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Moderne, by George Wither

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Title: A Collection of Emblemes, Ancient and Moderne
       Quickened With Metrical Illustrations, both Morall and Divine, Etc

Author: George Wither

Release Date: October 6, 2015 [EBook #50143]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8


Produced by Chris Curnow, Chris Jordan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at with
transcriptions from Stephen Rowland and Louise Hope

A Collection of Emblemes - Ancient and Moderne, by George Withers

Transcriber's notes:

In the section "To The Reader" our author writes:

There be, no doubt, some faults committed by the Printer, both Literall and Materiall, and some Errors of the Gravers in the Figures, (as in the Tetragrammaton; in the Figure of Arîon; and in the Proprieties due to some other Hieroglyphicks); but, for the most part, they are such, as Common-Readers will never perceive; and I thinke, that they who are Judicious will so plainly finde them to be no faults of mine; that, leaving them to be amended by those, to whom they appertaine; and, You, to accept of these Play-games as you please: I bid you Farewell.

Therefore all oddities and inconsistencies have been left unchanged. They have been noted at the end of the transcription.

An addendum of transcriptions and translations of the mottoes engraved around each emblem has been added to the final note as a convenience to the reader.

to this Frontispiece.

THis Booke contayning Emblems, 'twas thought fit,
A Title-page should stand to usher it,
That's Emblematicall: And, for that end,
Our Avthor, to the Graver did commend
A plaine Invention; that it might be wrought,
According as his Fancie had forethought.
Insteed thereof, the Workeman brought to light,
What, here, you see; therein, mistaking quite
The true Designe: And, so (with paines, and cost)
The first intended Frontispiece, is lost.
The Avthor, was as much displeas'd, as Hee
In such Adventures, is inclin'd to bee;
And, halfe resolv'd, to cast this Piece aside,
As nothing worth: but, having better ey'd
Those Errors, and Confusions, which may, there,
Blame-worthy (at the first aspect) appeare;
Hee saw, they fitted many Fantasies
Much better, then what Reason can devise;
And, that, the Graver (by meere Chance) had hit
On what, so much transcends the reach of Wit,
As made it seeme, an Object of Delight,
To looke on what, Misfortvne brought to light:
And, here it stands, to try his Wit, who lists
To pumpe the secrets, out of Cabalists.
If any thinke this Page will, now, declare
The meaning of those Figures, which are there,
They are deceiv'd. For, Destinie denyes
The utt'ring of such hidden Mysteries,
In these respects: First, This contayneth nought
Which (in a proper sense) concerneth, ought,
The present-Age: Moreover, tis ordain'd,
That, none must know the Secrecies contain'd
Within this Piece; but, they who are so wise
To finde them out, by their owne prudencies;
And, hee that can unriddle them, to us,
Shall stiled be, the second Oedipvs.
Tis, likewise, thought expedient, now and then,
To make some Worke, for those All-knowing men,
(To exercise upon) who thinke they see
The secret-meanings, of all things that bee.
And, lastly, since we finde, that, some there are,
Who best affect Inuentions, which appeare
Beyond their understandings; This, we knew
A Representment, worthy of their view;
And, here, wee placed it, to be, to these,
A Frontispiece, in any sense they please.
EMBLEMES. Illustrated by Geo: Wither.


With Metricall Illvstrations, both
Morall and Divine: And disposed into

That Jnstruction, and Good Counsell, may bee furthered
by an Honest and Pleasant Recreation.

By George Wither.

The First Booke.


Printed by A.M. for Richard Royston, and
are to be sold at his Shop in Ivie-Lane.

REcensui hoc Poëma, cui titulus est (A Collection and Illustration of Emblems Ancient and Moderne) in quo nihil reperio, quò minus cum utilitate imprimatur, ita tamen, ut si non intra septem menses proximè sequentes Typis mandetur, hæc licentia sit omninò irrita.

Ex ædibus Lambithanis
Iul. 2. 1634.
Gvil. Bray.


Concerning the Avthors Dedication
of the foure following Bookes, to those
Royall, Princely, and Illustrious Personages,
whose Names are mentioned
in this Leafe.

I Have not often us'd, with Epigrames,
Or, with Inscriptions unto many Names,
To charge my Bookes: Nor, had I done it, now,
If I, to pay the Duties which I owe,
Had other meanes; Or, any better Wayes
To honour them, whose Vertue merits praise.
In ARCHITECT, it giveth good content,
(And passeth for a praisefull Ornament)
If, to adorne the FORE-FRONTS, Builders reare
The Statues of their Soveraigne-Princes, there;
And, trimme the Outsides, of the other Sqvares
With Portraitures of some Heroicke PEERES.
If, therefore, I (the more to beautifie
This Portion of my Mvses Gallerie)
Doe, here, presume to place, the NAMES of those
To whose Deserts, my Love remembrance owes,
I hope 'twill none offend. For, most, who see
Their worthy mention, in this Booke, to bee,
Will thinke them honor'd: And, perhaps, it may
(To their high praise) be found, another day,
That, in these Leaves their Names wil stand unrac'd,
When many fairer STRVCTVRFS, are defac'd.

In this Hope, I have placed on the Fore-Front (or before the First Booke of these Emblems) a Ioint-Inscription to the King and Qveenes most excellent Maiestie.

Upon the Right-Side-Front of this Building (or before the Second Booke) One Inscription to the most hopefull Prince, Charles, Prince of Wales; And, another to his deere Brother, Iames, Duke of Yorke, &c.

On the other Side-Front, (or before the Third Booke) One Inscription to the gratious Princesse, Frances Dutchesse-Dowager of Richmond and Lenox; And, another to her most noble Nephew, Iames Duke of Lenox, &c.

On the Fourth Front of our Square, (Or before the Fourth Booke) One Inscription to the right Honourable Philip Earle of Pembrooke and Montgomery, &c. And another to the right Honourable, Henry Earle of Holland, &c.


To the Majestie of Great
Britaine, France, and Ireland, the
Most Illustrious King,

And his excellently beloved, the most
gratious Queene MARY.


SEv'n yeares are full expired, Royall Sir,

Since last I kneel'd, an offring to preferre

Before your feete; where, now, my selfe I throw

To pay once more, the Tributes which I owe.

As many yeares are past, most beauteous Qveene,

Since witnesses, mine eares and eyes, have beene

Of those Perfections; which the generall Fame

Hath sounded forth, in honour of your Name.

And, both your beaming-splendors (oh yee faire,

Thrice blessed, and most fitly-matched Paire)

Vpon each other, make such bright reflections;

And have so sweetly mingled your affections,

Your Praise, your Pow're, your Vertues, and your Beautie:

That, (if preserving of my Soveraigne dutie,

This may be said) you doe appeare, to me,

Two Persons, in One Maiesty, to be;

To whom, there, appertaines (in veneration

Of your large Worth) the right of some Oblation

And, best, I thought, my Homage would be done,

If, thus, the tender were to Both-in-One.

Which, in this humble Gvift, my Love presents;

And, wisheth it may adde to your Contents.

Perhaps it shall: For, though I dare not shew

These Figures, as well meriting your view;

Nor boast, as if their Moralls couched ought,

By which your sacred Wisdomes may be taught:

Yet, I have humble Hopings, that, they might

Prove, some way, an occasion of delight;

Since, meane and common Objects, now and then,

Beget contentments in the greatest-men.

But, that before this Booke, I should propose

Your praisefull Names, there is (as I suppose)

A faire inducement: For, considering these

Are Emblems, whose intention is to please

And profit vulgar Iudgements (by the view,

Of what they ought to follow, or eschew.)

And, I well knowing, that your Maiesties

Set foorth before my Booke, in Emblem-wise,

Throughout your Lands, more Vertues might convay,

Than many Volumes, of these Emblems, may;

It seemed Petty-treason, to omit

This good occasion of endeavouring it.

For, (if your Maiesties, well heeded, were)

Yov, double-treble-foure-fold Emblems are;

Which, fully to illustrate, would require

The Wit I want; or, meanes to raise, that, higher

Which I have gain'd; (and, which, as yet, hath flowne

By no incouragements, but by her owne.)

Of all the Vertues Oeconomical,

Of Duties Moral and Politicall,

Your Lives are Patternes, and faire Emblems; whether

Considered apart, or both together.

Your Childhoods were bright Mirrours, which did show

What Duties, Children, to their Parents owe:

And, by the sequele, we now understand,

That, they who best obay'd, can best command.

The glorious Vertues of your Nvptiall-state,

Your Courtiers, find so hard to imitate,

That, they admire them, rather; and would sweare,

(Had others told, what, now they see and heare)

That, all the former Times, were not acquainted,

With such a Paire, when Kings and Queenes were Sainted.

The chastest Cupids, and the gamesom'st Graces,

Are alwaies mingled in your Deare-embraces.

The mutuall enterchanges of your Loves,

May teach affection to the Turtle-doves:

And, such as are, with goodly sights, delighted,

May see in You, all Excellence united.

You, Sir, who beare Ioves Thunders in your Fist,

And, (shake this Ilands Empire, when You list)

Did never in your Orbe, a Tempest move,

But, by the Beautious Mistresse of your Love

It might be calm'd. And, in your lofty Spheare,

Most lovely Qveene, Your Motions ever, were

So smoath, and, so direct; that, none can say,

They have withdrawne his Royall-heart away

From Iust Designes; Which, loudly speakes your Praise,

And, intimates much more, than, yet, it saies.

Yea, both Your Splendors doe so glorious growe,

And, You, each other have out-vyed so,

In these, and other Vertues; that, on You,

Should I conferre what praise, I thinke, is due,

My Lines, (which from that staine have, yet, beene cleare)

Would Flatt'ry seeme, unto an envious eare.

But, what needs Flatt'ry, where the Truth may teach

To praise, beyond immodest Flatt'ries reach?

Or, what needs he to feare a sland'rous-mouth,

Who seekes no meed, nor utters more than Truth?

Your Princely Vertues, what can better show,

Than Peace, and Plenty, which have thrived so,


Whilst You have raign'd that, yet, no people see,

A Richer, or more Peacefull time, than wee?

Your Civill Actions (to the publike eye)

Are faire examples of Moralitie,

So manifest; That, if he Truth did sing,

Who said, The World doth imitate the King;

My Muses dare, with boldnesse to presage,

A Chast, a Pious, and a Prosperous Age:

And, that, the stormes which, late, these Realmes deterr'd,

Shall all be quite removed, or deferr'd

Till you Ascend; And, future times have seene,

That, your Examples have not followed beene.

Thus, you are living Emblems, to this Nation:

Which being mark'd with heedefull speculation,

May serve, as well, to helpe us how to see

Our Happinesse, As, what our Duties be.

And, if I might unlocke all Mysteries,

Which doe declare, how in a foure-fold-wise,

Your Lives are usefull Emblems; I, perchance,

Should vexe blind Zeale, or anger Ignorance;

And, teach well-temper'd Spirits, how to see,

That, we, for Blessings, oft, Vnthankefull be.

For, as you, Both, Prime Children are of those

Two Sister-Churches, betwixt whom, yet, growes

Vnseemely strife; So, You, perhaps, may be

An Emblem, how those Mothers may agree.

And, not by your Example, onely, show,

How wrought it may be; but, effect it so.

Yea, peradventure, God, united You,

That, such a blessed Vnion might ensue:

And, that, Your living-lovingly, together;

Your Christian hopefullnesse, of one another;

Your milde forbearance, harsh attempts to proove;

Your mutuall-waiting, untill God shall move

By some calme-voice, or peacefull inspiration,

That Heart Which needeth better Information;

And, that, your Charities, might give a signe,

How, all the Daughters, of the Spovse Divine

Might reconciled be; And, shew, that, Swords,

Flames, Threats, and Furie, make no true Accords.

God grant a better Vnion may appeare:

Yet, wish I not the tollerating, here,

Of Politicke-Agreements; (further than

Our wholsome Lawes, and, Civill-vowes to man,

With Piety, approve) but, such, as may

Make up a blessed Concord, every way:

Might it be so; your Vertues, would become

A Glorious Blessing, to all Christendome:

Your Emblem should, by future Generations;

Be plac'd among the famous Constellations,

And, after-times (though, Mee, this Age despise)

Would thinke, these Verses, had beene Prophecies.

What ever may succeed, my Pray'rs and Powr's

Are this way bent; with Hope, that You or Yours

Shall Helps (at least) become, that Breach to close,

Which, in the Seamles-Robe, yet, wider growes.

So Be It: And, let bright your Glories bee,

For ever, though You never shine on Mee.

Your Maiesties

most Loyall Subject,

Geo: Wither.




IF there had not beene some Bookes conceitedly composed, and sutable to meane capacities, I am doubtfull, whether I had ever beene so delighted in reading, as thereby to attaine to the little Knowledge I have: For, I doe yet remember, that, things honestly pleasant, brought mee by degrees, to love that which is truely profitable. And as David said, His Heart shewed him the wickednesse of the Vngodly; (meaning perhaps, that hee felt in himselfe, some Experiments, of the same naturall Corruption, by which they are overcome, who resist not evill suggestions at their first motions:) Even so, I may truly acknowledge, that mine owne Experience hath showne mee so much of the common Ignorance and Infirmitie in mine owne person, that it hath taught mee, how those things may be wrought upon in others, to their best advantage.

Therefore, though I can say no more to disswade from Vice, or to incourage men to Vertue, than hath already beene said in many learned Authors; yet I may be an occasion by these Endeavours, to bring that, the oftner into remembrance, which they have, more learnedly, expressed; and perhaps, by such circumstances, as they would not descend unto, may insinuate further also with some Capacities, than more applauded Meanes. Viniger, Salt, or common Water, (which are very meane Ingredients) make Sawces more pleasing to some tastes, than Sugar, and Spices. In like manner, plaine and vulgar notions, seasoned with a little Pleasantnesse, and relished with a moderate Sharpnesse, worke that, otherwhile, which the most admired Compositions could never effect in many Readers; yea, wee have had frequent proofes, that a blunt Iest hath moved to more consideration, than a judicious Discourse.

I take little pleasures in Rymes, Fictions, or conceited Compositions, for their owne sakes; neither could I ever take so much paines, as to spend time to put my meanings into other words than such as flowed forth, without Studie; partly because I delight more in Matter, than in Wordy Flourishes, But, chiefely, because those Verball Conceites, which by some, are accounted most Elegant, are not onely (for the greater part) Emptie Sounds and Impertinent Clinches, in themselves; but, such Inventions, as do sometime, also, obscure the Sense, to common Readers; and, serve to little other purpose, but for Wittie men to shew Tricks one to another: For, the Ignorant understand them not; and the Wise need them not.

So much of them, as (without darkning the matter, to them who most need instruction) may be made use of, to stirre up the Affections, winne Attention, or help the Memory, I approve and make use of, to those good purposes, according as my leisure, and the measure of my Facultie will permit; that, Vanitie might not, to worse ends, get them wholly into her Possession. For, I know that the meanest of such conceites are as pertinent to some, as Rattles, and Hobby-horses to Children; or as the A. B. C. and Spelling, were at first to those Readers, who are now past them. And, indeed, to despise Meane Inventions, Pleasant Compositions, and Verball Elegancies, (being qualified as is aforesaid) or to banish them out of the world, because there be other things of more excellencie, were as absurd, as to neglect and root out all Herbes, which will not make Pottage; Or, to destroy all Flowers, which are lesse beautifull than the Tulip, or lesse sweet than the Rose.

I (that was never so sullenly wise) have alwaies intermingled Sports with Seriousnesse in my Inventions; and, taken in Verball-conceites, as they came to hand, without Affectation; But, having, ever aymed, rather to profit my Readers, than to gaine their praise, I never pumpe for those things; and am, otherwhile, contented to seeme Foolish, (yea, and perhaps, more foolish than I am) to the Overweening-Wise; that, I may make others Wiser than they were: And, (as I now doe) am not ashamed to set forth a Game at Lots, or (as it were) a Puppet-play in Pictures, to allure men to the more serious observation of the profitable Morals, couched in these Emblems. Neverthelesse, (if some have sayd, and thought truly) my Poems have instructed, and rectified many People in the Course of Honest-living, (which is the best Wisedome) much more than the Austerer Volumes of some criticall Authors; who, are by the Common-sort, therefore onely, judged Wise, because they composed Books, which few understand, save they who need them not.

In these Lots and Emblems, I have the same ayme which I had in my other Writings: and, though I have not dressed them sutably to curious Fancies, yet, they yield wholsome nourishment to strengthen the constitution of a Good-life; and, have solidity enough for a Play game, which was but Accidentally composed; and, by this Occasion.

These Emblems, graven in Copper by Crispinus Passæus (with a Motto in Greeke, Latine, or Italian, round about every Figure; and with two Lines (or Verses) in one of the same Languages, periphrasing those Motto's) came to my hands, almost twentie yeares past. The Verses were so meane, that, they were afterward cut off from the Plates; And, the Collector of the said Emblems, (whether hee were the Versifier or the Graver, was neither so well advised in the Choice of them, nor so exact in observing the true Proprieties belonging to every Figure, as hee might have beene.

Yet, the Workman-ship being judged very good, for the most part; and the rest excusable; some of my Friends were so much delighted in the Gravers art, and, in those Illustrations, which for mine owne pleasure, I had made upon some few of them, that, they requested mee to Moralize the rest. Which I condiscended unto: And, they had beene brought to view many yeares agoe, but that the Copper Prints (which are now gotten) could not be procured out of Holland, upon any reasonable Conditions.

If they were worthy of the Gravers and Printers cost, being onely dumbe Figures, little usefull to any but to young Gravers or Painters, and as little delightfull, except, to Children, and Childish-gazers: they may now be much more worthy; seeing the life of Speach being added unto them, may make them Teachers and Remembrancers of profitable things.

I doe not arrogate so much unto my Illustrations, as to thinke, they will be able to teach any thing to the Learned; yet if they cast their eyes upon them, perhaps, these Emblems, and their Morals, may remember them, either of some Dutie, which they might else forget, or minde them to beware of some Danger, which they might otherwise be unheedfull to prevent. But, sure I am, the Vulgar Capacities, may from them, be many waies both Instructed, and Remembred; yea, they that have most need to be Instructed, and Remembred, (and they who are most backward to listen to Instructions, and Remembrances, by the common Course of Teaching, and Admonishing) shall be, hereby, informed of their Dangers, or Duties, by the way of an honest Recreation, before they be aware.

For, when levitie, or a childish delight in trifling Objects, hath allured them to looke on the Pictures; Curiositie may urge them to peepe further, that they might seeke out also their Meanings, in our annexed Illustrations; In which, may lurke some Sentence, or Expression, so evidently pertinent to their Estates, Persons, or Affections, as will (at that instant or afterward) make way for those Considerations, which will, at last, wholly change them, or much better them, in their Conversation.

To seeke out the Author of every particular Emblem, were a labour without profit; and, I have beene so far from endeavouring it, that, I have not so much as cared to find out their meanings in any of these Figures; but, applied them, rather, to such purposes, as I could thinke of, at first sight; which, upon a second view, I found might have beene much betterd, if I could have spared time from other imployments. Something, also, I was Confined, by obliging my selfe to observe the same number of lines in every Illustration; and, otherwhile, I was thereby constrained to conclude, when my best Meditations were but new begunne: which (though it hath pleased Some, by the more comely Vniformitie, in the Pages) yet, it hath much injured the libertie of my Muse.

There be, no doubt, some faults committed by the Printer, both Literall and Materiall, and some Errors of the Gravers in the Figures, (as in the Tetragrammaton; in the Figure of Arîon; and in the Proprieties due to some other Hieroglyphicks); but, for the most part, they are such, as Common-Readers will never perceive; and I thinke, that they who are Judicious will so plainly finde them to be no faults of mine; that, leaving them to be amended by those, to whom they appertaine; and, You, to accept of these Play-games as you please: I bid you Farewell.


The Occasion, Intention, and use of the Foure
Lotteries adjoyned to these foure Books
of Emblems.

STultorum plena sunt omnia. The world is growne so in Love with Follie, that the Imprinting of over-solid and serious treatises would undoe the Book-sellers; especially, being so chargeable as the many costly Sculptures have made this Booke: therefore, (to advance their Profits, rather than to satisfie my owne Iudgement) I was moved to invent somewhat, which might be likely to please the vulgar Capacitie, without hindrance to my chiefe End. And, though that which I resolved on, be not so Plausible to Criticall understandings, yet I am contented to hazzard among them, so much of my Reputation as that comes to.

I have often observed, that where the Summer-bowers of Recreation are placed neare the Church, it drawes thither more people from the remote Hamlets, than would else be there. Now, though I praise not their Devotion, yet I am glad if any thing (which is not evill in it selfe) may be made an occasion of Good: (because, those things may, perhaps, be continued, at last, for Conscience sake, which were at first begunne upon vaine occasions) and, have therefore added Lotteries to these Emblems, to occasion the more frequent notice of the Morals, and good Counsels tendred in their Illustrations; hoping that, at one time or other, some shall draw those Lots, which will make them the better, and the happier, whilest they live. I confesse that this Devise may probably be censured, as unsutable to the gravitie expected in my ripe yeares: and be reputed as great an Indecorum, as erecting an Ale-house at the Church-stile; yet, the same having had beginning in my younger dayes, I do now resolve not to be ashamed of it, for the Reasons aforementioned. To such as I was, it will be someway avayleable: and perhaps, if the Wisest did otherwhile, when they walke abroad, to Vncertaine purposes, take up this Booke, and (without Superstitious Conceites) make tryall what their Lots would remember, or give them cause to thinke on; it might, now and then, either occasion better Proceedings, or prevent Mischieves.

Some Games were ever in use; ever, I thinke, will be, and for ought I know, ever may be without exception. And, I believe, this Recreation, will be as harmlesse as any, if it be used according to my Intentions. For, my meaning is not, that any should use it as an Oracle, which could signifie, infallibly, what is divinely alloted; but, to serve onely for a Morall Pastime. And, that I may no way encourage the secret entertaining of such a Fantasie, I doe before hand affirme unto them, that none but Children, or Ideots may be tollerated to be so foolish, without laughing at.

Yet, if any one shall draw that Lot wherein his Secret vices are reproved; or some good Counsels proposed, which in his owne understanding are pertinent to his welfare, let not such as those, passe them over as meere Casualties to them; for, whatsoever these Lots are to others, or in themselves, they are to all these,[6] made pertinent in such cases, both by their particular Knowledges and Occasions.

Some will thinke perhaps, that I have purposely invented this Game, that I might finde meanes to reprove mens vices, without being suspected, (as I have hitherto unjustly beene) to ayme at particular persons: For, if any who are notoriously Guiltie, shall by drawing their Chances, among other Companions, be so fitted with Lots, (which may now and then happen) that those Vices be therby intimated to the by-standers, of which the world knowes them guilty; they do therin make their owne Libels; and, may (I hope) bee laughed at without my blame. If not; I doe here warne all such as are worthily suspected of Haynous crimes, and Scandalous conversations, either to forbeare these Lotteries; or to excuse me if they be justly shamed by their own Act.

Having thus declared the Reason of this Invention, and made these Anticipations; every man hath his choice, whether hee will make use of those Lotteries or no; hee that will, is left to his Chance, of which, how hee shall make tryall, direction is given in the two last Pages of this Booke.

This Game occasions not the frequent crime,
Of Swearing, or mispending of our Time;
Nor losse of money: For, the Play is short,
And, ev'ry Gamester winneth by the sport.
Wee, therefore, know it may aswell become
The Hall, the Parlor, or the Dining-roome,
As Chesse, or Tables; and, we thinke the Price
Will be as low; because, it needs no Dice.

What I WAS, is passed-by;
What I AM, away doth flie;
What I SHAL BEE, none do see;
Yet, in that, my Beauties bee.

The Avthors Meditation upon
sight of his Pictvre.

WHen I behold my Picture, and perceive,
How vaine it is, our Portraitures to leave
In Lines, and Shadowes, (which make shewes, to day,
Of that which will, to morrow, fade away)
And, thinke, what meane Resemblances at best,
Are by Mechanike Instruments exprest;
I thought it better, much, to leave behind me,
Some Draught, in which, my living friends might find me
The same I am; in that, which will remaine,
Till all is ruin'd, and repair'd againe:
And, which, in absence, will more truely show me,
Than, outward Formes, to those, who think they know me.
For, though my gratious Maker made me such,
That, where I love, belov'd I am, as much
As J desire; yet, Forme, nor Features are,
Those Ornaments, in which J would appeare
To future Times; Though they were found in me,
Farre better, than I can beleeve they be.
Much lesse, affect I that, which each man knowes,
To be no more, but Counterfeits of those,
Wherein, the Painters, or the Gravers toole,
Befriends alike, the Wiseman, and the Foole:
And, (when they please) can give him, by their Art,
The fairest-Face, that had the falsest-Heart.
A Pictvre, though with most exactnesse made,
Is nothing, but the Shadow of a Shade.
For, ev'n our living Bodies, (though they seeme
To others more, or more in our esteeme)
Are but the shadowes of that Reall-being,
Which doth extend beyond the Fleshly-seeing;
And, cannot be discerned, till we rise
Immortall-Objects, for Immortall-eyes.
Our Everlasting-Substance lies unseene,
Behinde the Fouldings, of a Carnall-Screene,
Which is, but, Vapours thickned into Blood,
(By due concoction of our daily food)
And, still supplied, out of other Creatures,
To keepe us living, by their wasted natures:
Renewing, and decaying, ev'ry Day,
Vntill that Vaile must be remov'd away.
For, this lov'd Flesh, wherewith, yet cloth'd we go,
Is not the same, wee had sev'n yeares ago;
But, rather, something which is taken-in,
To serve insteed of what hath wasted bin,
In Wounds, in Sicknesses, in Colds, and Heates,
In all Excrescions, and in Fumes, and Sweates.
Nor shall, this present Flesh, long stay with us:
And, wee may well be pleas'd, it should be Thus.
For, as I view, those Townes, and Fields, that be
In Landskip drawne; Even so, me thinks, I see
A Glimpes, farre off, (through Faith's Prospective glasse)
Of that, which after Death, will come to passe;
And, likewise, gained have, such meanes of seeing,
Some things, which were, before my Life had being,
That, in my Soule, I should be discontent,
If, this my Body were, more permanent;
Since, Wee, and all God's other Creatures, here,
Are but the Pictures, of what shall appeare.
Yet, whilst they are, I thankfully would make
That use of them, for their Creator's sake,
To which hee made them; and, preserve the Table,
Still, Faire and Full, as much as I were able,
By finishing, (in my alotted place)
Those Workes, for which, hee fits me by his Grace.
And, if a Wrenne, a Wrenn's just height shall soare,
No Ægle, for an Ægle, can doe more.
If therefore, of my Labours, or of Mee,
Ought shall remaine, when I remov'd, must be,
Let it be that, wherein it may be view'd,
My Makers Image, was in me renew'd:
And, so declare, a dutifull intent,
To doe the Worke I came for, e're I went;
That, I to others, may some Patterne be,
Of Doing-well, as other men to mee,
Have beene, whilst I had life: And, let my daies
Be summed up, to my Redeemer's praise.
So this be gained, I regard it not,
Though, all that I am else, be quite forgot.


By Knowledge onely, Life wee gaine,
All other things to Death pertaine.

Illvstratio I. Book. 1.

Ow Fond are they, who spend their pretious Time
In still pursuing their deceiving Pleasures?
And they, that unto ayery Titles clime
Or tyre themselves in hoording up of Treasures?
For, these are Death's, who, when with wearinesse
They have acquired most, sweepes all away;
And leaves them, for their Labors, to possesse
Nought but a raw-bon'd Carcasse lapt in clay.
Of twenty hundred thousands, who, this houre
Vaunt much, of those Possessions they have got;
Of their new purchac'd Honours, or, the Power,
By which, they seeme to have advanc't their Lott:
Of this great Multitude, there shall not Three
Remaine, for any Future-age to know;
But perish quite, and quite forgotten bee,
As Beasts, devoured twice ten yeares agoe.
Thou, therefore, who desir'st for aye to live,
And to possesse thy Labors maugre Death,
To needfull Arts and honest Actions, give
Thy Spanne of Time, and thy short blast of Breath.
In holy Studies, exercise thy Mind;
In workes of Charity, thy Hands imploy;
That Knowledge, and that Treasure, seeke to find,
Which may enrich thy Heart with perfect Ioy.
So, though obscured thou appeare, awhile,
Despised, poore, or borne to Fortunes low,
Thy Vertue shall acquire a nobler stile,
Then greatest Kings are able to bestow:
And, gaine thee those Possessions, which, nor They,
Nor Time, nor Death, have power to take away.


The Man that hath true Wisdome got,
Continues firme, and wavers not.

Illvstr. II. Book. 1.

Till fixt, and with triumphant Laurell crown'd,
Is truest Wisdome; whom, expressed thus,
Among the old Impresa's, we have found;
And, much, this Emblem hath instructed us.
For, hence we learne; that, Wisdome doth not flow
From those unconstant men, whom ev'ry Blast,
Or small Occasion, turneth to and fro;
But, from a Settled head that standeth fast.
Who'ever shoulders, him, he gives no place;
What Storme soe're, his Times or Fortunes, breath,
He neither hides his Brow, nor turnes his Face;
But, keepes his Lookes undaunted, ev'n in Death.
The Laureat head, upon the Pillar set,
Thus signifies; And that Bay-wreath doth show
That constant Wisdome will the conquest get,
When giddy Policie prevailes not so.
If, therefore, thou desirest to be taught,
Propose good Ends with honest Meanes thereto,
And therein Constant be, till thou hast brought
To perfect end, that Worke, thou hast to doe.
Let neither flatt'ring Pleasures, nor Disgrace,
Nor scoffing Censures, nor the cunning Sleights
Of glozing Sycophants, divert that Race
To which, a harmelesse Prudence, thee invites.
Though others plot, conspire, and undermine,
Keepe thou a plaine right Path; and let their Course,
For no advantage, make thee change from thine,
Although it (for the present) seemes the worse.
He, thus that workes, puts Policie to Schoole,
And makes the Machavilian prove a foole.


The Law is given to direct;
The Sword, to punish and protect.

Illvstr. III. Book. 1.

Hen God-Almighty first engrav'd in stone
His holy Law; He did not give the same
As if some common Act had then beene done;
For, arm'd with Fires and Thunders, forth it came.
By which, that great Law-maker, might inferre
What dreadfull Vengeance would on those attend,
Who did against those holy Precepts erre;
And, that, his Power, well-doers could defend.
Thereto, this Emblem, also doth agree;
For, loe, before the Tables of the Lawe,
A naked Sword is borne, whose use may bee
As well to keepe in Safety, as in Awe.
Whence, Princes (if they please) this note may take,
(And it shall make them happily to raigne)
That, many good and wholsome Lawes to make
Without an Executioner, is vaine.
It likewise intimates, that such as are
In Soveraigne place, as well obliged be
Their zeale for true Religion to declare,
As, what concerneth Manners, to foresee.
It, lastly, showes that Princes should affect
Not onely, over others to Command,
But Swords to weare, their Subjects to protect;
And, for their Guard, extend a willing hand.
For, Lawes, or Peace to boast of; and, the whiles,
The Publique-weale, to weaken or disarme,
Is nor the way to hinder Civill-Broyles,
Nor to secure it from a Forraigne-harme.
For, As by Lawes a Land is kept in frame;
So, Armes is that, which must protect the same.


Occasions-past are sought in vaine;
But, oft, they wheele-about again.

Illvstr. IV. Book. 1.

Nwise are they that spend their youthfull Prime
In Vanities; as if they did suppose
That men, at pleasure, might redeeme the Time;
For, they a faire advantage fondly lose.
As ill-advis'd be those, who having lost
The first Occasions, to Despairing runne:
For, Time hath Revolutions; and, the most,
For their Affaires, have Seasons more, then one.
Nor is their Folly small, who much depend
On Transitorie things, as if their Powre
Could bring to passe what should not have an End;
Or compasse that, which Time will not devoure.
The first Occasions, therefore, see thou take
(Which offred are) to bring thy hopes about;
And, minde thou, still, what Haste away they make,
Before thy swift-pac't houres are quite runne out.
Yet, if an Opportunity be past,
Despaire not thou, as they that hopelesse be;
Since, Time may so revolve againe, at last,
That New-Occasions may be offred thee.
And see, thou trust not on those fading things,
Which by thine owne Endeavours thou acquir'st:
For, Time (which her owne Births to ruine brings)
Will spare, not thee, nor ought which thou desir'st.
His Properties, and Vses, what they are,
In-vaine observ'd will be, when he is fled:
That, they in season, therefore, may appeare,
Our Emblem, thus, hath him deciphered;
Balde save before, and standing on a Wheele;
A Razor in his Hand, a Winged-Heele.


By Labour, Vertue may be gain'd;
By Vertue, Glorie is attain'd.

Illvstr. V. Book. 1.

Vppose you Sirs, those mimicke Apes you meet
In strange fantasticke habits? or the Rabble,
That in gay clothes embroyder out the street,
Are truely of Worshipfull or Honorable?
Or can you thinke, that, To be borne the Sonne
Of some rich Alderman, or ancient Peere,
Or that the Fame our Predecessors wonne
May claime those Wreathes which true Deserving weare?
Is Honour due to those, who spend their dayes
In courting one another? or consuming
Their Fortunes and themselves, on Drabbs and Playes?
In sleeping, drinking, and Tobacco-fuming?
Not so. For, (though such Fooles, like children, place
Gay Titles on each other) Wise-men know
What slaves they be; how miserably-base;
And, where such Attributes would better show.
An idle Body clothes a vitious Minde;
And, what (at best) is purchac'd by the same,
Is nothing else, but stinking Smoke and Winde;
Or frothie Bubbles of an empty Fame.
True Glory, none did ever purchase, yet,
Till, to be Vertuous they could first attaine;
Nor shall those men faire Vertues favour get,
Who labour not, such Dignities to gaine.
And, this Impresa doth inferre no lesse:
For, by the Spade, is Labour here implide;
The Snake, a vertuous Prudence, doth expresse;
And, Glorie, by the Wreath is Typifide.
For, where a vertuous Industry is found,
She, shall with Wreaths of Glory, thus be crown'd.


Though Fortune prove true Vertues Foe,
It cannot worke her Overthrowe.

Illvstr. VI. Book. 1.

Nhappy men are they, whose Ignorance
So slaves them to the Fortunes of the Time,
That they (attending on the Lot of Chance)
Neglect by Vertue, and Deserts, to clime.
Poore Heights they be which Fortune reares unto;
And, fickle is the Favour she bestowes:
To-day, she makes; to-morrow, doth undoe;
Builds up, and in an instant overthrowes.
On easie Wheeles, to Wealth, and Honours high,
She windes men oft, before they be aware;
And, when they dreame of most Prosperitie,
Downe, headlong, throwes them lower then they were.
You, then, that seeke a more assur'd estate,
On good, and honest Objects, fixe your Minde,
And follow Vertue, that you may a Fate
Exempt from feare of Change, or Dangers, finde.
For, he that's Vertuous, whether high or low
His Fortune seemes (or whether foule or faire
His Path he findes) or whether friend, or foe,
The World doth prove; regards it not a haire.
His Losse is Gaine; his Poverty is Wealth;
The Worlds Contempt, he makes his Diadem;
In Sicknesse, he rejoyceth, as in Health:
Yea, Death it selfe, becommeth Life, to him.
He feares no disrespect, no bitter scorne,
Nor subtile plottings, nor Oppressions force;
Nay, though the World should topsie-turvie turne,
It cannot fright him, nor divert his Course.
Above all Earthly powres his Vertue reares him;
And, up with Eglets wings, to Heav'n it beares him.


A fickle Woman wanton growne,
Preferres a Crowd, before a Crowne.

Illvstr. VII. Book. 1.

Oole! Dost thou hope, thine Honours, or thy Gold,
Shall gaine thee Love? Or, that thou hast her heart
Whose hand upon thy tempting Bayt layes hold?
Alas! fond Lover, thou deceived art.
She that with Wealth, and Titles, can be wonne,
Or woo'd with Vanities, will wavring bee;
And, when her Love, thou most dependest on,
A Fiddle-sticke shall winne her heart from thee.
To Youth and Musicke, Venus leaneth most;
And (though her hand she on the Scepter lay)
Let Greatnesse, of her Favours never boast:
For, Heart and Eye, are bent another way.
And lo, no glorious Purchace that Man gets,
Who hath with such poore Trifles, woo'd, and wonne:
Her footing, on a Ball, his Mistresse sets,
Which in a moment slips, and she is gone.
A Woman, meerely with an Out side caught,
Or tempted with a Galliard, or a Song,
Will him forsake (whom she most lovely thought)
For Players and for Tumblers, ere't be long.
You, then, that wish your Love should ever last,
(And would enjoy Affection without changing)
Love where your Loves may worthily be plac't;
And, keepe your owne Affection, still from ranging.
Vse noble Meanes, your Longings to attaine;
Seeke equall Mindes, and well beseeming Yeares:
They are (at best) vaine Fooles, whom Follie gaine;
But, there is Blisse, where, Vertue most endeares:
And, wheresoe're, Affection shee procures,
In spight of all Temptations, it endures.


This Ragge of Death, which thou shalt see,
Consider it; And Pious bee.

Illvstr. VIII. Book 1.

Hy, silly Man! so much admirest thou
Thy present Fortune? overvaluing so
Thy Person, or the beauty of thy Brow?
And Cloth'd, so proudly, wherefore dost thou goe?
Why dost thou live in riotous Excesse?
And Boast, as if thy Flesh immortall were?
Why dost thou gather so? Why so oppresse?
And, o're thy Fellow-creatures, Domineere?
Behold this Emblem; such a thing was hee
Whom this doth represent as now thou art;
And, such a Fleshlesse Raw-bone shalt thou bee,
Though, yet, thou seeme to act a comelier part.
Observe it well; and marke what Vglinesse
Stares through the sightlesse Eye-holes, from within:
Note those leane Craggs, and with what Gastlinesse,
That horrid Countenance doth seeme to grin.
Yea, view it well; and having seene the same
Plucke downe that Pride which puffs thy heart so high;
Of thy Proportion boast not, and (for shame)
Repent thee of thy sinfull Vanity.
And, having learn'd, that, all men must become
Such bare Anatomies; and, how this Fate
No mortall Powre, nor Wit, can keepe thee from;
Live so, that Death may better thy estate.
Consider who created thee; and why:
Renew thy Spirit, ere thy Flesh decayes:
More Pious grow; Affect more Honestie;
And seeke hereafter thy Creatours praise.
So though of Breath and Beauty Time deprive thee,
New Life, with endlesse Glorie, God will give thee.


Before thou bring thy Workes to Light,
Consider on them, in the Night.

Illvstr. IX. Book. 1.

