Y MIND to me a kingdom is.
Such perfect joy therein I find,
That it excels all other bliss,
That GOD or Nature hath assigned.
Though much I want, that most would have;
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely port, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to win a loving eye:
To none of these, I yield as thrall.
For why? My mind despise [s] them all.
I see that plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft,
Mishap doth threaten most of all:
These get with toil, and keep with fear.
Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway,
I wish no more than may suffice.
I do no more than well I may.
Look what I want, my mind supplies!
Lo thus, I triumph! like a king:
My mind content with anything.
I laugh not at another's loss,
Nor grudge not at another's gain,
No worldly waves my mind can toss,
I brook that is another's bane,
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend;
I loath not life, nor dread mine end.
My wealth is health, and perfect ease;
And conscience clear, my chief defence:
I never seek, by bribes to please,
Nor by desert, to give offence:
Thus do I live! thus will I die!
Would all did so, as well as I !
HERE FANCY fond, for Pleasure pleads,
And Reason keeps poor Hope in gaol:
There time it is to take my beads,
And pray that Beauty may prevail ;
Or else Despair will win the field,
Where Reason, Hope and Pleasure yield.
My eyes presume to judge this case,
Whose judgement, Reason doth disdain ;
But Beauty with her wanton face,
Stands to defend, the case is plain :
And at the bar of sweet delight,
She pleads" that Fancy must be right."
But Shame will not have Reason yield, Though Grief do swear it shall be so; As though it were a perfect shield, To blush, and fear to tell my woe: Where Silence force will, at the last, To wish for wit, when hope is past.
So far hath fond Desire outrun
The bond which Reason set out first;
That where Delight the fray begun
I would now say, if that I durst,
That in her stead, ten thousand Woes
Have sprung
in field where Pleasure
O that I might declare the rest,
Of all the toys which Fancy turns;
Like towers of wind within my breast,
Where fire is hid that never burns:
Then should I try one of the twain,
Either to love, or to disdain.
But fine conceit dares not declare
The strange conflict of hope and fear:
Lest Reason should be left so bare,
That love durst whisper in mine ear;
And tell me "how my Fancy shall
Bring Reason to be Beauty's thrall."
I must therefore, with silence, build
The labyrinth of my delight;
Till love have tried in open field,
Which of the twain shall win the fight:
I fear me Reason must give place;
If Fancy fond, win Beauty's grace.
F WOMEN could be fair and never fond,
Or that their beauty might continue still :
I would not marvel though they made men bond,
By service long, to purchase their goodwill:
But when I see how frail these creatures are,
I laugh that men forget themselves so far!
To mark what choice they make, and how they change; How leaving best, the worst they chose out still; And how like haggards wild, about they range, Scorning after reason to follow will:
Who would not shake such bussards from the fist; And let them fly, fair fools! which way they list?
Yet for our sport, we fawn and flatter both,
To pass the time, when nothing else can please;
And train them on to yield, by subtle oath,
The sweet content, that gives such humour ease:
And then we say, when we their follies try,
"To play with fools; O what a fool was I!"
MBITIOUS love hath forced me to aspire
The beauties rare which do adorn thy face!
Thy modest life yet bridles my desire,
"Whose severe law doth promise me no grace!
But what! May Love live under any law?
No! no! His power exceedeth man's conceit :
Of which the gods themselves do stand in awe;
For on his frown, a thousand torments wait.
Proceed then in this desperate enterprise, with good advise! And follow Love thy guide that leads thee to thy wished paradise' Thy climbing thoughts, this comfort take withal!
That if it be thy foul disgrace to slide,
Thy brave attempt shall yet excuse thy fall.
HAT pleasure have great princes,
More dainty to their choice,
Than herdsmen wild? who careless,
In quiet life rejoice;
And fortune's fate not fearing,
Sing sweet in summer morning.
Their dealings plain and rightful,
Are void of all deceit;
They never know how spiteful,
It is to kneel and wait
On favourite presumptuous,
Whose pride is vain and sumptuous.
6
All day their flocks each tendeth;
At night, they take their rest;
More quiet than who sendeth
His ship into the East,
Where gold and pearl are plenty;
But getting, very dainty.
For lawyers and their pleading,
They 'steem it not a straw;
They think that honest meaning
Is of itself a law:.
Whence conscience judgeth plainly,
They spend no money vainly.
O happy who thus liveth!
Not caring much for gold;
With clothing which sufficeth
To keep him from the cold.
Though poor and plain his diet;
Yet merry it is, and quiet.
SI BEHELD, I saw a herdsman wild,
With his sheephook, a picture fine deface;
Which he sometime, his fancy too beguiled,
Had carved on bark of beech, in secret place :
And with despite of most afflicted mind,
Through deep despair of heart, for love dismayed;
He pulled even from the tree, the carvèd rind,
And weeping sore, these woeful words he said.
"Ah PHILIDA! would God, thy picture fair,
I could as lightly blot out of my breast;
Then should I not thus rage with great despite,
And tear the thing, sometime I liked best.
But all in vain. It booteth not, God wot!
What printed is in heart, on tree to blot."
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