but this thing add I must

Remember Sons, your mould is of my dust

And after death whether interr'd or burn'd

As Earth at first so into Earth return'd.

Water.

Scarce Earth had done, but th' angry water mov'd

Sister (quoth she) it had full well behov'd

Among your boastings to have praised me

Cause of your fruitfulness as you shall see:

This your neglect shews your ingratitude

And how your subtilty, would men delude

Not one of us (all knows) that's like to thee

Ever in craving, from the other three;

But thou art bound to me, above the rest,

Who am thy drink, thy blood, thy sap and best:

If I withhold what art thou? dead dry lump

Thou bearst nor grass or plant nor tree, nor stump,

Thy extream thirst is moistned by my love

With springs below, and showres from above

Or else thy Sun burnt face and gaping chops

Complain to th' heavens if I withhold my drops

Thy Bear, thy Tiger and thy Lion stout,

When I am gone, their fierceness none needs doubt

[Page 15]

Thy Camel hath no strength, thy Bull no force

Nor mettal's found, in the courageous Horse

Hinds leave their calves, the Elephant, the Fens

The wolves and savage beasts, forsake their Dens

The lofty Eagle, and the Stork fly low,

The Peacock and the Ostrich, share in woe,

The Pine, the Cedar, yea, and Daphne's Tree

Do cease to nourish in this misery.

Man wants his bread and wine, & pleasant fruits

He knows, such sweets, lies not in Earths dry roots

Then seeks me out, in river and in well

His deadly malady I might expell:

If I supply, his heart and veins rejoyce,

If not, soon ends his life, as did his voyce;

That this is true, Earth thou can'st not deny

I call thine Egypt, this to verifie,

Which by my fatting Nile, doth yield such store

That she can spare, when nations round are poor

When I run low, and not o'reflow her brinks

To meet with want, each woful man he thinks:

And such I am in Rivers, showrs and springs

But what's the wealth, that my rich Ocean brings

Fishes so numberless, I there do hold

If thou shouldst buy, it would exhaust thy gold:

There lives the oyly Whale, whom all men know

Such wealth but not such like, Earth thou maist show.

The Dolphin loving musick, Arians friend

The witty Barbel, whose craft doth her commend

With thousands more, which now I list not name

Thy silence of thy Beasts doth cause the same

[Page 16]

My pearles that dangle at thy Darlings ears,

Not thou, but shel-fish yield, as Pliny clears,

Was ever gem so rich found in thy trunk,

As Egypts wanton, Cleopatra drunk?

Or hast thou any colour can come nigh

The Roman purple double Tirian dye?

Which Cæsar's Consuls, Tribunes all adorn,

For it to search my waves they thought no scorn.

Thy gallant rich perfuming Amber-greece

I lightly cast ashore as frothy fleece:

With rowling grains of purest massie gold,

Which Spains Americans do gladly hold.

Earth thou hast not moe countrys vales & mounds

Then I have fountains, rivers lakes and ponds.

My sundry seas, black, white and Adriatique,

Ionian, Baltique, and the vast Atlantique,

Ægean, Caspian, golden Rivers five,

Asphaltis lake where nought remains alive:

But I should go beyond thee in my boasts,

If I should name more seas than thou hast Coasts,

And be thy mountains n'er so high and steep,

I soon can match them with my seas as deep.

To speak of kinds of waters I neglect,

My diverse fountains and their strange effect:

My wholsome bathes, together with their cures;

My water Syrens with their guilefull lures,

Th'uncertain cause of certain ebbs and flows,

Which wondring Aristotles wit n'er knows,

Nor will I speak of waters made by art,

Which can to life restore a fainting heart.

[Page 17]

Nor fruitfull dews, nor drops distil'd from eyes,

Which pitty move, and oft deceive the wise:

Nor yet of salt and sugar, sweet and smart,

Both when we lift to water we convert.

Alas thy ships and oars could do no good

Did they but want my Ocean and my flood.

The wary merchant on his weary beast

Transfers his goods from south to north and east,

Unless I ease his toil, and do transport

The wealthy fraight unto his wished port:

These be my benefits, which may suffice:

I now must shew what ill there in me lies.

The flegmy Constitution I uphold,

All humors, tumors which are bred of cold:

O'er childhood and ore winter I bear sway,

And Luna for my Regent I obey.

As I with showers oft times refresh the earth,

So oft in my excess I cause a dearth,

And with abundant wet so cool the ground,

By adding cold to cold no fruit proves found.

The Farmer and the Grasier do complain

Of rotten sheep, lean kine, and mildew'd grain.

And with my wasting floods and roaring torrent,

Their cattel hay and corn I sweep down current.

Nay many times my Ocean breaks his bounds,

And with astonishment the world confounds,

And swallows Countryes up, n'er seen again,

And that an island makes which once was Main:

Thus Britain fair (tis thought) was cut from France

Scicily from Italy by the like chance,

[Page 18]

And but one land was Africa and Spain

Untill proud Gibraltar did make them twain.

Some say I swallow'd up (sure tis a notion)

A mighty country in th' Atlantique Ocean.

I need not say much of my hail and snow,

My ice and extream cold, which all men know,

Whereof the first so ominous I rain'd,

That Israels enemies therewith were brain'd;

And of my chilling snows such plenty be,

That Caucasus high mounts are seldome free,

Mine ice doth glaze Europes great rivers o're,

Till sun release, their ships can sail no more,

All know that inundations I have made,

Wherein not men, but mountains seem'd to wade;

As when Achaia all under water stood,

That for two hundred years it n'er prov'd good.

Deucalions great Deluge with many moe,

But these are trifles to the flood of Noe,

Then wholly perish'd Earths ignoble race,

And to this day impairs her beauteous face,

That after times shall never feel like woe,

Her confirm'd sons behold my colour'd bow.

Much might I say of wracks, but that Ile spare,

And now give place unto our Sister Air.