N Owle (the Hieroglyphicke us'd for Night)
Twixt Mercury and Pallas, here takes place,
Vpon a crown'd Caduceus fixt upright;
And, each a Cornucopia doth imbrace.
Through which darke Emblem, I this Light perceive;
That, such as would the Wit and Wealth acquire,
Which may the Crowne of approbation have,
Must wake by Night, to compasse their desire.
For, this Mercurian-Wand, doth Wit expresse;
The Cornu-copia, Wealthinesse implies;
Both gained by a studious Watchfulnesse;
Which, here, the Bird of Athens signifies.
Nor, by this Emblem, are we taught alone,
That, (when great Vndertakings are intended)
We Sloth, and lumpish Drowsinesse must shunne;
But, Rashnesse, also, here is reprehended.
Take Counsell of thy Pillow, (saith our Sawe)
And, ere in waighty Matters thou proceede,
Consider well upon them; lest they draw
Some Afterclap, which may thy Mischiefe breede.
I, for my seriou'st Muses, chuse the Night;
(More friend to Meditation, then the Day)
That neither Noyse, nor Objects of the Sight,
Nor bus'nesses, withdraw my Thoughts away,
By Night, we best may ruminate upon
Our Purposes; Then, best, we may enquire
What Actions wee amisse, or well, have done;
And, then, may best into our Selves retire:
For, of the World-without, when most we see,
Then, blindest to the World-within, are wee.


An Innocent no Danger feares,
How great soever it appeares.

Illvstr. X. Book. 1.

Hen some did seeke Arion to have drown'd,
He, with a dreadlesse heart his Temples crown'd;
And, when to drench him in the Seas they meant,
He playd on his melodious Instrument;
To shew, that Innocence disdayned Feare,
Though to be swallow'd in the Deeps it were.
Nor did it perish: For, upon her Backe
A Dolphin tooke him, for his Musick's sake:
To intimate, that Vertue shall prevaile
With Bruitish Creatures, if with Men it faile.
Most vaine is then their Hope, who dreame they can
Make wretched, or undoe, an Honest-Man:
For, he whom Vertuous Innocence adornes,
Insults o're Cruelties; and, Perill scornes.
Yea, that, by which, Men purpose to undoe him,
(In their despight) shall bring great Honours to him.
Arion-like, the Malice of the World,
Hath into Seas of Troubles often hurl'd
Deserving Men, although no Cause they had,
But that their Words and Workes sweet Musicke made.
Of all their outward Helps it hath bereft them;
Nor meanes, nor hopes of Comfort have beene left them;
But such, as in the House of Mourning are,
And, what Good-Conscience can afford them there.
Yet, Dolphin-like, their Innocence hath rear'd
Their Heads above those Dangers that appear'd.
God hath vouchsaf'd their harmelesse Cause to heed,
And, ev'n in Thraldome, so their Hearts hath freed,
That, whil'st they seem'd oppressed and forlorne;
They Ioyd, and Sung, and Laugh'd the World to scorne.


A Foole, in Folly taketh Paine,
Although he labour still in vaine.

Illvstr. XI. Book. 1.

Massie Mil-stone up a tedious Hill,
With mighty Labour, Sisyphus doth roll;
Which being rais'd-aloft, downe-tumbleth, still,
To keepe imployed his afflicted Soule.
On him, this tedious Labour is impos'd;
And (though in vaine) it must be still assayd:
But, some, by no Necessity inclos'd,
Vpon themselves, such needlesse Taskes have layd.
Yea, knowing not (or caring not to know)
That they are worne and weary'd out in vaine,
They madly toyle to plunge themselves in Woe;
And, seeke uncertaine Ease, in certaine Paine.
Such Fooles are they, who dreame they can acquire
A Minde-content, by Lab'ring still for more:
For, Wealth encreasing, doth encrease Desire,
And makes Contentment lesser then before.
Such Fooles are they, whose Hopes doe vainely stretch
To climbe by Titles, to a happy Height:
For, having gotten one Ambitious-Reach,
Another comes perpetually in sight.
And, their stupidity is nothing lesse,
Who dreame that Flesh and Blood may raysed be
Vp to the Mount of perfect-Holinesse:
For (at our best) corrupt and vile are we.
Yet, we are bound by Faith, with Love and Hope,
To roll the Stone of Good-Endeavour, still,
As neere as may be, to Perfections top,
Though backe againe it tumble downe the Hill.
So; What our Workes had never power to doe,
God's Grace, at last, shall freely bring us to.


As, to the World I naked came,
So, naked-stript I leave the same.

Illvstr. XII. Book. 1.

Hrice happy is that Man whose Thoughts doe reare
His Minde above that pitch the Worldling flies,
And by his Contemplations, hovers where
He viewes things mortall, with unbleared eyes.
What Trifles then doe Villages and Townes
Large Fields or Flockes of fruitfull Cattell seeme?
Nay, what poore things are Miters, Scepters, Crownes,
And all those Glories which Men most esteeme?
Though he that hath among them, his Delight,
Brave things imagines them (because they blinde
With some false Lustre his beguiled sight)
He that's above them, their meane-Worth may finde.
Lord, to that Blessed-Station me convey
Where I may view the World, and view her so,
That I her true Condition may survey;
And all her Imperfections rightly know.
Remember me, that once there was a Day
When thou didst weane me from them with content,
Ev'n when shut up within those Gates I lay
Through which the Plague-inflicting Angel went.
And, let me still remember, that an Houre
Is hourely comming on, wherein I shall
(Though I had all the World within my powre)
Be naked stript, and turned out of all.
But minde me, chiefely, that I never cleave
Too closely to my Selfe; and cause thou me,
Not other Earthly things alone to leave,
But to forsake my Selfe for love of Thee:
That I may say, now I have all things left,
Before that I of all things, am bereft.

[Pg 13]

To him a happy Lot befalls
That hath a Ship, and prosp'rous Gales.

Illvstr. XIII. Book. 1.

O wonder he a prosp'rous Voyage findes
That hath both Sailes and Oares to serve his turne,
And, still, through meanes of some propitious Winds
Is to his wished Harbour, swiftly borne.
Nor is it much admir'd, if they that lacke
Those aydes (on which the Common-faith depends)
Are from their hoped aymes repelled backe,
Or made to labour for unfruitfull ends.
Yet neither in the Ship, Wind, Oares, or Sailes,
Nor in the want of Outward meanes, alone,
Consists it, that our Hope succeedes or failes;
But, most in that, which Men least thinke upon.
For, some endeavour, and their Paines are blest
With Gales which are so fortunate, that they
Fly safe, and swiftly on, among the best,
Whil'st others labour, and are cast away.
Some others, on this Worlds wide Ocean floate,
And neither Wind, nor Tide assistant have,
Nor Saile, nor Oare, nor Anchor, nor sound Boate,
Nor take so much as heede themselves to save;
And yet are safe: A third sort, then, there are
Who neither want fit Meanes, nor yet neglect,
The painefull-Industrie, or honest Care,
Which Need requires; yet find small good effect.
Therefore, let that which you propose, be Iust;
Then, use the fairest Meanes, to compasse it:
And, though Meanes faile, yet foster no mistrust;
But fearelesly, to God, your Course commit:
For, Hee, to Faithfull-Hearts, and Honest-Mindes
Turnes Losse to Gaine; and Stormes, to prosp'rous Windes.


Though he endeavour all he can,
An Ape, will never be a Man.

Illvstr. XIIII. Book. 1.

Hat though an Apish-Pigmie, in attire,
His Dwarfish Body Gyant-lyke, array?
Turne Brave, and get him Stilts to seem the higher?
What would so doing, handsome him I pray?
Now, surely, such a Mimicke sight as that,
Would with excessive Laughter move your Spleene,
Till you had made the little Dandiprat,
To lye within some Auger-hole, unseene.
I must confesse I cannot chuse but smile,
When I perceive, how Men that worthlesse are,
Piece out their Imperfections, to beguile,
By making showes, of what they never were.
For, in their borrow'd-Shapes, I know those Men,
And (through their Maskes) such insight of them have;
That I can oftentimes disclose (ev'n then)
How much they savour of the Foole or Knave.
A Pigmey-spirit, and an Earthly-Minde,
Whose looke is onely fixt on Objects vaine;
In my esteeme, so meane a place doth finde,
That ev'ry such a one, I much refraine.
But, when in honour'd Robes I see it put,
Betrimm'd, as if some thing of Worth it were,
Looke big, and on the Stilts of Greatnesse, strut;
From scorning it, I cannot then forbeare.
For, when to grosse Vnworthinesse, Men adde
Those Dues, which to the Truest-worth pertaine;
Tis like an Ape, in Humane-Vestments clad,
Which, when most fine, deserveth most disdaine:
And, more absurd, those Men appeare to me,
Then this Fantasticke-Monkey seemes to thee.


I pine, that others may not perish,
And waste my Selfe, their Life to cherish.

Illvstr. XV. Book. 1.

Bserve I pray you, how the greedy Flame
The Fewell, on an Altar doth consume.
How it destroyeth that which feedes the same,
And how the Nourisher away doth fume.
For, so it fares with Parents that uphold
Their thriftlesse Children in unlawfull Pleasures:
With Cares, it weares them out, ere they are old;
And ere their Lives consume, consumes their Treasures.
So fares it with such Wantons as doe feede
Vnchast Desires; for, ev'ry day they grow
Vntill their Longings, their Supplies exceede,
And, quite devoure those men that fed them so.
So fares it with all those that spend their Youth
In lab'ring to enrich ungratefull Men,
Who, growing Great, and Wealthy, by their Truth,
Returne them Smoke and Ashes backe agen.
So fares it with good States-men, who to keepe
A thankelesse Common-wealth in happy Peace,
Deprive their Mindes of Rest, their Eyes of Sleepe,
And, waste themselves, that others may encrease.
And, so it fares with Men that passe away
Their time in Studies, (and their Healths impaire)
That helps to other men become they may,
And, their defective Knowledges, repaire.
But, let my Flesh, my Time, and my Estate,
Be so consum'd; so spent; so wasted bee,
That they may nourish Grace, and perfit that
For which all these were first bestowd'd on me:
So when I quite am vanish'd out of seeing,
I shall enjoy my Now-concealed-Being.


When to suppresse us, Men intend,
They make us higher to ascend.

Illvstr. XVI. Book. 1.

Hen we observe the Ball, how to and fro
The Gamesters force it; we may ponder thus:
That whil'st we live we shall be playd with so,
And that the World will make her Game of us.
Adversities, one while our hearts constraine
To stoope, and knock the Pavements of Despaire;
Hope, like a Whirle-wind mounts us up againe,
Till oft it lose us in the empty ayre.
Sometimes, above the Battlements we looke;
Sometimes, we quite below the Line are tost:
Another-while, against the Hazard strooke,
We, but a little want, of being lost.
Detraction, Envie, Mischief, and Despight,
One Partie make, and watchfully attend
To catch us when we rise to any Height;
Lest we above their hatred should ascend.
Good-Fortune, Praises, Hopes, and Industries,
Doe side-together, and make Play to please us;
But, when by them we thinke more high to rise,
More great they make our Fall, and more disease us.
Yea, they that seeke our Losse, advance our Gaine;
And to our Wishes, bring us oft the nigher:
For, we that else upon the Ground had laine,
Are, by their striking of us lifted higher.
When Balls against the Stones are hardest throwne,
Then highest up into the Aire they fly;
So, when men hurle us (with most fury) downe,
Wee hopefull are to be advanc'd thereby:
And, when they smite us quite unto the Ground,
Then, up to Heav'n, we trust, we shall rebound.


Till God hath wrought us to his Will,
The Hammer we shall suffer still.

Illvstr. XVII. Book. 1.

Hy should the foolish World discourage Men,
In just endurances? or bid them shunne
Good Actions, 'cause they suffer now and then,
For Doing well, as if some Ill were done?
Ere Plates extended are, they must abide
A thousand hamm'rings; And, then that which fill'd
So little roome, it scarce your Hand could hide,
Will serve a goodly Monument to gild.
So, he that hopes to winne an honest Name,
Must many blowes of Fortune undergoe,
And hazard, oft, the blast of Evill-Fame,
Before a Good-Report her Trumpe will blow.
A thousand Worthies had unworthily
Been raked up in Ashes and in Clay,
Vnknowne and bury'd in Obscurity,
If Malice had not fil'd their Rust away.
But, lo; their lasting prayses now are spread,
And rais'd, by Adverse-Chance, to such a height,
That they most glorious are, now they are dead;
And live in Injuries, and Deaths, despight.
For, by Afflictions, man refined growes,
And, (as the Gold prepared in the Fire)
Receiveth such a Forme by wrongs and blowes,
That hee becomes the Iewell we desire.
To thee therefore, Oh God! My Prayers are
Not to be freed from Griefes and Troubles quite:
But, that they may be such as I can beare;
And, serve to make me precious in thy Sight.
This please me shall, though all my Life time, I
Betweene thine Anvill and the Hammer, lie.


From thence, where Nets and Snares are layd,
Make-hast; lest els you be betray'd.

Illvstr. XVIII. Book. 1.

He nimble Spider from his Entrailes drawes
A suttle Thread, and curious art doth show
In weaving Nets, not much unlike those Lawes
Which catch Small-Thieves, and let the Great-ones goe.
For, as the Cob-web takes the lesser Flyes,
When those of larger size breake through their Snares;
So, Poore-men smart for little Injuries,
When Rich-men scape, whose Guilt is more then theirs.
The Spider, also representeth such
Who very curious are in Trifling-things,
And neither Cost, nor Time, nor Labour grutch,
In that which neither Gaine nor Pleasure brings.
But those whom here that Creature doth implye
Are chiefely such, who under cunning shewes
Of simple-Meanings (or of Curtesie)
Doe silly Men unwarily abuse.
Or else, it meanes those greedy-Cormorants
Who without touch, of Conscience or Compassion,
Seeke how to be enricht by others wants,
And bring the Poore to utter Desolation.
Avoyd them therefore, though compell'd by need;
Or if a Storme inforce, (yee lab'ring Bees)
That yee must fall among them; Flie with speed
From their Commerce, when Calmes your passage frees.
Much more, let wastfull Gallants haste from these;
Else, when those Idling-painted-Butterflies,
Have flutter'd-out their Summer-time, in ease,
(And spent their Wealth in foolish Vanities)
The Blasts of Want may force them to be brought
For shelter thither, where they shall be caught.


When thou a Dangerous-Way dost goe,
Walke surely, though thy pace be slowe.

Illvstr. XIX. Book. 1.

Xperience proves, that Men who trust upon
Their Nat'rall parts, too much, oft lose the Day,
And, faile in that which els they might have done,
By vainely trifling pretious Time away.
It also shewes, that many Men have sought
With so much Rashnesse, those things they desir'd,
That they have brought most likely Hopes to nought;
And, in the middle of their Courses, tir'd.
And, not a few, are found who so much wrong
Gods Gratiousnesse, as if their thinkings were,
That (seeing he deferres his Iudgements long)
His Vengeance, he, for ever, would forbeare:
But, such as these may see wherein they faile,
And, what would fitter be for them to doe,
If they would contemplate the slow-pac'd Snaile;
Or, this our Hieroglyphicke looke into:
For, thence we learne, that Perseverance brings
Large Workes to end, though slowly they creepe on;
And, that Continuance perfects many things,
Which seeme, at first, unlikely to be done.
It warnes, likewise, that some Affaires require
More Heed then Haste: And that the Course we take,
Should suite as well our Strength, as our Desire;
Else (as our Proverbe saith) Haste, Waste may make.
And, in a Mysticke-sense, it seemes to preach
Repentance and Amendment, unto those
Who live, as if they liv'd beyond Gods reach;
Because, he long deferres deserved Blowes:
For, though Iust-Vengeance moveth like a Snaile,
And slowly comes; her comming will not faile.


A Sive, of shelter maketh show;
But ev'ry Storme will through it goe.

Illvstr. XX. Book. 1.

Ome Men, when for their Actions they procure
A likely colour, (be it nere so vaine)
Proceede as if their Projects were as sure,
As when Sound Reason did their Course maintayne:
And these not much unlike those Children are,
Who through a Storme advent'ring desp'rately,
Had rather on their Heads, a Sive to beare,
Then Cov'rings, that may serve to keepe them drye.
For, at a distance that perchance is thought
A helpfull Shelter; and, yet, proves to those
Who neede the same, a Toy, which profits nought;
Because, each drop of Raine quite through it, goes.
So, they, whose foolish Projects, for a while,
Doe promise their Projectors hopefull ends,
Shall finde them, in the Tryall, to beguile;
And, that both Shame and Want, on them attends.
Such like is their estate, who, (to appeare
Rich-men to others) doe, with Inward-payne,
A gladsome out-ward Port desire to beare;
Though they at last nor Wealth nor Credit gaine.
And, such are all those Hypocrites, who strive
False Hearts beneath Faire-spoken Words to hyde:
For, they o'revaile themselves but with a Sive,
Through which, their purposes at length are spyde.
And, then, they either woefully-lament
Their Brutish-folly, or so hardned grow
In Sinning, that they never can repent,
Nay, jest and scoffe at their owne Overthrow.
But no false Vaile can serve (when God will smite)
To save a Scorner, or an Hypocrite.


Death no Losse, but rather, Gaine;
For wee by Dying, Life attaine.

Illvstr. XXI. Book. 1.

Will not blame those grieved Hearts that shed
Becoming-teares, for their departed Friends;
Nor those who sigh out Passions for the Dead;
Since, on Good-natures, this Disease attends.
When Sorrow is conceiv'd, it must have Vent
(In Sighes or Moysture) or the Heart will breake;
And, much they aggravate our Discontent,
Who, out of Season, Reason seeme to speake.
Yet, since our Frailty may require we should
Remembrances admit to keepe us from
Excesse in Griefe: this Emblem here behold,
And take such Hope as may our Teares become.
The Wheat although a while it lyes in Earth,
(And seemeth lost) consumes not quite away;
But, from that Wombe receives another Birth,
And, with Additions, riseth from the Clay.
Much more shall Man revive, whose worth is more:
For, Death, who from our Drosse will us refine,
Vnto that other Life, becomes the Doore,
Where, we in Immortalitie shall shine.
When once our Glasse is runne, we presently
Give up our Soules to Death; So Death must give
Our Bodies backe againe, that we, thereby,
The Light of Life eternall, may receive.
The Venom'd Sting of Death is tooke away;
And, now, the Grave, that was a Place of Feare,
Is made a Bed of Rest, wherein we may
Lye downe in Hope, and bide in safety, there.
When we are Borne, to Death-ward straight we runne;
And by our Death, our Life is new-begnnne.


When Vice and Vertue Youth shall wooe,
Tis hard to say, which way 'twill goe.

Illvstr. XXII. Book. 1.

Y hopefull Friends at thrice five yeares and three,
Without a Guide (into the World alone)
To seeke my Fortune, did adventure mee;
And, many hazards, I alighted on.
First, Englands greatest Rendevouz I sought,
Where Vice and Vertve at the highest sit;
And, thither, both a Minde and Bodie brought,
For neither of their Services unfit.
Both, woo'd my Youth: And, both perswaded so,
That (like the Young man in our Emblem here)
I stood, and cry'd, Ah! which way shall I goe?
To me so pleasing both their Offers were.
Vice, Pleasures best Contentments promist mee,
And what the wanton Flesh desires to have:
Quoth Vertve, I will Wisdome give to thee,
And those brave things, which noblest Mindes doe crave.
Serve me said Vice, and thou shalt soone acquire
All those Atchievements which my Service brings:
Serve me said Vertve, and Ile raise thee higher,
Then Vices can, and teach thee better things.
Whil'st thus they strove to gaine me, I espyde
Grim Death attending Vice; and, that her Face
Was but a painted Vizard, which did hide
The foul'st Deformity that ever was.
Lord, grant me grace for evermore to view
Her Vglinesse: And, that I viewing it,
Her Falsehoods and allurements may eschew;
And on faire Vertve my Affection set;
Her Beauties contemplate, her Love embrace,
And by her safe Direction, runne my Race.


By Paine, on Pleasures we doe seize;
And, we by Suff'rance, purchase Ease.

Illvstr. XXIII. Book. 1.

He lick'rish Beare to rob the Honey-Bees
Among their stinging-Swarms thrusts in his pawes;
Adventureth to climbe up hollow Trees,
And from their Cells, the well fill'd Combes he drawes:
Right so, the Sensuall-Man that he may gaine
His bruitish Lust, a thousand perills dares;
And, that his Lawlesse-will he may attaine,
Nor Conscience, Credit, Cost, nor Labour spares.
'Twere shamefull basenesse, therefore, if that he
Who knoweth Vertue, and is thought her Lover,
Should so by any Perills frighted bee,
To make him such Affections to give-over.
For, why should that Vaine-Crew whose Valour springs
From beastly Fury, or inflamed-Passion,
Enabled be to compasse bolder things,
Then Sober-Wit, and Grave Consideration?
Or, why should lisping-Wantons, for their Lust
So much adventure as one finger, there,
Where we our Lives in hazard would not thrust
For Vertues Glory, if it needfull were?
For, though her Sweetnesse fast is closed in
With many Thornes, and such a Prickling-guard,
That we must smart, before that Prize we winne,
The Paine is follow'd, with a Rich Reward.
By Suff'ring, I have more Contentment had,
Then ever I acquir'd by Slothfull Ease;
And, I by Griefe, so joyfull have beene made,
That I will beare my Crosse, while God shall please.
For, so at last my Soule may Ioy procure,
I care not, in my Flesh what I endure.


Who by good Meanes, good things would gaine,
Shall never seeke, nor aske in vaine.

Illvstr. XXIIII. Book. 1.

N vaine faire Cynthia never taketh paines,
Nor faints in foll'wing her desired Game;
And, when at any Marke her Bowe she straines,
The winged Arrow surely hits the same.
Her Picture, therefore, in this place doth shew
The Nature of their Mindes who Cynthia-like,
With Constancie their Purposes pursue,
And faint not till they compasse what they seeke.
For, nought more God-like in this World is found,
Then so Resolv'd a man, that nothing may
His Resolution alter or confound,
When any taske of Worth, he doth assay.
Nor, is there greater Basenesse, then those Mindes
That from an Honest-purpose, can be wrought
By Threatnings, Bribes, Smooth-Gales or Boyst'rous-Windes,
What ever colour or excuse be brought.
You then, that would, with Pleasure, Glory gaine,
Diana like, those modest things require,
Which truely may beseeme you to attaine;
And stoutly follow that which you desire:
For, changing though the Moone to us appeare,
She holds a firme Dependence on the Sunne;
And, by a Constant-Motion, in her Sphære
With him, doth in Conjunction often runne:
So, Constant-men, still move their hopes to winne;
But, never by a Motion-indirect;
Nor, will they stop the Course that they are in,
Vntill they bring their purpose to effect.
For, whosoever Honest-things requires,
A Promise hath of all that he desires.


Oft Shooting, doth not Archers make;
But, hitting right the Marke they take.

Illvstr. XXV. Book. 1.

Hen to the Fields we walke to looke upon
Some skilfull Mark-man; so much heede we not
How many Arrowes from his Bowe are gone,
As we observe how nigh the Marke he shot:
And, justly we deride that Man who spends
His Time and Shafts, but never ayme doth take
To hit the White; or foolishly pretends,
The number of the Shots, doth Archers make.
So, God, who marketh our Endeavours, here,
Doth not by tale, account of them receive;
But, heedeth rather how well meant they were,
And, at his Will how rightly aym'd we have.
It is not mumbling over thrice a day
A Set of Ave Maries, or of Creeds,
Or many houres formally to pray;
When from a dull Devotion it proceedes:
Nor is it, up and downe the Land to seeke
To finde those well breath'd Lecturers, that can
Preach thrice a Sabbath, and sixe times a weeke,
Yet be as fresh, as when they first beganne:
Nor, is it, such like things perform'd by Number
Which God respects: Nor doth his Wisdome crave
Those many Vanities, wherewith some cumber
Their Bodies, as if those their Soules could save.
For, not Much-doing, but Well-doing, that
Which God commands, the Doer, justifies.
To pray without Devotion, is to Prate;
And, Hearing is but halfe our Exercise.
We ought not, therefore, to regard, alone,
How often, but how Well, the Worke be done.


With Patience, I the Storme sustaine;
For, Sun-shine still doth follow Raine.

Illvstr. XXVI. Book. 1.

He little Squirrell, hath no other Food
Then that which Natures thrifty hand provides;
And, in purveying up and downe the Wood,
She many cold wet Stormes, for that, abides.
She lyes not heartlesse in her Mossie Dray,
Nor feareth to adventure through the Raine;
But skippeth out, and beares it as she may,
Vntill the Season waxeth calme againe.
Right thus, have I and others, often far'd;
For, when we first into the World were brought,
We found but little, for our Vse prepar'd,
Save that, which by Hard-Labour, must be sought.
In many Stormes, unheeded, we are faine
To seeke out needfull things; and, smilingly
To jest, at what some others would complaine:
That, none might laugh at our Necessity.
Yea, some have liv'd on Huskes, whil'st others fed
On that which was their Labours due Reward;
And, were pursu'd (till they almost were dead)
Without the Worlds Compassion or Regard.
Yet, by Enduring, they out liv'd the Blast
Of Adverse-Fortune; and, with good successe,
(Expecting calmer Seasons) at the last,
Arrived at the Port of Happinesse.
Their Suffring-much, hath made their Suffrings none;
And brought forth Hopes, by which, perceive they may,
That Nights have but their Turnes; and (they once gone)
Their Darkenesse, makes much welcomer, the Day.
All Griefe shall have an ending, I am sure;
And, therefore, I with Patience, will Endure.


Where Hellen is, there, will be Warre;
For, Death and Lust, Companions are.

Illvstr. XXVII. Book. 1.

Heir foolish Guise, I never could affect,
Who dare, for any cause, the Stewes frequent:
And, thither, where I justly might suspect
A Strumpet liv'd, as yet, I never went.
For, when (as Fooles pretend) they goe to seeke
Experience, where more Ill then Good, they see;
They venture for their Knowledge, Adam-like;
And, such as his, will their Atchievements bee.
Let, therefore, those that would loose Trulls detest,
Converse with none, but those that modest are;
For, they that can of Whoredome make a Iest,
Will entertaine it, ere they be aware.
Chast-Company, and Chast-Discourse, doth make
The Minde more pleased with it, ev'ry day;
And, Frequent viewes of Wantonnesse, will take
The Sense and Hatred, of the Vice away.
Some, I have knowne, by Harlots Wiles undone,
Who, but to see their Fashions first pretended;
And, they that went for Company, alone,
By suddaine Quarrells, there, their Dayes have ended.
For, in the Lodgings of a Lustfull-Woman,
Immodest Impudence hath still her Being;
There, Furie, Fraud, and Cruelties are common:
And, there, is Want, and Shame, and Disagreeing.
Ev'n Beauty, of it selfe, stirres loose Desires,
Occasioning both Iealousies, and Feares;
It kindleth in the Brest, concealed Fires,
Which burne the Heart, before the Flame appeares:
And, ev'ry day, experienced are wee;
That, there, where Hellen is, Troyes Fate will bee.


No Inward Griefe, nor outward Smart,
Can overcome a Patient-Heart.

Illvstr. XXVIII. Book. 1.

Ome Trees, when Men oppresse their Aged Heads,
(With waighty Stones) they fructifie the more;
And, when upon some Herbs, the Gard'ner treads,
They thrive and prosper, better then before:
So, when the Kings of Ægypt did oppresse
The Sonnes of Iacob, through their Tyrannies;
Their Numbers, every day, did more encrease,
Till they grew greater then their Enemies.
So, when the Iewes and Gentiles, joyn'd their Powre
The Lord, and his Annoynted, to withstand;
(With raging Furie, lab'ring to devoure
And roote the Gospel, out of ev'ry Land)
The more they rag'd, conspired, and envy'd,
The more they slander'd, scorn'd, and murthered;
The more, the Faithfull, still, were multiply'd:
And, still, the further, their Profession spred.
Yea, so it spred, that quite it overthrew
Ev'n Tyranny it selfe; that, at the last,
The Patience of the Saints, most pow'rfull grew,
And Persecutions force, to ground was cast.
The selfe-same Pow'r, true Patience, yet retaines,
And (though a thousand Suff'rings wound the same)
She still hath Hope enough to ease her paynes;
That Hope, which keepeth off, all Feare and Shame:
For, 'tis not Hunger, Cold, nor Fire, nor Steele,
Nor all the Scornes or Slanders, we can heare,
Nor any Torment, which our Flesh can feele,
That conquers us; but, our owne Trayt'rous Feare.
Where, Honest Mindes, and Patient Hearts, are Mates
They grow victorious, in their Hardest-Fates.


By many Strokes, that Worke is done,
Which cannot be perform'd at One.

Illvstr. XXIX. Book. 1.

Espaire not Man, in what thou oughtst to doe,
Although thou faile when one Attempt is made;
But, adde a New-Endeavour thereunto,
And, then another, and another, adde:
Yea, till thy Pow'r and Life shall quite be spent,
Persist in seeking what thou shouldst desire;
For, he that falleth from a good Intent,
Deserves not that, to which he did aspire.
Rich Treasures, are by Nature, placed deepe;
And, ere we gaine them, we must pierce the Rockes:
Such Perills, also, them, as Guardians keepe,
That, none can winne them without wounds and knockes.
Moreover, Glories, Thrones are so sublime,
That, whosoever thinkes their Top to gaine,
Till many thousand weary steps he clime,
Doth foole himselfe, by Musings which are vaine.
And, yet, there is a Path-way, which doth leade
Above the highest things that Man can see;
And (though it be not knowne to all who tread
The Common-Tract) it may ascended be.
As, therefore, none should greater things presume
Then well becomes their strength; So, none should feare
(Through Folly, Sloth, or Basenesse) to assume
Those things upon them, which beseeming are.
In Time, and by Degrees may things be wrought,
That seem'd impossible to have beene done,
When they were first conceived in the thought;
And, such as these, we may adventure on.
Mine Arme, I know, in time will fell an Oke;
But, I will nev'r attempt it, at a Stroke.


Afflictions Fire consumeth Sinne;
But, Vertue taketh Life therein.

Illvstr. XXX. Book. 1.

Hether the Salamander be a Beast,
Or Precious-Stone, which overcomes the Flame,
It skills not; Since, by either is exprest
The Meaning which we purpose by the same:
Both brooke the Fire unhurt; And (more then so)
The fiercer and the longer Heats there are,
The livelyer in the same the Beast will grow;
And, much the brighter, will the Stone appeare.
This Crowned-Salamander in the Fire,
May, therefore, not unfitly, signifie
Those, who in Fiery Charriots, doe aspire
Elijah-like, to Immortality:
Or, those Heroicke-spirits, who unharm'd
Have through the Fires of Troubles, and Affliction,
(With Vertue, and with Innocencie arm'd)
Walkt onward, in the Path-way, of Perfection.
The Fiery-Tryall, which like Wood and Hay,
Consumes the Workes of ev'ry Wicked-one;
(And maketh all their Hopes to fume away)
Doth purifie what Faithfull-men have done.
They triumph in the Flames, and shall obtaine
The glorious Crowne of Endless-Happinesse,
When all that show of Blisse appeareth vaine,
Which Worldly men have seemed to possesse.
For, though some Sinnes and Follies, gilded are,
And shine like purest Gold, and Pretious-Stones;
This Test, will finde of what Allay they were,
And, make them knowne but Counterfeited Ones:
For, in this Fornace, all such Wormes expire;
And, none but Vertue liveth in this Fire.


Hee, over all the Starres doth raigne,
That unto Wisdome can attaine.

Illvstr. XXXI. Book. 1.

Am not of their Minde, who thinke the Sun,
The Moone, the Planets, and those glorious Lights
Which trim the Sphæres, doe in their Motions run
To no more purpose, then to please our Sights.
Nor for distinguishment of Nights, and Dayes,
Or of the Seasons, and the Times, alone,
Can I suppose the Hand of God displayes
Those many Starres, we nightly gaze upon:
For, both by Reason, and by Common-sense
We know (and often feele) that from above
The Planets have, on us, an Influence;
And, that our Bodies varie, as they move.
Moreover, Holy Writ inferres, that these
Have some such pow'r; ev'n in those Places, where
It names Orion, and the Pleiades;
Which, Starres of much inferiour Nature are.
Yet, hence conclude not, therefore, that the Minde
Is by the Starres constrained to obey
Their Influence; or, so by them inclin'd,
That, by no meanes resist the same we may.
For, though they forme the Bodies temp'rature,
(And though the Minde inclineth after that)
By Grace another Temper we procure,
Which guides the Motions of Supposed Fate.
The Soule of Man is nobler then the Sphæres;
And, if it gaine the Place which may be had,
Not here alone on Earth, the Rule it beares,
But, is the Lord, of all that God hath made.
Be wise in him; and, if just cause there bee,
The Sunne and Moone, shall stand and wayt on thee.


A Princes most ennobling Parts,
Are Skill in Armes, and Love to Arts.

Illvstr. XXXII. Book. 1.

Ight blest are they on whom God hath bestowne
A King, whose Vertues have approved him
To be an Ornament unto his Throne,
And as a Lustre to his Diadem.
Hee seekes not onely how to keepe in awe
His People, by those meanes that rightfull are;
But, doth unto himselfe, become a Law,
And, by Example, Pious Wayes declare.
He, loveth Peace, and after it pursues;
Yet, if of Warre a just occasion come,
Doth nor Bellona's Challenges refuse,
Nor feare, to beat Defyance on his Drum;
He is as ready, also, to advance
The Lib'rall Arts, and from his Lands to drive
All false Religion, Schisme, and Ignorance,
As other publike profits to contrive.
And, such a Prince is not a Casuall-thing,
The Glories of a Throne, by Chance, possessing;
Nor meerely from his Parents, doth he spring,
But, he is rather Gods immediate Blessing.
If thou desirest such a Prince to be,
Or, to acquire that Worth which may allure
Such Princes to vouchsafe some Grace to thee;
Their Kingly Vertues, labour to procure.
In Military Practices delight,
Not for a wicked, or vaine-glorious end;
But, to maintaine the Cause that is upright,
Or thy distressed Countrey to defend.
And, strive that thou, as excellent mayst bee
In Knowledge, as, thou art in thy Degree.


True-Lovers Lives, in one Heart lye,
Both Live, or both together Dye

Illvstr. XXXIII. Book. 1.

Ee that shall say he Loves, and was againe
So well-belov'd, that neither Hee nor Shee
Suspects each other, neither needs to gaine
New proofes, that they in all Desires agree;
And, yet, shall coole againe in their Affection,
(And leave to Love) or live till they are Lovers
The second-time; It some grosse Imperfection
In One (if not in Both) of them discovers.
It was not Love which did between them grow;
But, rather, somewhat like unto the same;
Which (having made a faire deceiving Show)
Obtain'd, a while, that honorable Name.
For, False-Affections will together play
So lovingly; and, oft, so act those Parts
Which reall seeme; that, for a time, they may
Appeare the Children of Vnfeigned-Hearts:
Yea, Many-times, true Turtles are deceiv'd
By counterfeited Passions, till their Love
Of her true Object findes her selfe bereav'd;
And, after it, is forced to remove:
But, where True-Love begetteth, and enjoyes
The proper Object, which shee doth desire,
Nor Time, nor Injury the same destroyes;
But, it continues a Perpetuall Fire.
Like am'rous Thisbe to her Pyramus,
On all occasions, it continues true:
Nor Night, nor Danger, makes it timorous;
But, through all Perills, it will him pursue.
Thus, both in Life, in Death, in all estates,
True-Lovers will be true-Associates.


When Two agree in their Desire,
One Sparke will set them both on Fire.

Illvstr. XXXIV. Book. 1.

He Westerne-Indians, when they want a Fire
To warme their naked limbs, or dresse their Food,
At ev'ry need, accomplish their Desire,
By often rubbing of two Stickes of Wood.
From whence, these Observations we may take;
First, that in them whose Natures gentlest are,
A long Contention such a Change may make,
As did, before, scarce possible appeare.
Next, that when Two in Opposition bee,
Whose power and strength and Malice is the same,
Their strugling Hearts but seldome doe agree,
Till they beget, a Selfe-devouring-Flame.
And, thirdly, it informes, that those chast Fires
Which on Loves Altars keepe a Lasting-Heat;
Are those, which in two Hearts, two Like-Desires
Vpon each other, mutually beget.
Hence, therefore, learne thou, first, not to contemne
Their Mildnesse, who to anger are not prone;
Lest, many wrongs doe stirre up Fires in them,
And worke thee Mischiefe, when thou look'st for none.
Be wary, next, though thou thy selfe be strong,
How with a pow'rfull Foe thou dost contend;
For, they that wrastle in Contention, long,
Will, sure, beshrew their Madnesse, in the end.
And, if to warme thee by Loves Fires thou seeke,
Thy Peere in Yeares, and Manners, pray to finde;
Let both your Aymes, and Longings, be alike;
Be one in Faith, and Will; and, one in Minde:
So, you shall reape the fruits of your Desire,
And warme each other with a kindly Fire.


He that delights to Plant and Set,
Makes After-Ages in his Debt.

Illvstr. XXXV. Book. 1.

Hen I behold the Havocke and the Spoyle,
Which (ev'n within the compasse of my Dayes)
Is made through every quarter of this Ile,
In Woods and Groves (which were this Kingdomes praise)
And, when I minde with how much greedinesse,
We seeke the present Gaine, in every thing;
Not caring (so our Lust we may possesse)
What Dammage to Posterity we bring:
They doe, me-thinkes, as if they did foresee,
That, some of those, whom they have cause to hate,
Should come in Future-times, their Heires to be:
Or else, why should they such things perpetrate?
For, if they thinke their Children shall succeed;
Or, can believe, that they begot their Heires;
They could not, surely, doe so foule a Deed,
As to deface the Land, that should be theirs.
What our Forefathers planted, we destroy:
Nay, all Mens labours, living heretofore,
And all our owne, we lavishly imploy
To serve our present Lusts; and, for no more.
But, let these carelesse Wasters learne to know,
That, as Vaine-Spoyle is open Injury;
So, Planting is a Debt, they truely owe,
And ought to pay to their Posterity.
Selfe-love, for none, but for it selfe, doth care;
And, onely, for the present, taketh paine:
But, Charity for others doth prepare;
And, joyes in that, which Future-Time shall gaine.
If, After-Ages may my Labours blesse;
I care not, much, how Litle I possesse.


To Have, and not to Vse the same;
Is not our Glory, but our Shame.

Illvstr. XXXVI. Book. 1.

He Estridge (though with many Feathers trimm'd,
And deckt with goodly Plumes of no meane size)
Is so unwieldy, and so largely limb'd,
That, up into the Aire he cannot rise.
And, though in Wings and Feathers, he appeares
A goodly Fowle, and beares his Head so high,
As if he could oretop the lower Sphæres;
And, farre above the towring Eagles flie;
So uselesse are those Feathers, and those Wings,
To gaine him Name among their aiery Race;
That, he must walke with such Inferiour things,
As in this Common-Region, have their place.
Such Fowles as these, are that Gay-plumed-Crew,
Which (to high place and Fortunes being borne)
Are men of goodly worth, in outward view;
And, in themselves, deserve nought els but scorne.
For, though their Trappings, their high-lifted Eyes,
Their Lofty Words, and their Much-feared Pow'rs,
Doe make them seeme Heroicke, Stout, and Wise,
Their Hearts are oft as fond, and faint as ours.
Such Animals as these, are also those
That Wise, and Grave, and Learned Men doe seeme
In Title, Habit, and all Formall showes;
Yet, have nor Wit, nor Knowledge, worth esteeme.
And, lastly, such are they; that, having got
Wealth, Knowledge, and those other Gifts, which may
Advance the Publike-Good, yet, use them not;
but Feede, and Sleepe, and laze their time away.
He, may be but a Goose, which weares the Quill;
But, him we praise, that useth it with Skill.


He, that his Course directly Steeres,
Nor Stormes, nor Windy-Censures feares.

Illvstr. XXXVII. Book. 1.

Ee to the Sea, this World may well compare;
For, ev'ry Man which liveth in the same,
Is as a Pilot, to some Vessell there,
Of little size, or else of larger frame.
Some, have the Boats of their owne Life to guide,
Some, of whole Families doe row the Barge,
Some, governe petty Towneships too, beside,
(To those compar'd, which of small Barkes have charge)
Some others, rule great Provinces; and, they
Resemble Captaines of huge Argoses:
But, when of Kingdomes, any gayne the Sway,
To Generalls of Fleets, we liken these.
Each hath his proper Course to him assign'd,
His Card, his Compasse, his due Tacklings, too;
And, if their Businesse, as they ought, they mind,
They may accomplish all they have to doe.
But, most Men leave the Care of their owne Course,
To judge or follow others, in their wayes;
And, when their Follies make their Fortunes worse,
They curse the Destiny, which they should prayse.
For, Waves, and Windes, and that oft-changing Weather
Which many blame, as cause of all their Losses,
(Though they observe it not) helpes bring together
Those Hopes, which their owne Wisedome, often crosses.
Regard not, therefore much, what those things be,
Which come, without thy fault, to thwart thy Way;
Nor, how, Rash-Lookers-on will censure thee;
But, faithfully, to doe thy part, assay:
For, if thou shalt not from this Counsell vary,
Let my Hopes faile me, if thy Hopes miscarry.


A sudden Death, with Shame, is due
To him, that, sweares What is untrue.

Illvstr. XXXVIII. Book. 1.

Hen th' Ancients made a solemne League or Vow,
Their Custome was to ratifie it, thus;
Before their Idoll-God, they slew a Sow,
And sayd aloud; So be it unto us.
Implying, that, if otherwise they did
Then had been vow'd; or, if within their Brest
A Fraudulent-Intention had beene hid,
They merited such Vsage, as that Beast.
For, by the Swine that they had slaughtred so,
(Which, during Life, was helpefull unto none)
Of Life deprived by a sudden blow,
And, then, cast out, that none might feed thereon;
They, mystically did inferre; that, he
Who falsify'd that Oath which he had sworne,
Deserv'd, by Sudden-Death, cut off to be;
And, as a Beast uncleane, to lye forlorne.
That Heathenish Hieroglyphicke, doth implye
This Christian-Doctrine; that, we should in Vowes,
In Leagues, and Oathes, assume no Liberty,
But, what sincerest Honesty allowes.
By Swine, the babbling Sophisters are meant,
In Hieroglyphicall Signification;
Which wee doe Sacrifice, when our intent
Is free from Falsehood, and Æquivocation.
And, this, let ev'ry Man endeavour for,
Who loves the Blessings, for just men prepar'd;
Or, if the Sinne he doe not much abhorre,
At least, the Danger let him well regard:
For, to pursue him, Vengeance never leaves,
That falsely Sweares, or willingly Deceives.


Where strong Desires are entertain'd,
The Heart 'twixt Hope, and Feare, is pain'd.

Illvstr. XXXIX. Book. 1.

Troubled Minde, ore-charged with Desires,
Betweene great Hopes, and no lesse Feares opprest,
And payned inwardly with secret Fires,
Was thus, by some, in former times exprest.
A Smoking Heart, they placed just betwixt
A Fastned Anchor, and a Bended Bow;
To which a Barbed-Arrow seemed fixt,
And, ready from the Strayned-String to goe.
The Smoke doth Sighes, the Anchor doth declare
That Hope, which keepes us from Despairing quite;
The Bowe and Arrow, signifie that Feare,
Which doth, perpetually, the Soule affright.
And, by this Emblem, it appeares to me
That they which are with strong Desires opprest,
(Though good or bad the Object of them be)
In seeking Pleasures, finde no small unrest:
For, they are not by Feares, alone, disturbed,
But, as the Wiseman saith, ev'n Hope-Delayd
Torments the Heart; and, when Desire is curbed,
The Soule becommeth sad, and ill-apayd.
A Groundlesse-Hope, makes entrance for Despaire,
And with Deceiving-showes the Heart betrayes:
A Causelesse-Feare, doth Reasons force impaire,
And, terrifies the Soule, in doubtfull wayes.
Yet, quite neglect them not; For, Hope repells
That Griefe sometimes, which would our Hearts oppresse.
And, Feare is otherwhile the Sentinell
Which rouzeth us from dang'rous Carelesnesse.
Thus, Both are good: but, Both are Plagues to such,
Who either Fondly feare, or Hope too much.


Those Fooles whom Beauties Flame doth blinde,
Feele Death, where Life they thought to finde.

Illvstr. XL. Book. 1.

Hen you doe next behold the wanton Flyes
About the shining Candle, come to play,
Vntill the Light thereof hath dimm'd their Eyes,
Or, till the Flame hath sing'd their Wings away:
Remember, then, this Emblem; and, beware
You be not playing at such harmefull Games:
Consider, if there sit no Female, there,
That overwarmes you, with her Beauties Flames,
Take heed, you doe not over dally so
As to inflame the Tinder of Desire;
But, shun the Mischiefe, e're too late it grow,
Lest you be scorched in that Foolish-Fire.
For, as those Wandring-Fires which in the Night,
Doe leade unwary Trauellers astray,
Alluring them, by their deceiving Sight,
Till they have altogether lost their way:
Right so fantasticke Beauty doth amaze
The Lust-full Eye, allures the Heart aside,
Captives the Senses (by a sudden blaze)
And, leaves the Iudgement wholly stupify'd.
Nay, if Men play too long about those Torches,
Such is the Nature of their wanton Flame,
That, from their Bodies (unawares) it scorches
Those Wings and Feet, on which they thither came.
It wasteth (ev'n to nothing) all their Wealth,
Consumes their precious Time, destroyes their Strength,
Bespots their Honest-Fame, impaires their Health,
And (when their Fatall Thread is at the length)
That thing, on which their Hope of Life is plac't,
Shall bring them to Destruction, at the last.


Let him, that at Gods Altar stands,
In Innocencie, wash his Hands.

Illvstr. XLI. Book. 1.

Hen (Reader) thou hast first of all survayd
That Reverend Priest, which here ingraven stands,
In all his Holy Vestiments array'd,
Endeavouring for Purifyed-Hands;
Collect from hence, that, when thou dost appeare
To offer Sacrifice of Prayse or Prayer,
Thou oughtst the Robes of Righteousnesse, to weare,
And, by Repentance, thy defects repaire.
For, thou, that, with polluted Hands presum'st
Before Gods Altar to present thy Face;
Or, in the Rags of thine owne Merits com'st,
Shalt reape Displeasure, where thou look'st for Grace.
Then, if thou be of those that would aspire
A Priest, or Prelate, in Gods Church to be;
Be sure, thou first those Ornaments acquire,
Which, may be suting to that High-Degree.
Intrude not, as perhaps too many doe,
With Gifts unfit, or by an Evill meane:
Desire it with a right Intention too;
And, seeke to keepe thy Conversation cleane.
For, they that have assum'd this Holy-Calling,
With Hands impure, and Hearts unsanctify'd,
Defame the Truth; give others cause of Falling,
And, scandalize their Brethren, too, beside:
Yea, to themselves, their very Sacrifice
Becomes unhallow'd; and, their Thankes and Prayers,
The God of Purity, doth so despise,
That, all their Hopes, he turneth to Despaires:
And, all their best Endeavours, countermands,
Till they appeare with unpolluted Hands.


No Heart can thinke, to what strange ends,
The Tongues unruely Motion tends.

Illvstr. XLII. Book. 1.

Ell-worthy of our better Heeding were,
That Holy Pen-mans Lesson, who hath sayd,
We should be slow to Speake, and swift to Heare;
If, well, the nature of the Tongue we waigh'd.
For, if we let it loose, it getteth Wings,
And, flies with wanton Carelesnesse, about;
It prateth in all places, of All things;
Tells Truth and Lyes, and babbleth Secrets out.
To speake, of things unknowne, it taketh leave,
As if it had all Knowledge in Possession;
And, Mysteries (which no Man can conceive)
Are thought fit Objects for the Tongues Expression.
With Truth it mixeth Errors; sayes, unsayes;
And, is the Preacher of all Heresies.
That Heart, which gives it motion, it betrayes;
And, utters Curses, Oathes, and Blasphemies.
It spreads all Slanders, which base Envie raiseth;
It moveth Anger, and begetteth Hates:
It blameth Vertue; filthy Deeds it praiseth;
And, causeth Vproares, Murthers, and Debates.
Yea, tis the chiefest Factor for the Devill;
And, yet, with speeches feignedly-sincere,
It otherwhile reproveth what is Evill,
And, will in Lowly-words, a Saint appeare.
Now this is knowne; we, next of all, should learne,
How we may shunne the Mischiefe being knowne;
How, we bad Tongues, in Others, may discerne;
And, how to guide and moderate our Owne.
And, reason good; for, none can apprehend,
What Mischiefe doth an Evill Tongue attend.


The Minde should have a fixed Eye
On Objects, that are plac'd on High.

Illvstr. XLIII. Book. 1.

Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye
Wide open to the Sunne; by some, was us'd,
When in an Emblem, they would signifie
A Minde, which on Celestiall Matters mus'd:
Implying, by the same, that there is nought
Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can see,
So fit an Object for a manly thought,
As those things, which in Heav'n above us be.
God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)
A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,
(Among the rest of his peculiar Features)
That he might lift his Countenance on high:
And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares
Within the outward Sights circumference)
That he might elevate above the Sphæres,
The piercing Eye, of his Intelligence.
Then, higher, and still higher strive to raise
His Contemplations Eyes, till they ascend
To gaine a glimpse of those eternall Rayes,
To which all undepraved Spirits tend.
For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde
(Till fleshly Thoughts corrupt it) to despise
Those Lusts whereto the Body stands inclin'd;
And labour alwayes, upward to arise.
Some, therefore, thought those Goblins which appeare
To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of such,
Who to these loathsome places doomed were,
Because, they doted on the Flesh too much.
But, sure we are, well-minded Men shall goe
To live above, when others bide below.


Those Fields, which yet appeare not so,
When Harvest comes, will yellow grow.

Illvstr. XLIV. Book. 1.

Hen, in the sweet and pleasant Month of May,
We see both Leaves and Blossomes on the Tree,
And view the Meadowes in their best array,
We hopefull are a Ioyfull-Spring to see;
Yet, oft, before the following Night be past,
It chanceth, that a Vapor, or a Frost,
Doth all those forward bloomings wholly waste;
And, then, their Sweetnesse and their Beautie's lost.
Such, is the state of ev'ry mortall Wight:
In Youth, our Glories, and our Lusts we shew;
We fill our selves with ev'ry vaine Delight,
And, will most thinke on that which may insue.
But, let us learne to heed, as well as know,
That, Spring doth passe; that, Summer steales away;
And, that the Flow'r which makes the fairest show,
E're many Weekes, must wither and decay.
And, from this Emblem, let each Lab'ring-Swaine
(In whatsoever course of life it be)
Take heart, and hope, amidst his daily paine,
That, of his Travailes, he good fruits shall see.
The Plow'd and Harrow'd Field, which, to thine eye,
Seemes like to be the Grave, in which the Seeds
Shall (without hope of rising) buryed lye,
Becomes the fruitfull Wombe, where Plenty breeds.
There, will be Corne, where nought but Mire appeares;
The Durty Seed, will forme a greenish blade;
The Blade, will rise to Stemmes with fruitfull Eares;
Those Eares, will ripen, and be yellow made:
So, if in honest Hopes, thou persevere,
A Ioyfull Harvest will at last appeare.


As soone, as wee to bee, begunne;
We did beginne, to be Vndone.

Illvstr. XLV. Book. 1.

Hen some, in former Ages, had a meaning
An Emblem, of Mortality, to make,
They form'd an Infant, on a Deaths-head leaning,
And, round about, encircled with a Snake.
The Childe so pictur'd, was to signifie,
That, from our very Birth, our Dying springs:
The Snake, her Taile devouring, doth implie
The Revolution, of all Earthly things.
For, whatsoever hath beginning, here,
Beginnes, immediately, to vary from
The same it was; and, doth at last appeare
What very few did thinke it should become.
The solid Stone, doth molder into Earth,
That Earth, e're long, to Water, rarifies;
That Water, gives an Airy Vapour birth,
And, thence, a Fiery-Comet doth arise:
That, moves, untill it selfe it so impaire,
That from a burning-Meteor, backe againe,
It sinketh downe, and thickens into Aire;
That Aire, becomes a Cloud; then, Drops of Raine:
Those Drops, descending on a Rocky-Ground,
There, settle into Earth, which more and more,
Doth harden, still; so, running out the round,
It growes to be the Stone it was before.
Thus, All things wheele about; and, each Beginning,
Made entrance to it owne Destruction, hath.
The Life of Nature, entreth in with Sinning;
And, is for ever, wayted on by Death:
The Life of Grace, is form'd by Death to Sinne;
And, there, doth Life-eternall, straight beginne.


Though very small, at first, it be,
A Sprout, at length, becomes a Tree.

Illvstr. XLVI. Book. 1.

Ee finde it common (but not comely thou)
That, when a good Endeavour is begot,
Vnlesse, at very first, it equall grow
With our Expectance, we regard it not.
Nor Wit, nor Patience, have we to conceive,
That ev'ry thing, which may by Man be wrought,
Proportionable Time, and Meanes, must have;
Before it can be to Perfection, brought.
Yet, ev'ry day, in things of ev'ry kinde,
Experience hath informed us, herein;
And, that, in many things, a change we finde,
Which, at the first, would scarce believ'd have bin.
For, though a Gosling will not prove a Swan,
Vnruely-Colts become well-trayned Steeds;
A Silly-Childe growes up a Mighty-Man,
And, Lofty-Trees doe Spring from Little Seeds.
Learne, therefore hence, that, nothing you despise,
Because it may, at first, imperfect seeme:
And, know, how all things (in some sort) to prise,
Although, you give them not the best esteeme.
From hence, moreover, learne; not to despaire,
When you have just occasion, to pursue
A toylesome worke, or any great affaire:
Since, all-things, at the first, from nothing, grew.
And, I my selfe will, also, learne, from hence,
(Of all my Paines, though little fruits I see)
Nor to repine, nor to receive Offence;
But, rather joy in what befalleth mee.
For, though my Hopes appeare but meanely growne,
They will be Great, when some shall thinke them none.


When we above the Crosse can rise,
A Crowne, for us, prepared lies.

Illvstr. XLVII. Book. 1.

Serpent rais'd above the Letter Tau,
Aspiring to a Crowne, is figur'd here:
From whence, a Christian-Morall we may draw,
Which worth our good regarding will appeare.
For, by those Characters, in briefe, I see
Which Way, we must to Happinesse ascend;
Then, by what Meanes, that Path must clymed bee;
And, what Reward, shall thereupon attend.
The Crosse, doth shew, that Suffring is the Way;
The Serpent, seemes to teach me, that, if I
Will overcome, I must not then, assay
To force it; but, my selfe thereto applye.
For, by embracing what we shall not shunne,
We winde about the Crosse, till wee arise
Above the same; and, then, what Prize is wonne,
The Crowne, which overtops it, signifies.
Let me, O God, obtaine from thee the Grace,
To be partaker of thy Blessed Passion;
Let me, with Willingnesse, thy Crosse imbrace,
And, share the Comforts of thy Exaltation.
To beare that Part, whereto I doomed am,
My Heart, with Strength, and Courage, Lord, inspire:
Then, Crucifie my Flesh upon the same,
As much as my Corruption shall require.
And, when by thy Assistance, I am rear'd
Above that Burthen, which lyes yet upon me;
And, over all, which (justly may be fear'd)
Shall, during Life-time, be inflicted on me;
Among those Blessed-Soules, let me be found,
Which, with eternall Glory, shall be Crown'd.


In Death, no Difference is made,
Betweene the Scepter, and the Spade.

Illvstr. XLVIII. Book. 1.

Et no man be so sottish as to dreame,
Though all Men in their Death made equall are,
That, therfore, they may gather by this Theame,
That, Parity, in Life-time, fitting were.
For, as the Bodies Members (which in Death
Have all the like esteeme) had their Degrees,
And Honours, differing in time of breath;
The same (in States) Discretion comely sees.
Nor, should we hence inferre, that it were just
To disesteeme the breathlesse Carcasses
Of Kings and Princes, when they sleepe in Dust;
For, Civill-Reverence is due to these.
Nor, ought we, in their Life-time, to apply
The Truth, which by this Emblem is declar'd,
The Dignities of Men to vilifie;
Or, bring upon their Persons lesse regard.
That, which from hence, I rather wish to preach,
Is this; that ev'ry Man of each degree,
Would marke it so, that he, himselfe might teach
What thoughts and deeds, to him most proper be.
If he be great; let him remember, then,
That (since, nor Wealth, nor Title, can procure him
Exemption from the Doomes of other Men)
He ought to seeke, how Vertue may secure him.
If he be Poore; let him this Comfort take,
That, though, awhile, he be afflicted here,
Yet, Death may him as fully happy make,
As he, that doth a Crowne Imperiall weare.
For, when his Fatall-blow, Death comes to strike,
He, makes the Beggar, and the King, alike.


What cannot be by Force attain'd,
By Leisure, and Degrees, is gain'd.

Illvstr. XLIX. Book. 1.

Ome Foolish-Boyes (and such a Boy was I)
When they at Schoole have certaine houres to passe,
(To which they are compell'd unwillingly)
Much time they spend in shaking of the Glasse:
Thus, what they practise, to make-short their stay,
Prolongs it more; for while they seeke to force
The Sands, to runne more speedily away,
They interrupt them; and, they passe the worse.
Right so, in other things, with us it fares;
(And, seeming wise, we act a foolish part)
For, otherwhile, what Time alone prepares,
We seeke to make the subject of an Art.
Sometimes, by Rashnesse, we endeavour what
We ought with Leisure, and Advice, to doe:
But, if a good Successe doth follow, that,
Our Wit was nothing helpefull thereunto.
Sometime, againe, we prosecute a thing
By Violence; when our desir'd effect,
No other meanes so well to passe can bring,
As Love and Gentlenesse, which we neglect.
But, let this Emblem teach us to regard
What Way of Working, to each Worke pertaines:
So, though some Portion of our Hopes be barr'd,
We shall not, altogether, lose our paines.
Some things are strong, and, othersome are weake;
With Labour, some; and, some with Ease be wrought:
Although the Reed will bend, the Kexe will breake;
And, what mends one thing, makes another naught.
Marke this; And, when much Haste will marre thy Speed,
That, then, thou take good Leisure; take thou Heed.


Of Little-Gaines, let Care be had;
For, of small Eares, great Mowes are made.

Illvstr. L. Book. 1.

Mong the many Faylings of the Time,
This Emblem giveth Cause to mention one,
Which, unto me, doth seeme the greater Crime,
Because, to many, it appeareth none.
I finde, that petty things are so neglected
(Well nigh of all) in Losings and in Winnings,
As if, what ere they thought to have effected,
Subsisted without Members, or Beginnings.
The Man, that loseth every Month a Penny,
May salve-up Twelve-months Losses, with a Shilling.
But, if of other Losses he hath many,
To save a Pin, at length, he shall be willing.
For, he that sees his Wine-fill'd Vessell drop,
(Although a Drop, in value, be but small)
Should, thence, Occasion take, the Leake to stop,
Lest many Droppings draine him drye of all.
Moreover, they, that will to Greatnesse rise,
A Course, not much unlike to this, must keepe:
They ought not Small-Beginnings to despise;
Nor, strive to runne, before they learne to creepe.
By many single Eares, together brought,
The Hand is fill'd; by Handfulls, we may gaine
A Sheafe; with many Sheaves a Barne is fraught:
Thus, oft, by Little, we doe much obtaine.
Consider this; And, though I wish not thee
To take, of Trifling-things, too great a care;
Yet, know thus much (for truth) it best will bee,
If all things may be weighed as they are:
By slender Losses, great-ones are begunne;
By many trifling Gaines, much Wealth is wonne.

Finis Libri primi.





Hou, dost overmuch respect
That, which will thy harme effect;
But, some other things there bee,
Which will more advantage thee:
Search thy heart; and, thou shalt, there,
Soone discover, what they are:
Yea, thine Emblem showes thee, too,
What to shunne; and, what to doe.


It is a little fear'd, that you
Are to your owne Designes, untrue;
And, that, if you more constant were,
You would be richer, then you are,
(It may be, also, wiser, too)
Looke, therefore, what you are to doe:
Then, follow it, and, you will say,
That, well advis'd, you were, to day.


How rich or poore soe're thou be,
Thou, art a Prince, in some degree;
And, o're thy selfe, thou shouldst command,
As doth a Monarch, in his Land.
Within thy Heart, therefore, ingrave
The Lawes, that Grace and Nature gave:
For, thus (to counsell thee) inclines
That Emblem, which, thy Lot assignes.


Much Liberty, thou hast assum'd;
And, heretofore, so much presum'd
On Time, which, alway rideth poast,
That, for awhile, some Hopes are crost.
But, loe, to keepe thee from Despaire,
And, thy Misfortune, to repaire,
Marke, what to thee, by Lot, befell,
And, practise, what is counsell'd, well.



Thou seekest Honour, to obtaine,
By meanes, which frustrate all thy paine.
Thy Predecessors rich were made,
By using of the Plough and Spade:
Thou, honourable wouldst be thought,
By taking Courses, that are naught;
But, if, right noble, thou wilt be,
Looke, what thine Emblem counsells thee.
See, Emb. V.

M 6

This Man, what ever he may seeme,
Is worthy of a high esteeme:
Though Fortune may, his person, grinde;
She, cannot harme him, in his Minde.
Right blest, this Company would be,
If all of them, were such, as He.
Reade that Impresa, which he drew;
For, that, in part, the same will shew.

M 7

If some, now present, this had got,
They, would have blushed, at their Lot;
Since, very fit, the same doth prove
For one, that's either light of Love,
Or, troubled with a fickle Mate:
If you enjoy a better Fate,
Yet, hearken, what your Lot doth say;
Lest, you, hereafter, need it may,


For ought, that, plainely, doth appeare,
You may out-live the longest, here;
Yet, seeing, now, of all this crew,
The Lot of Death, you, onely, drew,
See what, your Emblem hath injoyn'd;
And, still, that Morall, beare in minde:
So, Deaths deform'd and ghastly Shade
Shall, Meanes of Life, to thee, be made.


Though you have Wit, and, know it well;
That, rash you are, your Friends can tell;
Yea, Sleepe, and Ease, possesse you so,
That, some doe feare, you'l sottish grow:
But, lo, your hind'rance, to prevent,
This Lot, was, peradventure, sent;
For, in the Moralls, that, insue,
Are Counsells, fit, for such as you.



You, have beene wronged, many wayes,
Yet, patient are; and, that's your praise:
Your Actions, also, seem'd upright;
Yet, some there are, that, beare you spite:
Lest, therefore, you discourag'd grow,
An Emblem, you have drawne, to show
What other Innocents have borne,
And, how, the worlds despites, to scorne.
See, Emb. X.

M 11

Doubtlesse, you are either wooing,
Or, some other Bus'nesse, doing;
Which, you shall attempt, in vaine,
Or, much hazzard all your paine:
Yet, if good, your meanings are,
Doe not honest meanes forbeare;
For, where things are, well, begunne,
God, oft, workes, when Man hath done.


Be not angry, if I tell
That, you love the World, too well;
For, this Lot, perhaps, you drew,
That, such Faults, you might eschew.
Marke, to what their Soules aspire,
Who, true Blessednesse, desire:
For, if you can doe, like those,
Heav'n you gaine, when Earth you lose.


You love the Rich; and, honour them;
The needy-person, you contemne:
Yet, Wealth, nor want of Wealth, is that,
Which, wretched makes, or fortunate:
From other Causes, those things flow;
Which, since, you either doe not know,
Or, heede not much, this Emblem came,
That, you might learne to minde the same.

M 14

Thy Chance is doubtfull; and, as yet,
I know not, what to say of it;
But, this I know, a foe thou art
To what thine Emblem hath, in part,
Expressed by a Mimicke Shape;
Or, thou, thy selfe, art such an Ape.
Now, which of these, pertaines to thee,
Let them, that know thee, Iudges bee.



Thy Vertues he may wrong, that sayes
Thou spend'st thy selfe, in wanton wayes;
But, some have thought, and sayd of late,
That, those thou lov'st, consume thy state:
Yet, spare nor Time, nor Substance, tho,
Where, them, thou oughtest to bestow;
But, to thine Emblem turne, and, see
When Life, and Wealth, well ventur'd bee.


Though Troubles, you may have (or had)
Enough, to make some others mad;
Yet, be content: for, they, that are
As weake, have had as much to beare;
And, that, which Malice did contrive,
To make them poore, hath made them thrive.
That Emblem, which, by Lot, you drew,
Prognosticates, as much, for you.


Though, you suffer blame and paine,
You, at last, may Comfort gaine,
(Sharing Honours, truely gotten,
When, your Foes are dead, and rotten)
For, of this, you have a pawne,
In the Lot, that you have drawne;
And, by that, it may appeare,
What your paines, and wages, are.


Take you serious heed, I pray,
Whither, you doe goe to day;
Whom you credite; and, for whom
You, ingaged, shall become;
And, unlesse you wish for Sorrow,
Be as provident, to morrow:
For, there are some traps and Snares,
Which, may take you unawares.


Your Wit, so much, you trust upon,
That, weaker Meanes hath yours out-gone;
Sometime, you runne, when there is need
Of much more Warinesse, then Speed.
But, you, to God-ward, worse have err'd;
And, yet, Amendment is deferr'd.
See, therefore, what your Chance doth say,
And, take good Counsell, while you may.



Take heed, you doe not quite forget,
That you are dauncing in a Net:
More, then a few, your Course doe see,
Though, you, suppose, unseene to be.
Your Fault, we will no nearer touch;
Me-thinkes your Emblem blabs too much:
But, if, you minde, what is amisse,
You, shall be nere the worse, for this.


Let such, as draw this Lot, have care,
For Death, and Sorrow, to prepare
All times, to come, lest one of these,
Their persons, unexpected, seize:
For, them, or some of theirs, to stay,
Pale Death, drawes neerer, ev'ry day.
Yet, let them not, disheartned, bee:
For, in their Emblem, they shall see,
Death, may (though, in appearance, grim)
Become, a blessing, unto them.


With Mary, thou art one of those,
By whom, the better part, is chose;
And, though, thou tempted art, astray,
Continu'st in a lawfull way.
Give God the praise, with heart unfaign'd,
That, he, such Grace to thee, hath dain'd;
And, view thy Lot, where thou shalt see,
What Hag, hath layd a Trap, for thee.


Although, that, thou demure appeare,
For Pleasure, there is no man here
Will venture more: And, some there are,
Who thinke you venture over farre:
Hereof, consider well, therefore,
E're, so, you venture, any more;
And, in your Lotted Emblem, see,
For what, your Suffrings ought to bee.


If ought, thou purpose, to assay,
Pursue the same, without delay;
And, if thou meane to gather fruit,
Be constant in thy Hopes pursuit:
For, by thine Emblem, thou mayst finde,
Thy Starres, to thee, are well-inclin'd;
Provided, thy Attempts be good:
For, that, is ever understood.



Take heed, thou love not their deceipt,
Who Number give, in steed of Weight;
Nor, let their Fansies, thee abuse,
Who, such-like foolish Customes, use.
Perhaps, it may concerne thee, much,
To know the Vanities of such;
And, who they are: Marke, therfore, what
Thine Emblem, will, to thee relate.


Thou, to Impatience, art inclin'd;
And, hast a discontented Minde;
That, therfore, thou mayst Patience learne,
And, thine owne Over-sights discerne,
Thy Lot (as to a Schoole to day)
Hath sent thee to the Squirrells Dray;
For, she instructs thee, to indure,
Till, thou, a better state, procure.


Your Lot, is very much to blame,
Or else, your person, or, your Name
Hath injur'd beene, or, may have wrong
By some loose wanton, ere't be long:
Therfore, e're, hence, you passe away,
Marke, what your Emblem, now, doth say.
Perhaps, by drawing of this Lot,
Some Harmes prevention may be got.


Vpon your head, those weights were laid,
Which, your Endeavours, downeward waigh'd;
For, those, who doe your weale envie,
Much feare, your top will spring too high;
Nay, yet, some Burthen, you sustaine:
But, what their Malice will obtaine,
Your Emblem prophesies; if you,
With Patience, Honest-wayes, pursue.


This Lot, befell thee, for the nonce;
For, if things come not, all at once,
Thou, to despairing, soone, dost runne,
Or, leav'st the Worke, that's well begun:
Which, to prevent, regardfull be
Of what thine Emblem counsells thee.



Afflictions, are thy chiefest Lot;
Yea, great ones, too: yet, murmure not.
For, all, must fiery tryalls bide,
And, from their Drosse be purify'd.
Therefore, though this, in sport, be done,
Thy Morall'd Emblem, looke upon;
And, learne, those Vertues to acquire,
Which, will not perish in the Fire.


You seeke a Lot, which, proving bad,
Would, peradventure, make you sad;
But, this may please: for, you are taught
To mend a Fortune, that is naught;
And, armed, with such Counsell, here,
That, you, no Destiny, need feare.
Now, if you come to Harme, or Shame,
Vpon the Starres, lay not the blame.

M 32

In Court, thou mayst have hope, to clime,
This present, or some other time;
But, something thou dost want, as yet,
Which, for that place, must make thee fit.
Presume not, therefore, on thy Lot,
Till, those accomplishments are got,
Which, in thine Emblem, are exprest;
And, then, march on, among the best.


Some thinke, you love; 'tis true, you doe;
And, are as well beloved too:
But, you (if we the truth shall say)
Love not so truely, as you may.
To make a perfect Love, there goes
Much more, then ev'ry Lover knowes.
Your Emblem, therefore heede; and, then,
Beginne, anew, to love agen.


Now, some good Counsell, thou dost need;
Of what we say, take, therefore, heed.
Beware, lest thou, too much, offend
A meeke, and, gentle-natur'd, Friend:
Though pow'r thou hast, be carefull, too,
Thou vexe not, long, thine able Foe;
And, e're thou love, be sure to finde
Thy Match, in Manners, and in Minde.
If thou demand a Reason, why,
To thee, thine Emblem will replie.



Beware, thou share not in their crime,
Who care, but for the present time:
For, by thy Lot, wee may suspect,
Or that, or things, to that effect.
If so it be, or if thy Minde,
To such an Errour, be inclin'd,
Thy Chance, unto an Emblem, brings,
Which, will advise to better things.


You, love to seeme; this, all Men see:
But, would you lov'd, as well, to bee.
If, also, better use were made
Of those good Blessings, you have had;
Your praise were more. Marke, therefore, well,
What Moralls, now, your Emblem, tell;
And, gather, from it, what you may,
To set you in a better way.


To scape a Storme, great thought you take;
But, little heed, what meanes you make.
You, love your ease, and, Troubles, feare;
But, carelesse are, what Course you steere.
Which Indiscretions, to prevent,
You, to an Emblem, now, are sent:
Whereof, if you regardfull are,
You, lesse will feare, and better fare.


What you have, done, consider, now;
For, this your Chance, doth seeme to show
That you have sworne, or vow'd, of late,
Or promised (you best know what)
Which, you have, since, unwilling bin,
To keepe; or, else, did faile, therein.
If it be so; repent, or els,
What will befall, your Emblem tells.


Thy Hopings, and thy Feares, are such,
That, they afflict, and paine thee, much;
Because, thou giv'st too great a scope
Vnto thy Feare, or to thy Hope:
For, they will paine, or pleasure thee,
As they enlarg'd, or curbed be.
But, lo; thine Emblem, if thou please,
Instructs thee, how, to mannage these.



Let them, who get this Chance, beware,
Lest Cupid snarle them in a Snare:
For, by their Lot, they should be apt
To be, in such-like Ginnes, intrapt.
Some helpe, is by their Emblem, got,
If they, too late, observe it not;
But, then, no profit will be done them:
For, Counsell will be lost upon them.


Whether, meerely, Chance, or no,
Brought this Lot, we doe not know:
But, received, let it be,
As, divinely, sent to thee:
For, that, merits thy regard,
Which, thine Emblem hath declar'd;
And, the best, that are, have need,
Such Advisements, well to heed.


Thou, hast already, or, e're long,
Shalt have some dammage by the Tongue:
But, fully, yet, it is not knowne,
Whether the Tongue shall be thine owne,
Or else, anothers tongue, from whom
This Mischiefe, unto thee, shall come:
But, much the better, thou shalt speed,
If, now, thine Emblem, well thou heed.


Vnworthy things, thou dost affect,
With somewhat overmuch respect;
Vnto the World, inclining so,
As if thy Hopes were all below:
But, now, to rowse thee from this crime,
Good Counsell comes in happy time.
Make use thereof; and, thinke it not
Meere casuall, or a needlesse Lot.


Thou, either, too much love, hast plac't
On things, that will not alway last;
Or else, thou art a little fear'd.
Because thy Hopes are long deferr'd:
Nay, thou art touch'd, in both of these.
Thy Profit, therefore, and thine ease,
It will effect, if well thou minde
What, in thine Emblem, thou shalt finde.



When thou hast Changes, good, or bad,
Ore-joy'd, thou art, or over-sad;
As if it seemed very strange
To see the Winde or Weather, change:
Lo, therefore, to remember thee,
How changeable, things Mortall, bee,
Thou, art assisted by this Lot;
Now, let it be, no more, forgot.


Of thy just Aymes, though meanes be slight,
Thou mayst attaine their wished height;
Vnlesse, thy Folly shall destroy
The Weale, thou seekest to injoy,
By thy Despaire, or by neglect
Of that, which, may thy Hopes effect:
For, by thine Emblem, thou mayst know,
Great things, from small Beginnings, grow.


Thou must have Crosses; but they, shall,
To Blessings, be converted, all;
And, Suffrings, will become, thy Praise,
If, Wisedome order, well, thy wayes:
Yea, when thy Crosses ended are,
A Crowne of Glory, thou shalt weare.
Yet, note, how this to passe is brought:
For, in thine Emblem, it is taught.


If they, who drew this Lot, now be
Of great Estate, or high Degree,
They shall ere long, become as poore,
As those, that beg from doore to doore.
If poore they be; it plaine appeares,
They shall become great Princes Peeres:
And, in their Emblem, they may know,
What very day, it will be, so.


You, have attempted many a thing,
Which, you, to passe, could never bring;
Not, that, your Worke was hard to doe,
But, 'cause, you us'd wrong Meanes, thereto.
Hereafter, therefore, learne, I pray,
The Times of Working, and, the Way;
And, of thine Emblem, take thou heed,
If, better, thou desire to speed.



If you, to greater Wealth, will rise,
You must not, slender Gaine, despise;
Nay, if, you minde not, to be poore,
You must regard slight Losses, more:
For, Wealth, and Poverty, doe come,
Not all at once, but, some and some.
If this, concerne you, any wayes,
See, what your Emblem, further, sayes.
See, Emb. L.


Your Fortune, hath deserved thank,
That she, on you, bestowes a Blank:
For, as you, nothing good, have had;
So, you, have nothing, that is bad.
Yea, she, in this, hath favour showne,
(If, now, your Freedome well be knowne)
For, you, by Lot, these Emblems, mist,
That you, may chuse out, which you list.


You, by an Emblem, seeke to get
What Counsel your Affaires may fit;
But, in particular, there's none,
Which, you, by Lot, can light upon:
And, why? because, no Morall, there,
Doth, worthy of your Heed, appeare?
No; but because you rather, need,
Of ev'ry Emblem, to take heed.


The Starres, are, now, no friends of your,
Or this is not their lucky houre:
For, at this time, unto your Lot,
They, by an Emblem, answer not.
If, therefore, you desire to know
What good advice they will allow,
Some further Meanes, you must assay,
Or, trye your Chance, another day.


You, in your secret thoughts, despise
To thinke an Emblem should advise,
Or give you cause to minde or heed
Those things, whereof you may have need:
And, therefore, when, the Lot, you try'd,
An answer, justly, was deny'd.
Yet (by your leave) there are but few,
Who, need good Counsell, more then you.



In some extreame, you often are,
And, shoot too short, or else too farre;
Yea, such an errour, you were in,
When, for a Lot, you mov'd the Pin:
For, one touch more, or lesse, had layd
Our Index, where it should have stayd.
But, if you can be warn'd, by this,
To keepe the Meane, which oft you misse,
You have obtain'd as good a Lot,
As any one, this day, hath got.


Among these Emblems, none there be,
Which, now by Lot will fall to thee;
However, doe not thou repine:
For, this doth seeme to be a signe,
That, thou, thy Portion, shalt advance
By Vertue, not by fickle Chance.
Yet, nerethelesse, despise thou not
What, by good Fortune, may be got.



With Metricall Illvstrations; And,
disposed into Lotteries, both Morall
and Divine.

That Jnstruction, and Good Counsell, may bee furthered
by an Honest and Pleasant Recreation.

By George Wither.

The Second Booke.


Printed by Avgvstine Mathewes.

Prince, CHARLES, Prince of Wales, &c.

FAir'st Blossome of our hopes; and Morning-starre
To all these Ilands, which inclosed are
By Neptunes armes, within our Northern climes;
And who (wee trust) shall rise, in future times,
To be the brightest Light, that, then will shine,
Betwixt the Artick-Circle, and the Line.
To Yov (as now you are) that I present
These Emblems, 'tis not so impertinent
As those may thinke it, who have neither seene
What, of your Cradle-sports, hath heeded beene;
Nor heard how many serious Questionings,
Your Child-hood frameth, out of trifling things:
And, if mine aime I have not much mistooke,
I come not oversoone with such a Booke.
So long as in this Infant-Age you are,
(Wherein, the speechlesse Portraitures appeare
A pleasurefull delight) your Highnesse may
Among our Emblems, finde a Harmelesse-play:
And, those mute Objects will from time to time,
Still Riper, seeme, till you to ripenesse clime.
When their dumb Figures, no more sport can make,
Their Illustrations, will begin to speake;
And, ev'ry day, new matter still disclose,
Vntill your Iudgement to perfection growes.
They likewise, who their Services, to do
Frequent your Presence, may have pleasure too,
From this your Play-game: yea, and some perchance,
May cure a Folly, or an Ignorance
By that, which they shall either heare or view
In these our Emblems, when they wait on You;
Or, shall be called, by your Excellence,
To try what Lot, they shall obtaine from thence.
It may, moreover, much increase the sport,
Which is allowed in a vertuous Covrt;
When they whose faults have long suspected bin,
Shall draw forth private Censures of their Sin,
And, heare their Emblems, openly, display,
What, others dare not, but in private, say:
Nor will, to Yov, the Morals be in vaine,
Ev'n when to manly Knowledge you attaine;
For, though to Teach, it will not them become
To be Remembrancers, they may presume:
And, that which in their Child-hood, men shall heed,
Will soonest come to minde, in time of need.
Incourag'd by these Hopes, I thought it meet
To lay this humble Present at your feet.
Accept it, now; and, please to favour me,
When I growe old, and, You a Man shall be.