[Page 19]

Air.

Content (quoth Air) to speak the last of you,

Yet am not ignorant first was my due:

I do suppose you'l yield without controul

I am the breath of every living soul.

Mortals, what one of you that loves not me

Abundantly more then my Sisters three?

And though you love Fire, Earth and Water well

Yet Air beyond all these you know t' excell.

I ask the man condemn'd that's neer his death,

How gladly should his gold purchase his breath,

And all the wealth that ever earth did give,

How freely should it go so he might live:

No earth, thy witching trash were all but vain,

If my pure air thy sons did not sustain,

The famish'd thirsty man that craves supply,

His moving reason is, give least I dye,

So loth he is to go though nature's spent

To bid adieu to his dear Element.

Nay what are words which do reveal the mind,

Speak who or what they will they are but wind.

Your drums your trumpets & your organs found,

What is't but forced air which doth rebound,

And such are ecchoes and report of th' gun

That tells afar th' exploit which it hath done.

Your Songs and pleasant tunes they are the same,

And so's the notes which Nightingales do frame.

[Page 20]

Ye forging Smiths, if bellows once were gone

Your red hot work more coldly would go on.

Ye Mariners, tis I that fill your sails

And speed you to your port with wished gales.

When burning heat doth cause you faint, I cool,

And when I smile, your ocean's like a pool.

I help to ripe the corn, I turn the mill,

And with my self I every Vacuum fill.

The ruddy sweet sanguine is like to air,

And youth and spring, Sages to me compare,

My moist hot nature is so purely thin,

No place so subtily made, but I get in.

I grow more pure and pure as I mount higher,

And when I'm throughly rarifi'd turn fire:

So when I am condens'd, I turn to water,

Which may be done by holding down my vapour.

Thus I another body can assume,

And in a trice my own nature resume.

Some for this cause of late have been so bold

Me for no Element longer to hold,

Let such suspend their thoughts, and silent be,

For all Philosophers make one of me:

And what those Sages either spake or writ

Is more authentick then our modern wit.

Next of my fowles such multitudes there are,

Earths beasts and waters fish scarce can compare.

Th' Ostrich with her plumes, th' Eagle with her eyn

The Phœnix too (if any be) are mine,

The stork, the crane, the partridge, and the phesant

The Thrush, the wren, the lark a prey to th' peasant,

[Page 21]

With thousands more which now I may omit

Without impeachment to my tale or wit.

As my fresh air preserves all things in life,

So when corrupt, mortality is rife;

Then Fevers, Purples, Pox and Pestilence,

With divers moe, work deadly consequence:

Whereof such multitudes have di'd and fled,

The living scarce had power to bury dead;

Yea so contagious countryes have we known

That birds have not 'scapt death as they have flown

Of murrain, cattle numberless did fall,

Men feared destruction epidemical.

Then of my tempests felt at sea and land,

Which neither ships nor houses could withstand,

What wofull wracks I've made may well appear,

If nought were known but that before Algere,

Where famous Charles the fifth more loss sustained

Then in his long hot war which Millain gain'd.

Again what furious storms and Hurricanoes

Know western Isles, as Christophers, Barbadoes,

Where neither houses, trees nor plants I spare,

But some fall down, and some fly up with air.

Earthquakes so hurtfull, and so fear'd of all,

Imprison'd I, am the original.

Then what prodigious sights I sometimes show,

As battles pitcht in th' air, as countryes know,

Their joyning fighting, forcing and retreat,

That earth appears in heaven, O wonder great!

Sometimes red flaming swords and blazing stars,

Portentous signs of famines, plagues and wars,

[Page 22]

Which make the Monarchs fear their fates

By death or great mutation of their States.

I have said less than did my Sisters three,

But what's their wrath or force, the fame's in me.

To adde to all I've said was my intent,

But dare not go beyond my Element.

Of the four Humours in Mans
Constitution.

THe former four now ending their discourse,

Ceasing to vaunt their good, or threat their force,

Lo other four step up, crave leave to show

The native qualityes that from them flow:

But first they wisely shew'd their high descent,

Each eldest daughter to each Element.

Choler was own'd by fire, and Blood by air,

Earth knew her black swarth child, water her fair:

All having made obeysance to each Mother,

Had leave to speak, succeeding one the other:

But 'mongst themselves they were at variance,

Which of the four should have predominance.

Choler first hotly claim'd right by her mother,

Who had precedency of all the other:

But Sanguine did disdain what she requir'd,

Pleading her self was most of all desir'd.

Proud Melancholy more envious then the rest,

The second, third or last could not digest.

[Page 23]

She was the silentest of all the four,

Her wisdom spake not much, but thought the more

Mild Flegme did not contest for chiefest place,

Only she crav'd to have a vacant space.

Well, thus they parle and chide; but to be brief,

Or will they, nill they, Choler will be chief.

They seing her impetuosity

At present yielded to necessity.

Choler.

To shew my high descent and pedegree,

Your selves would judge but vain prolixity;

It is acknowledged from whence I came,

It shall suffice to shew you what I am,

My self and mother one, as you shall see,

But shee in greater, I in less degree.

We both once Masculines, the world doth know,

Now Feminines awhile, for love we owe

Unto your Sisterhood, which makes us render

Our noble selves in a less noble gender.

Though under Fire we comprehend all heat,

Yet man for Choler is the proper seat:

I in his heart erect my regal throne,

Where Monarch like I play and sway alone.

Yet many times unto my great disgrace

One of your selves are my Compeers in place,

Where if your rule prove once predominant,

The man proves boyish, sottish, ignorant:

[Page 24]

But if you yield subservience unto me,

I make a man, a man in th'high'st degree:

Be he a souldier, I more fence his heart

Then iron Corslet 'gainst a sword or dart.

What makes him face his foe without appal,

To storm a breach, or scale a city wall,

In dangers to account himself more sure

Then timerous Hares whom Castles do immure?

Have you not heard of worthyes, Demi-Gods?

Twixt them and others what is't makes the odds

But valour? whence comes that? from none of you,

Nay milksops at such brunts you look but blew.

Here's sister ruddy, worth the other two,

Who much will talk, but little dares she do,

Unless to Court and claw, to dice and drink,

And there she will out-bid us all, I think,

She loves a fiddle better then a drum,

A Chamber well, in field she dares not come,

She'l ride a horse as bravely as the best,

And break a staff, provided 'be in jest;

But shuns to look on wounds, & blood that's spilt,

She loves her sword only because its gilt.

Then here's our sad black Sister, worse then you.

She'l neither say she will, nor will she doe;

But peevish Malecontent, musing sits,

And by misprissions like to loose her witts:

If great perswasions cause her meet her foe,

In her dull resolution she's so slow,

To march her pace to some is greater pain

Then by a quick encounter to be slain.

[Page 25]

But be she beaten, she'l not run away,

She'l first advise if't be not best to stay.

Now let's give cold white sister flegme her right,

So loving unto all she scorns to fight:

If any threaten her, she'l in a trice

Convert from water to congealed ice:

Her teeth will chatter, dead and wan's her face,

And 'fore she be assaulted, quits the place.

She dares not challeng, if I speak amiss,

Nor hath she wit or heat to blush at this.

Here's three of you all see now what you are,

Then yield to me preheminence in war.

Again who fits for learning, science, arts?

Who rarifies the intellectual parts:

From whence fine spirits flow and witty notions:

But tis not from our dull, slow sisters motions:

Nor sister sanguine, from thy moderate heat,

Poor spirits the Liver breeds, which is thy seat.

What comes from thence, my heat refines the same

And through the arteries sends it o're the frame:

The vital spirits they're call'd, and well they may

For when they fail, man turns unto his clay.

The animal I claim as well as these,

The nerves, should I not warm, soon would they freeze

But flegme her self is now provok'd at this

She thinks I never shot so far amiss.

The brain she challengeth, the head's her seat;

But know'ts a foolish brain that wanteth heat.

My absence proves it plain, her wit then flyes

Out at her nose, or melteth at her eyes.

[Page 26]

Oh who would miss this influence of thine

To be distill'd, a drop on every Line?

Alas, thou hast no Spirits; thy Company

Will feed a dropsy, or a Tympany,

The Palsy, Gout, or Cramp, or some such dolour:

Thou wast not made, for Souldier or for Scholar;

Of greazy paunch, and bloated cheeks go vaunt,

But a good head from these are dissonant.

But Melancholy, wouldst have this glory thine,

Thou sayst thy wits are staid, subtil and fine;

'Tis true, when I am Midwife to thy birth

Thy self's as dull, as is thy mother Earth:

Thou canst not claim the liver, head nor heart

Yet hast the Seat assign'd, a goodly part

The sinke of all us three, the hateful Spleen

Of that black Region, nature made thee Queen;

Where pain and sore obstruction thou dost work,

Where envy, malice, thy Companions lurk.

If once thou'rt great, what follows thereupon

But bodies wasting, and destruction?

So base thou art, that baser cannot be,

Th' excrement adustion of me.

But I am weary to dilate your shame,

Nor is't my pleasure thus to blur your name,

Only to raise my honour to the Skies,

As objects best appear by contraries.

But Arms, and Arts I claim, and higher things,

The princely qualities befitting Kings,

Whose profound heads I line with policies,

They'r held for Oracles, they are so wise,

[Page 27]

Their wrathful looks are death their words are laws

Their Courage it foe, friend, and Subject awes;

But one of you, would make a worthy King

Like our sixth Henry (that same virtuous thing)

That when a Varlet struck him o're the side,

Forsooth you are to blame, he grave reply'd.

Take Choler from a Prince, what is he more

Then a dead Lion, by Beasts triumph'd o're.

Again you know, how I act every part

By th' influence, I still send from the heart:

It's nor your Muscles, nerves, nor this nor that

Do's ought without my lively heat, that's flat:

Nay th' stomack magazine to all the rest

Without my boyling heat cannot digest:

And yet to make my greatness, still more great

What differences, the Sex? but only heat.

And one thing more, to close up my narration

Of all that lives, I cause the propagation.

I have been sparings what I might have said

I love no boasting, that's but Childrens trade.

To what you now shall say I will attend,

And to your weakness gently condescend.

Blood.

Good Sisters, give me leave, as is my place

To vent my grief, and wipe off my disgrace:

Your selves may plead your wrongs are no whit less

Your patience more then mine, I must confess

[Page 28]

Did ever sober tongue such language speak,

Or honesty such tyes unfriendly break?

Dost know thy self so well us so amiss?

Is't arrogance or folly causeth this?

Ile only shew the wrong thou'st done to me,

Then let my sisters right their injury.

To pay with railings is not mine intent,

But to evince the truth by Argument:

I will analyse this thy proud relation

So full of boasting and prevarication,

Thy foolish incongruityes Ile show,

So walk thee till thou'rt cold, then let thee go.

There is no Souldier but thy self (thou sayest,)

No valour upon Earth, but what thou hast

Thy silly provocations I despise,

And leave't to all to judge, where valour lies

No pattern, nor no pattron will I bring

But David, Judah's most heroick King,

Whose glorious deeds in Arms the world can tell,

A rosie cheek Musitian thou know'st well;

He knew well how to handle Sword and Harp,

And how to strike full sweet, as well as sharp,

Thou laugh'st at me for loving merriment,

And scorn'st all Knightly sports at Turnament.

Thou sayst I love my Sword, because it's gilt,

But know, I love the Blade, more then the Hilt,

Yet do abhor such temerarious deeds,

As thy unbridled, barbarous Choler breeds:

Thy rudeness counts good manners vanity,

And real Complements base flattery.