To your Highnesse

most humbly devoted,

Geo: Wither.

and hopeful Prince JAMES,
Duke of Yorke, &c.

Sweet Prince,

YOur hand I kisse; and, thus my Lines addresse
Vnto your wise, and vertuous * Governesse.
* The Countesse of Dorset.
For, Madame, (as his Proxy) it is fit,
That, Yov both Read, and answere for him, yet.
To Yov for Him, J therefore tender, here,
To welcome-in the New-beginning Yeare,
This harmelesse Play-Game; that, it may have place,
When somewhat riper Daies, shall Make his GRACE,
Affect such Objects; which, to looke upon
May pleasure yeeld him, e're this Yeare be gone.
'Tis not the least Discretion, in great Covrts,
To know what Recreations, and what Sports
Become young Princes; or, to find out those,
Which may, with harmelesse pleasantnesse, dispose
Their Mindes to VERTVE: neither in their Cradles,
Should this be heeded lesse, than in their Sadles:
Because, when first to know, we doe begin,
A small Occasion, lets much Evill in.
Among those things, which both Instruct and please;
But few, (for Children) are surpassing these:
For, they, to looke on Pictures, much desire;
And, not to Looke alone, but, to enquire
What things those are, that represented be,
In ev'ry Map, or Emblem, which they see.
And, that which they shall view, or shall be told,
(By meanes of any Figure they behold)
Experience breedes; assisteth Memory;
Or, helps to forme a Witty Fantasie:
And, if those Formes to good Instruction tend,
Oft steads them, also, till their lives have end.
Then, since ev'n all of us, much Good receive
By Vertuous Princes; And should, therefore, strive
To adde some helpes, whereby they might acquire
That Excellence, which wee in them desire.
I (being able, to present his GRACE,
With nothing but a Rattle, or a Glasse,
Or some such Cradle-play-game) bring, to day,
This BOOKE, to be as usefull as it may:
And, how, and when, it will most usefull grow,
Without my Teaching, YOV can fully show.
For, what is of your Ablenesse believ'd,
Through all these famous Ilands, hath receiv'd,
A large applause; in that, from out of those
Which ablest were, both King and State have chose
Your Faith and Wisedome, to be TREASVRESSE
Of their chiefe Iewels; and the GOVERNESSE
Of our prime Hopes. And, now J this have weigh'd,
Me thinks, there needs no more, by me, be said,
But, (having pray'd your HONOVR to receive
This PRESENT for the DVKE) to take my leave;
And Versifie to him, some other day,
When Hee can understand mee, what I say.

Till then, let it please your Honour sometimes to
remember Him, that

I am his Graces

daily and humble


Geo: Wither.


We best shall quiet clamorous Thronges,
When, we our selves, can rule our Tongues.

Illvstr. I. Book. 2

Hen I observe the Melanchollie Owles,
Considering with what patience, they sustaine
The many clamours, of the greater Fowles;
And, how the little Chirpers, they disdaine:
When I remember, how, their Injuries
They sleight, (who, causeles give them an offence)
Vouchsafing, scarce to cast aside their eyes
To looke upon that foolish Insolence.
Me thinkes, by their Example, I am taught
To sleight the slaunders of Injurious Tongues;
To set the scoffes of Censurers, at naught,
And, with a brave neglect, to beare out Wrongs.
Hee, doubtles, whom the Psalmist, long agoe,
Vnto a lonely Desert-Owle compar'd,
Did practise thus; And, when I can doe so,
I, shall for all affronts, become prepar'd.
And, (though, this Doctrine, Flesh and blood gaine-say)
Yet, sure, to stopp the malice of Despight,
There is no better, (nay, no other) way:
Since, Rage by Opposition gathers Might.
Good God! vouchsafe, sufficient grace and strength,
That (though I have not yet, such Patience gott)
I may attaine this happy gift, at length;
And, finde the cause, that, yet, I have it not.
Though me, my Neighbours, and my Foes revile;
Make me of all their words, a Patient-bearer:
When er'e I suffer, let me be, the while,
As is the silent Lambe before the Shearer.
So; though my speakings, cannot quiet any,
My Patience may restraine the Tongues of many.


When wee by Hunger, Wisdome gaine,
Our Guts, are wiser then our Braine.

Illvstr. II. Book. 2

He Crowe, when deepe within a close-mouth'd-Pot.
She water finds, her thirstinesse to slake;
(And, knoweth not where else it might be got)
Her Belly, teacheth her, this course to take:
She flies, and fetcheth many Pibbles thither,
Then, downe into the Vessell, lets them drop;
Vntill, so many stones are brought together,
As may advance the water to the top.
From whence, we might this observation heed;
That, Hunger, Thirst, and those necessities,
(Which from the Bellies craving, doe proceed)
May make a Foole, grow provident and wise.
And, though (in sport) we say, the braines of some,
Not in their Heads, but in their Gutts, doe lye;
Yet, that, by wants, Men wiser should become,
Dissenteth not from true Philosophy:
For, no man labours with much Willingnesse,
To compasse, what he nought at all desires;
Nor seeketh so, his longing to possesse,
As, when some urgent neede, the same requires.
Nay, though he might, a willingnesse, retaine,
Yet, as the Belly, which is ever full,
Breeds fumes, that cause a sottish-witles-braine;
So, plenteous Fortunes, make the Spirits dull.
All, borne to Riches, have not all-times, witt
To keepe, (much lesse, to better) their degree:
But, men to nothing borne, oft, passage get.
(Through many wants) renown'd, and rich to bee:
Yea, Povertie and Hunger, did produce,
The best Inventions, and, of chiefest use.


Though Musicke be of some abhor'd,
She, is the Handmaid of the Lord.

Illvstr. III. Book. 2

O Musicke, and the Muses, many beare
Much hatred; and, to whatsoever ends
Their Soule-delighting-Raptures tuned are,
Such peevish dispositions, it offends.
Some others, in a Morall way, affect
Their pleasing Straines (or, for a sensuall use)
But, in Gods Worship, they the same suspect;
(Or, taxe it rather) as a great abuse.
The First of these, are full of Melancholy;
And, Pitty need, or Comfort, more then blame;
And, soone, may fall into some dangerous folly,
Vnlesse they labour, to prevent the same.
The Last, are giddie-things, that have befool'd
Their Iudgements, with beguiling-Fantasies,
Which (if they be not, by discretion, school'd)
Will plunge them into greater Vanities.
For, Musicke, is the Handmaid of the Lord,
And, for his Worship, was at first ordayned:
Yea, therewithall she fitly doth accord;
And, where Devotion thriveth, is reteyned.
Shee, by a nat'rall power, doth helpe to raise,
The mind to God, when joyfull Notes are sounded:
And, Passions fierce Distemperatures, alaies;
When, by grave Tones, the Mellody is bounded.
It, also may in Mysticke-sense, imply
What Musicke, in our-selves, ought still to be;
And, that our jarring-lives to certifie,
Wee should in Voice, in Hand, and Heart, agree:
And, sing out, Faith's new-songs, with full concent,
Vnto the Lawes, ten-stringed Instrument.


Marke, what Rewards, to Sinne, are due,
And, learne, uprightnesse to pursue.

Illvstr. IIII. Book. 2

Sword unsheathed, and a strangling-Snare,
Is figur'd here; which, in dumbe-shewes, doe preach,
Of what the Malefactor should beware;
And, they doe threaten too, aswell as Teach.
For, some there are, (would God, that summe were lesse)
Whom, neither good Advise, nor, wholesome Lawe,
Can turne from Pathwaies of Vnrighteousnesse,
If Death, or Tortures, keepe them not in awe.
These, are not they, whose Conscience for the sake
Of Goodnesse onely, Godlinesse, pursues;
But, these are they, who never scruple make
What Guilt, but, what great punishment ensues.
For such as these, this Emblem was prepar'd:
And, for their sakes, in places eminent,
Are all our Gallow-trees, and Gibbets, rear'd;
That, by the sight of them, they might repent.
Let, therefore, those who feele their hearts inclin'd
To any kind of Death-deserving-Crime,
(When they behold this Emblem) change their mind,
Lest, they (too late) repent, another time.
And, let not those our Counsell, now, contemne,
Who, doome poore Theeves to death; yet, guilty be
Of more, then most of those whom they Condemne:
But, let them Learne their perill to foresee.
For, though a little while, they may have hope
To seeme upright, (when they are nothing lesse)
And, scape the Sword, the Gallowes, and the Rope,
There is a Iudge, who sees their wickednesse;
And, when grim Death, shall summon them, from hence,
They will be fully plagu'd for their offence.


That Kingdome will establish'd bee,
Wherein the People well agree.

Illvstr. V. Book. 2

Crowned Scepter, here is fixt upright,
Betwixt foure Fowles, whose postures may declare,
They came from Coasts, or Climats opposite,
And, that, they diffring in their natures are.
In which, (as in some others, that we finde
Amongst these Emblems) little care I take
Precisely to unfold our Authors minde;
Or, on his meaning, Comments here to make.
It is the scope of my Intention, rather
From such perplext Inventions (which have nought,
Of Ancient Hieroglyphick) sense, to gather,
Whereby, some usefull Morall may be taught.
And, from these Figures, my Collections be,
That, Kingdomes, and the Royall-dignitie,
Are best upheld, where Subjects doe agree,
To keepe upright the state of Soveraignty.
When, from each Coast and quarter of the Land,
The Rich, the Poore, the Swaine, the Gentleman,
Lends, in all wants, and at all times, his hand,
To give the best assistance that he can:
Yea, when with Willing hearts, and Winged-speed,
The men of all Degrees, doe duely carry
Their Aides to publike-workes, in time of need,
And, to their Kings, be freely tributary:
Then shall the Kingdome gayne the gloriest height;
Then shall the Kingly-Title be renown'd;
Then shall the Royall-Scepter stand upright,
And, with supremest Honour, then, be Crown'd.
But, where this Duty long neglect, they shall;
The King will suffer, and, the Kingdome fall.


From that, by which I somewhat am,
The Cause of my Destruction came.

Illvstr. VI. Book. 2

He little Sparkes which rak'd in Embers lie,
Are kindly kindled by a gentle blast:
And, brands in which the fire begins to die
Revive by blowing; and, flame out at last.
The selfe same wind, becomming over strong,
Quite bloweth out againe that very flame;
Or, else, consumes away (ere it be long)
That wasting substance, which maintain'd the same.
Thus fares it, in a Thousand other things,
As soone as they the golden Meane exceed;
And, that, which keeping Measure, profit brings,
May, (by excesse) our losse, and ruine, breed.
Preferments (well and moderately sought)
Have helpt those men, new Virtues to acquire,
Who, being to superiour places brought,
Left all their goodnesse, as they climed higher.
A little wealth, may make us better able
To labour in our Callings: Yet, I see
That they, who being poore, were charitable,
Becomming rich, hard-hearted grow to be.
Love, when they entertaine it with discretion,
More worthy, and more happy, maketh men;
But, when their Love is overgrowne with Passion,
It overthrowes their happinesse, agen.
Yea, this our Flesh, (in which we doe appeare
To have that being, which we now enjoy)
If we should overmuch the same endeare,
Would our Well-being, totally destroy.
For, that which gives our Pleasures nourishment,
Is oft the poyson of our best Content.


By Guiltines, Death entred in,
And, Mischiefe still pursueth Sinne.

Illvstr. VII. Book. 2

Xions wheele, and he himselfe thereon
Is figur'd, and (by way of Emblem) here,
Set forth, for Guilty men to looke upon;
That, they, their wicked Courses might forbeare.
To gaine a lawlesse favour he desired,
And, in his wicked hopes beguiled was:
For, when to claspe with Iuno, he aspired,
In stead of her, a Clowd, he did embrace.
He, likewise, did incurre a dreadfull Doome,
(Which well befitted his presumptuous Crime)
A terror, and, a warning, to become,
For wicked men, through all succeeding time.
As did his longings, and his after Paine,
So, theirs affecteth, nor effecteth ought,
But, that, which proveth either false or vaine;
And, their false Pleasures, are as dearely, bought:
Yea, that, whereon they build their fairest Hope,
May, bring them (in conclusion of the Deed)
To clime the Gallowes, and to stretch a Rope;
Or, send them thither, where farre worse they speed:
Ev'n thither, where, the never-standing-Wheele
Of everlasting-Tortures, turneth round,
And, racks the Conscience, till the soule doth feele
All Paines, that are in Sense, and Reason found.
For, neither doth black Night, more swiftly follow,
Declining Day-light: Nor, with Nimbler Motion
Can waves, each other, downe their Channell follow,
From high-rais'd Mountaines, to the bigg-womb'd Ocean,
Then, Iustice will, when she doth once begin,
To prosecute, an Vnrepented-Sin.


When wee have greatest Griefes and Feares,
Then, Consolation sweet'st appeares.

Illvstr. VIII. Book. 2

Hen, all the yeare, our fields are fresh and greene,
And, while sweet Flowers, and Sunshine, every day,
(As oft, as need requireth) come betweene
The Heav'ns and earth; they heedles passe away.
The fulnes, and continuance, of a blessing,
Doth make us to be senseles of the good:
And, if it sometime flie not our possessing,
The sweetnesse of it, is not understood.
Had wee no Winter, Sommer would be thought
Not halfe so pleasing: And, if Tempests were not,
Such Comforts could not by a Calme, be brought:
For, things, save by their Opposites, appeare not.
Both health, and wealth, is tastles unto some;
And, so is ease, and every other pleasure,
Till poore, or sicke, or grieved, they become:
And, then, they relish these, in ampler measure.
God, therefore (full as kinde, as he is wise)
So tempreth all the Favours he will doe us,
That, wee, his Bounties, may the better prize;
And, make his Chastisements lesse bitter to us.
One while, a scorching Indignation burnes
The Flowers and Blosomes of our Hopes, away;
Which into Scarsitie, our Plentie turnes,
And, changeth vnmowne-Grasse to parched-Hay;
Anon, his fruitfull showres, and pleasing dewes,
Commixt with cheerefull Rayes, he sendeth downe;
And then the Barren-earth her cropp renewes,
Which with rich Harvests, Hills, and Vallies Crowne:
For, as to relish Ioyes, he sorrow sends,
So, Comfort on Temptation, still, attends.


To brawle for Gaine, the Cocke doth sleight;
But, for his Females, he will fight.

Illvstr. IX. Book. 2

Ome, are so quarrellous, that they will draw,
And Brawle, and Fight, for every toy they see;
Grow furious, for the wagging of a straw;
And, (otherwile) for lesse then that may be.
Some, are more staid, a little, and will beare,
Apparent wrongs (which to their face you doe;)
But, when they Lye, they cannot brooke to heare
That any should be bold to tell them so.
Another sort, I know, that blowes will take,
Put up the Lye, and give men leave to say
What words they please; till spoile they seeke to make
Of their estates; And, then, they'le kill and slay.
But, of all Hacksters, farre the fiercest are
Our Cockrills of the game, (Sir Cupid's knights)
Who, (on their foolish Coxcombes) often weare
The Scarres they get in their Venerean-fights.
Take heede of these; for, you may pacifie
The first, by time: The second, will be pleas'd
If you submit, or else your words denie;
The third, by satisfaction, are appeas'd:
But, he that for his Female, takes offence,
Through Iealousy, or madnesse, rageth so;
That, he accepteth of no recompence,
Till he hath wrought his Rivals overthrow.
Such Fury, shun; and, shunne their Vulgar minde,
Who for base trash despitefully contend;
But, (when a just occasion, thou shalt finde)
Thy Vertuous Mistresse, lawfully defend.
For, he, that in such cases turnes his face,
Is held a Capon, of a Dunghill Race.


If Safely, thou desire to goe,
Bee nor too swift, nor overflow.

Illvstr. X. Book. 2

Vr Elders, when their meaning was to shew
A native-speedinesse (in Emblem wise)
The picture of a Dolphin-Fish they drew;
Which, through the waters, with great swiftnesse, flies.
An Anchor, they did figure, to declare
Hope, stayednesse, or a grave-deliberation:
And therefore when those two, united are,
It giveth us a two-fold Intimation.
For, as the Dolphin putteth us in minde,
That in the Courses, which we have to make,
Wee should not be, to slothfulnesse enclin'd;
But, swift to follow what we undertake:
So, by an Anchor added thereunto,
Inform'd wee are, that, to maintaine our speed,
Hope, must bee joyn'd therewith (in all we doe)
If wee will undiscouraged proceed.
It sheweth (also) that, our speedinesse,
Must have some staydnesse; lest, when wee suppose
To prosecute our aymes with good successe,
Wee may, by Rashnesse, good endeavors lose.
They worke, with most securitie, that know
The Times, and best Occasions of delay;
When, likewise, to be neither swift, nor slow;
And, when to practise all the speed, they may.
For, whether calme, or stormie-passages,
(Through this life's Ocean) shall their Bark attend;
This double Vertue, will procure their ease:
And, them, in all necessities, befriend.
By Speedinesse, our works are timely wrought;
By Staydnesse, they, to passe are, safely, brought.


They that in Hope, and Silence, live,
The best Contentment, may atchive.

Illvstr. XI. Book. 2

F thou desire to cherish true Content,
And in a troublous time that course to take,
Which may be likely mischieves to prevent,
Some use, of this our Hieroglyphick, make.
The Fryers Habit, seemeth to import,
That, thou (as ancient Monkes and Fryers did)
Shouldst live remote, from places of resort,
And, in retyrednesse, lye closely hid.
The clasped-Booke, doth warne thee, to retaine
Thy thoughts within the compasse of thy breast;
And, in a quiet silence to remaine,
Vntill, thy minde may safely be exprest.
That Anchor, doth informe thee, that thou must
Walke on in Hope; and, in thy Pilgrimage,
Beare up (without despairing or distrust)
Those wrongs, and sufferings, which attend thine Age.
For, whensoere Oppression groweth rife,
Obscurenesse, is more safe than Eminence;
Hee, that then keepes his Tongue, may keepe his Life,
Till Times will better favour Innocence.
Truth spoken where untruth is more approved,
Will but enrage the malice of thy foes;
And, otherwhile, a wicked man is moved
To cease from wrong, if no man him oppose.
Let this our Emblem, therefore, counsell thee,
Thy life in safe Retyrednesse, to spend:
Let, in thy breast, thy thoughts reserved bee,
Till thou art layd, where none can thee offend.
And, whilst most others, give their Fancie scope,
Enjoy thy selfe, in Silence, and in Hope.


Let none despaire of their Estate,
For, Prudence, greater is, than Fate.

Illvstr. XII. Book. 2

Ee merry man, and let no causelesse feare
Of Constellation, fatall Destinie,
Or of those false Decrees, that publish'd are
By foolish braines, thy Conscience terrifie.
To thee, these Figures better Doctrines teach,
Than those blind Stoikes, who necessitate
Contingent things; and, arrogantly teach
(For doubtlesse truths) their dreames of changelesse Fate.
Though true it bee, that those things which pertaine,
As Ground-workes, to Gods glorie, and our blisse,
Are fixt, for aye, unchanged to remaine;
All, is not such, that thereon builded is.
God, gives men power, to build on his Foundation;
And, if their workes bee thereunto agreeing,
No Power-created, brings that Variation,
Which can disturbe, the Workmans happy being.
Nor, of those workings, which required are,
Is any made unpossible, untill
Mans heart begins that Counsell to preferre,
Which is derived from a crooked-will.
The Starres, and many other things, incline
Our nat'rall Constitutions, divers wayes;
But, in the Soule, God plac'd a Power-divine,
Which, all those Inclinations, overswayes.
Yea, God, that Prudence, hath infus'd, by Grace,
Which, till Selfe-will, and Lust, betrayes a man,
Will keepe him firmely, in that happy place,
From whence, no Constellation move him can.
And, this is that, whereof I notice take,
From this great Starre, enclosed by a Snake.


Their Friendship firme will ever bide,
Whose hands unto the Crosse are tide.

Illvstr. XIII. Book. 2

Hen first I knew the world, (and was untaught
By tryde experience, what true Friendship meant)
That I had many faithfull friends, I thought;
And, of their Love, was wondrous confident.
For, few so young in yeares, and meane in fortune,
Of their Familiars, had such troopes, as I,
Who did their daily fellowship importune;
Or, seeme so pleased in their company.
In all their friendly meetings, I was one;
And, of the Quorum, in their honest game:
By day or night, I seldome sate alone;
And, welcome seemed, wheresoere I came.
But, where are now those multitudes of Friends?
Alas! they on a sudden flasht away.
Their love begun, but, for some sensuall ends,
Which fayling them, it would no longer stay.
If I to vaine expences, would have mov'd them,
They, nor their paines, nor purses, would have spared;
But, in a reall need, if I had prov'd them,
Small showes of kindnesse, had bin then declared.
Of thrice three thousands, two, perhaps, or three,
Are left me now, which (yet) as Friends I prize;
But, none of them, of that great number be,
With whom I had my youthfull Iollities.
If, therefore, thou desire a Friend, on Earth,
Let one pure-faith betwixt you bee begot,
And, seeke him not, in vanities, or mirth,
But, let Afflictions tye your true-love-knot:
For, they who to the Crosse, are firmely tyde,
Will fast, and everlasting Friends, abide.


A Candle that affords no light,
What profits it, by Day, or Night?

Illvstr. XIIII. Book. 2

Here be of those in every Common-weale,
Whom to this Emblem we resemble may;
The Name of none I purpose to reveale,
But, their Condition, heere, I will display.
Some, both by gifts of Nature, and of Grace,
Are so prepared, that, they might be fit
To stand as Lights, in profitable place;
Yet, loose their Talent, by neglecting it.
Some, to the common Grace, and nat'rall parts,
(By helpe of Nurture, and good Discipline)
Have added an accomplishment of Arts,
By which, their Light may much the brighter shine.
Some others, have to this, acquired more:
For, to maintaine their Lampe, in giving light,
Of Waxe, and Oyle, and Fatnesse, they have store,
Which over-flowes unto them, day and night.
And, ev'n as Lampes, or Candles, on a Table,
(Or, fixt on golden Candlesticks, on high)
To light Assemblies, Great and Honourable,
They, oft, have (also) place of Dignitie.
By meanes of which, their Splendor might become
His praise, who those high favours did bequeath:
They might encrease the Light of Christendome,
And, make them see, who sit in shades of Death.
But, many of them, like those Candles bee,
That stand unlighted in a Branch of gold:
For, by their helpe wee nothing more can see,
Than wee in grossest darknesse, may behold.
If such there be, (as there bee such, I feare)
The question is, For what good use they are.


The Sacrifice, God loveth best,
Are Broken-hearts, for Sin, opprest.

Illvstr. XV. Book. 2

O Age, hath had a people, to professe
Religion, with a shew of holinesse,
Beyond these times; nor, did men sacrifice,
According to their foolish fantasies,
More oft than at this present. One, bestowes
On pious-workes, the hundreth part, of those
Ill-gotten goods, which from the poore he seazed,
And, thinkes his God, in that, is highly pleased.
Another, of her dues, the Church bereaves:
And, yet, himselfe a holy man conceives,
(Yea, and right bountifull) if hee can spare
From those his thefts, the tenth, or twentieth share,
To some new Lecture; or, a Chaplaine keepe,
To please Himselfe, or, preach his Wife asleepe.
Some others, thinke they bring sincere Oblations,
When, fir'd with zeale, they roare out Imprecations
Against all those, whom wicked they repute:
And, when to God, they tender any sute,
They dreame to merit what they would obtaine,
By praying-long, with Repetitions vaine.
With many other such like Sacrifices
Men come to God: but, he such gifts despises:
For, neither gifts, nor workes, nor any thing
(Which we can either doe, or say, or bring,)
Accepted is of God; untill he finde
A Spirit-humbled, and a troubled-minde.
A contrite Heart, is that, and, that alone,
Which God with love, and pitie, lookes upon.
Such he affects; therefore (Oh Lord) to thee;
Such, let my Heart, and, such, my Spirit bee.


A King, that prudently Commands,
Becomes the glory of his Lands.

Illvstr. XVI. Book. 2

He Royall-Scepter, Kingly power, implyes;
The Crowne-Imperiall, Glorie, signifies:
And, by these joyn'd in one, we understand,
A King, that is an honour to his Land.
A Kingdome, is not alwaies eminent,
By having Confines of a large extent;
For, Povertie, and Barbarousnesse, are found
Ev'n in some large Dominions, to abound:
Nor, is it Wealth, which gets a glorious-Name;
For, then, those Lands would spread the widest Fame,
From whence we fetch the Gold and Silver-ore;
And, where we gather Pearles upon the shore:
Nor, have those Countries highest exaltations,
Which breed the strongest, and the Warlikst Nations;
For, proud of their owne powre, they sometimes grow,
And quarrell, till themselves they overthrow.
Nor, doe the chiefest glories, of a Land,
In many Cities, or much People, stand:
For, then, those Kingdomes, most renowned were,
In which Vnchristian Kings, and, Tyrants are.
It is the King by whom a Realme's renowne,
Is either builded up, or overthrowne.
By Solomon, more fam'd was Iudah made,
Then, by the Multitude of men it had:
Great Alexander, glorified Greece,
Throughout the World, which, else had bene a piece
Perhaps obscure; And, Cæsar added more
To Rome, then all her greatnesse did before.
Grant, Lord, these Iles, for ever may be blessed,
With what, in this our Emblem is expressed.


By Studie, and by Watchfulnesse,
The Jemme of Knowledge, we possesse.

Illvstr. XVII. Book. 2

Thinke you would be wise; for, most men seeme
To make of Knowledge very great esteeme.
If such be your desires, this Emblem view;
And, marke how well the Figures, counsell you.
Wee by the Bird of Athens, doe expresse,
That painefull, and that usefull watchfulnesse,
Which ought to bee enjoyned, unto them,
Who seeke a place, in Wisdomes Academ.
For, as an Owle mewes up her selfe by Day,
And watcheth in the Night, to get her prey;
Ev'n so, good Students, neither must be such,
As daily gad; or nightly sleepe too much.
That open-booke, on which the Owle is perch'd,
Affords a Morall, worthy to be search'd:
For, it informes, and, darkly doth advise,
Your Watchings be not after Vanities;
(Or, like their Wakings, who turne dayes to nights,
In following their unlawfull appetites)
And, that, in keeping Home, you doe not spend
Your houres in sloth, or, to some fruitlesse end.
But, rather in good Studies; and, in that,
By which, true Knowledge, is arrived at.
For, if your Studies, and your Wakings, bee
To this intent; you shall that Path-way see
To Wisdome, and to Honour, which was found,
Of them, whose Knowledge hath been most renownd.
But, if your Watchings, and Retyrednesse,
Be for your Lust, or, out of Sottishnesse;
You are not, what th' Athenian-Owle implies,
But, what our English-Owlet signifies.


When Mars, and Pallas, doe agree,
Great workes, by them, effected bee.

Illvstr. XVIII. Book. 2

T prospers ever best, in all Estates,
When Mars and Pallas are continuall Mates.
And, those affaires but seldome luckie be,
In which, these needfull Powers, doe not agree.
That Common-wealth, in which, good Arts are found
Without a Guard, will soone receive a wound:
And, Souldiers, where good-order beares no sway,
Will, very quickly, rout themselves away.
Moreover, in our private Actions too,
There must bee both a Knowledge, how to doe
The worke propos'd; and strength to finish it;
Or, wee shall profit little by our Wit.
Discretion takes effect, where Vigour failes;
Where Cunning speeds not, outward-force prevailes;
And, otherwhile, the prize pertaines to neither,
Till they have joyn'd their Vertues both together.
Consider this; and, as occasions are,
To both of these your due respects declare.
Delight not so in Arts, to purchase harmes
By Negligence, or Ignorance of Armes:
If Martiall-Discipline thou shalt affect;
Yet, doe not honest-Policie, neglect.
Improve thy Minde, as much as e're thou may;
But foole thou not thy Bodies gifts away.
The Vertues both of Body, and of Mind,
Are, still, to be regarded in their kind.
And, wee should neither of the two disgrace;
Nor, either of them, raise above his place:
For, when these two wee value as wee ought,
Great works, by their joynt-power, to passe are brought.


They, after suffring, shall be crown'd,
In whom, a Constant-faith, is found.

Illvstr. XIX. Book. 2

Arke well this Emblem; and, observe you thence
The nature of true Christian-confidence.
Her Foot is fixed on a squared-Stone,
Which, whether side soe're you turne it on,
Stands fast; and, is that Corner-stone, which props,
And firmely knits the structure of our Hopes.
Shee, alwayes, beares a Crosse; to signifie,
That, there was never any Constancie
Without her Tryalls: and, that, her perfection,
Shall never be attain'd, without Affliction.
A Cup shee hath, moreover, in her hand;
And, by that Figure, thou mayst understand,
That, shee hath draughts of Comfort, alwayes neere her,
(At ev'ry brunt) to strengthen, and to cheare her.
And, loe, her head is crown'd; that, we may see
How great, her Glories, and Rewards, will be.
Hereby, this Vertue's nature may be knowne:
Now, practise, how to make the same thine owne.
Discourag'd be not, though thou art pursu'd
With many wrongs, which cannot be eschew'd;
Nor yeeld thou to Despairing, though thou hast
A Crosse (which threatens death) to be embrac't;
Or, though thou be compell'd to swallow up,
The very dregs, of Sorrowes bitter Cup:
For, whensoever griefes, or torments, paine thee,
Thou hast the same Foundation to sustaine thee:
The selfe same Cup of Comfort, is prepared
To give thee strength, when fainting-fits are feared:
And, when thy time of tryall, is expired,
Thou shalt obtaine the Crowne, thou hast desired.


Love, a Musician is profest,
And, of all Musicke, is the best.

Illvstr. XX. Book. 2

F to his thoughts my Comments have assented,
By whom the following Emblem was invented,
I'le hereby teach you (Ladies) to discover
A true-bred Cupid, from a fained Lover;
And, shew (if you have Wooers) which be they,
That worth'est are to beare your Hearts away.
As is the Boy, which, here, you pictured see,
Let them be young, or let them, rather, be
Of suiting-yeares (which is instead of youth)
And, wooe you in the nakednesse, of Truth;
Not in the common and disguised Clothes,
Of Mimick-gestures, Complements, and Oathes.
Let them be winged with a swift Desire;
And, not with slow-affections, that will tyre.
But, looke to this, as to the principall,
That, Love doe make them truly Musicall:
For, Love's a good Musician; and, will show
How, every faithfull Lover may be so.
Each word he speakes, will presently appeare
To be melodious Raptures in your eare:
Each gesture of his body, when he moves,
Will seeme to play, or sing, a Song of Loves:
The very lookes, and motions of his eyes,
Will touch your Heart-strings, with sweet Harmonies;
And, if the Name of him, be but exprest,
T'will cause a thousand quaverings in your breast.
Nay, ev'n those Discords, which occasion'd are,
Will make your Musicke, much the sweeter, farre.
And, such a mooving Diapason strike,
As none but Love, can ever play the like.


Thy seeming-Lover, false will bee,
And, love thy Money, more than Thee.

Illvstr. XXI. Book. 2

Hat may the reason be, so many wed,
And misse the blessings of a joyfull-Bed,
But those ungodly, and improper ends,
For which, this Age most Marriages intends?
Some, love plumpe flesh; and, those as kinde will be
To any gamesome Wanton, as to thee.
Some, doate on Honours; and, all such will prize
Thy Person, meerely, for thy Dignities.
Some, fancy Pleasures; and, such Flirts as they,
With ev'ry Hobby-horse, will runne away.
Some (like this Couple in our Emblem, here)
Wooe hard for Wealth; and, very kind appeare,
Till they have wonne their prize: but, then they show
On what their best Affections they bestow.
This Wealth, is that sweet Beautie, which preferres
So many to their Executioners.
This, is that rare Perfection, for whose sake,
The Politician, doth his Marriage, make.
Yea, most of those whom you shall married find,
Were cousned, (or did cousen) in this kind;
And, for some by-spects, they came together,
Much more, than for the sakes, of one another.
If this concernes thee, now, in any sense;
For thy instruction, take this warning hence:
If thou hast err'd already, then, lament
Thy passed crime, and, beare thy punishment.
If thou, as yet, but tempted art to erre;
Then, let this Emblem be thy Counsellor:
For, I have said my mind; which, if thou slight,
Goe, and repent it, on thy wedding night.


Give Credit; but, first, well beware,
Before thou trust them, who they are.

Illvstr. XXII. Book. 2

Rather would (because it seemeth just)
Deceived be, than causelesly distrust:
Yet, whom I credited; and, then, how farre;
Bee Cautions, which I thought worth heeding were:
And, had not this been taught me long agone,
I had been poorer, if not quite undone.
That, others to such warinesse, may come,
This Emblem, here, hath filled up a roome;
And, though a vulgar Figure, it may seeme,
The Morall, of it, meriteth esteeme.
That Seeing-Palme, (endowed with an Eye,
And handling of a Heart) may signifie
What warie Watchfulnesse, observe we must,
Before we venter on a weightie Trust:
And, that, to keepe our kindnesse from abuse,
There is of double-diligence, an use.
Mens hearts, are growne so false, that most are loath
To trust each others Words, or Bands, or Oath:
For, though wee had in every part an Eye,
We could not search out all Hypocrisie;
Nor, by our utmost providence, perceive
How many wayes, are open to deceive.
Now, then (although perhaps thou art so wise,
To know already, what I would advise)
Yet may this Emblem, or this Motto, bee
Instead of some Remembrancer, to thee.
So, take it therefore; And, be sure, if either
This Warning, or thy Wit, (or both together)
Can, still, secure thee from deceitfull-hearts;
Thy luck exceedeth all thy other parts.


Hee, that on Earthly-things, doth trust,
Dependeth, upon Smoake, and Dust.

Illvstr. XXIII. Book. 2

Ord! what a coyle is here! and what a puther,
To save and get? to scratch and scrape together
The Rubbish of the world? and, to acquire
Those vanities, which Fancie doth desire?
What Violence is used, and what Cunning?
What nightly Watchings, and what daily Running?
What sorrowes felt? what difficulties entred?
What losses hazarded? what perills ventred?
And, still, how sottishly, doe wee persever
(By all the power, and meanes wee can endeaver)
To wheele our selves, in a perpetuall Round,
In quest of that, which never will be found?
In Objects, here on Earth, we seeke to finde
That perfect sollidnesse, which is confinde,
To things in Heaven, though every day we see,
What emptinesse, and faylings, in them be.
To teach us better; this, our Emblem, here,
Assayes to make terrestriall things appeare
The same they be, (both to our eares and eyes)
That, wee may rightly their Condition prize.
The best, which of earths best things, wee can say,
Is this; that they are Grasse, and will be Hay.
The rest, may be resembled to the Smoke,
(Which doth but either blind the sight, or choke)
Or else, to that uncleanly Mushrum-ball,
Which, in some Countries, wee a Puff-foyst call;
Whose out-side, is a nastie rotten skin,
Containing durt, or smoking-dust, within.
This is my mind; if wrong you thinke I've done them,
Be Fooles; and, at your perils, dote upon them.


I beare, about mee, all my store;
And, yet, a King enjoyes not more.

Illvstr. XXIIII. Book. 2

His Emblem is a Torteise, whose owne shell
Becomes that house, where he doth rent-free dwell;
And, in what place soever hee resides,
His Arched-Lodging, on his backe abides.
There is, moreover, found a kind of these,
That live both on the shore, and in the Seas;
For which respects, the Torteise represents
That man, who in himselfe, hath full contents;
And (by the Vertues lodging in his minde)
Can all things needfull, in all places, finde.
To such a Man, what ever doth betide;
From him, his Treasures, nothing can divide.
If of his outward-meanes, Theeves make a prise;
Hee, more occasion hath to exercise
His inward-Riches: and, they prove a Wealth,
More usefull, and lesse lyable to stealth.
If, any at his harmelesse person strike;
Himselfe hee streight contracteth, Torteis-like,
To make the Shell of Suffrance, his defence;
And, counts it Life, to die with Innocence.
If, hee, by hunger, heat, or cold, be payn'd;
If, hee, be slaundred, sleighted, or disdayn'd;
Hee, alwayes keepes and carries, that, within him,
Which may, from those things, ease and comfort, win him.
When, him uncloathed, or unhous'd, you see;
His Resolutions, clothes and houses bee,
That keepe him safer; and, farre warmer too,
Than Palaces, and princely Robes, can doe.
God give mee wealth, that hath so little Cumber;
And, much good doo't the World with all her Lumber.


To Learning, J a love should have,
Although one foot were in the Grave.

Illvstr. XXV. Book. 2

Ere, we an Aged-man described have,
That hath one foot, already, in the Grave:
And, if you marke it (though the Sunne decline,
And horned Cynthia doth begin to shine)
With open-booke, and, with attentive eyes,
Himselfe, to compasse Knowledge, he applyes:
And, though that Evening, end his last of dayes,
Yet, I will study, more to learne, he sayes.
From this, we gather, that, while time doth last,
The time of learning, never will be past;
And, that, each houre, till we our life lay downe,
Still, something, touching life, is to be knowne.
When he was old, wise Cato learned Greeke:
But, we have aged-folkes, that are to seeke
Of that, which they have much more cause to learne;
Yet, no such minde in them, wee shall discerne.
For, that, which they should studie in their prime,
Is, oft, deferred, till their latter-time:
And, then, old-age, unfit for learning, makes them,
Or, else, that common dulnesse overtakes them,
Which makes ashamed, that it should be thought,
They need, like little-children, to be taught.
And, so, out of this world, they doe returne
As wise, as in that weeke, when they were borne.
God, grant me grace, to spend my life-time so,
That I my duety still may seeke to know;
And, that, I never, may so farre proceed,
To thinke, that I, more Knowledge, doe not need:
But, in Experience, may continue growing,
Till I am fill'd with fruits of pious-knowing.


Good-fortune, will by those abide,
In whom, True-vertue doth reside.