[Page 29]

For drink, which of us twain like it the best,

Ile go no further then thy nose for test:

Thy other scoffs, not worthy of reply

Shall vanish as of no validity:

Of thy black Calumnies this is but part,

But now Ile shew what souldier thou art.

And though thou'st us'd me with opprobrious spight

My ingenuity must give thee right.

Thy choler is but rage when tis most pure,

But usefull when a mixture can endure;

As with thy mother fire, so tis with thee,

The best of all the four when they agree:

But let her leave the rest, then I presume

Both them and all things else she would consume.

Whilst us for thine associates thou tak'st,

A Souldier most compleat in all points mak'st:

But when thou scorn'st to take the help we lend,

Thou art a Fury or infernal Fiend.

Witness the execrable deeds thou'st done,

Nor sparing Sex nor Age, nor Sire nor Son;

To satisfie thy pride and cruelty,

Thou oft hast broke bounds of Humanity,

Nay should I tell, thou would'st count me no blab,

How often for the lye, thou'st given the stab.

To take the wall's a sin of so high rate,

That nought but death the same may expiate,

To cross thy will, a challenge doth deserve

So shed'st that blood, thou'rt bounden to preserve

Wilt thou this valour, Courage, Manhood call:

No, know 'tis pride most diabolical.

[Page 30]

If murthers be thy glory, tis no less,

Ile not envy thy feats, nor happiness:

But if in fitting time and place 'gainst foes

For countreys good thy life thou dar'st expose,

Be dangers n'er so high, and courage great,

Ile praise that prowess, fury, Choler, heat:

But such thou never art when all alone,

Yet such when we all four are joyn'd in one.

And when such thou art, even such are we,

The friendly Coadjutors still of thee.

Nextly the Spirits thou dost wholly claim,

Which nat'ral, vital, animal we name:

To play Philosopher I have no list,

Nor yet Physitian, nor Anatomist,

For acting these, l have no will nor Art,

Yet shall with Equity, give thee thy part

For natural, thou dost not much contest;

For there is none (thou sayst) if some not best;

That there are some, and best, I dare averre

Of greatest use, if reason do not erre:

What is there living, which do'nt first derive

His Life now Animal, from vegetive:

If thou giv'st life, I give the nourishment,

Thine without mine, is not, 'tis evident:

But I without thy help, can give a growth

As plants trees, and small Embryon know'th

And if vital Spirits, do flow from thee

I am as sure, the natural, from me:

Be thine the nobler, which I grant, yet mine

Shall justly claim priority of thine.

[Page 31]

I am the fountain which thy Cistern fills

Through warm blew Conduits of my venial rills:

What hath the heart but what's sent from the liver

If thou'rt the taker, I must be the giver.

Then never boast of what thou dost receive:

For of such glory I shall thee bereave.

But why the heart should be usurp'd by thee,

I must confess seems something strange to me:

The spirits through thy heat made perfect are,

But the Materials none of thine, that's clear:

Their wondrous mixture is of blood and air,

The first my self, second my mother fair.

But Ile not force retorts, nor do thee wrong,

Thy fi'ry yellow froth is mixt among,

Challeng not all, 'cause part we do allow;

Thou know'st I've there to do as well as thou:

But thou wilt say I deal unequally,

Their lives the irascible faculty,

Which without all dispute, is Cholers own;

Besides the vehement heat, only there known

Can be imputed, unto none but Fire

Which is thy self, thy Mother and thy Sire

That this is true, I easily can assent

If still you take along my Aliment;

And let me be your partner which is due,

So shall I give the dignity to you:

Again, Stomacks Concoction thou dost claim,

But by what right, nor do'st, nor canst thou name

Unless as heat, it be thy faculty,

And so thou challengest her property.

[Page 32]

The help she needs, the loving liver lends,

Who th' benefit o'th' whole ever intends

To meddle further I shall be but shent,

Th'rest to our Sisters is more pertinent;

Your slanders thus refuted takes no place,

Nor what you've said, doth argue my disgrace,

Now through your leaves, some little time I'l spend

My worth in humble manner to commend

This, hot, moist nutritive humour of mine

When 'tis untaint, pure, and most genuine

Shall chiefly take the place, as is my due

Without the least indignity to you.

Of all your qualities I do partake,

And what you single are, the whole I make

Your hot, moist, cold, dry natures are but four,

I moderately am all, what need I more;

As thus, if hot then dry, if moist then cold,

If this you cana't disprove, then all I hold

My virtues hid, I've let you dimly see

My sweet Complection proves the verity.

This Scarlet die's a badge of what's within

One touch thereof, so beautifies the skin:

Nay, could I be, from all your tangs but pure

Mans life to boundless Time might still endure.

But here one thrusts her heat, wher'ts not requir'd

So suddenly, the body all is fired,

And of the calme sweet temper quite bereft,

Which makes the Mansion, by the Soul soon left.

So Melancholy seizes on a man,

With her unchearful visage, swarth and wan,

[Page 33]

The body dryes, the mind sublime doth smother,

And turns him to the womb of's earthy mother:

And flegm likewise can shew her cruel art,

With cold distempers to pain every part:

The lungs she rots, the body wears away,

As if she'd leave no flesh to turn to clay,

Her languishing diseases, though not quick

At length demolishes the Faberick,

All to prevent, this curious care I take,

In th' last concoction segregation make

Of all the perverse humours from mine own,

The bitter choler most malignant known

I turn into his Cell close by my side

The Melancholy to the Spleen t'abide:

Likewise the whey, some use I in the veins,

The overplus I send unto the reins:

But yet for all my toil, my care and skill,

Its doom'd by an irrevocable will

That my intents should meet with interruption,

That mortal man might turn to his corruption.