Illvstr. XXVI. Book. 2

Arke, how the Cornucopias, here, apply
Their Plenties, to the Rod of Mercury;
And (if it seeme not needlesse) learne, to know
This Hieroglyphick's meaning, ere you goe.
The Sages old, by this Mercurian-wand
(Caducæus nam'd) were wont to understand
Art, Wisedome, Vertue, and what else we finde,
Reputed for endowments of the Minde.
The Cornucopias, well-knowne Emblems, are,
By which, great wealth, and plenties, figur'd were;
And (if you joyne together, what they spell)
It will, to ev'ry Vnderstanding, tell,
That, where Internall-Graces may be found,
Eternall-blessings, ever, will abound.
For, this is truth, and (though some thoughts in you
Suggest, that this is, often times, untrue)
This, ever is the truth; and, they have got
Few right-form'd Vertues, who believe it not.
I will confesse, true Vertue hath not ever
All Common-plenties, for which most indeavour;
Nor have the Perfect'st-Vertues, those high places,
Which Knowledge, Arts (and, such as have the faces
Of outward beauty) many times, attaine;
For, these are things, which (often) those men gaine,
That are more flesh, then spirit; and, have need
Of carnall-helpes, till higher they proceede.
But, they, of whom I speake, are flowne so high,
As, not to want those Toyes, for which wee crye:
And, I had showne you somewhat of their store,
But, that, this Page, had roome to write no more.


The Gospel, thankefully imbrace;
For, God, vouchsafed us, this Grace.

Illvstr. XXVII. Book. 2

His moderne Emblem, is a mute expressing
Of Gods great Mercies, in a Moderne-blessing;
And, gives me, now, just cause to sing his praise,
For granting me, my being, in these dayes.
The much-desired Messages of Heav'n,
For which, our Fathers would their lives have giv'n,
And (in Groves, Caves, and Mountaines, once a yeare)
Were glad, with hazard of their goods, to heare;
Or, in lesse bloudy times, at their owne homes,
To heare, in private, and obscured roomes.
Lo; those, those Ioyfull-tydings, we doe live
Divulg'd, in every Village, to perceive;
And, that, the sounds of Gladnesse, eccho may,
Through all our goodly Temples, ev'ry day.
This was (Oh God) thy doing; unto thee,
Ascrib'd, for ever, let all Prayses bee.
Prolong this Mercie, and, vouchsafe the fruit,
May to thy Labour, on this Vine-yard, suit:
Lest, for our fruitlesnesse, thy Light of grace,
Thou, from our Golden candlesticke, displace.
We doe, me thinkes, already, Lord, beginne
To wantonize, and let that loathing in,
Which makes thy Manna tastlesse; And, I feare,
That, of those Christians, who, more often heare,
Then practise, what they know, we have too many:
And, I suspect my selfe, as much as any.
Oh! mend me so, that, by amending mee,
Amends in others, may increased be:
And, let all Graces, which thou hast bestow'd,
Returne thee honour, from whom, first, they flow'd.


The Bees, will in an Helmet breed;
And, Peace, doth after Warre, succeed.

Illvstr. XXVIII. Book. 2

Hen you have heeded, by your Eyes of sense,
This Helmet, hiving of a Swarme of Bees,
Consider, what may gather'd be from thence,
And, what your Eye of Vnderstanding sees.
That Helmet, and, those other Weapons, there,
Betoken Warre; the Honey-making, Flyes,
An Emblem of a happy Kingdome, are,
Injoying Peace, by painfull Industries:
And, when, all these together are exprest,
As in this Emblem, where the Bees, doe seeme
To make their dwelling, in a Plumed-Crest,
A Morall is implyed, worth esteeme.
For, these inferre, mysteriously, to me,
That, Peace, and Art, and Thrift, most firme abides,
In those Re-publikes, where, Armes cherisht bee;
And, where, true Martiall-discipline, resides.
When, of their Stings, the Bees, disarm'd, become,
They, who, on others Labours, use to prey,
Incourag'd are, with violence, to come,
And, beare their Honey, and, their Waxe, away.
So when a People, meerely, doe affect
To gather Wealth; and (foolishly secure)
Defences necessary, quite neglect;
Their Foes, to spoyle their Land, it will allure.
Long Peace, brings Warre; and, Warre, brings Peace, againe:
For, when the smart of Warfare seizeth on them,
They crye, Alarme; and, then, to fight, are faine,
Vntill, their Warre, another Peace, hath wonne them;
And, out of their old rusty Helmets, then,
New Bees doe swarme, and, fall to worke agen.


The Heart of him, that is upright,
In Heavenly-knowledge, takes delight.

Illvstr. XXIX. Book. 2

His Emblem, with some other of the rest,
Are scarce, with seemly Properties, exprest,
Yet, since a vulgar, and a meane Invention
May yield some Fruit, and shew a good Intention;
Ile, hence, as well informe your Intellects,
As if these Figures had not those defects.
The Booke, here shadow'd, may be said, to show
The Wisdome, and Experience, which we know
By Common meanes, and, by these Creatures, here,
Which to be plac'd below us, may appeare.
The Winged-heart, betokens those Desires,
By which, the Reasonable-soule, aspires
Above the Creature; and, attempts to clime,
To Mysteries, and Knowledge, more sublime:
Ev'n to the Knowledge of the Three-in-one,
Implyed by the Tetragrammaton.
The Smokings of this Heart, may well declare
Those Perturbations, which within us are,
Vntill, that Heavenly wisedome, we have gain'd,
Which is not, here, below, to be attain'd;
And, after which, those Hearts, that are upright,
Enquire with daily studie, and delight.
To me, Oh Lord, vouchsafe thou, to impart
The gift of such a Rectifyed-heart.
Grant me the Knowledge of Inferiour things,
So farre, alone, as their Experience, brings
The Knowledge, which, I ought to have of thee,
And, of those Dueties, thou requir'st of mee:
For, thee, Oh God, to know, and, thee to feare,
Of truest Wisedome, the Perfections are.


Where, Labour, wisely, is imploy'd,
Deserved Glory, is injoy'd.

Illvstr. XXX. Book. 2

Oe men suppose, when Gods free-giving Hand,
Doth by their Friends, or, by Inheritance,
To Wealth or Titles, raise them in the Land,
That, those, to Lasting-glories, them advance?
Or, can men thinke, such Goods, or Gifts of Nature,
As Nimble-apprehensions, Memory,
An Able-body, or, a comely Feature
(Without improvement) them, shall dignifie?
May Sloth, and Idlenesse, be warrantable,
In us, because our Fathers have been rich?
Or, are wee, therefore, truely honourable,
Because our Predecessours, have beene such?
When, nor our Fortunes, nor our naturall parts,
In any measure, are improved by us,
Are others bound (as if we had deserts)
With Attributes of Honour to belye us?
No, no; the more our Predecessours left,
(Yea, and, the more, by nature, we enjoy)
We, of the more esteeme, shall be bereft;
Because, our Talents, we doe mis-imploy.
True Glory, doth on Labour, still attend;
But, without Labour, Glory we have none.
She, crownes good Workmen, when their Works have end;
And, Shame, gives payment, where is nothing done.
Laborious, therefore, bee; But, lest the Spade
(which, here, doth Labour meane) thou use in vaine,
The Serpent, thereunto, be sure thou adde;
That is, Let Prudence guide thy taking-paine.
For, where, a wise-endeavour, shall be found,
A Wreath of Glory, will inclose it round.


Behold, you may, the Picture, here,
Of what, keepes Man, and Childe, in feare.

Illvstr. XXXI. Book. 2

Hese, are the great'st Afflictions, most men have,
Ev'n from their Nursing-cradle, to their Grave:
Yet, both so needfull are, I cannot see,
How either of them, may well spared bee.
The Rod is that, which, most our Child-hood feares;
And, seemes the great'st Affliction that it beares:
That, which to Man-hood, is a plague, as common
(And, more unsufferable) is a Woman.
Yet, blush not Ladies; neither frowne, I pray,
That, thus of Women, I presume to say;
Nor, number mee, as yet, among your foes;
For, I am more your friend, then you suppose:
Nor smile ye Men, as if, from hence, ye had
An Argument, that Woman-kinde were bad.
The Birch, is blamelesse (yea, by nature, sweet,
And gentle) till, with stubborne Boyes, it meet:
But, then, it smarts. So, Women, will be kinde,
Vntill, with froward Husbands, they are joyn'd:
And, then indeed (perhaps) like Birchen boughes,
(Which, else, had beene a trimming, to their House)
They, sometimes prove, sharpe whips, and Rods, to them,
That Wisdome, and Instruction doe contemne.
A Woman, was not given for Correction;
But, rather for a furtherance to Perfection:
A precious Balme of love, to cure Mans griefe;
And, of his Pleasures, to become the chiefe.
If, therefore, she occasion any smart,
The blame, he merits, wholly, or in part:
For, like sweet Honey, she, good Stomackes, pleases;
But, paines the Body, subject to Diseases.


Death's one long-Sleepe; and, Life's no more,
But one short-Watch, an houre before.

Illvstr. XXXII. Book. 2

Hen, on this Child-like-figure, thou shalt looke,
Which, with his Light, his Houre-glasse, and his booke,
Sits, in a watching-posture, formed here;
And, when thou hast perus'd that Motto, there,
On which he layes his hand; thy selfe apply
To what it counselleth; and, learne to die,
While that Light burnes, and, that short-houre doth last,
Which, for this Lesson, thou obtained hast.
And, in this bus'nesse, use thou no delayes;
For, if the bigger Motto truely, sayes,
There is not left unto thee, one whole Watch,
Thy necessary labours, to dispatch.
It was no more, when first thy Life begunne;
And, many Glasses of that Watch be runne:
Which thou observing, shouldst be put in minde,
To husband well, the space that is behind.
Endeavour honestly, whil'st thou hast light:
Deferre thou not, thy Iourney, till the night;
Nor, sleepe away, in Vanities, the prime,
And flowre, of thy most acceptable time.
So watchfull, rather, and, so carefull be,
That, whensoere the Bridegroome summons thee;
And, when thy Lord returnes, unlookt for, home;
Thou mayst, a Partner, in their joyes, become.
And, oh my God! so warie, and so wise,
Let me be made; that, this, which I advise
To other men (and really have thought)
May, still, in practice, by my selfe, be brought:
And, helpe, and pardon me, when I transgresse,
Through humane frailtie, or, forgetfulnesse.


What ever God did fore-decree,
Shall, without faile, fulfilled be.

Illvstr. XXXIII. Book. 2

E thinkes, that Fate, which God weighs forth to all,
I, by the Figure of this Even-Skale,
May partly show; and, let my Reader, see
The state, of an Immutable-decree;
And, how it differs, from those Destinies,
Which carnall understandings, doe devise.
For, this implies, that ev'ry thing, to-come,
Was, by a steady, and, by equall doome,
Weigh'd out, by Providence; and, that, by Grace,
Each thing, each person, ev'ry time, and place,
Had thereunto, a powre, and portion given,
So proper to their nature (and, so even
To that just measure, which, aright became
The Workings, and, the being, of the same)
As, best might helpe the furthering of that end,
Which, God's eternall wisedome, doth intend.
And, though, I dare not be so bold, as they,
Who, of God's Closet, seeme to keep the Key;
(And, things, for absolute Decrees, declare,
Which, either false, or, but Contingents are)
Yet, in his Will-reveal'd, my Reason, sees
Thus much, of his Immutable-decrees:
That, him, a Doome-eternall, reprobateth,
Who scorneth Mercie; or, Instruction hateth,
Without Repenting: And, that, whensoever,
A Sinner, true amendment, shall indeavour;
Bewaile his Wickednesse, and, call for grace;
There shall be, for Compassion, time, and place.
And, this, I hold, a branch of that Decree,
Which, Men may say, shall never changed be.


My Fortune, I had rather beare;
Then come, where greater perills are.

Illvstr. XXXIV. Book. 2

Arke well this Caged-fowle; and, thereby, see,
What, thy estate, may, peradventure, be.
She, wants her freedome; so, perhaps, dost thou,
Some freedomes lacke, which, are desired, now;
And, though, thy Body be not so confin'd;
Art straitned, from some liberty of Minde.
The Bird in thrall, the more contented lyes,
Because, the Hawke, so neere her, she espyes;
And, though, the Cage were open, more would feare,
To venture out, then to continue there:
So, if thou couldst perceive, what Birds of prey,
Are hov'ring round about thee, every day,
To seize thy Soule (when she abroad shall goe,
To take the Freedome, she desireth so)
Thou, farre more fearefull, wouldst of them, become,
Then thou art, now, of what thou flyest from.
Not Precepts, but Experience, thus hath taught me;
Which, to such resolutions, now have brought me,
That, whatsoever mischiefes others doe me,
I make them yield some true Contentments to me;
And, seldome struggle from them, till I see,
That, smother-fortunes will securer be.
What spight soere my Foes, to me, can doe,
I laugh thereat, within an houre or two;
For, though the World, and I, at first, believe,
My Suffrings, give me cause enough to grieve;
Yet, afterward, I finde (the more to glad me)
That, better Fortunes, might farre worse have made me.
By some young Devills, though, I scratched am,
Yet, I am hopefull, I shall scape their Dam.


The more contrary Windes doe blow,
The greater Vertues praise will grow.

Illvstr. XXXV. Book. 2

Bserve the nature of that Fiery-flame,
Which on the Mountaines top so brightly showes;
The Windes from every quarter, blow the same,
Yea, and to blow it out, their fury blowes;
But, lo; the more they storme, the more it shineth;
At every Blast, the Flame ascendeth higher;
And, till the Fuells want, that rage confineth,
It, will be, still, a great, and glorious Fire.
Thus fares the man, whom Vertue, Beacon-like,
Hath fixt upon the Hills of Eminence,
At him, the Tempests of mad Envie strike,
And, rage against his Piles of Innocence;
But, still, the more they wrong him, and the more
They seeke to keepe his worth from being knowne,
They, daily, make it greater, then before;
And, cause his Fame, the farther to be blowne.
When, therefore, no selfe-doting Arrogance,
But, Vertues, cover'd with a modest vaile,
Breake through obscurity, and, thee advance
To place, where Envie shall thy worth assaile;
Discourage not thy selfe: but, stand the shockes
Of wrath, and fury. Let them snarle and bite;
Pursue thee, with Detraction, Slanders, Mockes,
And, all the venom'd Engines of Despight,
Thou art above their malice; and, the blaze
Of thy Cælestiall-fire, shall shine so cleare,
That, their besotted soules, thou shalt amaze;
And, make thy Splendours, to their shame, appeare.
If this be all, that Envies rage can doe,
Lord, give me Vertues, though I suffer too.


Even as the Smoke doth passe away;
So, shall all Worldly-pompe decay.

Illvstr. XXXVI. Book. 2

Ome better Arguments, then yet I see,
I must perceive; and, better causes, why,
To those gay things, I should addicted bee,
To which, the Vulgar their Affections tye.
I have consider'd, Scepters, Miters, Crownes,
With each appurtenance to them belonging;
My heart, hath search'd their Glories, and Renownes;
And, all the pleasant things about them thronging:
My Soule, hath truely weigh'd, and, tooke the measure,
Of Riches (which the most have so desired)
I have distill'd the Quintessence of Pleasure,
And, seene those Objects, that are most admired.
I, likewise feele all Passions, and Affections,
That helpe to cheat the Reason, and perswade
That those poore Vanities, have some perfections,
Whereby their Owners, happy might be made.
Yet, when that I have rouz'd my Vnderstanding,
And cleans'd my Heart from some of that Corruption,
Which hinders in me Reasons free commanding,
And, shewes, things, without vailes, or interruption;
Then, they, me thinkes, as fruitlesse doe appeare,
As Bubbles (wherewithall young-children play)
Or, as the Smoke, which, in our Emblem, here,
Now, makes a show, and, straight, consumes away.
Be pleas'd, Oh God, my value may be such
Of every Outward-blessing, here below,
That, I may neither love them overmuch,
Nor underprise the Gifts, thou shalt bestow:
But, know the use, of all these fading Smokes;
And, be refresht, by that, which others chokes.


Death, is unable to divide
Their Hearts, whose Hands True-love hath tyde.

Illvstr. XXXVII. Book. 2

Pon an Altar, in this Emblem, stands
A Burning-heart; and, therewithall, you see
Beneath Deaths-head, a paire of Loving-hands,
Which, close, and fast-united, seeme to be.
These moderne Hieroglyphickes (vulgarly
Thus bundled up together) may afford
Good-meanings, with as much Propriety,
As best, with common Iudgements, will accord.
It may imply, that, when both Hand and Heart,
By sympathizing dearenesse are invited,
To meet each others nat'rall Counterpart,
And, are by sacred Ordinance united:
They then have entred that strict Obligation,
By which they, firmely, ev'ry way are ty'd;
And, without meanes (or thought of separation)
Should in that Vnion, till their Deaths, abide;
This, therefore, minde thou, whatsoere thou be
(Whose Marriage-ring, this Covenant, hath sealed)
For, though, thy Faith's infringement, none can see,
Thy secret fault, shall one day, be revealed.
And, thou that art at liberty, take heed,
Lest thou (as over great a number doe)
Of thine owne person, make a Privy-deed,
And, afterwards, deny thy doing so.
For, though there be, nor Church, nor Chappell, nigh thee
(Nor outward witnesses of what is done)
A Power-invisible doth alwayes eye thee;
And, thy pretended Love, so lookes upon,
That, if thou be not, till thy dying, true;
Thy Falsehood, till thy dying, thou shalt rue.


False Weights, with Measures false eschew,
And, give to ev'ry man, their Due.

Illvstr. XXXVIII. Book. 2

Orth of a Cloud (with Scale and Rule) extended
An Arme (for this next Emblem) doth appeare;
Which hath to us in silent-showes, commended,
A Vertue, that is often wanting, here.
The World, is very studious of Deceipts;
And, he is judged wisest, who deceives.
False-measures, and, Adulterated-weights,
Of many dues, the needy-man bereaves.
Ev'n Weights to sell, and, other Weights to buy
(Two sorts of weights) in practice are, with some;
And, both of these, they often falsifie,
That, they to great, and suddaine wealth, may come.
But, Conscience make of raysing your estates,
By such a base, and such a wicked way:
For, this Injustice, God expressely hates;
And, brings, at last, such thrivers to decay.
By Weight and measure, He, on all bestowes
The Portions due; That, Weight and Measure, then,
Which Man to God, or to his Neighbour owes,
Should, justly, be returned backe agen.
Give ev'ry one, in ev'ry thing his owne:
Give honour, where an honour shall be due;
Where you are loved, let your love be showne;
And, yield them succours, who have succour'd you.
Give to thy Children, breeding and Corrections;
Thy Charities, ev'n to thy Foes extend:
Give to thy wife, the best of thy Affections;
To God, thy selfe, and, all thou hast, commend:
And, lest thou faile, Remember who hath sayd,
Such measure, as thou giv'st, shall be repay'd.


He needs not feare, what spight can doe,
Whom Vertue friends, and Fortune, too.

Illvstr. XXXIX. Book. 2

Hen, in this Emblem here, observe you shall
An Eaglet, perched, on a Winged-ball
Advanced on an Altar; and, have ey'd
The Snakes, assayling him, on ev'ry side:
Me thinkes, by that, you straight should apprehend
Their state, whom Wealth, and Vertue, doe befriend.
My Iudgement, by that Altar-stone, conceives
The sollidnesse, which, true Religion gives;
And, that fast-grounded goodnesse, which, we see;
In grave, and sound Morality, to be.
The Flying-ball, doth, very well, expresse
All Outward-blessings, and, their ficklenesse.
Our Eaglet, meaneth such Contemplatives,
As, in this world, doe passe away their lives,
By so possessing that which they have got,
As if they car'd not, though, they had it not.
The Snakes, may well resemble those, among them,
Who, meerely out of envie, seeke to wrong them;
And, all these Figures (thus together layd)
Doe speake to me, as if these words, they sayd:
That man, who builds upon the best foundation,
(And spreads the widest wings of Contemplation)
Whil'st, in the flesh, he bides, will need some props
of earthly-fortunes, to support his hopes:
And, other-while, those things, may meanes become,
The stings of Envie, to secure him from.
And, hence, I learne; that, such, as will abide,
Against all Envie, strongly fortify'd,
Must joyne, great Vertues, and great Wealth, together.
God helpe us, then, poore-soules, who scarce have either!


Time, is a Fading-flowre, that's found
Within Eternities wide round.

Illvstr. XL. Book. 2

Ive Termes, there be, which five, I doe apply
To all, that was, and is, and, shall be done.
The first, and last, is that Eternitie,
Which, neither shall have End, nor, was begunne.
Beginning, is the next; which, is a space
(Or moment rather) scarce imaginarie,
Made, when the first Material, formed was;
And, then, forbidden, longer time to tarry.
Time entred, when, Beginning had an Ending,
And, is a Progresse, all the workes of Nature,
Within the circuit of it, comprehending,
Ev'n till the period, of the Outward-creature.
End, is the fourth, of those five Termes I meane;
(As briefe, as was Beginning) and, ordayned,
To set the last of moments, to that Scæne,
Which, on this Worlds wide Stage, is entertayned.
The fifth, we Everlasting, fitly, call;
For, though, it once begunne, yet, shall it never
Admit, of any future-end, at all;
But, be extended onward, still, for ever.
The knowledge of these Termes, and of what actions,
To each of them belongs, would set an end,
To many Controversies, and Distractions,
Which doe so many trouble, and offend.
Time's nature, by the Fading-flowre, appeares;
Which, is a Type, of Transitory things:
The Circled-snake, Eternitie declares;
Within whose Round, each fading Creature, springs.
Some Riddles more, to utter, I intended,
But, lo; a sudden stop, my words have ended.


When great Attempts are undergone,
Ioyne Strength and Wisedome, both in one.

Illvstr. XLI. Book. 2

F (Reader) thou desirous be to know
What by the Centaure, seemeth here intended;
What, also, by the Snake, and, by the Bowe,
Which in his hand, he beareth alway bended:
Learne, that this halfe-a man, and halfe-a horse,
Is ancient Hieroglyphicke, teaching thee,
That, Wisedome should be joyn'd with outward force,
If prosperous, we desire our workes to be.
His Vpper-part, the shape of Man, doth beare,
To teach, that, Reason must become our guide.
The hinder-parts, a Horses Members are;
To shew, that we must, also, strength provide:
The Serpent, and the Bowe, doth signifie
The same (or matter to the same effect)
And, by two Types, one Morall to implie,
Is doubled a fore-warning of neglect.
When Knowledge wanteth Power, despis'd we grow,
And, know but how to aggravate our paine:
Great strength, will worke it owne sad overthrow,
Vnlesse, it guided be, with Wisedomes reine.
Therefore, Oh God, vouchsafe thou so to marry
The gifts of Soule and Body, both, in me,
That, I may still have all things necessary,
To worke, as I commanded am, by thee.
And, let me not possesse them, Lord, alone,
But, also, know their vse; and, so well know it,
That, I may doe each duety to be done;
And, with upright Intentions, alwayes doe it.
If this be more, then, yet, obtaine I may,
My will accept thou, for the deed, I pray.


The Ground brings forth all needfull things;
But, from the Sunne, this vertue springs.

Illvstr. XLII. Book. 2

E doe acknowledge (as this Emblem showes)
That Fruits and Flowres, and many pleasant-things,
From out the Ground, in ev'ry season growes;
And, that unto their being, helpe it brings.
Yet, of it selfe, the Ground, we know is dull,
And, but a Willing-patient, whereupon
The Sunne, with Beames, and Vertues wonderfull,
Prepareth, and effecteth, what is done.
We, likewise, doe acknowledge, that our eyes
Indowed are with faculties of Seeing,
And, with some other nat'rall properties,
Which are as much our owne, as is our Being.
However, till the Sunne imparts his light,
We finde, that we in darkenesse doe remaine,
Obscured in an everlasting night;
And, boast our Seeing-faculties, in vaine.
So, we, by nature, have some nat'rall powers:
But, Grace, must those abilities of ours
First move; and, guide them, still, in moving, thus,
To worke with God, when God shall worke on us:
For, God so workes, that, no man he procures
Against his nature, ought to chuse, or shun:
But, by his holy-Spirit, him allures;
And, with sweet mildnesse, proveth ev'ry one.
The Sunne is faultlesse of it, when the birth
Of some bad Field, is nothing else but Weeds:
For, by the selfe-same Sun-shine, fruitfull Earth
Beares pleasant Crops, and plentifully breeds.
Thus, from our selves, our Vices have increase,
Our Vertues, from the Sunne of Righteousnesse.


No passage can divert the Course,
Of Pegasus, the Muses Horse.

Illvstr. XLIII. Book. 2

His is the Poets-horse; a Palfray, Sirs,
(That may be ridden, without rod or spurres)
Abroad, more famous then Bucephalus,
Though, not so knowne, as Banks his horse, with us;
Or some of those fleet-horses, which of late,
Have runne their Masters, out of their estate.
For, those, and Hobby-horses, best befit
The note, and practice of their moderne wit,
Who, what this Horse might meane, no knowledge had,
Vntill, a Taverne-signe, they saw it made.
Yet, this old Emblem (worthy veneration)
Doth figure out, that winged-contemplation,
On which the Learned mount their best Invention,
And, climbe the Hills of highest Apprehension.
This is the nimble Gennet, which doth carry,
Their Fancie, thorow Worlds imaginary;
And, by Idæas feigned, shewes them there,
The nature of those Truths, that reall are.
By meanes of this, our Soules doe come to know
A thousand secrets, in the Deeps below;
Things, here on Earth, and, things above the Skyes,
On which, we never fixed, yet, our eyes.
No thorny, miery, steepe, nor craggy place,
Can interrupt this Courser, in his race:
For, that, which others, in their passage troubles,
Augments his courage, and his vigour doubles.
Thus, fares the Minde, infus'd with brave desires;
It flies through Darkenesse, Dangers, Flouds, and Fires:
And, in despight of what her ayme resisteth:
Pursues her hopes, and takes the way she listeth.


The Husbandman, doth sow the Seeds;
And, then, on Hope, till Harvest, feeds.

Illvstr. XLIV. Book. 2

He painfull Husbandman, with sweaty browes,
Consumes in labour many a weary day:
To breake the stubborne earth, he digs and ploughes,
And, then, the Corne, he scatters on the clay:
When that is done, he harrowes in the Seeds,
And, by a well-cleans'd Furrow, layes it drye:
He, frees it from the Wormes, the Moles, the Weeds;
He, on the Fences, also hath an eye.
And, though he see the chilling Winter, bring
Snowes, Flouds, and Frosts, his Labours to annoy;
Though blasting-windes doe nip them in the Spring,
And, Summers Meldewes, threaten to destroy:
Yea, though not onely Dayes, but Weekes, they are
(Nay, many Weekes, and, many Moneths beside)
In which he must with payne, prolong his care,
Yet, constant in his hopes he doth abide.
For this respect, Hope's Emblem, here, you see
Attends the Plough, that men beholding it,
May be instructed, or else minded be,
What Hopes, continuing Labours, will befit.
Though, long thou toyled hast, and, long attended
About such workings as are necessary;
And, oftentimes, ere fully they are ended,
Shalt finde thy paines in danger to miscarry:
Yet, be not out of hope, nor quite dejected:
For, buryed Seeds will sprout when Winter's gone;
Vnlikelier things are many times effected;
And, God brings helpe, when men their best have done.
Yea, they that in Good-workes their life imploy;
Although, they sowe in teares, shall reape in joy.


Things, to their best perfection come,
Not all at once; but, some and some.

Illvstr. XLV. Book. 2

Hen, thou shalt visit, in the Moneth of May,
A costly Garden, in her best array;
And, view the well-grown Trees, the wel-trimm'd Bowers,
The Beds of Herbs, the knots of pleasant flowers,
With all the deckings, and the fine devices,
Perteyning to those earthly Paradises,
Thou canst not well suppose, one day, or two,
Did finish all, which had beene, there, to doe.
Nor dost thou, when young Plants, or new-sowne Lands,
Doe thirst for needfull Watrings, from thy hands,
By Flood-gates, let whole Ponds amongst them come;
But, them besprinklest, rather, some and some;
Lest, else, thou marre the Flowres, or chill the Seed,
Or drowne the Saplings, which did moysture need.
Let this experiment, which, to thy thought,
May by this Emblem, now perhaps, be brought,
Perswade thee to consider, that, no actions,
Can come, but by degrees, to their perfections;
And, teach thee, to allot, for every thing,
That leisurely-proceeding, which may bring
The ripenesse, and the fulnesse, thou expectest:
And, though thy Hopes, but slowly thou effectest,
Discourage not thy selfe; since, oft they prove
Most prosperous actions, which at leisure move.
By many drops, is made a mighty showre;
And many minutes finish up an houre:
By little, and by little, we possesse
Assurance of the greatest Happinesse.
And, oft, by too much haste, and, too much cost,
Great Wealth, great Honours, and, great Hopes, are lost.


Affliction, doth to many adde
More value, then, before, they had.

Illvstr. XLVI. Book. 2

Hough I am somewhat soberer to day,
I have been (I confesse) as mad as they,
Who think those men, that large Possessions have,
Gay Clothes, fine Furnitures, and Houses brave,
Are those (nay more, that they alone are those)
On whom, the stile of Rich, we should impose.
But, having, by experience, understood
His words, who sayd, his troubles did him good,
I, now perceive, the Worldly-rich are poore,
Vnlesse of Sorrowes, also, they have store.
Till from the Straw, the Flaile, the Corne doth beat;
Vntill the Chaffe, be purged from the Wheat,
Yea, till the Mill, the Graines in pieces teare,
The richnesse of the Flowre, will scarce appeare.
So, till mens persons great Afflictions touch
(If worth be found) their worth is not so much,
Because, like Wheat, in Straw, they have nor, yet,
That value, which in threshing, they may get.
For, till the bruising Flailes of God's Corrections,
Have threshed out of us our vaine Affections;
Till those Corruptions, which doe misbecome us,
Are by thy Sacred-spirit, winnowed from us;
Vntill, from us, the straw of Worldly-treasures;
Till all the dusty Chaffe of empty Pleasures;
Yea, till his Flaile, upon us, he doth lay,
To thresh the huske of this our Flesh away;
And, leave the Soule uncover'd; nay, yet more,
Till God shall make, our very Spirit poore;
We shall not up to highest Wealth aspire:
But, then we shall; and, that is my desire.


Though Fortune, hath a powerfull Name,
Yet, Vertue overcomes the same.

Illvstr. XLVII. Book. 2

Snake, (which was by wise Antiquitie
Much us'd, the type of Prudencie to be)
Hemmes in a Winged-ball, which doth imply,
That Fickle-fortune, from which, none are free.
Above this Ball, the Snake advanceth too,
The Laurell, and the Sword; which, Emblems are,
Whereby our Authour maketh much adoe,
A Conquest over Fortune, to declare.
And, well enough this purpose it befits,
If (Reader) any one of those thou be,
Whose Fortunes must be mended by their Wits;
And, it affords instructions fit for thee:
For, hence, thou mayst collect, that, no estate
Can, by Misfortunes means, become so bad,
But, Prudence (who is Mistresse over Fate)
May rule it so, that, good it might be made.
Though Fortunes outlawes, on thy Riches prey,
By Wisedome, there is meanes, of getting more;
And, ev'ry rub that's placed in thy way,
Shall make thee walke more safely, then before.
Nor Poverty, nor Paynes, nor Spightfulnesse,
Nor other Mischiefes, that Mischance can doe thee,
Shall bring thee any sorrow or distresse,
Which will not be, at last, advantage to thee.
Lord, give me such a Prudence: for my Fortune
Puts many foyles, and cruell thrusts upon me:
Thy helpe, long since, it made me to importune;
And, thou didst grant it, or she had undone me.
Still, daigne me thy assistance, Lord, and, than,
Let all Misfortunes, doe the worst they can.


A Life, with good-repute, Jle have,
Or, winne an honourable Grave.

Illvstr. XLVIII. Book. 2

N this our Emblem, you shall finde exprest
A Man, incountring with a Salvage-beast;
And, he resolveth (as his Motto sayes)
To live with honour; or, to dye with praise.
I like the Resolution, and the Deed,
In which, this Figure teacheth to proceed.
For, us, me thinkes, it counselleth, to doe,
An act, which all men are oblig'd unto.
That ugly Bore (wherewith the man in strife
Here seemes to be) doth meane a Swinish-life,
And, all those beastly Vices, that assay
To root becomming Vertues quite away;
Those Vices, which not onely marre our features,
But, also, ruinate our manly natures.
The harmefull fury, of this raging Bore,
Oppose couragiously, lest more and more,
It get within you; and, at last, appeare
More prevalent, then your defences are.
It is a large-growne Pig, of that wilde Swine,
Which, ev'ry day, attempts to undermine
Our Safeties Fort: Twas he, which long agoe,
Did seeke the Holy-Vineyards overthrow:
And, if we charge him not with all our power,
The Sire, or hee, will enter and devoure.
But, what's our Strength, O Lord! or, what are wee
In such a Combate, without ayde from thee?
Oh, come to helpe us, therefore, in this Fight;
And, let us be inabled in thy might:
So, we shall both in life-time, Conquests have;
And, be victorious, also, in the Grave.


Shee shall increase in glory, still,
Vntill her light, the world, doth fill.

Illvstr. XLIX. Book. 2

Hat in this Emblem, that mans meanings were,
Who made it first, I neither know nor care;
For, whatsoere, he purposed, or thought,
To serve my purpose, now it shall be taught;
Who, many times, before this Taske is ended,
Must picke out Moralls, where was none intended.
This knot of Moones (or Crescents) crowned thus,
Illustrate may a Mystery to us,
Of pious use (and, peradventure, such,
As from old Hieroglyphicks, erres not much)
Old-times, upon the Moone, three names bestow'd;
Because, three diverse wayes, her selfe she show'd:
And, in the sacred-bookes, it may be showne,
That holy-Church, was figur'd by the Moone.
Then, these three Moones in one, may intimate
The holy-Churches threefold blest estate.
The Moone, still, biding in our Hemisphære,
May typifie the Church, consisting, here,
Of men, yet living: when she shewes her light
Among us here, in portions of the night;
The Church it figures, as consist she may
Of them, whose bodies in the Grave doe stay;
And, whose blest spirits, are ascended thither,
Where Soule and Body meet, at last, together.
But, when the Moone is hidden from our eyes,
The Church-triumphant, then, she signifies;
Which, is a Crescent yet, that, some, and some,
Must grow, till all her parts together come:
And, then, this Moone shall beames, at full, display;
Lord, hasten this great Coronation-day.


True Vertue is a Coat of Maile,
'Gainst which, no Weapons can prevaile.

Illvstr. L. Book. 2

Ord, what a coyle men keepe, and, with what care
Their Pistolls, and, their Swords doe they prepare,
To be in readinesse? and, how they load
Themselves with Irons, when they ride abroad?
How wise and wary too, can they become,
To fortifie their persons up at home,
With lockes, and barres? and such domestick-Armes,
As may secure their bodies, there, from harmes?
However, when all's done, we see, their foes
Breake in, sometimes, and worke their overthrowes.
For, though (about themselves, with Cable-quoiles,
They could inclose a hundred thousand miles)
The gunshot of a slanderous tongue, may smite,
Their Fame quite through it, to the very White.
Yea, more (though, there, from others, they were free)
They wounded, by themselves, to death might be,
Except their Innocence, more guards them, than
The strength of twenty royall Armies, can.
If, therefore, thou thy Spoylers, wilt beguile,
Thou must be armed, like this Crocodile;
Ev'n with such nat'rall Armour (ev'ry day)
As no man can bestowe, or take away:
For, spitefull Malice, at one time or other,
Will pierce all borrowed Armours, put together.
Without, let Patience durifie thy Skin;
Let Innocencie, line thy heart within;
Let constant Fortitude, unite them so,
That, they may breake the force of ev'ry blow:
And, when thou thus art arm'd, if ill thou speed;
Let me sustaine the Mischiefe, in thy steed.

Finis Libri secundi.





Ome friends, and foes, of thine, there be,
That make a wondring-stocke of thee;
Some other over-much, of late,
To thy dishonour boldly prate,
And, peradventure, to thy face,
E're long, they'l doe thee some disgrace:
Thine Emblem, therefore, doth advise
That thou should'st make them no replies;
And showes that silent-patience, than
Shall stead thee more then Answers can.


By such as know you, it is thought,
That, you are better fed then taught:
And, that, it might augment your wit,
If you were sometimes hunger-bit.
That Emblem, which by Lot you drew,
To this effect doth somewhat shew:
But 'twill goe hard, when you are faine,
To feed your Bowells, by your Braine.


Perhaps you may be one of those,
Whom, from the Church, an Organ blowes;
Or, peradventure, one of them,
Who doth all melody contemne:
Or, one, whose life is yet untaught,
How into tune it should be brought.
If so, your Lot, to you hath sent
An Emblem, not impertinent.


God blesse thee, whosoere thou art,
And, give thee still an honest heart:
For, by the fortune of thy Lot,
That Sword, and Halter, thou hast got,
Which threatens death, with much disgrace;
Or, promises the Hang-mans's place.
But, be not griev'd; for, now and than,
The Gallowes makes an honest man;
And, some, who scape an outward curse,
Born in their lives and deaths are worse,

M 5

Thou would'st be loth, we should suspect,
Thou didst not well thy King affect;
Or, that, thou should'st be so ingrate,
To sleight the welfare of the State:
Yet, thou, perchance, art one of those,
Who discord through the Kingdome sowes.
We know not, but if such thou be,
Marke, what thine Emblem teaches thee.
See, Emb. V.


In you, a naturall desire
Beginnes to blow Affection's fire;
But, by discretion, guide the blast,
Lest, it consume you, at the last;
Or, by the fury of the same,
Blow out some necessary Flame.
Yea, that, which doth your Profit breed,
May harme you, if you take not heed.


Be carefull, what you goe about;
For, by this Lot, there may be doubt,
That you, some wickednesse intend,
Which will undoe you, in the end.
If you have done the deed, repent:
If purpos'd ill, the same prevent.
Else, though in jest, this Counsell came,
In earnest, you may rue the same.


Thou art afflicted; or, ere long
Shalt sing some lamentable Song:
And, of those troubles, take some share,
Which, thou art very loth to beare.
But, be not overmuch dismayd,
Nor pine, what ere on thee be layd,
For, comfort shall thy joy restore,
And, make thee gladder, then before.


If this thy Chance hath done thee right,
Thou art, or hast beene apt to fight;
And, wilt upon occasion small,
Beginne, sometimes, a needlesse brawle.
To shew thee, therefore, thy defect;
Or, that thy folly may be check't,
And, fit thy minde for better things,
Thine Emblem, some good counsell brings.


What thing soere thou undertak'st,
Thou seldome good conclusion mak'st;
For, still, when thou hast ought to doe,
Thou art too hasty, or too slow;
And, from that equall temper stray'st,
By which, thy worke effect thou mayst.
To mend this fault thou counsell'd art,
Be wiser, therefore, then thou wert.
See, Emb. X.


Thou hast in publicke lived long,
And, over freely us'd thy tongue;
But, if thy safety thou desire,
Be silent, and, thy selfe retire.
And, if thou wilt not be undone,
Possesse thy joyes, and hopes, alone:
For, they, that will from harmes be free,
Must silent, and obscured, bee.


Thy Fortune, thou dost long to heare,
And, what thy Constellations are:
But, why should'st thou desire to know,
What things, the Planets doe foreshow;
Seeke, rather, Wisedome to procure,
And, how, all Fortunes to indure:
So, thou shalt gaine a blest estate,
And, be the Master of thy Fate.


Thou, seem'st to have great store of friends,
But, they affect thee, for their ends.
There is, in those, but little trust,
Who love, for profit, mirth, or lust.
Learne, therfore, when, thou mayst be sure,
Thy Friend's affection will indure;
And, that this Knowledge may be got,
Good notice take thou of thy Lot.


It is conceiv'd, that meanes thou hast,
Or, might'st have had good meanes, at least,
To bring those matters to effect,
Which thou dost carelesly neglect;
And, good for many might'st have done,
Who, yet, hast pleasur'd few, or none.
If this be true, thy Lot peruse,
And, God's good gifts, no more abuse.


Religious thou would'st faine be deem'd,
And, such, to many thou hast seem'd:
But, to this matter more there goes,
Then zealous lookes, and formall showes.
Looke, therefore, that thy heart be true,
What e're thou seeme in outward view.
And, if God's favour thou would'st have,
Observe what Off'rings, he doth crave.


That Emblem, which this Lot will bring,
Concernes the honour of a King:
How, therefore, thee it may concerne,
By thy discretion seeke to learne.
Perhaps, the Royall-powre hath seem'd
To thee, not so to be esteem'd,
As well it merits, to be priz'd.
If so, now better be advis'd.


Both learn'd, and wise, thou would'st become,
(Else thou hast much deceived some)
But, if thy hopes thou will effect,
Thou must not likely meanes neglect;
And, what the likelyest meanes may bee,
Thine Emblem hath advised thee:
For, by a Fowle, that's blockish thought,
Good counsell may to thee be taught.


If, to preferment thou wilt rise,
Thou must not Arts, nor Armes, despise;
Nor so in one of these delight,
That, thou the other, wholly sleight.
Nor, to thy Body be inclin'd,
So much, as to neglect thy Minde.
This, by thine Emblem, thou mayst learne;
And, much thy good it may concerne.


Thy fortunes have appeared bad;
For, many suff'rings thou hast had:
And tryalls too, as yet made knowne
To no mans knowledge, but thine owne.
But, let nor losse, nor fame, nor smart,
From constant hopes remove thy heart:
And, as thine Emblem doth foreshew,
A good conclusion will insue.


Your Lot informeth how to know
Where, best your Love you may bestow:
And, by the same it may appeare
What Musicke most affects your eare.
Denye it not; for (by your leave)
Wee by your lookes, your heart perceive.
And, this perhaps you'l thinke upon
(To purpose) when you are alone.


This Lot may make us all suspect,
That some wrong object you affect;
And, that, where dearenesse you pretend,
It is not for the noblest end.
What mischiefe from such falshood flowes,
Your Emblem very truely showes;
And, may more happy make your Fate,
If counsell be not come too late.


To trust on others, thou art apt;
And, hast already beene intrapt;
Or, may'st er'e long be much deceiv'd
By some, whom thou hast well believ'd.
Be heedfull, therfore, of thy Lot;
And, let it never be forgot:
So, though some hazzard thou mayst run,
Yet, thou shalt never be undone.


It seemes thou tak'st too great a care
For things, that vaine, and fading are;
Or else, dost overprise them so,
As if all blisse from them did flowe.
That, therefore, thou mayst view their worth,
In Hieroglyphicke shaddow'd forth,
Thy Lot befriends thee: marke the same,
And, be in this, no more to blame.


Though some, should thee, for one, mistake,
Whose wealth is all upon his backe,
If what thou hast, bee all thine owne,
God, hath enough on thee bestowne.
A Princes ransome, wee may beare,
In Iewells, which most precious are;
And, yet, to many men may seeme,
To carry nothing worth esteeme.
Therefore, though small thy substance be,
Thine Emblem, somewhat comforts thee.


By this your Emblem, wee discerne,
That, you are yet of age to learne;
And, that, when elder you shall grow,
There, will be more for you to know:
Presume not, therefore of your wit,
But, strive that you may benefit.
For, of your age, we many view,
That, farre more wisedome have, then you.


By thy complaints, it hath appear'd,
Thou think'st thy Vertues want reward;
And, that, if they their merit had,
Thou rich, and nobler should'st be made.
To drive thee from that partiall thought,
Thou, by an Emblem, shalt be taught,
That, where true Vertue may be found,
The truest wealth will still abound.


By this thy Lot, thou dost appeare
To be of those, who love to heare
The Preacher's voyce; or, else of them,
That undervalue, or contemne
Those dayly showres of wholsome words,
Which God, in these our times, affords.
Now, which soere of these thou bee,
Thine Emblem, something, teaches thee.


Thou deal'st, when thee thy foe offends,
As if, you never should be friends.
In peace, thou so secure doth grow,
As if, thou could'st not have a foe.
How, therefore, Peace and Warre pursues
Each other, this thine Emblem shewes,
That, thou mayst learne, in ev'ry tide,
For future chances, to provide.


What e're thou are in outward shew,
Thy Heart is ever very true,
And, to those Knowledges aspires,
Which every prudent Soule desires:
Yet, be not proud that thou hast got
This testimonie, by thy Lot.
But, view thine Emblem, and endeaver
In search of Knowledge to persever.


If Glory, thou desire to get,
Thy Wits, thou must on working set;
And, labour unto Prudence adde,
Before true Honor will be had:
For, what thy Friends, or Parents brought,
To make thee famous, profits nought;
But, rather will procure thy shame,
Vnlesse, thou shalt improove the same.

M 31

The time hath beene, that of the Rod,
Thou wert more fearefull, then of God;
But, now unlesse thou prudent grow,
More cause thou hast to feare a shrowe;
For, from the Rod, now thou art free,
A Woman, shall thy torment be.
At her, yet doe not thou repine,
For, all the fault is onely thine.


It seemes, thy Time thou dost mispend:
To warne thee, therefore of thine end;
To shew, how short thy Life will be;
And, with what speed it flyes from thee;
This Lot was drawne: and, may advize,
That, thou thy time shouldst better prize.
Which, if accordingly thou doe,
This, will be sport, and profit too.


It may be, thou art one of those,
Who, dost not all aright suppose,
Of Gods Decrees; or, of the state
Of an inevitable Fate.
That, therefore, so thou maist beleeve,
(And, of these Mysteries conceive)
As thou art bound; this Lot befell.
Peruse, and minde thine Embleme well.


Thou, at thy Fortune, hast repin'd,
And, seem'st imprisond in thy minde,
Because thou art not straight releast
From those things which have thee opprest.
To thee, a Lot is therefore sent,
To qualifie thy discontent,
By shewing, that thy present Fate
Preserves thee, from a worse estate.


Thy Vertues and thy Worth are such,
That, many doe envie thee much;
And, they that hate thee, take delight
To doe thee mischiefe and despight.
But, heart assume, and follow on
The course that thou hast well begunne;
For, all their spight shall doe no more,
But, make thee greater then before.


In outward pompe, thy pleasures are;
Thy hope of blisse is placed there;
And, thou this folly wilt not leave,
Till, all content, it shall bereave,
Vnlesse, thou timely come to see
How vaine, all earthly Glories bee.
An Emblem, therefore, thou hast gain'd,
By which, this Knowledge is obtain'd.


It may be feared, that thou hast
In publicke, or in private, past
Some promise, or else made some vow,
That's broke, or else indanger'd, now.
If so; this Lot is come, in time,
To mend, or to prevent this crime;
And, shew what should by them be done,
'Twixt whom Affection is begunne.


Thou art reproved of deceipt,
In faulty Measures, and in Weight;
And, overbackward hast been knowne,
In giving ev'ry one his owne.
Thine Emblem, therefore, counsells thee,
That, thou more just, hereafter be.
For, that, which is by falsehood got,
Makes likely showes, but prospers not.


So highly, thou dost Vertue prize,
That, thou dost Fortunes helpe despise,
As if, where Vertues present are,
Her favours alwayes needlesse were:
But, sometimes there's enough to doe,
For Fortune, and for Vertue too,
The pow'r of envious tongues to charme,
And, keepe an Innocent from harme.
Therfore, make both of these, thy friends;
For, thereunto thine Emblem tends.


Thou mayst be one of those, perchance,
Who Schisme, and Heresies advance,
Because they Times and Termes mistake;
And, diff'rence know not how to make
'Twixt that, which temp'rall doth appeare,
And, those things which eternall are.
Thou, by thy Lot, art therefore warn'd,
To search what should of these be learn'd.


Great workes to doe, thou hast a minde;
But, pow'r thereto thou canst not finde.
Sometime, thy pow'r is not unfit;
But, then thou failest in thy wit.
Such Vndertakings, therefore, chuse
(If thou wilt not thy time abuse)
As to thy pow'rs, and wits agree;
And, let them both imployed bee.


When any Blessing thou hast gain'd,
Thou mind'st not whence it was obtain'd;
But, bear'st thy selfe, as if the same
By thine owne pow'r, or merit, came:
That, therefore, thou mayst better heed
From whence, all Graces doe proceed,
Thou, hast an Emblem, by this Lot,
From which, good Cautions may be got.


By this thy Lot, it should appeare,
The Muses thy acquaintance are;
Or, that thou art (at least) of those,
Who, of their Steed ambitious growes.
If thou hast wit, his Reynes to guide,
Vpon his backe, mount up and ride;
But, if thou finde thy selfe to weake,
Forbeare him, lest thy necke he breake.


In many things, the worse thou art,
By thy despayring, fainting heart;
And, oft, thy labour, and thy cost,
For want of hopefulnesse, is lost.
This indiscretion to prevent,
Thou, therefore, by thy Lot, art sent,
The Plough-man's hopefulnesse to see:
Observe it; and, reformed bee.


As soone as e're thy Seeds are sowne,
Thou fruits expectest, fully growne.
And, if they ripe not in a day,
Thou, foolest all thy hopes away:
That wiser, therefore, thou mayst grow,
Thy Lot, an Emblem doth bestow,
To teach, that workes both faire and great,
By small-degrees, are made compleat.


Thou hadst, or hast, or thou shalt have
Much trouble, ere thou fill thy Grave;
And, may'st, when thou expectest rest,
With paine, or sorrowes, be opprest.
But, be content, and waile not much:
For, Poverty shall make thee rich.
The paine will soone be overpast,
And, thou shalt happy be at last.


Thy Fortune, be it good or bad,
May, by thy wit, be better made;
Yea, whatsoere mischances fall,
By prudence, thou may'st helpe them all.
That, hopefull, therfore, thou mayst bide,
What change soever, shall betide,
Thou, by thy Lot, informed art,
What succours, Wisedome doth impart.


A man at Armes, thou wouldst be thought,
And, hast the Crowne of Honour sought;
But, thou hast much mistooke the wayes,
Which tend to well-deserved praise.
How, Honour, therefore, may be got,
Thou art informed by thy Lot;
And, with what Foes, and, for what end,
Thou shouldst be ready to contend.


Perhaps, thou mayst be one of those,
Who doth God's holy Church oppose;
For, over many in these dayes,
Disturbe her Peace, and sleight her Praise:
That her esteeme, therefore may bee
Increased, or preserv'd, by thee,
Thine Emblem, now, to thee, will show,
To what perfection she will grow.


Thou safety lov'st, and wouldst have Armes,
Thy person to secure from harmes:
But, most of those thou hast prepar'd,
Are but a weake uncertaine Guard,
And, if thou take not greater heed,
May faile thy trust, in time of need.
Thine Emblem, therfore, hath exprest,
What Armes, for thy defence are best.
See, Emb. L.


Of Planetary-Calculations,
Of Superstitious-Observations,
Of Lots, and Dreames, and Accidents,
Which have but casuall events,
Thou art so fond; and, unto such,
Thou dost adhere, and trust so much,
That, it succeedeth very well,
No Emblem, now, to thee befell:
Lest, these, which onely Counsells bee,
Might seeme firme Destinies to thee.


He that by drawing, here, his Lot,
Some caveat or advice hath got,
Did, peradventure, need alone
That Caution, which he lighted on:
But, unto thee, so needfull are
All Warnings, and, all Counsells here,
That, Fortune will not one bestow,
Lest, thou may'st thinke thou need'st no moe.


You, may be glad, you drew not that,
Which, in your thought, you guessed at;
For, so it points out that condition,
Whereof you give a great suspicion,
That, had it such an Emblem nam'd,
As fits you right, you had beene sham'd.
Since, then, your fault is unreveal'd,
Amend, and keep it still conceal'd.


The Muses Oracle is dumbe,
Because to tempt them you are come;
For, in your heart, you much despise,
To follow that, which they advise:
Their admonitions, you doe jeere,
And, scorne to helpe your Wisedome, here.
The Muses, therefore, leave you, still,
To be as foolish, as you will.


It would, perhaps, have made thee proud,
If, now, thy Lot had beene allow'd
To let an Emblem shadow forth
What is conceived of thy worth.
Or, if thy Vertues were descry'd,
Perchance, thou wouldst be more envy'd
Then praysed, when they are exprest;
A Blanke for thee, was therefore best.


No Emblem, to this Lot, replyes;
Minde, therefore, well (I thee advise)
What from the Preacher's voice thou hear'st,
When in the Church, thou next appear'st:
Yea, there indeavour thou, to seeke
Thy Lot of Counsell, ev'ry weeke.
For, at all seasons, there will bee
Such Prophecies, concerning thee,
That, if of those, thou takest heed,
These Emblems, thou shalt never need.



With Metricall Illvstrations, both
Morall and Divine: And disposed into

That Instruction, and Good Counsell, may bee furthered
by an Honest and Pleasant Recreation.

By George Wither.

The third Booke.


Printed by Avgvstine Mathewes.

Princesse, FRANCIS, Dutchesse Dowager
of Richmond, and Lennox, &c.

Fame sayes (great Princesse) that the Pow'rs-above,
Will soone forgive; which, I desire to prove:
For, I am guiltie of a Venial-sinne
Against your Grace; and, have remain'd therein
Without an Absolution, so long time,
That, now, my Conscience checks me for the Crime;
And, to reprove me for it, will not cease
Till I have, someway, sought to make my Peace.
To palliate my Fault, I could produce
Enough, perhaps, to stand for an Excuse.
But, when I mind what Favours, and what Fame
I might have purchased unto my Name,
(By taking Courage, to have done my best)
I dare not make Excuses; but, request
Your pardon, rather, and, that some Oblation
May game my Person, future acceptation.
To that intent, this humble Offring, here,
Within your gracious presence, doth appeare.
And, that it may the more content your eye,
Well-graven Figures, help to beautifie
My lowly Gift: And, vailed are in these,
A Treasury of Golden Sentences;
By my well-meaning Muse, interpreted,
That, with your Name, their Morals may be spread
And scattred, Largesse-like, (at your commanding)
To helpe inrich the Poore in Vnderstanding.
If Yov accept the Tender, I shall know,
Your Grace is pleased with your Servant, so,
As, that there may be hope, my future Actions,
Will give the more contenting Satisfactions:
And, your Encouragements, my Pow'rs may raise,
To make the Beavties of your Later dayes,
More glorious, far, than your fresh Yovth's perfection,
Though, knowne to be, the Load-stone of Affection.
For, like the loving Tvrtle, you have stood
So constant, in your vowed Widdow-hood;
So strictly, kept a solitarie state;
So faithfull beene, to your deceased Mate;
So firmly true, and truly kinde, to them,
Which are the Branches of his Princely-stemme;
And, personated in so high a Straine,
The parts of Honovr; that, my rusticke vaine,
Must raised be, before it can ascend
To say, how much, your Fame, doth you commend.
Yet, if these Lines, (or, that they Vsher in)
For me, some Passage may, anew, begin
To your Esteeme; I, may so happily,
Illustrate forth, the Golden-History
Of those Affections, which within your Brest,
Have to the world remained unexprest.
That, future times, to your applause may reade,
The matchlesse Paterne of a Widdowed-bed,
Which you have drawne, for those to imitate
Who can; and, for the rest to wonder at.
For, what (thereto) yet wanteth, in my Muse,
Your Grace, as my Minerva, may infuse.
Nor, will it be in vaine, to shew the worth
Of those Perfections, truly blazed forth,
Which you may personate: Nor, shall it be
To your Content unusefull, when you see
The Best part of your selfe, (as in a Glasse)
Disclosed, and set up, before your Grace,
To represent those Beauties, wherein lurkes,
More sweetnesse, than in Picture-drawers Workes;
And shew, how temp'rall Glories, and Affections,
Have hourely ripened you, for those Perfections
That, make Immortall; and, which are that End,
Whereto, all Earthly Graces, ought to tend.
Then, if your Excellence, desire to heare,
Those Mvses, honour you, whose prayses are
Attending Vertue; and, shall please to live
That Life of Glory, which my Verse can give;
Your Graces favour, (when you please) hath pow'rs
To make both Mee, and all my Muses yours.
And, wee are hopefull, that, so well wee know
Your Merits, and those Duties, which wee owe,
That, wee shall raise, your Honovr's Trophies high,
Though, Wee our selves upon the pavement lie.
Thus, I have made mine Offring; and I stand
Attending, now, to kisse your Graces hand.


in all humilitie,

Geo: Wither.

Prince, JAMES, Duke
of Lennox, &c.

WHen Richmond, your beloved Vnkle, liv'd,
(For whose departure, all this Empire griev'd,
And, yet laments) his GRACE did not refuse
To deigne respects, to my obscured MVSE;
Nor scorne, from Highest-worth, to stoope so low,
As, mee, in my despisednesse, to know:
And, had not Bashfulnesse restrain'd my Wit,
From pressing-on, (when he incourag'd it,)
My Pegasvs, had learn'd, e're now, to rise,
Which, yet, with lame, and sickly Feathers flies.
But, HEE hath left us; and, I thought not on
The losse I had of HIM, till he was gone;
Nor could I dreame, till he did hence ascend,
What t'was to want an Honourable-friend:
Nor, what they feele, whom Fate constraines, to tarry
On stormy Plaines, without a SANCTVARIE.
Assoone, as from among us, he made wing,
My Hopes did waine, and, I began to sing
A Mournfull-song, not easie to forget;
Because, I beare the burthen of it, yet.
Nor was I silent (though my Epicede
Appear'd not, for the publike eye to reade)
But, griev'd in private, as one wanting Art,
To give, the Life of praise, to his desart:
Which, if I could have equall'd with his Name,
His Death had gain'd my Verse, a living-Fame.
And, why expresse I this? except it give
Your GRACE, a fit occasion to perceive,
That, my decayed Hopes I would renew,
And, faine derive them downe, from HIM to YOV?
That, as you branched from his Princely Stemme;
(Are, honour'd with his Ducall-Diadem)
And, imitate his Vertue; So, you might
Be Lord, in mee, of that, which was his right:
And, for his Noble sake, vouchsafe to own
A Servant, which, to you, is yet unknowne.
As Prologue, to the service I intend,
This PRESENT comes; and, without Hope, or End,
Of gaining further Grace, or more Esteeme,
Than may, with humblest modestie, beseeme
His Love, and Honest-meaning, to expect,
Whose Merits have, no visible effect,
Conducing to your profit; and, from whom
The best of his intents, are yet to come.
I cannot thinke, these Lots, or Emblems, are
So worthy in themselves, as they'l appeare
In your acceptance; Or, that they can give,
Such Grace to YOV, as they'l from you receive.
Yet, if YOV please, they may be, otherwhile,
A profitable Meanes, to help beguile
A Melancholy thought; And, have the pow'r
To shorten (without losse) a tedious howre.
Sometime (no doubt) content you are to walke
In Artlesse Groves; Or, to admit the talke
of Rustick Swaines (though ev'ry day you might
Your self in well-trim'd garden-bowr's, delight,
Or, heare the learnedst Muses, when you please;)
Ev'n so, for change, you may, perhaps, in these
A Recreation finde; and, in some measure,
A Profit, intermixed with your Pleasure.
I will not make my Promises too large,
Lest, my Performances, they overcharge
With Expectation: but, I leave them, SIR,
To Bee, and to be thought, the same they are.
And, if your EXCELLENCE, (when you behold
The Ground whereon I first became so bold,
To make this Entrance) shall vouchsafe to daigne
Those Favours, which, I dare not thinke to gaine
By Meer-deserving; you may then, perchance,
My Willingnesse, to Ablenesse advance:
And, reap in Mee (when ripened they are grown)
Some timely fruits, of that, which you have sown.
Till then, let it suffice, that I professe
A cheerefull, and a thankfull Readinesse
To honour Yov; and, openly to show
The Dutie, which, it may appeare, I owe
To HIM that's gone. And, let your GRACE descend
To take this Pledge, of what I more intend.

Who am in all humilitie

Your Graces to be


Geo: Wither.


If well thou dost, and well intend,
Thou shalt be crowned, in the end.

Illvstr. I. Book. 3

Hen, many, for the chiefest Garland runne,
That height of Glory, can befall but one;
Yet, Wreaths there are, for ev'ry man prepar'd,
According as he meriteth reward:
And, though the Worke deserveth little meed,
Grace, prints a worth, on ev'ry willing-deed,
Which formes it currant; and, doth gratious make
Man's weake endeavors, for God's promise sake.
All seeke the selfe-same prize; but, doe not seeke,
With mindes, and, with endeavors, all alike.
Most, wish the Wreath; but, few those things will doe,
That may be helpfull to attaine thereto:
And, some (that will be doing) more delight
In doing their owne will, then doing right.
One, thinkes by airie titles, to atchieve
The Palme he seekes; Another, doth believe
Tis gain'd, by giving to his Appetite,
The fulnesse of his Bodies vaine delight:
To reach their aime, some others nourish hopes,
By scrambling up unto the dunghill-tops
Of temp'rall Riches: and, of all the wayes,
Most thinke this course deserves the greatest praise.
But, this our Emblem's Motto, doth implie,
That, nothing Man possesseth outwardly
Can purchase him the Crowne, that should be sought,
Like rightly-doing, what is rightly-taught.
And, that God never passed any doome,
To barre their blisse, who righteous would become:
For, ev'n to Cain he said (of sinne detected)
If well thou dost, thou shalt be well respected.


A little Wit, may stand in stead,
When Strength doth faile, in time of need.

Illvstr. II. Book. 3

He Squirrell, when shee must goe seeke her food,
By making passage through some neighb'ring flood,
(And feares to be devoured by the Streame)
Thus, helpes her weaknesse, by a Stratagem.
On blocks, or chips, which on the waves doe flote,
She nimbly leaps; and, making them her boate
(By helpe of Windes, of Current, and of Tide)
Is wafted over to the further side.
Thus, that, which for the Body proves unfit,
Must often be acquired by the Wit.
And, what our outward Fortunes shall denye,
Our providence must labour to supply.
Those Casualties, which may our need befriend,
We should with heedfull diligence attend;
And, watch to seize those opportunities,
Which, men of abler fortunes may despise.
Some Birds, when they an Oyster would unlock,
Mount up, and let it fall upon a Rock;
And, when the Cockles on the Shores lye gasping,
(At ev'ry Tides approach their Shells unclasping)
Crowes cast in Pebles, and so take that meat
By craft, which by their force they could not get.
Wee, by indeav'ring thus, may gaine, at length,
That, which at first appeares above our strength.
By little Screwes an entrance we may make,
Where Barres of Iron cannot passage breake.
Small Engines, lift huge weights; and, we have heard,
That one Wise-man (though poore without regard)
May save a City, when the Men of Warre,
And, all their Captaines, at a non plus are.


To Kings, both Sword and Mace pertaine;
And, these they doe not beare in vaine.

Illvstr. III. Book. 3

Hen thou behold'st, upon a Day of State,
The King (or, some inferiour Magistrate)
Walke forth in publicke, and the royall Mace,
The Sword, or Scepter borne before his face:
Suppose thou not, that those are carried, so,
In ostentation, or for idle show.
These vulgar Emblems, are significant;
And, that authority, which Princes grant
To Bodies-politicke, was, heretofore
Declared, by those Ensignes, which they bore.
The bruzing Mace (although, perhaps, with us,
It be not in these times, restrained thus)
That branch of Royall-power did signifie,
Which doth by Fines, or losse of liberty,
Correct Offenders. By the Sword, they meant,
That larger branch of pow'r, to represent,
Which takes the Malefactors life away;
And, armes it selfe, when Rebells disobay.
As often, therefore, as thou shalt espie
Such Hieroglyphickes of Authority;
Be mindefull, and advis'd (how meane soere
The Persons, or the Places may appeare,
Who get this pow'r) that still thou honour them:
Lest, thou in those, the pow'r of God contemne.
If not for theirs, yet for thy Sov'raignes cause,
Whom these doe personate; Or, for the Lawes,
(Which threaten punishment) thy selfe submit;
And, suffer what Authority thinkes fit:
For, whatsoere they be that guide the Reyne,
He, gave the pow'r, who gave it, not, in vaine.


He, that concealed things will finde,
Must looke before him, and behinde.

Illvstr. IV. Book. 3

Hat Head, which in his Temple, heretofore,
The well-knowne figure of old Ianus bore,
Retain'd the forme, which pictur'd here you finde;
A Face before him, and a Face behinde.
And this old Hieroglyphicke doth comprize
A multitude of Heathenish Mysteries;
Which, wee omitting, will insist on what
This Emblem's Motto, chiefely poynteth at.
In true Divinity, 'tis God alone,
To whom, all hidden things are truely knowne.
Hee, onely, is that ever-present-being,
Who, by the vertue of his pow'r all-seeing,
Beholds, at one aspect, all things that are,
That ever shall be, and that ever were.
But, in a Morall-sense, we may apply
This double-face, that man to signifie,
Who (whatsoere he undertakes to doe)
Lookes, both before him, and behinde him, too.
For, he shall never fruitfully forecast
Affaires to come, who mindes not what is past:
And, such as doe not, oft, before them looke,
May lose the labour, that's already tooke.
By, sometimes, looking backward, we behold
Those things, which have been done in times of old;
By looking wisely forward, we foresee
Such matters, as in future-times will bee:
And, thus, we doe not onely fruits receive,
From that short space of time, in which we live;
But, by this meanes, we likewise have a share,
In times to come, and, times that passed are.


Good Fortune will with him abide,
That hath true Vertue, for his guide.

Illvstr. V. Book. 3

He Gryphon, is the figure of a creature,
Not found within the Catalogues of Nature:
But, by those Wits created, who, to shew
Internall things, externall Figures drew:
The Shape, in which this Fiction they exprest,
Was borrow'd from a Fowle, and, from a Beast;
Importing (when their parts were thus combin'd)
The Vertues, both of Body, and of minde:
And, Men are sayd on Gryphons backes to ride,
When those mixt Vertues, them have dignify'd.
The Stone (this Brute supporting) may expresse
The firme abiding, and the solidnesse
Of all true Vertues. That, long-winged Ball,
Which doth appeare fast-linked therewithall,
The gifts of changing Fortune doth implye:
And, all those things together, signifie,
That, when by such like Vertues Men are guided,
Good Fortune cannot be from them divided.
If this be true (as true I this believe)
Why should wee murmure, why repine, or grieve,
As if our Studies, or our honest paines,
Deprived were of some deserved gaines?
Why should we thinke the world hath done us wrong,
Because wee are not register'd among
Those thriving men, who purse up evr'y day,
For twelve hours labour more then twelve months pay?
If wee our paines rewarded cannot see,
Wee count our Merits greater then they be.
But if we bide content, our worth is more;
And rich we are, though others think us poore.


When prosperous our Affaires doe growe;
God's Grace it is, that makes them so.

Illvstr. VI. Book. 3

Vch pleasant Flowres, as here are shadow'd out
(Full-grown, well-trim'd, and strongly fenc'd about)
At first, perchance, had planting (where they stand)
And, husbanding, by some good Gard'ners hand:
But, when to perfect ripenesse, they are grown,
(And, spread forth leaves, and blossomes, fully blowne)
They draw it from the Vertue of the Sunne,
Which worketh, when the Gard'ners worke is done:
For, lost were all his Travaile, and his praise,
Vnlesse that Planet cheare them with his rayes.
In this our Pilgrimage, it fares with us
(In all our hopes, and all our labours) thus.
For, whatsoever bus'nesse wee intend,
On God, our good successes doe depend.
Our Hands may build; but, structures vaine we make,
Till God, to be Chiefe-builder, undertake.
To wall a City, wee may beare the cost;
But, he must guard it, or, the Towne is lost:
The Plow-man useth diligence to sowe;
But, God must blesse it, or, no Corne will grow:
Yea, though Paul plant, and, though Apollo water,
They spend their sweat, upon a fruitlesse matter,
Till God, from heaven, their labours please to blesse,
And crowne their travailes, with a good increase.
Let, therefore, those that flourish, like this Flowre,
(And, may be wither'd, e're another houre)
Give God the praise, for making of their Seeds
Bring forth sweet Flowres, that, else, had proved Weeds:
And, me despise not, though I thrive not so;
For, when, God pleaseth, I shall flourish too.


If thou thy Duties truely doe,
Of thy Reward, be hopefull too.

Illvstr. VII. Book. 3

Ome Sects are found, who so believing be,
They thinke themselves from legall-workings free;
And, so they live, as if they stood in feare
That, with Good-works, their God offended were.
Another sort we know, who credit not,
That any hope of Mercie can be got,
Till they themselves, by their externall-deed,
Have merited the favours they shall need:
And, so they prize their workings; that, for Grace,
They seeme to disallow all usefull place.
Both sorts, their errours may be purged from,
When to the Fiery-tryall they shall come.
So, likewise, may another Faction too,
That erre more deadly then these former doe.
These doe (forsooth) affirme, that God's decree
Before all Worlds (what Words can fouler be?)
Debarr'd the greatest part of humane-race,
Without respecting sinne, from hope of Grace;
And, that, howere this number shall indeaver,
They must continue Reprobates, for ever.
The first, are errours of Impiety;
But, this, ascends the top of blasphemy;
Dispoyles Religion wholly of her fruits;
And, wrongeth God in all his Attributes.
These Errours, therefore shunne; and, so believe,
That wee thy Faith, may by thy Workes perceive.
So worke, that thy believing may approve
Thou wrought'st not for thy Wages; but, for love.
For (whatsoe're thou be) if thus thou doe,
Thou mayst have hopes, and, God will grant them too.


By Wisedome, things which passe away,
Are best preserved from decay.

Illvstr. VIII. Book. 3

He Laurell, which is given for a Crowne
(To men deserving Glory, and renowne)
Is figur'd here, those noble deeds to show,
For which, the Wreaths of Honour, we bestow.
Two Serpents (Wisdome's Emblems) twisted are
About this branch of Lawrell, to declare,
That, Wisdome is the surest meanes to save
Our Names and Actions, from Oblivion's Grave.
The Snakes are two, perhaps, to signifie
That Morall-wit, and Christian-policie
(Vnited both together) doe contrive
The safest guard, and best preservative.
Consider this, all yee, that trust your Names
To Marble Monuments; or, mount your Fames
By those poore meanes, which Fooles and Knaves pursue;
And, may effect as easily as you:
Nay, with more ease; and, overtop you too,
When you have done the best, your wits can doe.
I say, consider this; and, let the Pen
Of learned, wise, and understanding men,
Renowne your worths, and register the story
Of your deserved, and, well-gotten glory;
Lest, else, it suffer close-imprisonments,
Within the walls of such poore Monuments,
As oft are built, to leave it quite forgotten,
Whose bones they cover'd, e're those bones be rotten.
But, you shall best preserve your Honest-fame,
Your Workes, your Hopes, and Honours of your Name,
If you your selves be wise; and, so provide
That Prudence, all your Workes, and Speeches guide.


Good Hopes, we best accomplish may,
By lab'ring in a constant-Way.

Illvstr. IX. Book. 3

Ome Folkes there are, (and many men suppose,
That I my selfe, may passe for one of those)
Who many likely Businesses intend,
Yet, bring but very few, unto an end.
Which folly to prevent, this Emblem, here,
Did in a luckie houre, perhaps, appeare.
For, as to draw a Circle, with our hand,
We cause the brazen Compasses to stand
With one foot firmely fixed one the ground;
And move the other in a Constant-round:
Right so, when we shall purpose to proceed
In any just, and profitable deed,
We first, should by a constant-resolution,
Stand firme, to what we put in execution:
And, then, with perseverance, labour out
Those workings, which we are employ'd about.
For, we with constant-liking, must elect
Those Businesses, we purpose to effect:
Or els, our time, our labour, and our cost,
Will, oft, be much in vaine, or wholly lost.
With constant-labour, we must follow, too,
Those things, which we resolved are to do;
Or, els, our hopes will never be effected,
How warily soe're we have projected.
Long Iourneys I abhorre; yet, otherwhile
I meane a Furlong, and performe a Mile.
I greatly feare Long-labours to begin;
Yet some I finish, when I'me entred in:
And, if in Labour, I more constant grow,
How I improve, hereafter, you shall know.


Ere thou a fruitfull-Cropp shalt see,
Thy ground must plough'd and harro'wd be.

Illvstr. X. Book. 3

Efore the Plowman hopefull can be made,
His untill'd earth good Hay or Corne will yeeld,
He breakes the hillocks downe, with Plough or Spade;
And, harrowes over, all the cloddie Field.
Then, from the leaveld-ground, at last, he mowes
That Cropp of grasse, which he had hope to gaine;
Or, there, doth reape the fruit of what he sowes,
With profit, which contents him for his paine.
Our craggie-Nature must be tilled, thus,
Before it will, for Herbes of Grace, be fit.
Our high conceit, must downe be broke in us;
Our heart is proud, and God must humble it.
Before good Seed, in us will rooting take,
Afflictions ploughes and harrowes, must prepare us:
And, that the truer levell, he may make,
When we are sunck too low, Gods hand must reare us.
Then, neither stormings of Adversitie,
Shall drowne the Seedes of Hope, which we have sowne;
Nor shall the Sunne-beames of Prosperitie,
Drie up their moisture, ere they ripe are growne.
Oh Lord, thou know'st the nature of my minde;
Thou know'st my bodyes tempers what they are;
And, by what meanes, they shall be best inclin'de
Such Fruits to yeeld, as they were made to beare.
My barren Soule, therefore, manure thou so;
So, harrow it; so emptie, and so fill;
So raise it up, and bring it downe, so low
As best may lay it levell to thy Will.
In this Desire, the worke is well begunne;
Say thou the Word, and all is fully done.


True Knowledge is a constant Friend,
Whose Friendship, never shall have end.

Illvstr. XI. Book. 3

Y viewing this fixt-Head, enwreath'd with Bayes,
(And, what the Motto round about it sayes)
Your Apprehension's eye, may partly see
What constant Vertues, in true Knowledge be.
For, if right plac'd it be, it ever will
Continue in the same condition, still:
And, though it make mens manners to be chang'd;
Yet, never is it, from it selfe, estrang'd:
Nor doth, nor can it, cease to be a Friend,
What Fate soever, shall on us attend.
When Wealth is lost, or faileth to besteed us;
Shee findes out honest meanes to cloath and feede us.
In farre, and forraigne Lands, shee will become,
As kinde, and as familiar, as at home;
And, travelleth, without the costly cumber,
Of Carriages, or Clokebagges full of Lumber.
No Place can from our presence, her enclose;
Nor is she frighted from us by our Foes.
No Pickthankes, of her Favours, can bereave us;
No Promises, can woo her to deceive us.
In Youth, in Age, in Sickenesse, and in Griefe,
Shee bringeth Consolation and reliefe:
And, is in all estates, a blessing to us,
So constant (and so apt, all helpes to doe us)
That, he for whom, such Knowledge, God provideth,
Enjoyes a Friend, that alwaies firme abideth.
Lord, I am friendlesse left; therefore, to me,
This Knowledge, and this Friend, vouchsafe to bee:
For, thou that Wisdome art, (from heav'n descending)
Which, neither hath beginning, change, nor ending.


By Studiousnesse, in Vertue's waies
Men gaine an universall-praise.

Illvstr. XII. Book. 3

Hen Emblems, of too many parts consist,
Their Author was no choice Emblematist:
But, is like those, that wast whole howres, to tell
What, in three minutes, might be said as well.
Yet, when each member is interpreted,
Out of these vulgar Figures, you may read
A Morall, (altogether) not unfit
To be remembred, ev'n, by men of wit.
And, if the Kernell proove to be of worth,
No matter from what shell we drew it forth.
The Square whereon the Globe is placed, here,
Must Vertue be; That Globe upon the Square,
Must meane the World; The Figure, in the Round,
(Which in appearance doth her Trumpet sound)
Was made for Fame; The Booke she beares, may show,
What Breath it is, which makes her Trumpet blow:
The Wreath, inclosing all, was to intend
A glorious Praise, that never shall have end:
And, these, in one summ'd up, doe seeme to say;
That, (if men study in a vertuous-way)
The Trumpet of a never-ceasing Fame,
Shall through the world proclaime their praisefull Name.
Now Reader, if large Fame, be thy ambition,
This Emblem doth informe, on what condition
She may be gain'd. But, (herein, me beleeve)
Thy studie for meere-praise, will thee deceive:
And, if thy Vertues, be, but onely, those
For which the vulgar Fame, her Trumpet blowes,
Thy Fame's a blast; Thy Vertues, Vices be;
Thy Studie's vaine; and, shame will follow thee.


Above thy Knowledge, doe not rise,
But, with Sobrietie, be wise,

Illvstr. XIII. Book. 3

Xalt thou not thy selfe, though, plac'd thou be,
Vpon the topp of that old Olive-tree,
From whence the nat'rall branches prun'd have bin,
That, thou, the better, mightst be grafted in.
Be not so over-wise, as to presume
The Gard'ner, for thy goodnesse, did assume
Thy small Crab-Olive, to insert it, there,
Where, once, the sweetest-berries, growing were:
Nor let thy Pride those few old-boughes contemne,
Which, yet, remaine upon their ancient Stemme;
Because, thy new-incorporated Sprayes,
Doe more enjoy the Sunnes refreshing raies:
But, humbled rather, and, more awfull bee;
Lest, hee that cut off them, doe breake downe thee.
Be wise, in what may to thy good, belong;
But, seeke not Knowledge, to thy neighbours wrong:
Be thankefull for the Grace thou hast receiv'd,
But, judge not those, who seeme thereof bereav'd;
Nor into those forbidden secrets peepe,
Which God-Almighty, to himselfe doth keepe.
Remember what our Father Adam found,
When he for Knowledge, sought beyond his bound.
For, doubtlesse, ever since, both good and ill
Are left with Knowledge, intermingled still;
And, (if we be not humble, meeke, and warie)
We are in daily danger, to miscary.
Large, proves the fruit which on the Earth doth lie;
Windes, breake the twigge, that's grafted over-high;
And, he that will, beyond his bounds, be wise,
Becomes a very Foole, before he dies.


When each man keepes unto his Trade,
Then, all things better will be made.