I might here shew the nobleness of mind

Of such as to the sanguine are inclin'd,

They're liberal, pleasant, kind and courteous,

And like the Liver all benignious.

For arts and sciences they are the fittest;

And maugre Choler still they are the wittiest:

With an ingenious working Phantasie,

A most voluminous large Memory,

And nothing wanting but Solidity.

[Page 34]

But why alas, thus tedious should I be,

Thousand examples you may daily see.

If time I have transgrest, and been too long,

Yet could not be more brief without much wrong;

I've scarce wip'd off the spots proud choler cast,

Such venome lies in words, though but a blast:

No braggs i've us'd, to you I dare appeal,

If modesty my worth do not conceal.

I've us'd no bittererss nor taxt your name,

As I to you, to me do ye the same.

Melancholy.

He that with two Assailants hath to do,

Had need be armed well and active too.

Especially when friendship is pretended,

That blow's most deadly where it is intended.

Though choler rage and rail, I'le not do so,

The tongue's no weapon to assault a foe:

But sith we fight with words, we might be kind

To spare our selves and beat the whistling wind,

Fair rosie sister, so might'st thou scape free;

I'le flatter for a time as thou didst me:

But when the first offender I have laid,

Thy soothing girds shall fully be repaid.

But Choler be thou cool'd or chaf'd, I'le venter,

And in contentions lists now justly enter.

What mov'd thee thus to vilifie my name,

Not past all reason, but in truth all shame:

[Page 35]

Thy fiery spirit shall bear away this prize,

To play such furious pranks I am too wise:

If in a Souldier rashness be so precious,

Know in a General tis most pernicious.

Nature doth teach to shield the head from harm,

The blow that's aim'd thereat is latcht by th'arm.

When in Batalia my foes I face

I then command proud Choler stand thy place,

To use thy sword, thy courage and thy art

There to defend my self, thy better part.

This wariness count not for cowardize,

He is not truly valiant that's not wise.

It's no less glory to defend a town,

Then by assault to gain one not our own;

And if Marcellus bold be call'd Romes sword,

Wise Fabius is her buckler all accord:

And if thy hast my slowness should not temper,

'Twere but a mad irregular distemper;

Enough of that by our sisters heretofore,

Ile come to that which wounds me somewhat more

Of learning, policy thou wouldst bereave me,

But 's not thine ignorance shall thus deceive me:

What greater Clark or Politician lives,

Then he whose brain a touch my humour gives?

What is too hot my coldness doth abate,

What's diffluent I do consolidate.

If I be partial judg'd or thought to erre,

The melancholy snake shall it aver,

Whose cold dry head more subtilty doth yield,

Then all the huge beasts of the fertile field.

[Page 36]

Again thou dost confine me to the spleen,

As of that only part I were the Queen,

Let me as well make thy precincts the Gall,

So prison thee within that bladder small:

Reduce the man to's principles, then see

If I have not more part then all you three:

What is within, without, of theirs or thine,

Yet time and age shall soon declare it mine.

When death doth seize the man your stock is lost,

When you poor bankrupts prove then have I most.

You'l say here none shall e're disturb my right

You high born from that lump then take your flight

Then who's mans friend, when life & all forsakes?

His Mother mine, him to her womb retakes:

Thus he is ours, his portion is the grave,

But while he lives, I'le shew what part I have:

And first the firm dry bones I justly claim,

The strong foundation of the stately frame:

Likewise the usefull Slpeen, though not the best,

Yet is a bowel call'd well as the rest:

The Liver, Stomack, owe their thanks of right,

The first it drains, of th'last quicks appetite.

Laughter (thô thou say malice) flows from hence,

These two in one cannot have residence.

But thou most grosly dost mistake to think

The Spleen for all you three was made a sink,

Of all the rest thou'st nothing there to do,

But if thou hast, that malice is from you.

Again you often touch my swarthy hue,

That black is black, and I am black tis true;

[Page 37]

But yet more comely far I dare avow,

Then is thy torrid nose or brazen brow.

But that which shews how high your spight is bent

Is charging me to be thy excrement:

Thy loathsome imputation I defie,

So plain a slander needeth no reply.

When by thy heat thou'st bak'd thy self to crust,

And so art call'd black Choler or adust,

Thou witless think'st that I am thy excretion,

So mean thou art in Art as in discretion.

But by your leave I'le let your greatness see

What Officer thou art to us all three.

The Kitchin Drudge, the cleanser of the sinks

That casts out all that man e're eats or drinks:

If any doubt the truth whence this should come,

Shew them thy passage to th'Duodenum;

Thy biting quality still irritates,

Till filth and thee nature exonerates:

If there thou'rt stopt, to th'Liver thou turn'st in,

And thence with jaundies saffrons all the skin.

No further time Ile spend in confutation,

I trust I've clear'd your slanderous imputation.

I now speak unto all, no more to one,

Pray hear, admire and learn instruction.

My virtues yours surpass without compare,

The first my constancy that jewel rare:

Choler's too rash this golden gift to hold,

And Sanguine is more fickle manifold,

Here, there her restless thoughts do ever fly,

Constant in nothing but unconstancy.

[Page 38]

And what Flegme is, we know, like to her mother,

Unstable is the one, and so the other;

With me is noble patience also found,

Impatient Choler loveth not the sound,

What Sanguine is, she doth not heed nor care,

Now up, now down, transported like the Air:

Flegme's patient because her nature's tame,

But I, by virtue do acquire the same.

My Temperance, Chastity is eminent,

But these with you, are seldome resident;

Now could I stain my ruddy Sisters face

With deeper red, to shew you her disgrace,

But rather I with silence vaile her shame

Then cause her blush, while I relate the same.

Nor are ye free from this inormity,

Although she bear the greatest obloquie,

My prudence, judgement, I might now reveal

But wisdom 'tis my wisdome to conceal.

Unto diseases not inclin'd as you,

Nor cold, nor hot, Ague nor Plurisie,

Nor Cough, nor Quinsey, nor the burning Feaver,

I rarely feel to act his fierce endeavour;

My sickness in conceit chiefly doth lye,

What I imagine that's my malady.

Chymeraes strange are in my phantasy,

And things that never were, nor shall I see

I love not talk, Reason lies not in length,

Nor multitude of words argues our strength;

I've done pray sister Flegme proceed in Course,

We shall expect much sound, but little force.

[Page 39]

Flegme.

Patient I am, patient i'd need to be,

To bear with the injurious taunts of three,

Though wit I want, and anger I have less,

Enough of both, my wrongs now to express

I've not forgot, how bitter Choler spake

Nor how her gaul on me she causeless brake;

Nor wonder 'twas for hatred there's not small,

Where opposition is Diametrical.

To what is Truth I freely will assent,

Although my Name do suffer detriment,

What's slanderous repell, 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 thundring guns nor bloody wars,

My polish'd Skin was not ordain'd for Skarrs:

But though the pitched field I've ever fled,

At home the Conquerours have conquered.

Nay, I could tell 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, Greece with Asia fights

Sixty nine Princes, all stout Hero Knights.

[Page 40]

Under Troys walls ten years will wear away,

Rather then loose one beauteous Helena.

But 'twere as vain, to prove this truth of mine

As at noon day, to tell the Sun doth shine.

Next difference that 'twixt us twain doth lye

Who doth possess the brain, or thou or I?

Shame forc'd the say, the matter that was mine,

But the Spirits by which it acts are thine:

Thou speakest Truth, and I can say no less,

Thy heat doth much, I candidly confess;

Yet without ostentation I may say,

I do as much for thee another way:

And though I grant, thou art my helper here,

No debtor I because it's paid else where.

With all your flourishes, now Sisters three

Who is't that 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,

Its form and Scituation will avow,

Its Ventricles, Membranes and wondrous net,

Galen, Hippocrates drive to a set;

That Divine Offspring the immortal Soul

Though it in all, and every part be whole,

Within this stately place of eminence,

Doth doubtless keep its mighty residence.

And surely, the Soul sensitive here lives,

Which life and motion to each creature gives,

The Conjugation of the parts, to th' braine

Doth shew, hence flow the pow'rs which they retain

[Page 41]

Within this high Built Cittadel, doth lye

The Reason, fancy, and the memory;

The faculty of speech doth here abide,

The Spirits animal, from hence do slide:

The five most noble Senses here do dwell;

Of three it's hard to say, which doth excell.

This point now to discuss, 'longs not to me,

I'le touch the sight, great'st wonder of the three;

The optick Nerve, Coats, humours all are mine,

The watry, glassie, and the Chrystaline;

O mixture strange! O colour colourless,

Thy perfect temperament who can express:

He was no fool who thought the soul lay there,

Whence her affections passions speak so clear.

O good, O bad, O true, O traiterous eyes

What wonderments within your Balls there lyes,

Of all the Senses sight shall be the Queen;

Yet some may wish, O had mine eyes ne're seen.

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 pair, to it retain.

And the strong Ligaments from hence arise,

Which joynt to joynt, the intire body tyes.

Some other parts there issue from the Brain,

Whose worth and use to tell, I must refrain:

Some curious 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.

[Page 42]

A foolish brain (quoth 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 fool converse then with a mad;

For learning then my brain is not the fittest,

Nor will I yield that Choler is the wittiest.

Thy judgement is unsafe, thy fancy little,

For memory the sand is not more brittle;

Again, none's fit for Kingly state but thou,

If Tyrants be the best, I'le it allow:

But if love be as requisite as fear,

Then thou and I must make a mixture here.

Well to be brief, I hope now Cholers laid,

And I'le pass by what Sister sanguine said.

To Melancholy I'le make no reply,

The worst she said was instability,

And too much talk, both which I here confess

A warning good, hereafter I'le say less.

Let's now be friends; its time our spight were spent,

Lest we too late this rashness do repent,

Such premises will force a sad conclusion,

Unless we agree, all falls into confusion.

Let Sangine with her hot hand Choler hold,

To take her moist my moisture will be bold:

My cold, cold melancholy hand shall clasp;

Her dry, dry Cholers other hand shall grasp.

Two hot, two moist, two cold, two dry here be,

A golden Ring, the Posey UNITY.

Nor jarrs nor scoffs, let none hereafter see,

But all admire our perfect Amity

[Page 43]

Nor be discern'd, here's water, earth, air, fire,

But here a compact body, whole intire.

This loving counsel pleas'd them all so well

That flegm was judg'd for kindness to excell.

Of the four Ages
of Man.

LO now four other act upon the stage,

Childhood and Youth the Manly & Old age;

The first son unto flegm, Grand-child to water,

Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature.

The second frolick, claims his pedegree

From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.

The third of fire and Choler is compos'd,

Vindicative and quarrelsome dispos'd.

The last of earth, and heavy melancholy,

Solid, hating all lightness and all folly.

Childhood was cloth'd in white & green to show

His spring was intermixed with some snow:

Upon his head nature a Garland set

Of Primrose, Daizy & the Violet.

[Page 44]

Such cold mean flowrs the spring puts forth betime

Before the sun hath throughly heat the clime.

His hobby striding did not ride but run,

And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,

In danger every moment of a fall,

And when tis broke then ends his life and all:

But if he hold till it have run its last,

Then may he live out threescore years or past.

Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire,

(As that fond age doth most of all desire)

His Suit of Crimson and his scarfe of green,

His pride in's countenance was quickly seen;

Garland of roses, pinks and gilli-flowers

Seemed on's head to grow bedew'd with showers:

His face as fresh as is Aurora fair,

When blushing she first 'gins to light the air.

No wooden horse, but one of mettal try'd,

He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride.