Illvstr. XIV. Book. 3

E more should thrive, and erre the seldomer,
If we were like this honest Carpenter,
Whose Emblem, in reproofe of those, is made,
That love to meddle, farther then their Trade.
But, most are now exceeding cunning growne
In ev'ry mans affaires, except their owne:
Yea, Coblers thinke themselves not onely able,
To censure; but, to mend Apelles Table.
Great-Men, sometime, will gravely undertake
To teach, how Broomes and Morter, we should make.
Their Indiscretions, Peaants imitate,
And boldly meddle with affaires of State.
Some Houswives teach their Teachers how to pray,
Some Clarks, have shew'd themselves, as wise as they;
And in their Callings, as discreet have bin,
As if they taught their Grandames how to spinne:
And, if these Customes, last a few more Ages,
All Countries will be nothing els, but Stages
Of evill-acted, and mistaken parts;
Or, Gallemaufries, of imperfect Arts.
But, I my selfe (you'l say) have medlings made,
In things, that are improper to my Trade.
No; for, the MVSES are in all things free;
Fit subject of their Verse, all Creatures be;
And, there is nothing nam'd so meane, or great,
Whereof they have not Liberty to treat.
Both Earth and Heav'n, are open unto these;
And (when to take more libertie they please)
They Worlds, and things, create, which never were;
And, when they list, they play, and meddle, there.


A Shepherd carefull of the Sheepe,
At all times, faithfull Watch doth keepe.

Illvstr. XV. Book. 3

He Figure of a Storke in elder dayes,
Was us'd in Hieroglyphick, many wayes:
But, when one Foote, thus grasp'd a Peple-stone,
The other being firmely fixed on
The Staffe Episcopall; in that position,
It makes an Emblem, of a late edition:
By some, thought not improper, to expresse
Their painefull, and their serious, watchfulnesse,
Who take upon themselves, the Pastorall care;
And, in that Function, truely watchfull are.
The Shepherds-Crooke, doth some expression make
Of that regard, which, of their Flocks, they take.
The Peble in the Foote, doth seeme to showe,
That, these must farther diligence bestowe,
(And, use their utmost pow'r) themselves to keepe
From slothfull Ease; and from intemp'rate sleepe:
For, he that hath such Duties undertooke,
(And, must the lives of others overlooke)
Shall finde himselfe, unto himselfe become
A burthen, and a Charge more troublesome
Then all his Flocke, unles, he still provide
His owne, aswell as others waies, to guide.
Now, though this Emblems Morall doth concerne
The Clergie most; yet, hence we all may learne
Strict watch to keepe; since, unto all that bee,
A Watchmans place belongs, in some degree.
Which, to discharge, if wee endeavour, still,
Our universall Shepherd aide us will,
And us from harmes, and error he will keepe,
For, Hee that guardeth Isr'ell doth not sleepe.


Our Dayes, untill our Life hath end,
In Labours, and in Hopes, wee spend.

Illvstr. XVI. Book. 3

S soone as our first Parents disobey'd,
Forthwith a Curse, for their offence, was layd,
Inforcing them, and their succeeding race,
To get their Food, with sweatings of the Face.
But, afterward, this Doome to mitigate,
(And ease the miseries of their estate)
God gave them Hope, that she might helpe them beare
The burthens of their Travaile, and their care.
A Woman with an Anchor, and a Spade,
An Emblem of that Mystery is made:
And, this Estate, wee all continue in,
By God's free Mercie, and our proper Sinne.
By Sinne, the Labour is on us intail'd;
By Grace, it is, that Hoping hath not fail'd;
And, if in Hope, our Labours wee attend,
That Curse will prove a Blessing, in the end.
My Lot is Hope, and Labour; and, betweene
These Two, my Life-time hath prolonged beene:
Yet, hitherto, the best of all my Paine,
With most of all my Hopes have beene in vaine;
And to the World-ward, I am like to wast
My time in fruitlesse labours, till the last.
However, I have still my Hopes as faire
As hee, that hath no temptings to Despaire;
And, change I will not, my last howres for theirs,
Whose Fortune, more desirable appeares;
Nor cease to Hope and Labour, though, of most,
My Hope and Labour be adjudged lost:
For, though I lose the shaddow of my Paines,
The stubstance of it, still, in God, remaines.


Man's life, no Temper, more doth blesse,
Then Simple-prudent-harmelessenesse.

Illvstr. XVII. Book. 3

Hen from the harmelesse Turtle, and the Snake,
Their most commended properties wee take,
(And, mixe them well) they make a composition,
Which yeelds a temper of the best condition.
Yet, wickednesse, or sorrow, doth abound,
Where, any one of these, alone, is found:
For, whensoe're the Serpents-braine we find,
With which, there is no Dove-like-meekenesse joyn'd,
(Without all peradventure) thence proceedes,
All harmefull fraud, and all injurious deedes.
And, where such meekenesse as doth seeme to be
In harmelesse Doves, divided you shall see
From that discretion, and that policie,
Which in the Serpents head, is thought to lie;
They liable to ev'ry wrong become;
And, to it selfe, make Vertue burthensome.
But, where these two are ioyned, they procure
A life so sweet, so rich, and so secure,
That, all the pow'rs of Malice cannot shake
Their out-workes, nor within them, terrors make.
Vouchsafe thou oh my God! vouchsafe, in me,
That these two Vertues may vnited be.
Such Prudence give, as never will disdaine
The Dove-like Innocencie, to retaine.
That meekenesse, grant me, which delighteth not,
It selfe, with indiscretion, to besot:
But, let these two, each other so defend,
And, so, in me continue, till my end,
That, simple-prudence, I may still possesse,
Although the World shall count it foolishnesse.


Where er'e we dwell, the Heav'ns are neere;
Let us but fly, and wee are there.

Illvstr. XVIII. Book. 3

Hy, with a trembling faintnesse, should we feare
The face of Death? and, fondly linger here,
As if we thought the Voyage to be gone
Lay through the shades of Styx or Acheron?
Or, that we either were to travell downe
To uncouth Deapthes, or up some heights unknowne?
Or, to some place remote, whose nearest end
Is farther then Earths limits doe extend?
It is not by one halfe that distance, thither
Where Death lets in, as it is any whither:
No not by halfe so farre, as to your bed;
Or, to that place, where you should rest your head,
If on the ground you layd your selfe (ev'n there)
Where at this moment you abiding are.
This Emblem shewes (if well you looke thereon)
That, from your Glasse of life, which is to run,
There's but one step to Death; and, that you tread
At once, among the Living, and, the Dead.
In whatsoever Land, we live or die,
God is the same; And, Heav'n is, there, as nigh
As in that place, wherein, we most desire
Our Soules, with our last breathing, to expire.
Which things, well heeding; let us not delay
Our Iourney, when we summon'd are away,
(As those inforced Pilgrims use to doe,
That know not whither, nor, how farre they goe)
Nor let us dreame that we in Time, or Place,
Are farre from ending our uncertaine Race.
But, let us fix on Heav'n, a faithfull eye,
And, still, be flying thither, till wee die.


His Pace, must wary be, and slow,
That hath a Slippery-way to goe.

Illvstr. XIX. Book. 3

Travailer, when he must undertake
To seek his passage, o're some Frozen Lake,
With leisure, and with care, he will assay
The glassy smoothnesse of that Icie-way,
Lest he may slip, by walking over-fast;
Or, breake the crackling Pavement, by his hast:
And, so (for want of better taking heed)
Incurre the mischiefes of Vnwary-speed.
We are all Travellers; and, all of us
Have many passages, as dangerous,
As Frozen-lakes; and, Slippery-wayes, we tread,
In which our Lives may soone be forfeited,
(With all our hopes of Life-eternall, too)
Unlesse, we well consider what we doe.
There is no private Way, or publicke Path,
But rubs, or holes, or slipp'rinesse it hath,
Whereby, wee shall with Mischiefes meet; unlesse,
Wee walke it, with a stedfast-warinesse.
The steps to Honour, are on Pinacles
Compos'd of melting Snow, and Isicles;
And, they who tread not nicely on their tops,
Shall on a suddaine slip from all their hopes.
Yea, ev'n that way, which is both sure and holy,
And, leades the Minde from Vanities and Folly,
Is with so many other Path-wayes crost,
As, that, by Rashnesse, it may soone be lost;
Vnlesse, we well deliberate, upon
Those Tracts, in which our Ancestours have gone:
And, they who with more haste, then heed, will runne,
May lose the way, in which they well begunne.


Our Pelican, by bleeding, thus,
Fulfill'd the Law, and cured Vs.

Illvstr. XX. Book. 3

Ooke here, and marke (her sickly birds to feed)
How freely this kinde Pelican doth bleed.
See, how (when other Salves could not be found)
To cure their sorrowes, she, her selfe doth wound;
And, when this holy Emblem, thou shalt see,
Lift up thy soule to him, who dy'd for thee.
For, this our Hieroglyphick would expresse
That Pelican, which in the Wildernesse
Of this vast World, was left (as all alone)
Our miserable Nature to bemone;
And, in whose eyes, the teares of pitty stood,
When he beheld his owne unthankfull Brood
His Favours, and his Mercies, then, contemne,
When with his wings he would have brooded them:
And, sought their endlesse peace to have confirm'd,
Though, to procure his ruine, they were arm'd.
To be their Food, himselfe he freely gave;
His Heart was pierc'd, that he their Soules might save.
Because, they disobey'd the Sacred-will,
He, did the Law of Righteousnesse fulfill;
And, to that end (though guiltlesse he had bin)
Was offred, for our Vniversall-sinne.
Let mee Oh God! for ever, fixe mine eyes
Vpon the Merit of that Sacrifize:
Let me retaine a due commemoration
Of those deare Mercies, and that bloudy Passion,
Which here is meant; and, by true Faith, still, feed
Vpon the drops, this Pelican did bleed;
Yea, let me firme unto thy Law abide,
And, ever love that Flocke, for which he dy'd.


Bee Iust; for, neither Sea nor Land,
Shall hide thee from the Royall-hand.

Illvstr. XXI. Book. 3

Hat, which wee call the Sea-horse, is a Creature,
Whereby the Priests of Ægypt, wonted were,
To typify an Ill-disposed nature;
And, such, as to their Parents, cruell are:
Because, this Monster (as their Authors write)
When strong he growes, becommeth so ingrate,
That he pursues, with violent despight,
His old and weakly Sire, which him begate.
Contrariwise, the Storke, they figur'd, then,
When they occasion had, to signifie
The good condition, of those honest men,
Who pleasure take, in workes of Piety:
Because, the Storkes, not onely harmed none,
But, holpe their aged Parents in their need;
And, those offensive Serpents, prey'd upon,
Which, in the Fennes of Ægypt, yearely, breed.
The Royall-Crowne, therefore, supporting thus
That pious Fowle, and overtopping, here,
The wicked, and the fierce Hyppotamus,
May serve to comfort, and to keep in feare.
For, it informes, that, if we pious grow,
And love our Princes (who those Parents bee,
To whom all Subjects, filiall duties owe)
The blessings of their Favours, we shall see.
It shewes us, also, that, if we affect
Vnrighteous-wayes, no Wit, or Strength of our,
Nor any Vncouth-place, shall us protect
From being reached, by the Sov'raigne-power.
The way of Iustice, therefore, learne thou still,
For love of Goodnesse, or for feare of Ill.


Take wing, my Soule, and mount up higher;
For, Earth, fulfills not my Desire.

Illvstr. XXII. Book. 3

Hen Ganymed, himselfe was purifying,
Great Iupiter, his naked beauty spying,
Sent forth his Ægle (from below to take him)
A blest Inhabitant, in Heav'n to make him:
And, there (as Poets feigned) he doth still,
To Iove, and other God-heads, Nectar fill.
Though this be but a Fable, of their feigning,
The Morall is a Reall truth, pertayning
To ev'ry one (which harbours a desire
Above the Starry Circles, to aspire.)
By Ganymed, the Soule is understood,
That's washed in the Purifying flood
Of sacred Baptisme (which doth make her seeme
Both pure and beautifull, in God's esteeme.)
The Ægle, meanes that Heav'nly Contemplation,
Which, after Washings of Regeneration,
Lifts up the Minde, from things that earthly bee,
To view those Objects, which Faith's Eyes doe see.
The Nectar, which is filled out, and given
To all the blest Inhabitants of Heaven,
Are those Delights, which (Christ hath sayd) they have,
When some Repentant-soule beginnes to leave
Her foulnesse; by renewing of her birth,
And, slighting all the Pleasures of the Earth.
I aske not, Lord, those Blessings to receive,
Which any Man hath pow'r to take, or give;
Nor, what this World affords; for, I contemne
Her Favours; and have seene the best of them:
Nay, Heav'n it selfe, will unsufficient bee,
Vnlesse, Thou, also, give Thy selfe, to mee.


Through many spaces, Time doth run,
And, endeth, where it first begun.

Illvstr. XXIII. Book. 3

Ld Sages by the Figure of the Snake
(Encircled thus) did oft expression make
Of Annuall-Revolutions; and of things,
Which wheele about in everlasting-rings;
There ending, where they first of all begun,
And, there beginning, where the Round was done.
Thus, doe the Planets; Thus, the Seasons doe;
And, thus, doe many other Creatures, too.
By minutes, and by houres, the Spring steales in,
And, rolleth on, till Summer doth begin:
The Summer brings on Autumne, by degrees;
So ripening, that the eye of no man sees
Her Entrances. That Season, likewise, hath
To Winter-ward, as leasurely a path:
And, then, cold Winter wheeleth on amaine,
Vntill it brings the Spring about againe,
With all those Resurrections, which appeare,
To wait upon her comming, every yeare.
These Roundells, helpe to shew the Mystery
Of that immense and blest Eternitie,
From whence the Creature sprung, and, into whom
It shall, againe, with full perfection come,
When those Additions, it hath fully had,
Which all the sev'rall Orbes of Time can add.
It is a full, and fairely written Scrowle,
Which up into it selfe, it selfe doth rowle;
And, by Vnfolding, and, Infolding, showes
A Round, which neither End, nor entrance knowes.
And (by this Emblem) you may partly see,
Tis that which IS, but, cannot uttred be.


Each Day a Line, small tasks appeares:
Yet, much it makes in threescore Yeares.

Illvstr. XXIV. Book. 3

Ere's but one Line; and, but one Line a Day,
Is all the taske our Motto, seemes to lay:
And, that is thought, perhaps, a thing so small,
As if it were as good bee nought at all.
But, be not so deceiv'd; For, oft you see
Small things (in time) great matters, rise to be:
Yea, that, which when the same was first begun,
A Trifle seem'd, (and easie to be done)
By long nelect of time, will burthensome,
And, at the last, impossible, become.
Great Clarkes, there are, who shall not leave behinde them,
One good Weekes worke, for Future-Times to minde them,
(In Callings, either Humane, or Divine)
Who, by composing but each Day a Line,
Might Authors, of some famous Workes appeare,
In sixtie, seventie, or in eightie yeare;
To which, ten hundred thousands have arrived
Of whom, we see no signe that ev'r they lived.
And, with much pleasure, wee might all effect,
Those needfull Works, which often we neglect,
(Vntill too late). If we but, now and then
Did spare one houre to exercise the penn.
For, still, one-Line, another draweth on,
And, Line by Line, great Workes at last are done.
Whereas, dis-use, and many dayes mispent,
Without their Lines, let in discouragement,
Or, bring Despaire; which doth so sottish make us,
That we, to no endeavour can betake us.
Marke this, and, labour in some honest Way,
As much as makes, at least, One Line a Day,


Our outward Hopes will take effect,
According to the King's aspect.

Illvstr. XXV. Book. 3

Hen Phœbus with a cheerefull eye, beholds
The Flow'r-embroydred earth, and freely spreads
His beames abroad; behold, the Marigolds
Beginne to reare their low-dejected heads:
The Tulips, Daysies, and the Heliotropes
Of ev'ry kinde, their closed Leaves display;
And (as it were) with new-recover'd hopes,
Attend upon the Ruler of the Day.
Againe, when either in the West he shrowds
His Rayes below this Horizon, or hides
His Face behinde the Curtaines of the Cloudes;
They lose their beauties, and abate their prides.
Thus fares it with a Nation, and their King,
'Twixt whom there is a native Sympathy.
His Presence, and his Favours, like the Spring,
Doe make them sweetly thrive, and fructify:
Yea (like fresh Groves, or Flow'rs of pleasing hew)
Themselves in all their jollity they showe;
But, they, if with displeasure, them he view,
Soone lose their Glory, and contemned growe.
All, are not Heliotropes that favour'd growe,
In Princes Courts; nor Marigolds, that beare
The golden blossomes; but some spring below,
Like Daysie flow'rs, that in the Pathwayes are:
Yet all shall feele it, when their Sov'raignes eye
Doth frowne, or smile, regard, or else neglect:
Yea, it will finde them in Obscurity,
By some Disheartning, or some sweet Effect,
Vouchsafe to shine on Mee, my Gracious King,
And then my Wither'd Leaves, will freshly spring.


The Right-hand way, is Vertues Path,
Though rugged Passages it hath.

Illvstr. XXVI. Book. 3

F any covet knowledge of that Path,
Which thither tends, where Peace her dwelling hath,
This Emblem (being well observ'd) will show
On whether side, it will be best to goe.
The Left-hand-way, seemes to be walk'd, at ease,
Through Lawnes, and Downes, and green-swath'd Passages;
And, much allures the Traveller, to trie
The many Pleasures, which doe that Way lye.
The Right-hand-course, is through a Pathlesse-mound
Of newly ploughed, and deep-furrow'd Ground;
Which, as uneasie seemeth, to be gone,
As, in appearance, rough to looke upon.
Yet, this is Vertue's Path: This Way uneven,
Is that, which unto ev'ry man is given,
To travaile in; and, hath a safer ending,
Then those, whereon more Pleasures are attending:
And (though it leades us thither, where we see
Few promises of outward Glories bee)
It brings (us when we passe the common sight)
Through easy Tracts, to gaine our Hearts delight.
The other Way (though seeming streight, it lyes,
To Pleasure's Pallaces, before our eyes)
Hath many rubs, and perills, which betweene
Our Hopes, and Vs, will alwayes lurke unseene;
Till we are drawne so farre, that 'twill be vaine,
To seeke, with safety, to returne againe.
This, let us heed; and, still be carefull, too,
Which Course it most concerneth us to goe.
And, though the Left-hand-way, more smoothnesse hath,
Let us goe forward, in the Right-hand-path.


I was erected for a Bound,
And I resolve to stand my ground.

Illvstr. XXVII. Book. 3

He Bounder-Stones, held sacred, heretofore,
Some did so superstitiously adore,
As, that they did not onely rev'rence doe them,
But, have ascrib'd a kinde of God-head, to them:
For, Terminus had many a Sacrifize,
As well as other senslesse Deities.
I am not so prophane, as to desire
Such Ethnick zeale should set our hearts on fire:
But, wish I could, Men better did regard
Those Bounders, which Antiquity hath rear'd;
And, that, they would not, with so much delight,
There, make incroachments, where they have no right.
That, ev'ry man might keep his owne Possessions,
Our Fathers, us'd in reverent Processions
(With zealous prayers, and with praisefull cheere)
To walke their Parish-limits, once a yeare:
And, well knowne Markes (which sacrilegious Hands
Now cut or breake) so bord'red out their Lands,
That, ev'ry one distinctly knew his owne;
And, many brawles, now rife, were then unknowne.
But, since neglected, sacred Bounders were,
Most men Incroachers, and Intruders are:
They grieve each other, and their Dues they steale,
From Prince, from Parent, and from Common-weale.
Nay, more; these bold Vsurpers are so rude,
That, they, on Christ's Inheritance intrude.
But, that will be aveng'd; and (on his right)
Though such incroach, he will not lose it quite:
For, hee's that Bounder, and that Corner-stone,
Who all confines, and is confin'd, of none.


Where Lovers fitly matched be,
In mutuall-duties, they agree.

Illvstr. XXVIII. Book. 3

Ould God, I could as feelingly infuse
A good effect of what this Emblem shewes,
As I can tell in words, what Moralls bee,
The life of that, which here you pictur'd see.
Most Lovers, minde their Penny, or their Pleasure;
Or, painted Honors; and, they all things measure,
Not as they are, but as they helpfull seeme,
In compassing those toyes, they most esteeme.
Though many wish to gaine a faithfull Friend,
They seldome seeke one, for the noblest end:
Nor know they (should they finde what they had sought)
How Friendship should be manag'd, as it ought.
Such, as good Husbands covet, or good Wives
(The deare companions of most happy lives)
Wrong Courses take to gaine them; yet, contemne
Their honest love, who rightly counsell them:
And, lest, they unawares the Marke may hit,
They blinde their judgements, and befoole their wit.
He, that will finde a Friend, must seeke out one
To exercise unfeigned love upon;
And, mutuall-duties, must both yield, and take,
Not for himselfe; but, for his Friendship sake.
Such, as doe rightly marry, neither be
With Dowries caught, nor wooe a Pedigree;
Nor, meerely come together, when they wed,
To reape the youthfull pleasures of the Bed:
But, seeke that fitnesse, and, that Sympathy,
Which maketh up the perfect'st Amity.
A paire, so match'd; like Hands that wash each other,
As mutuall-helpes, will sweetly live together.


When Law, and Armes, together meet,
The World descends, to kisse their feet.

Illvstr. XXIX. Book. 3

He Picture of a Crowned-king, here, stands
Upon a Globe; and, with outstretched hands,
Holds forth, in view, a Law-booke, and a Sword:
Which plaine and moderne Figures, may afford
This meaning; that, a King, who hath regard
To Courts for pleading, and a Court of Guard,
And, at all times, a due respect will carry,
To pious Lawes, and Actions military;
Shall not be Monarch, onely in those Lands,
That are, by Birth right, under his commands:
But, also, might (if just occasion were)
Make this whole Globe of Earth, his power to feare;
Advance his Favorites; and, bring downe all
His Opposites, below his pedestall.
His conquering Sword, in forraigne Realmes, he drawes,
As oft, as there is just, or needfull cause:
At home, in ev'ry Province of his Lands,
At all times, armed are his Trayned bands.
His Royall fleets, are terrours to the Seas;
At all houres, rigg'd, for usefull Voyages:
And, often, he his Navy doth increase,
That Warres Provisions, may prolong his Peace.
Nor, by the tenure of the Sword, alone,
Delighteth he to hold his awfull Throne,
But, likewise, labours, Mischiefes to prevent,
By wholsome Lawes, and rightfull Goverment.
For, where the Sword commands, without the Law,
A Tyrant keepes the Land in slavish awe:
And, where good Lawes doe want an Armed pow'r,
Rebellious Knaves, their Princes, will devoure.


Faire-shewes, we should not so much heed,
As the Vprightnesse of the Deed.

Illvstr. XXX. Book. 3

Hen wee should use a Ruler, or a Square,
Or such like Instruments, as usefull are,
In forming other things; we prize not so
The carving, or the colourable show
(Which makes them beautifull in outward sight)
As when, for Vsefulnesse, we finde them right.
A warped Bowe, though strung with silken threads,
And, crooked Arrowes, tipt with Golden heads,
Delight not Archers; tyet, such uselesse Toyes
Be fit enough for Bunglers, and for Boyes.
A skilfull Artist (in what Art soe're,
He seekes, to make his ablenesse appeare)
Will give large Prices, with much more content,
To buy a plaine (if perfect) Instrument;
Then, take for nothing (or, for thankes alone)
An uselesse Toole, though, gay to looke upon.
From whence, observe; that, if there must be sought,
When meere Mechanick-workes are to be wrought,
Such Instruments, as rather have esteeme
For their true-being, then for what they seeme.
Much more, should all those Rules be such, whereby
Wee goe about, our selves to rectify;
And, build up, what in Body, or in minde,
We may defective, or impaired finde.
Else, peradventure, that we thinke to mend,
More faulty may become, at later end.
But, hence, I chiefly learne, to take a care,
My Life, and Actions, rather be sincere,
Then seeming such: And, yet, Ile thinke no shame,
To seeme, to be as honest, as I am.


My Substance, and my Light, are spent,
In seeking other mens content.

Illvstr. XXXI. Book. 3

F this nigh-wasted Candle, you shall view,
And, heed it well, it may enlighten you
To looke with more compassion, on their paines,
Who rob themselves, to multiply your gaines.
The Taper burnes, to give another light,
Ev'n till it selfe, it hath consumed quite;
And, all the profit, which it thence doth winne,
Is to be snufft, by ev'ry Commer-in.
This is the Lot of some, whom I have knowne,
Who, freely, all their life-time, have bestowne
In such industrious labour, as appeares,
To further others profits, more then theirs;
And, all their Patrimonies, well nigh spent,
The ruining of others, to prevent.
The wit, the strength, and all the pow'r they had,
(Which might, by probability, have made
Good meanes to raise them, in this world, as high,
As most, who climbe to wealthy dignity)
Ev'n these, they have bestow'd, to better them,
Who their indeavours, for their paines, contemne.
These are those Lamps, whose flames, from time to time,
Have through each Age, and through-out ev'ry Clime,
To one another, that true Light convey'd,
Which Ignorance, had, els, long since betray'd
To utter darknesse. These, despightfull Pride
Oft snuffs; and, oft, to put them out, hath try'd.
But, from the brightnesse of such Lights, as they,
We got our Light of knowledge, at this day.
To them, God make us kinder; and to Him,
More thankfull, that we gain'd such light by them.


The safest Riches, hee shall gaine,
Who alwayes Faithfull doth remaine.

Illvstr. XXXII. Book. 3

He Horne-of-plenty, which Wealth signifies,
The Hand-in-hand, which Plighted-faith implies,
(Together being painted) seeme to teach,
That, such as will be honest, shall be rich.
If this be so, why then for Lucre-sake,
Doe many breake the Promises they make?
Why doe they cheat and couzen, lye, and sweare?
Why practise they all Villanies that are?
To compasse Wealth? And, how doe such as they
Inlarge their ill-got Portions, ev'ry day?
Or, whence proceedes it, that sometimes we see
Those men grow poore, who faithfull seeme to bee?
Thus, oft it proves; and, therefore, Falshood can,
In likelihood, much more inrich a man,
Then blamelesse Faith; and, then, the Motto here
Improper to this Emblem, doth appeare.
But, well enough they sute; and, all is true,
Which these things (being thus united) shew.
Should it be then concluded, that all those,
Who poore and honest seeme, have made but showes
Of reall Faith? And, therfore, plagu'd have bin
With publicke lashes, for their private sin?
Indeed, sometime it hath succeeded so:
But, know you should, that, most who richest grow,
In Outward-wealth, are very poore in that,
Which brings true Plentie, and a blest Estate:
And, that, Good men, though poore they seeme to bee,
Have Riches, which the Worldling cannot see.
Now He, who findes himselfe endow'd with such,
(Whate're wee thinke him) is exceeding rich.


Poore-Theeves, in Halters we behold,
And, great-Theeves, in their Chaines of gold.

Illvstr. XXXIII. Book. 3

F you, this Emblem, well have look'd upon,
Although you cannot helpe it, yet, bemone
The Worlds blacke Impudence; and, if you can,
Continue (or become) an honest man.
The poore, and petty Pilferers, you see
On Wheeles, on Gibbets, and the Gallow-tree
Trust up; when they, that farre more guilty are,
Pearle, Silke, and costly Cloth of Tissue, weare.
Good God! how many hath each Land of those,
Who, neither limbe, nor life, nor credit lose
(But, rather live befriended, and applauded)
Yet, have of all their livelihoods defrauded
The helplesse Widowes, in their great distresse?
And, of their Portions, robd the Fatherlesse?
Yet, censur'd others Errours, as if none
Had cause to say, that they amisse have done?
How many, have assisted to condemne
Poore soules, for what was never stolne by them?
And, persecuted others, for that Sin,
Which they themselves, had more transgressed in?
How many worthlesse men, are great become,
By that, which they have stolne, or cheated from
Their Lords? or (by some practices unjust)
From those, by whom they had beene put in trust?
How many Lawyers, wealthy men are growne,
By taking Fees, for Causes overthrowne
By their defaults? How many, without feare,
Doe rob the King, and God, yet blamelesse are?
God knowes how many! would I did so, too,
So I had pow'r to make them better doe.


Whil'st thou dost, here, injoy thy breath,
Continue mindfull of thy Death.

Illvstr. XXXIV. Book. 3

Hen thou beholdest on this Burying-stone,
The melancholly Night-bird, sitting on
The fleshlesse ruines of a rotten-Skull,
(Whose Face, perhaps, hath been more beautifull,
Then thine is now) take up a serious thought;
And, doe as thou art by the Motto taught.
Remember Death: and, minde, I thee beseech,
How soone, these Fowles may at thy window screech;
Or, call thee (as the common people deeme)
To dwell in Graves, and Sepulchers, by them,
Where nothing else, but Bats, and Owles, appeare;
Or, Goblins, form'd by Fancies, and, by Feare.
If thou shalt be advis'd, to meditate
Thy latter end, before it be too late,
(And, whil'st thy friends, thy strength, and wits may bee
In likely case, to help and comfort thee)
There may be courses taken, to divert
Those Frights, which, else, would terrifie thy heart,
When Death drawes neare; and helpe thee plucke away
That Sting, of his, which would thy Soule dismay.
But, if thou madly ramble onward, still,
Till thou art sinking downe that darkesome-hill,
Which borders on the Grave (and dost beginne
To see the Shades of Terrour, and of Sinne
To fly acrosse thy Conscience) 'twill be hard
To learne this Lesson; or, to be prepar'd
For that sad parting; which, will forced bee,
Betweene this much beloved World, and thee.
Consider this, therefore, while Time thou hast,
And, put not off this Bus'nesse, till the last.


Doe not the golden Meane, exceed,
In Word, in Passion, nor in Deed.

Illvstr. XXXV. Book. 3

S is the head-strong Horse, and blockish Mule,
Ev'n such, without the Bridle, and the Rule,
Our Nature growes; and, is as mischievous,
Till Grace, and Reason, come to governe us.
The Square, and Bridle, therefore let us heed,
And, thereby learne to know, what helpes wee need;
Lest, else, (they fayling, timely, to bee had)
Quite out of Order, wee, at length, bee made.
The Square, (which is an usefull Instrument,
To shape foorth senselesse Formes) may represent
The Law: Because, Mankind, (which is by Nature,
Almost as dull, as is the senselesse-creature,)
Is thereby, from the native-rudenesse, wrought;
And, in the Way of honest-living taught.
The Bridle, (which Invention did contrive,
To rule, and guide the Creature-sensitive)
May type forth Discipline; which, when the Law
Hath school'd the Wit, must keepe the Will in awe.
And, hee that can by these, his Passions bound,
This Emblems meaning, usefully, hath found.
Lord, let thy sacred Law, at all times, bee
A Rule, a Master, and a Glasse to mee;
(A Bridle, and a Light) that I may, still,
Both know my Dutie, and obey thy Will.
Direct my Feet; my Hands, instruct thou so,
That I may neither wander, nor mis-doe.
My Lookes, my Hearing, and my Wordes confine,
To keepe still firme, to ev'ry Word of thine.
On thee, let also my Desires attend:
And, let me hold this temper, till mine end.


Wee then have got the surest prop,
When God, alone, becomes our Hope.

Illvstr. XXXVI. Book. 3

Should not care how hard my Fortunes were,
Might still my Hopes be such, as now they are,
Of helpes divine; nor feare, how poore I bee,
If thoughts, yet, present, still may bide in mee.
For, they have left assurance of such ayd,
That, I am of no dangers, now afraid.
Yea, now I see, mee thinkes, what weake and vaine
Supporters I have sought, to helpe sustaine
My fainting heart; when some injurious hand,
Would undermine the Station where I stand.
Me thinks, I see how scurvie, and how base,
It is to scrape for favours, and for grace,
To men of earthly minds; and unto those,
Who may, perhaps, before to morrow lose
Their Wealth, (or their abus'd Authoritie)
And, stand as much in want of helpe as I.
Me thinks, in this new-rapture, I doe see
The hand of God from heaven supporting me,
Without those rotten-Ayds, for which I whinde,
When I was of my tother vulgar-minde:
And, if in some one part of me it lay,
I, now, could cut that Limbe of mine away.
Still, might I keepe this mind, there were enough
Within my selfe, (beside that cumbring stuffe
Wee seeke without) which, husbanded aright,
Would make mee Rich, in all the Worlds despight.
And, I have hopes, that, had shee quite bereft mee,
Of those few ragges and toyes, which, yet, are left me;
I should on God, alone, so much depend,
That, I should need, nor Wealth, nor other Friend.


True Vertue, firme, will alwayes bide,
By whatsoever suffrings tride.

Illvstr. XXXVII. Book. 3

His is a well-knowne Figure, signifying,
A man, whose Vertues will abide the trying:
For, by the nature of the Diamond stone,
(Which Violence, can no way worke upon)
That Patience, and long-suffering is intended,
Which will not bee with Injuries offended;
Nor yeeld to any base dejectednesse,
Although some bruising Pow'r, the same oppresse;
Or, such hard streights, as theirs, that hamm'rings feele,
Betwixt an Anvile, and a Sledge of Steele.
None ever had a perfect Vertue, yet,
But, that most Pretious-stone, which God hath set
On his right hand, in beaming-Majestie,
Vpon the Ring of blest ETERNITIE.
And, this, is that impenitrable Stone,
The Serpent could not leave impression on,
(Nor signe of any Path-way) by temptations,
Or, by the pow'r of sly insinuations:
Which wondrous Mysterie was of those five,
Whose depth King Solomon could never dive.
Good God! vouchsafe, ev'n for that Diamond-sake,
That, I may of his pretiousnesse, partake,
In all my Trialls; make mee alwayes able
To bide them, with a minde impenitrable,
How hard, or oft so'ere, those hamm'rings bee,
Wherewith, Afflictions must new fashion mee.
And, as the common Diamonds polish'd are,
By their owne dust; so, let my errours weare
Each other out; And, when that I am pure,
Give mee the Lustre, Lord, that will endure.


Truth, oft oppressed, wee may see,
But, quite supprest it cannot bee.

Illvstr. XXXVIII. Book. 3

His is that fruitfull Plant, which when it growes,
Where wholesome Water in abundance flowes,
Was, by the Psalmist, thought a likely Tree,
The Emblem, of a blessed-man, to bee:
For, many wayes, it fitly typifies,
The Righteous-man, with his proprieties;
And, those true Vertues, which doe helpe increase
His growing, in the state of Blessednesse.
The Palme, (in this our Emblem, figur'd, thus)
Depressed with a Stone, doth shew to us
The pow'r of Truth: For, as this Tree doth spread,
And thrive the more, when weights presse downe the head;
So, Gods eternall Truth (which all the pow'r
And spight of Hell, did labour to devoure)
Sprung high, and flourished the more, thereby,
When Tyrants crush'd it, with their crueltie.
And, all inferiour Truths, the same will doe,
According as they make approaches to
The best Perfection; or, as they conduce
To God's due praise, or some such pious use.
Lord, still, preserve this Truth's integritie,
Although on ev'ry side, the wicked prie,
To spie how they may disadvantage it.
Yea, Lord, though Sinners in high place doe sit,
(As David saith) yet, let them not oppresse
Thy Veritie, by their imperiousnesse.
But, make both Her, and her Professors, bide
The Test, like Silver seven times purifide.
That, all Truths lovers, may with comfort see,
Shee may deprest, but, not, oppressed bee.


They, who but slowly-paced are,
By plodding on, may travaile farre.

Illvstr. XXXIX. Book. 3

He big-bon'd Oxe, in pace is very slow,
And, in his travaile, step by step, doth goe,
So leisurely, as if he tir'd had bin,
Before his painfull Iourney did beginne;
Yet, all the day, he stifly ploddeth on,
Vntill the labour of the day be done:
And, seemes as fresh (though he his taske hath wrought)
As when to worke he first of all was brought.
Meane-while, the Palfray, which more swiftnesse had,
Hath lost his breath, or proves a Resty-jade.
This Emblem, therefore, maketh it appeare,
How much it profiteth, to persevere;
And, what a little Industry will doe,
If wee continue constant thereunto.
For, meanest Faculties, discreetly us'd,
May get the start, of nobler Gifts, abus'd.
This, may obserued be in many a one:
For (when their course of life was first begunne)
Some, whose refined wits, aspi'rd as high,
As if above the Sphæres, they were to flie:
By Sloth, or Pride, or over-trusting to
Their owne Sufficiencies, themselves undoe.
Yea and those forward-wits, have liv'd to see
Themselves inferiours, unto those, to be,
Whom, they did in their jollity, contemne,
As blocks, or dunces, in respect of them.
Then, learne, Great-wits, this folly to prevent:
Let Meane-wits, take from hence, incouragement:
And, let us all, in our Affaires proceed,
With timely leisure, and with comely speed.


Vncertaine, Fortunes Favours, bee,
And, as the Moone, so changeth Shee.

Illvstr. XL. Book. 3

Vr Author, peradventure, giveth us
Dame Fortune (for these Reasons) pictur'd, thus:
She hath a Comely-body, to declare,
How pleasing shee doth usually appeare
To them, that love her Favours. She is blinde,
(Or, hath still closed eyes) to put in minde,
How blindly, and how heedlesly, she throwes
Her Largesse, where her Bounty, she bestowes.
She stands upon a Ball; that, wee may learne,
Of outward things, the tottering, to discerne:
Her Ball hath wings; that it may signifie
How apt her Favours are, away to flie.
A Skarfe displayed by the wind, she beares,
(And, on her naked-Body, nothing weares)
To shew, that what her Favorite injoyes,
Is not so much for Vsefulnesse, as toyes.
Her Head is hairelesse, all, except before;
To teach thee, that thy care should be the more
To hold her formost kindnesse, alwayes fast;
Lest, she doe show thee slipp'ry tricks, at last.
And, lastly, that her changing may be showne;
She beareth in her Hand a Wayned-moone.
By this Description, you may now descry
Her true conditions, full as well as I:
And, if you, still, suppose her, worth such honour,
You have my leave to wooe, and wayt upon her.
Moreover (to her credit) I confesse,
This Motto falsly saith, her Ficklenesse
Is like the Moones: For, she hath frown'd on mee
Twelve Moones, at least; and, yet, no Change I see.


Vntill the Steele, the Flint shall smite,
It will afford nor Heat, nor Light.

Illvstr. XLI. Book. 3

Hilst by the High-way-side, the Flint-stone lies,
Drie, cold, and hardnesse, are the properties
We then perceive: But, when we prove it nigher,
We finde, that, Coldnesse doth inclose a Fire;
And, that, though Raine, nor cloudie-skie appeares,
It will be (many times) bedew'd with teares.
From hence, I mind, that many wronged are,
By being judg'd, as they, at first, appeare;
And, that, some should bee prais'd, whom wee despise,
If inward-Grace, were seene with outward-Eyes.
But, this is not that Morall (wee confesse)
Which this our Emblem, seemeth to expresse:
For (if the Motto speake the meaning right)
It shewes, that, hard-afflictions first must smite
Our hardned hearts, before it will bee seene,
That any light of Grace, in them, hath beene.
Before the Flint will send forth shining Rayes,
It must bee strucken, by the Steele, (it sayes.)
Another Morall, adde we may to this,
(Which, to the Figure, sutes not much amisse.)
The Steele, and Flint, may fitly represent
Hard-hearted men, whose mindes will not relent:
For, when in opposition, such become,
The fire of Malice, flames and sparkles from
Their threatning Eyes; which else, close hidden rests,
Within the closets of their flintie brests:
And, flame out-right it will not, (though it smokes)
Till Strife breake passage, for it, by her strokes.
If any of these Moralls may doe good,
The purpose of my paines is understood.