Then prancing on the stage, about he wheels,

But as he went death waited at his heels.

The next came up in a much graver sort,

As one that cared for a good report,

His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes,

But neither us'd as yet, for he was wise:

Of Autumns fruits a basket on his arm,

His golden God in's purse, which was his charm.

And last of all to act upon this stage

Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age,

Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore,

An harvest of the best, what needs he more?

[Page 45]

In's other hand a glass ev'n almost run,

Thus writ about This out then am I done.

His hoary hairs, and grave aspect made way;

And all gave ear to what he had to say.

These being met each in his equipage

Intend to speak, according to their age:

But wise Old age did with all gravity

To childish Childhood give precedency;

And to the rest his reason mildly told,

That he was young before he grew so old.

To do as he each one full soon assents,

Their method was that of the Elements,

That each should tell what of himself he knew,

Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true.

With heed now stood three ages of frail man,

To hear the child, who crying thus began:

Childhood.

Ah me! conceiv'd in sin, and born with sorrow,

A nothing, here to day, but gone to morrow,

Whose mean beginning blushing can't reveal,

But night and darkeness must with shame conceal.

My mothers breeding sickness, I will spare;

Her nine months weary burthen not declare.

To shew her bearing pains, I should do wrong,

To tell those pangs which can't be told by tongue:

With tears into the world I did arrive,

My mother still did waste as I did thrive,

[Page 46]

Who yet with love and all alacrity,

Spending, was willing to be spent for me.

With wayward cryes I did disturb her rest,

Who sought still to appease me with the breast:

With weary arms she danc'd and By By sung,

When wretched I ingrate had done the wrong.

When infancy was past, my childishnesse

Did act all folly that it could express,

My silliness did only take delight

In that which riper age did scorn and slight.

In Rattles, Baubles and such toyish stuff,

My then ambitious thoughts were low enough:

My high-born soul so straightly was confin'd,

That its own worth it did not know nor mind:

This little house of flesh did spacious count,

Through ignorance all troubles did surmount;

Yet this advantage had mine ignorance

Freedom from envy and from arrogance,

How to be rich or great I did not cark,

A Baron or a Duke ne'r made my mark,

Nor studious was Kings favours how to buy,

With costly presence or base flattery:

No office coveted wherein I might

Make strong my self and turn aside weak right:

No malice bare to this or that great Peer,

Nor unto buzzing whisperers gave ear:

I gave no hand nor vote for death or life,

I'd nought to do 'twixt King and peoples strife.

No Statist I, nor Martilist in'th field,

Where ere I went mine innocence was shield.

[Page 47]

My quarrels not for Diadems did rise,

But for an apple, plumb, or some such prize;

My strokes did cause no blood no wounds or skars,

My little wrath did end soon as my Warrs:

My Duel was no challeng, nor did seek.

My foe should weltring in his bowels reek.

I had no suits at law neighbours to vex,

Nor evidence for lands did me perplex.

I fear'd no storms, nor all the wind that blowes,

I had no ships at sea, nor fraights to loose.

I fear'd no drought nor wet, I had no crop,

Nor yet on future things did set my hope.

This was mine innocence, but ah! the seeds,

Lay raked up of all the cursed weeds

Which sprouted forth in mine ensuing age,

As he can tel that next comes on the stage:

But yet let me relate, before I go

The sins and dangers I am subject to,

Stained from birth with Adams sinfull fact,

Thence I began to sin as soon as act:

A perverse will, a love to what's forbid,

A serpents sting in pleasing face lay hid:

A lying tougue as soon as it could speak,

And fifth Commandment do daily break.

Oft stubborn, peevish, sullen, pout and cry,

Then nought can please, and yet I know not why.

As many are my sins, so dangers too;

For sin brings sorrow, sickness death and woe:

And though I miss the tossings of the mind,

Yet griefs in my frail flesh I stilt do find.

[Page 48]

What gripes of wind mine infancy did pain,

What tortures I in breeding teeth sustain?

What crudityes my stomack cold hath bred,

Whence vomits, flux and worms have issued?

What breaches, knocks and falls I daily have,

And some perhaps I carry to my grave.

Sometimes in fire, sometimes in water fall:

Strangely presev'd, yet mind it not at all:

At home, abroad my dangers manifold,

That wonder tis, my glass till now doth hold.

I've done; unto my elders I give way,

For tis but little that a child can say.

Youth.

My goodly cloathing, and my beauteous skin

Declare some greater riches are within:

But what is best I'le first present to view,

And then the worst in a more ugly hue:

For thus to doe we on this stage assemble,

Then let not him that hath most craft dissemble.

My education and my learning such,

As might my self and others profit much;

With nurture trained up in virtues schools

Of science, arts and tongues I know the rules,

The manners of the court I also know,

And so likewise what they in'th Country doe;

The brave attempts of valiant knights I prize,

That dare scale walls and forts rear'd to the skies.

[Page 49]

The snorting Horse, the trumpet, Drum I like,

The glitt'ring Sword, the Pistol and the Pike:

I cannot lye intrench'd before a town,

Nor wait till good success our hopes doth crown:

I scorn the heavy Corslet, musket-proof:

I fly to catch the bullet that's aloof.

Though thus in field, at home to all most kind,

So affable, that I can suit each mind.

I can insinuate into the breast,

And by my mirth can raise the heart deprest:

Sweet musick raps my brave harmonious soul,

My high thoughts elevate beyond the pole:

My wit, my bounty, and my courtesie,

Make all to place their future hopes on me.

This is my best, but Youth is known, Alas!

To be as wild as is the snuffing Ass:

As vain as froth, as vanity can be,

That who would see vain man, may look on me.

My gifts abus'd, my education lost,

My wofull Parents longing hopes are crost,

My wit evaporates in merriment,

My valour in some beastly quarrell's spent:

My lust doth hurry me to all that's ill:

I know no law nor reason but my will.

Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse,

Or stab the man in's own defence (that's worse)

Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female heir,

Of all at once, who not so wise as fair

Trusteth my loving looks and glozing tongue,

Until her friends, treasure and honour's gone.

[Page 50]

Sometimes I sit carousing others health,

Until mine own be gone, my wit and wealth

From pipe to pot, from pot to words, and blows,

For he that loveth wine, wanteth no woes;

Whole nights with Ruffins, Roarers Fidlers spend,

To all obscenity mine ears I lend.

All Counsell hate, which tends to make me wise,

And dearest friends count for mine enemies.

If any care I take tis to be fine,

For sure my suit, more then my vertues shine

If time from leud Companions I can spare,

'Tis spent to curle, and pounce my new-bought hair.

Some new Adonis I do strive to be;

Sardanapalus now survives in me.

Cards, Dice, and Oathes, concomitant I love;

To playes, to masques, to taverns still I move.

And in a word, if what I am you'd hear,

Seek out a Brittish bruitish Cavaleer:

Such wretch, such Monster am I but yet more,

I have no heart at all this to deplore,

Remembring not the dreadfull day of doom,

Nor yet that heavy reckoning soon to come.

Though dangers do attend me every hour,

And gastly Death oft threats me with his power,

Sometimes by wounds in idle Combates taken,

Sometimes with Agues all my body shaken;

Sometimes by fevers, all my moisture drinking,

My heart lies frying, & mine eyes are sinking;

Sometimes the Quinsey, painfull Pleurisie,

With sad affrights of death doth menace me;

[Page 51]

Sometimes the two fold Pox me fore be-marrs

With outward marks, & inward loathsome scarrs;

Sometimes the Phrenzy strangly mads my brain,

That oft for it in Bedlam I remain.

Too many my diseases to recite,

That wonder tis, I yet behold the light,

That yet my bed in darkness is not made,

And I in black oblivions Den now laid.

Untitled [by Reverend John Woodbridge, Anne Bradstreet's brother-in-law]
Kind Reader:	iii
Untitled by N. W. [Nathaniel Ward.]
Mercury shew'd Apollo, Bartas Book,	v
To my dear Sister, the Author of these Poems by I. W. [John Woodbridge]
Though most that know me, dare (I think) affirm	vi
Upon the Author; by a known Friend. by B. W. [Benjamin Woodbridge]
Now I believe Tradition, which doth call	ix
Untitled by C. B.
I cannot wonder at Apollo now	ix
In praise of the Author, Mistris Anne Bradstreet by N. H.
What golden splendent star is this so bright,	x
Upon the Author by C. B.
'Twere extream folly should I dare attempt,	xi
Another To Mrs. Anne Bradstreet by H. S.
I've read your Poem (Lady) and admire,	xi
An Anagram
Deer neat An Bartas.	xi
Another
Artes bred neat An.	xi
Upon Mrs. Anne Bradstreet Her Poems, &c. by J. Rogers [John Rogers]
Madam, twice through the Muses grove I walkt	xii

Poems by Anne Bradstreet

To her most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq;
Dear Sir of late delighted with the sight	1
The Prologue
To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings,	3
The Four Elements
The Fire, Air, Earth and Water did contest	5
Of the four Humours in Mans Constitution.
The former four now ending their discourse,	22
Of the four Ages of Man.
Lo now four other act upon the stage,	43
The four Seasons of the Year.
Another four I've left yet to bring on,	59
Untitled
My Subjects bare, my Brain is bad,	68
The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first
When time was young, & World in Infancy,	69
The Second Monarchy, being the Persian,
Cyrus Cambyses Son of Persia King	91
The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian,
Great Alexander was wise Philips son,	125
The Romane Monarchy, being the fourth and last
Stout Romulus, Romes founder, and first King,	186
An Apology
To finish what's begun, was my intent,	191
A Dialogue Between Old England and New
Alas dear Mother fairest Queen and best,	192
An Elegie upon that Honourable and renowned Knight Sir Philip Sidney
When England did enjoy her Halsion dayes,	203
In honour of Du Bartas
Among the happy wits this age hath shown	206
In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess Queen Elizabeth
Although great Queen thou now in silence lye,	210
Davids Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan.
Alas slain is the Head of Israel,	215
To the Memory of my dear and ever honoured Father, Thomas Dudley, Esq.
By duty bound, and not by custome led	217
An Epitaph On my dear and ever honoured Mother Mrs. Dorothy Dudley
A worthy Matron of unspotted life,	220
Contemplations
Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide,	221
The Flesh and the Spirit
In secret place where once I stood	229
The Vanity of all worldly things
As he said vanity, so vain say I	233
The Author to her Book
Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain,	236
Upon a Fit of Sickness, Anno 1632.
Twice ten years old, not fully told	237
Upon some distemper of body
In anguish of my heart repleat with woes,	238
Before the Birth of one of her Children
All things within this fading world hath end,	239
To my Dear and loving Husband
If ever two were one, then surely we.	240
A Letter to her Husband, absent upon Publick employment
My head, my heart, mine Eyes, my life, nay more,	240
Another
Phœbus make haste, the day's too long, be gone,	241
Another
As loving Hind that (Hartless) wants her Deer,	243
To her Father with some verses
Most truly honoured, and as truly dear,	244
In reference to her Children, 23. June, 1659
I had eight birds hatcht in one nest,	245
In memory of my dear grand-child Elizabeth Bradstreet
Farewel dear babe, my hearts too much content,	248
In memory of my dear grand child Anne Bradstreet.
With troubled heart & trembling hand I write.	249
On my dear Grand-child Simon Bradstreet
No sooner come, but gone, and fal'n asleep,	250
To the memory of my dear Daughter-in-Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet
And live I still to see Relations gone,	250

A Funeral Elogy [by John Norton]
Ask not why hearts turn magazines of passions,	252