My Wit got Wings, and, high had flowne;
But, Povertie did keepe mee downe.

Illvstr. XLII. Book. 3

Ou little thinke, what plague it is to bee,
In plight like him, whom pictur'd here you see.
His winged-Arme, and his up-lifted-eyes,
Declare, that hee hath Wit, and Will, to rise:
The Stone, which clogs his other hand, may show
That, Povertie and Fortune, keepe him low:
And, twixt these two, the Bodie and the Mind,
Such labours, and such great vexations finde,
That, if you did not such mens wants contemne,
You could not chuse but helpe, or pitie them.
All Ages had (and, this I know hath some),
Such men, as to this misery, doe come:
And, many of them, at their Lot, so grieve,
As if they knew, (or did at least beleeve)
That, had their Wealth suffiz'd them to aspire
(To what their Witts deserve, and they desire).
The present Age, and future Ages too,
Might gaine have had, from what they thought to doe.
Perhaps I dream'd so once: But, God be prais'd,
The Clog which kept me downe, from being rais'd,
Was chain'd so fast, that (if such Dreames I had)
My thoughts, and longings, are not now so mad.
For, plaine I see, that, had my Fortunes brought
Such Wealth, at first, as my small Wit hath sought;
I might my selfe, and others, have undone,
Instead of Courses, which I thought to runne.
I finde my Povertie, for mee was fit;
Yea, and a Blessing, greater than my Wit:
And, whether, now, I rich or poore become,
Tis nor much pleasing, nor much troublesome.


A Mischiefe, hardly can be done,
Where many-pow'rs are knit in one.

Illvstr. XLIII. Book. 3

Bserve the Sheafe of Arrowes, figur'd here;
And, how the pow'r, and fury, of the Beare
(Though hee attempt it) no device can finde
To breake one slender-shaft, while they are joyn'd:
Whereas, were they divided, strength but small,
Like rotten Kexes, would soone breake them all.
This Emblem, therefore, fitly doth imply
That Safeguard, which is found in Vnity;
And, shewes, that, when Dis-union is begunne,
It breedeth dangers, where before were none.
The Psalmist, numerous Off-springs, doth compare
To Quivers, that with Shafts replenish'd are.
When Vnity hath knit them in her bands,
They prove like Arrowes in a Gyants hands.
And, though, for these, their Foes in wayt have layd,
They shall not be supriz'd, nor made afrayd.
Consider this, yee Children of one Sire,
'Twixt whom, is kindled some contentious fire,
And, reconciled be, lest you, at length,
Consume away the marrow of your strength;
Or, by dividing, of your joyned-pow'r,
Make way for those, who studie to devoure.
Yea, let us all consider, as we ought,
What Lesson, by this Emblem, we are taught.
For, wee are Brethren all; and (by a Bloud
More precious, then our nat'rall Brother-hood)
Nor knit, alone, but, mingled, as it were,
Into a League; which is, by much, more deare,
And, much more dangerous, to be undone,
Then all the Bands, that can be thought upon.


They, best injoy their Hearts desires,
In whom, Love, kindles mutuall-fires.

Illvstr. XLIV. Book. 3

Hat may the reason be, that, when Desire
Hath kindled in the brest, a Loving-fire,
The Flame, which burn'd awhile, both cleere & strong,
Becomes to be extinguished, ere long?
This Emblem gives the reason; for, it showes,
That, when Affection, to perfection growes,
The Fire, which doth inlighten, first, the same,
Is made an equall, and a mutuall-flame.
These burning Torches, are alike in length;
To shew, Love equall, both in time, and strength.
They, to each otherward, their Flames extend,
To teach us, that, True-lovers have no end
Pertayning to Selfe-love; and, lo, betweene
These Two, one Flaming-heart, is to be seene;
To signifie, that, they, but one, remaine
In Minde; though, in their Persons, they are twaine.
He, doubtlesse, then, who Lov'd, and, giveth over,
Deserveth not the Title of a Lover;
Or, else, was unrequited in Affection,
And, was a Lover, with some imperfection.
For, Love, that loves, and is not lov'd as much,
May perfect grow; but, yet, it is not such,
Nor can be, till it may that object have,
Which gives a Heart, for what it would receive:
And, lookes not so much outward, as to heed
What seemes within, to want, or to exceed.
Whether our Emblem's Author, thought of this,
You need not care; nor, will it be amisse,
If they who perfect Lovers, would be thought,
Doe mind, what by this Morall, they are taught.


Where many-Forces joyned are,
Vnconquerable-pow'r, is there

Illvstr. XLV. Book. 3

N Emblem's meaning, here, I thought to conster;
And, this doth rather fashion out a Monster,
Then forme an Hieroglyphicke: but, I had
These Figures (as you see them) ready made
By others; and, I meane to morallize
Their Fancies; not to mend what they devise.
Yet, peradventure, with some vulgar praise,
This Picture (though I like it not) displayes
The Morall, which the Motto doth imply;
And, thus, it may be sayd to signifie.
He, that hath many Faculties, or Friends,
To keepe him safe (or to acquire his ends)
And, fits them so; and, keepes them so together,
That, still, as readily, they ayd each other,
As if so many Hands, they had been made;
And, in One-body, usefull being had:
That man, by their Assistance, may, at length,
Attaine to an unconquerable-strength;
And, crowne his honest Hopes, with whatsoever
He seekes for, by a warranted Endeavour.
Or, else, it might be sayd; that, when we may
Make our Affections, and, our Sense, obay
The will of Reason, (and, so well agree,
That, we may finde them, still, at peace to be)
They'l guard us, like so many Armed-hands;
And, safely keepe us, whatsoere withstands.
If others thinke this Figure, here, inferres
A better sense; let those Interpreters
Vnriddle it; and, preach it where they please:
Their Meanings may be good, and so are these.


The Hearts of Kings are in God's Hands;
And, as He lists, He Them commands.

Illvstr. XLVI. Book. 3

Hy doe men grudge at those, who raysed be,
By royall Favour, from a low degree?
Know this; Hee should be honour'd, whom the King,
To place of Dignity, shall please to bring.
Why should they blame their Kings, for fav'ring such,
Whom, they have thought, scarce meriting so much?
God rules their Hearts; and, they, themselves deceive,
Who dreame, that Kings exalt, without Gods leave.
Why murmure they at God, for guiding so
The Hearts of Kings, as oft they see him doe?
Or, at his Workes, why should they take offence,
As if their Wit, could teach his Providence?
His just, and his all-seeing Wisedome knowes,
Both whom, and why he crownes, or overthrowes;
And, for what cause, the Hearts of Princes, bee
Inlarg'd, or shut; when we no cause can see;
We sometime know, what's well, and what's amisse;
But, of those Truths, the root concealed is;
And, False-hoods, and Uncertainties, there are,
In most of those things, which we speake, or heare.
Then, were not Kings directed by God's hand,
They, who are best, and wisest in the Land,
Might oft misguide them, either by receiving
A False report, or, by some wrong-believing.
God's Grace it is, that Good-men rays'd have bin:
If Sinners flourish, we may thanke our Sin.
Both Good and Bad, so like in out-sides be,
That, Kings may be deceiv'd, in what they see;
And, if God had not rul'd their Hearts aright,
The World, by this time, had been ruin'd quite.


A Vertue hidden, or not us'd,
Is either Sloth, or Grace abus'd.

Illvstr. XLVII. Book. 3

he World hath shamelesse Boasters, who pretend,
In sundry matters, to be skill'd so well,
That, were they pleased, so their houres to spend,
They say, they could in many things excell.
But, though they make their hearers to beleeve,
That, out of Modestie their Gifts they hide,
In them wee very plainely may perceive,
Or Sloth, or Envy, Ignorance, or Pride.
When other mens endeavours they peruse,
They either carpe at what they cannot mend;
Or else of Arrogance doe those accuse,
Who, to the publike view, their Workes commend.
If these men say, that they can Poetize,
But, will not; they are false in saying so:
For, he, whose Wit a little that way lies,
Will doing bee, though hee himselfe undoe.
If they, in other Faculties are learned,
And, still, forbeare their Talents to imploy;
The truest Knowledge, yet, is undiscerned,
And, that, they merit not, which they injoy.
Yea, such as hide the Gifts they have received,
(Or use them not, as well as they are able)
Are like fayre Eyes, of usefull sight bereaved;
Or, lighted-Candles, underneath a Table.
Their glorioust part, is but a Painted-cloath,
Whose Figures, to the wall-ward, still are hung.
Their hidden Vertues, are apparant Sloth;
And, all their life, is to the publike wrong:
For, they doe reape the Fruits, by many sowne,
And, leave to others, nothing of their owne.


The Moone, which is decreasing now,
When shee returnes, will fuller, grow.

Illvstr. XLVIII. Book. 3

Never, yet, did murmuringly complaine,
Although those Moones have long been in the Waine,
Which on their Silver Shields, my Elders wore,
In Battels, and in Triumphs, heretofore.
Nor any mention have I ever made,
Of such Eclipses, as those Crescents had;
Thereby, to move some Comet, to reflect
His fading-light, or daigne his good-aspect.
For, when I tell the World, how ill I fare,
I tell her too, how little I doe care,
For her despights: yea, and I tell it not,
That, helpe, or pitie, might from her be got;
But, rather, that her Favourites may see,
I know my Waynings, yet, can pleased bee.
My Light, is from the Planet of the Sunne;
And, though the Course, which I obliquely runne,
Oft brings my outward Fortunes to the Waine,
My Light shall, one day, bee renew'd againe.
Yea, though to some, I quite may seeme to lose
My Light; because, my follies interpose
Their shadowes to eclipse it: yet, I know,
My Crescents, will increase, and fuller, grow.
Assoone as in the Flesh, I beeing had,
I mooved on in Courses retrograde,
And, thereby lost my Splendor: but, I feele
Soft motions, from that great Eternall-Wheele,
Which mooveth all things, sweetly mooving mee,
To gaine the Place, in which I ought to bee:
And, when to Him, I backe returne, from whom
At first I came, I shall at Full become.


Bee warie, wheresoe're, thou bee:
For, from deceit, no place is free.

Illvstr. XLIX. Book. 3

Ome write (but, on what grounds, I cannot tell)
That they, who neere unto the Deserts dwell,
Where Elephants are found, doe notice take,
What trees they haunt, their sleeping-stocks to make;
That, when they rest against an halfe-sawne stemme,
It (falling) may betray those Beasts to them.
Now, though the part Historicall, may erre,
The Morall, which this Emblem doth inferre,
Is overtrue; and, seemeth to imply,
The World to bee so full of Treacherie,
As, that, no corner of it, found can be,
In which, from Falshoods Engines, wee are free.
I have observ'd the Citie; and, I finde
The Citizens, are civill, grave and kinde;
Yet, many are deluded by their showes,
And, cheated, when they trust in them repose.
I have been oft at Court; where I have spent,
Some idle time, to heare them Complement:
But, I have seene in Courtiers, such deceit,
That, for their Favours, I could never wait.
I doe frequent the Church; and, I have heard
Gods judgements, by the Preachers, there, declar'd,
Against mens falshoods; and, I gladly heare
Their zealous Prayers, and good Counsells there;
But, as I live, I finde some such as they,
Will watch to doe a mischiefe, if they may.
Nay, those poore sneaking Clownes, who seeke their living,
As if they knew no manner of deceiving;
Ev'n those, their witts, can (this way) so apply,
That, they'l soone cousen, wiser men, than I.


This Day, my Houre-glasse, forth is runne;
Thy Torch, to Morrow, may bee done.

Illvstr. L. Book. 3

Here is no Day, nor minute of the Day,
In which, there are not many sent away
From Life to Death; or, many drawing-on,
Which, must within a little while, bee gone.
You, often, view the Grave; you, often, meet
The Buriers, and the Mourners, in the street,
Conveying of some Neighbour, to that home,
Which must, e're long, your dwelling-place become.
You see the Race, of many a youthfull Sonne
Is finish'd, e're his Father's Course is done;
And, that, the hand of Death, regardeth neither
Sexe, Youth, nor Age; but, mingleth all together.
You, many times, in your owne houses, heare
The groanes of Death, and, view your Children, there,
Your loving Parents, or, beloved Wives,
To gaspe for breath, and, labour for their lives.
Nay, you your selves, do sometime find the paines
Of Sicknesse, in your Bowels, and your Vaines.
The Harbingers of Death, sometime, begin
To take up your whole Bodie, for their Inne.
You beare their heavie Aches, on your back;
You feele their twinges, make your heartstrings crack;
And, sometime, lye imprison'd, and halfe dead,
With Age, or with Diseases, on your bed:
Yet you deferre your ends; and, still contrive,
For temp'rall things; as if you thought to live
Sixe Ages longer: or, had quite forgot,
That, you, and others, draw one common-Lot.
But, that, you might not, still, the same forget,
This Emblem, and this Motto, here were set.

Finis Libri tertij.





he Wreathes of Glory, you affect,
But, meanes to gaine them, you neglect;
And, (though in doing, you delight)
You doe not, alwayes, what is right:
Nor are you growne, as yet, so wise,
To know, to whom the richest Prize
Doth appertaine; nor what it is.
But, now, you are inform'd of This.


Though you are weake, you much may doe,
If you will set your Wits thereto.
For, meaner Powres, than you have had,
And, meaner Wits, good shift have made,
Both to contrive, and compasse that,
Which abler men have wondred at.
Your Strength, and Wit, unite, therefore,
And, both shall grow improov'd the more.


Perhaps, thou mayst be one of them,
Who, Civill Magistrates contemne;
And sleighteth, or else, flouteth at
The Ceremonies of Estate.
That, thou maist, therefore, learne to get,
Both better Manners, and more Wit,
The Sword, and Mace, (by some despiz'd)
Is, for thy sake, now moralliz'd.


By this thy Lot, wee may misdoubt,
Thou look'st not warily about;
But, hudlest onward, without heed,
What went before, or may succeed;
Procuring losse, or discontent,
Which, Circumspection, might prevent.
Therefore, with gratefulnesse, receive
Those counsells, which our Moralls give.



Thou hast, unworthily, repin'd,
Or, been displeased in thy mind,
Because, thy Fortunes doe not seeme
To fit thy Worth (in thy esteeme:)
And loe, to check thy discontent,
Thy Lot, a Morall, doth present;
And shewes, that, if thou vertuous bee,
Good-Fortune, will attend on thee.
See, Emb. V.


When thy Desires have good successe,
Thine owne Endeavors, thou dost blesse;
But, seldome unto God thou giv'st
Due thanks, for that, which thou receiv'st.
Thine Emblem, therefore, tells from whom
The fruits of good Endeavours, come:
And, shewes (if thou to thrive intend)
On whom, thou, alwayes, must depend.


It may bee, thou art one of those,
Whose Faith, more bold, than fruitfull growes;
And (building on some false Decree)
Disheartnest those, that Workers be
To gaine (with awfull-joy) that PriZe,
Which, unto no man, God denies,
That workes in Hope; and, lives by Faith.
Marke, therefore, what thine Emblem saith.


Thou hast been willing, that thy Name,
Should live the life of Honest-Fame;
And, that, thy labours (to thy praise)
Continue might, in future dayes.
Behold; the Lot, thou hapnest on,
Hath showne, how this may well bee done.
Pursue the Course, which there is taught,
And, thy desires to passe are brought.


Thou, many things, hast well begun;
But, little, to good purpose, done:
Because, thou hast a fickle braine,
And, hands that love to take no paine.
Therefore, it chanceth not amisse,
That, thou hast such a Chance, as this:
For, if thou want not Grace, or Wit,
Thou maist, in time, have good of it.



Whatev'r you seeme to others, now,
It was the Harrow, and the Plough,
By which, your Predecessors got,
The fairest portion of your Lot:
And, (that, it may encrease your Wit)
They haunt you, in an Emblem, yet.
Peruse our Morall; and, perchance,
Your Profit, it will much advance.
See, Emb. X.


Much labour, and much time you spend,
To get an able-constant Friend:
But, you have ever sought him, there,
Where, no such precious Iewells are:
For, you, without have searching bin,
To finde, what must be found within.
This Friend, is mention'd by this Lot,
But, God knowes where he may be got.


Thou seek'st for Fame; and, now art showne,
For what, her Trumpet shall be blowne.
Thine Emblem, also, doth declare,
What Fame they get, who vertuous are,
For Praise alone; and, what Reward,
For such like Studies, is prepar'd.
Peruse it; And, this Counsell take;
Bee vertuous, for meere Vertues sake.


This Lot, those persons, alwayes finds,
That have high thoughts, and loftie minds;
Or, such as have an itch to learne,
That, which doth nothing them concerne;
Or, love to peepe, with daring eyes,
Into forbidden Mysteries.
If any one of these thou bee,
Thine Emblem, lessons hath for thee.


If all be true, these Lots doe tell us,
Thou shouldst be of those Fidling-fellowes,
Who, better practised are growne,
In others matters, than their owne:
Or, one, that covets to be thought,
A man, that's ignorant of nought.
If it be so, thy Morall showes
Thy Folly, and what from it flowes.



Thou hast some Charge, (who e're thou be)
Which, Tendance may expect from thee.
And, well, perhaps, it may be fear'd,
Tis often left, without regard:
Or, that, thou dost securely sleep,
When, thou should'st watch, more strictly, keep.
Thou knowest best, if it be so:
Take therefore heed, what is to doe.


In secret, thou dost oft complaine,
That, thou hast hop'd, and wrought in vaine;
And, think'st thy Lot, is farre more hard,
Than what for others is prepar'd.
An Emblem, therefore, thou hast got,
To shew, it is our common-Lot,
To worke and hope; and, that, thou hast
A Blessing by it, at the last.


That thou hast Honestie, we grant;
But, Prudence, thou dost often want:
And, therefore, some have injur'd thee,
Who farre more Wise, than honest bee.
That, now, Discretion thou mayst add,
To those good-meanings thou hast had;
The Morall of thine Emblem, view;
And, what it counsels, that, pursue.


To your Long-home, you nearer are,
Than you (it may bee) are aware:
Yea, and more easie is the Way,
Than you, perchance, conceive it may.
Lest, therefore, Death, should grim appeare,
And, put you in a causelesse feare;
(Or out of minding wholly passe)
This Chance, to you allotted was.


In slippery Paths, you are to goe;
Yea, they are full of danger too:
And, if you heedfull should not grow,
They'l hazzard much, your overthrow.
But, you the mischiefe may eschew,
If wholsome Counsell, you pursue.
Looke, therefore, what you may be taught,
By that, which this your chance hath brought.



This present Lot, concernes full neere,
Not you alone, but all men here;
For, all of us, too little heed
His love, who for our sakes, did bleed.
Tis true, that meanes, hee left behind him,
Which better teacheth how to minde him:
Yet, if wee both by that, and this,
Remember him, 'tis not amisse.


Tis hop'd, you just, and pious are,
More out of Conscience, than for feare;
And, that you'l vertuous courses take,
For Goodnesse, and for Vertue-sake.
Yet, since the best men, sometimes may
Have need of helpes, in Vertues way,
Those usefull Moralls, sleight you not,
Which are presented by this Lot.


This Lot pertaineth unto those,
(And who they bee, God onely knowes)
Who, to the world, have no desire;
But, up to heav'nly things aspire.
No doubt, but you, in some degree,
Indow'd with such affections bee;
And, had this Emblem, that you might
Encourag'd bee, in such a Flight.


The state of Temp'rall things to shew,
Yee have them, still, within your view;
For, ev'ry object that wee see,
An Emblem, of them, serves to bee.
But, wee from few things, helps doe finde,
To keepe Eternitie in minde.
This Lot, an Emblem brings, therefore,
To make you thinke upon it more.


Vnlesse you better looke thereto,
Dis-use, and Sloth, will you undoe.
That, which of you despayred was,
With ease, might have bin brought to passe;
Had but so much bin done, as may
Bee equall'd with One Line a day.
Consider this; and, to that end,
The Morall of your Lot attend.


M 25

If wee mistake not, thou art one,
Who loves to court the Rising-Sunne;
And, if this Lot, thy nature finde,
Thou to Preferment hast a minde:
If so; learne hence, by whose respect
(Next God) thou mayst thy hopes effect:
Then, seeke to winn his grace to thee,
Of what estate soe're thou bee.


Thou to a double-path art come;
And, peradventure, troublesome,
Thou findest it; for thee to know,
On whether hand thou oughtst to goe.
To put thee out of all suspect,
Of Courses that are indirect;
Thy Morall points thee to a path,
Which hardship, but, no perill hath.


You warned are of taking heede,
That, never, you your Bounds exceed;
And, also, that you be not found,
To come within your Neighbours Bound.
There may be some concealed Cause,
That, none but you, this Emblem drawes.
Examine it; And, If you see
A fault, let it amended be.


Your Emblems morall doth declare,
When, Lovers fitly matched are;
And, what the chiefest cause may be,
Why, Friends and Lovers disagree.
Perhaps, you somewhat thence may learne,
Which your Affection doth concerne.
But, if it Counsell you too late,
Then, preach it at your Neighbours gate.

M 29

Some, vrge their Princes on to Warre,
And weary of sweet Peace, they are.
Some, seeke to make them, dote on Peace,
(Till publike Danger more encrease)
As if the World were kept in awe,
By nothing else but preaching Law.
Thy Morall (if of those thou art)
Doth act a Moderators part.



Tis feared, thou dost lesse esteeme,
Vpright to bee, than so to seeme;
And, if thine actions, faire appeare,
Thou carest not how foule they are.
Though this bee not thy fault alone,
Yet have a care of mending One:
And, study thou, Vpright to grow,
As well in Essence, as in Show.


Some, all their time, and wealth have spent,
In giving other men content;
And, would not grudge to waste their Blood,
To helpe advance the Common-good.
To such as these, you have been thought,
Not halfe so friendly as you ought.
This Lot therefore befalls, to shew,
How great respects, to such, are due.


You have been tempted (by your leave)
In hope of Lucre, to deceive:
But, much, as yet, you have not swerv'd
From Faith, which ought to be observ'd.
If well, hereafter, you would speed,
In dealing-honestly, proceed:
For, by your Emblem, you shall see,
That, Honest-men, the richest bee.


We hope, no person, here, beleeves,
That, you are of those wealthy Theeves,
Who, Chaines of gold, and pearle doe weare.
And, of those Theeves, that, none you are,
Which weares a Rope, wee, plainly see;
For, you, as yet unhanged bee:
But, unto God, for Mercie crie,
Else hang'd you may bee, e're you die.


You, willing are, to put away,
The thinking on your latter-day:
You count the mention of it, Folly;
A meanes of breeding Melancholly;
And, newes unfit for men to heare,
Before they come to sixtie-yeare.
But, minde what Counsels now are sent,
And, mend, lest you too late repent.



Your Wits, your Wishes, and your Tongue,
Have run the Wild goose-chase, too long;
And (lest all Reason, you exceed)
Of Rules, and Reines, you now have need.
A Bridle, therefore, and a Square,
Prime Figures, in your Emblem, are.
Observe their Morall, and I pray,
Be Wise, and Sober, if you may.


Because her Ayd makes goodly showes,
You, on the World, your trust repose;
And, his dependance, you despise,
Who, meerly, on God's helpe, relies.
That, therefore, you may come to see,
How pleas'd, and safe, those men may bee,
Who have no ayd, but God, alone;
This Emblem, you have lighted on.


Some, thinke your Vertue very much;
And, there is cause to thinke it such:
For, many wayes it hath been tride;
And, well the Triall doth abide.
Yet, think not, but some brunts there are,
Which, your owne strength shall never beare.
And, by the Morall of your Lot,
Learne, where, Assistance may bee got.


Thou hast been grieved, and complain'd,
Because, the Truth hath wrong sustain'd.
But, that, dismayd thou shouldst not be,
Thine Emblem will declare to thee,
That, though the Truth may suffer spite,
It shall not bee depressed quite;
But, by opposing, spread the more,
And, grow more pow'rfull than before.


By Rashnesse, thou hast often err'd,
Or, else, thou hadst been more preferr'd.
But, future errours, to prevent,
Thou to the slow-pac'd Oxe art sent,
To learne more Staydnesse; and, to doe
Thy Workes, with Perseverance, too.
Hee that this creatures Vertue scornes,
May want it all, except his Hornes.



Dame Fortunes favour seemes to bee
Much lov'd, and longed for, of thee;
As if, in what, her hand bestowes,
Thou mightst thy confidence repose.
But, that, her manners may bee knowne,
This Chance, upon thee, was bestowne.
Consider well, what thou hast got,
And, on her flattrings, dote thou not.


The Steele and Flint, declare, in part,
The Temper of a Stony-heart;
And, shewe, that thence, no Vertue flowes,
Till it be forced out, with blowes.
Some other, Moralls thou maist learne,
Thereby, which will thy good, concerne:
Marke, therefore, what they doe declare,
And, minde it, as occasions are.


Thou thinkst thy Witt, had made thee great,
Had Povertie not beene some let:
But, had thy Wealth as ample beene,
As, thou thy Witt, didst overweene;
Insteed of thy desired Height,
Perhaps, thou hadst beene ruin'd quite.
Hereafter, therefore, be content,
With whatsoever God hath sent.


To Discord, thou art somewhat prone,
And, thinkst thou mayst subsist alone;
Regarding not how safe they bide,
Who, fast, in Concords bands are tide.
But, that thou mayst the better heed,
What Good, from Vnion doth proceed,
An Emblem is become thy Lot,
From which, good Caveats may be got.


Thou wouldst be lov'd; and, to that end,
Thou dost both Time, and Labour spend:
But, thou expect'st (as wee beleeve)
More Love, than thou dost meane to give.
If so thou then, art much to blame:
For, Love affects a muturall-flame;
Which, if it faile on either side,
Will never, long time, true abide.



If all your pow'rs, you should unite,
Prevaile in your Desires, you might:
And, sooner should effect your ends,
If you should muster up your Friends.
But, since your Genius doth suspect,
That, you such Policie neglect,
Your Lot presenteth to your view
An Emblem, which instructeth you.


Because, thou mayst be one of them,
Who dare the deeds of Kings condemne;
(As if such eyes as theirs and yours
Could view the depth of Sov'raigne pow'rs;
Or, see, how in each Time, and Place,
God rules their hearts, in ev'ry case.)
To check thy sawcinesse, in this,
An Emblem comes not much amisse.


Of many goodly parts thou vauntst;
And, much thou hast, though much thou wantst:
But, well it were, that, lesse, thou hadst,
Vnlesse more use thereof thou mad'st.
That, therefore, thou mightst come to see,
How vaine unpractiz'd-vertues bee,
Peruse thine Emblem; and, from thence,
Take usefull heed of thy Offence.


By this thy Lot, it may appeare,
Decayd thy Hopes, or Fortunes are.
But, that, thou mayst no courage lose,
Thine Emblem, by example, showes,
That, as the Moone doth from the Waine
Returne, and fill her Orbe againe:
So, thou thy Fortunes mayst renew,
If, honest Hopes, thou shalt pursue.


Some Foes, for thee, doe lie in wait,
Where thou suspectest no Deceit;
Yea, many a one, thy harme intends,
Whom thou dost hope will be thy Friends:
Be, therefore, heedfull, whom to trust;
What walke thou tak'st, and what thou dost;
For, by thine Emblem, thou shalt see,
That, warinesse, will needfull bee.



It seemes, by drawing of this Lot,
The day of Death, is much forgot;
And, that, thou needst a faithfull Friend,
To minde thee of thy latter-end.
Vnheeded, therefore, passe not by,
What now thine Emblem doth imply;
So, thou shalt heare (without affright)
Death's message, though it were to night.
See, Emb. L.


Thou seek'st by fickle Chance, to gaine,
What thou by Vertue might'st attaine.
Endeavour well, and, nothing shall
To thee, unfortunately fall:
For, ev'ry variable Chance,
Thy firme contentment, shall advance.
But, if thou, yet, remaine in doubt,
Turne Fortunes-wheele, once more, about.


Thy Lot, no Answere will bestow,
To that, which thou desir'st to know;
Nor canst thou, here, an Emblem find,
Which to thy purpose is inclinde.
Perhaps, it is too late to crave,
What thou desirest, now, to have:
Or, but in vaine, to mention that,
Which thy Ambition aymeth at.
Then, take it not in evill part,
That, with a Blanck, thou answer'd art.


Although you now refused not,
To trie the Fortune of your Lot;
Yet, you, perhaps, unwilling are,
This company the same should heare,
Lest, some harsh Morall should unfold
Such tricks, as you could wish untold.
But, loe, you need not stand in awe;
For, 'tis a Blanck, which now you draw.


It proves a Blanck; for, to what end,
Should wee a serious Morall spend,
Where, teachings, warnings, and advise,
Esteemed are of little price?
Your onely purpose, is to looke
Upon the Pictures of this Booke;
When, more discretion you have got,
An Emblem shall attend your Lot.



You might have drawne an Emblem, here,
In which your manners pictur'd were:
But, some will vexe, when they shall see
Themselves, so painted out to bee,
And, blame this Booke, as if it had
By some unlawfull Art been made:
(Or, was contriv'd, that, to their shame,
Men, on themselves, might Libels frame)
And, lest you may bee so unwise,
Your Lot, an Emblem, now, denies.


Because, Good Chances, others drew,
To trie these Lots, it pleased you.
But, had you such an Emblem found,
As fits you rightly, you had froun'd;
Or, inwardly, you would have chast,
Although you outwardly had laugh'd.
You, therefore, very glad may bee,
This proves a Blanck; and, so may wee.




With Metricall Illvstrations, both
Morall and Divine: And disposed into

That Jnstruction, and Good Counsell, may bee furthered
by an Honest and Pleasant Recreation.

By George Wither.

The fourth Booke.


Printed by Avgvstine Mathewes.

PHILLIP, Earle of Pembrooke, and
Movntgomerie, &c. Lord Chamberlaine of the
Houshould, Knight of the most honourable Order of
the Garter, and one of his Majesties most Honourable Privie-Councell.

My Honourable Lord,

THough, Worthlesse in my owne repute I am;
And, (though my Fortune, so obscures my Name
Beneath my Hopes; that, now, it makes me seeme
As little worth, in other mens esteeme,
As in mine owne;) yet, when my Merits were
No better, than, to most, they now appeare,
It pleased some, ev'n some of those that had
The Noblest Names, (and, those of whom was made
The best Account) so lowly to descend,
As, my well-meaning Studies, to befriend.
Among those Worthies, I may both bemone
(My selfe in Him) and memorize, for One,
Your much renowned Brother, as a Chiefe
In bringing to my waned Hopes, reliefe;
And, in my Faculties, were I as able
To honour Him, as he was honourable,
I would have showne, how, all this Emperie
Hath lost a Friend, in Him, as much as I.
To Mee, so freely, of his owne accord
It pleased Him, his Favours, to afford;
That, when our learned, and late Sov'raigne-Prince,
(By others mis-informed) tooke offence
At my Free Lines; Hee, foun'd such Meanes and Place
To bring, and reconcile mee to his Grace;
That, therewithall, his Majestie bestow'd
A Gift upon mee, which his Bountie show'd:
And, had inrich'd mee; if, what was intended,
Had not, by othersome, beene ill befriended.
But, as I long time, suffred have by those
Who labour'd much, my thrivings, to oppose:
So, I my selfe, (although not out of pride,
As many thinke it) have so much relide
Vpon the Royall-Gift, neglecting so
To fortifie the same, as others do
By making Friends; that my estate grew lesse
(By more than twice five hundred Marks decrease)
Through that, which for, my profit was bestowne.
And, I, ere this, had wholly been undone;
But, that the Wealth, which I relie on, most,
Consists in things, which never can be lost.
Yet, by his Losse, I have Occasions had
To feele, why other men are often sad.
And, I, (who blushed, to be troublesome
To any Friend) therby, almost am come
To such a passe; that, what I wish to have,
I should grow impudent enough to Crave,
Had not impartiall Death, and wasting Time,
Of all my Friends quite worne away the Prime;
And, left mee none, to whom I dare present
The meanest suite without encouragement:
Although, the greatest Boone, I would implore,
Should cost them, but a Word, or little more.
Yet, some there are, no doubt, for whose respect
I might endeavour, with no vaine effect;
Had I but cause, to have as high esteeme,
Of mine owne Merits, as I have of them.
And, if your Honour should be so inclin'd,
As I desire; I, now am sure to finde
Another Pembrooke, by whose ayde sustain'd,
I may preserve, what by the Last I gain'd.
To make adventure, how it will succeed,
I now am come. And lo, my Lord, insteed
Of better Advocates, I first begin,
Mine Emblems, by these Lines, to Vsher in;
That, they, by these admittance may effect
For Mee, and for themselves, your kinde respect.
That, which in them, best Worthy you shall find,
Is this; that, they are Symptomes of a Minde,
Affecting honestie: and of a Heart,
So truly honouring a true desert,
That, I am hopefull made, they will acquire
As much respect as I can well desire:
And, Sir, your Candor, your knowne Courtesies,
With other praisefull Vertues, make mee rise
To this Beliefe; that, Yov by fav'ring mee
Hereafter, may as highly honour'd be,
As by some former Bounties; and encrease
My Future Merit, by your Worthinesse.
However, what I am or shall be knowne
To Bee, by Your Deservings, or mine owne,
You may command it; and, be sure to finde
(Though false my Fortunes prove) a Faithfull Mind.

Thus, unfainedly, professeth

Your Honours

truest Honourer,

Geo: Wither.

HENRIE, Earle of Holland, &c.
Captaine of the Guard; Lord-chiefe-Iustice in Eyre
of all his Majesties Forrests, Parkes and Chases

on this side Trent; Knight of the most noble Order
of the Garter, and one of his Majesties
most Honourable Privie Counsell.

Right Noble SIR,

HAving, of late, some Cause, to overlooke
That thankfull Register, wherein I booke
My noblest Friends; I found so many Names
Possessing nothing, but their honour'd Fames,
(Whose living Persons, wee injoyed, here,
A while agoe;) that, I began to feare,
I might grow Friendlesse; (having now so few)
Vnlesse I sought, their Number to renew.
By some Disasters, also, gaining proofe,
How much this Course would make for my behoofe;
I call'd my Wits to Counsell, Where, and How
I might, with hopefulnesse, begin to sow
The seeds of such a Blessing: And, me thought
Within mee, something said: Where should be sought
What thou so gladly wouldst renewed finde,
But, from some Branches of the selfe-same kinde;
Whose faire Aspects may seeme to promise fruit,
According to the Virtues of the Roote?
Assoone as Fancie had inform'd me so,
Your Lordship, came to my remembrance, too,
With what our Soveraigne's Favour, Vulgar Fame,
Or, your owne Merits, addeth to your Name.
Which, having weigh'd, no doubts at all I had
Of Worth in Yov; But, rather, doubtings made
That, all my Wits would insufficient be,
To make that Worth, become a Friend to mee.
For, I have oft observ'd, that, Favour shunnes
The best Desert, if after her, it runnes.
Yet, who can tell what may befall? thought I:
It is no great Adventure, if I try
Without successe: And, if, I gaine my End,
I am assured of a Noble-Friend.
His honourable Father, deem'd mee worth
So much respecting as to seeke me forth,
When, I was more obscure: And, Mee, for nought
But, onely to Befriend mee, forth Hee sought.
Then, wherefore, of his Sonne, should I suspect
That (feeling Him) hee can my love reject?
Since, Courtesie doth alwaies, there, abound,
Where such a lovely Personage is found?
My LORD, these were my Fancies: But I take them
To be of no more worth, than, you shall make them
By your Acceptance: Nor, is't my intent
To Court you, with fruitlesse Complement:
But, to attempt your Favour with a mind,
As readily, and really, inclinde
To serve you, when my services may steed;
As to expect your Favours, in my need.
For, had my Fates enabled me so much,
I should more willingly have sought out such
On whom I Courtesies might have bestowne,
Than, seeke to cure Misfortunes of mine owne.
No doubt, but, every day, your Lordship heares
Inventions, which may better please your eares
Than these I now present; And, yet you might
(For ought I knew) finde profit, or delight,
By our plaine EMBLEMS, or, some uses in them,
Which from your Honour, some respects may win them;
Ev'n for that good Moralitie, which they
To Vulgar Vnderstandings will convay.
But, Truth to speake, the chiefest cause which drew
My minde, to make them PRESENTS, for your view,
Was, but to take Occasion to professe,
That, I am Servant, to your WORTHINESSE.
In which, if YOV are pleased; All is got,
At which I aym'd: And, though you like it not,
It shall but teach Mee (for the time to come)
To take more heed, where I am troublesome.

And, I shall be, neverthelesse,

your Honours to be commanded,

as becommeth your Servant,

Geo: Wither.


Whil'st I, the Sunne's bright Face may view,
I will no meaner Light pursue.

Illvstr. I. Book. 4

Hen, with a serious musing, I behold
The gratefull, and obsequious Marigold,
How duely, ev'ry morning, she displayes
Her open brest, when Titan spreads his Rayes;
How she observes him in his daily walke,
Still bending towards him, her tender stalke;
How, when he downe declines, she droopes and mournes,
Bedew'd (as 'twere) with teares, till he returnes;
And, how she vailes her Flow'rs, when he is gone,
As if she scorned to be looked on
By an inferiour Eye; or, did contemne
To wayt upon a meaner Light, then Him.
When this I meditate, me-thinkes, the Flowers
Have spirits, farre more generous, then ours;
And, give us faire Examples, to despise
The servile Fawnings, and Idolatries,
Wherewith, we court these earthly things below,
Which merit not the service we bestow.
But, oh my God! though groveling I appeare
Vpon the Ground, (and have a rooting here,
Which hales me downward) yet in my desire,
To that, which is above mee, I aspire:
And, all my best Affections I professe
To Him, that is the Sunne of Righteousnesse.
Oh! keepe the Morning of his Incarnation,
The burning Noone-tide of his bitter Passion,
The Night of his Descending, and the Height
Of his Ascension, ever in my sight:
That imitating him, in what I may,
I never follow an inferiour Way.


The Earth is God's, and in his Hands
Are all the Corners of the Lands.

Illvstr. II. Book. 4

Ong since, the sacred Hebrew Lyrick sayd,
(A Truth, which never justly was denayd)
That, All the world is God's; and that his hands
Enclose the limits of the farthest Lands.
The selfe same Truth affirmes, that likewise, there,
By him, their clodds, and furrowes warred are,
And, that with dewes and showres, he doth so blesse
The dwellings of the barren Wildernesse,
That, those Inhabitants (whom some conceiv'd,
Of usefull, and all pleasant things bereav'd)
Their labors, with advantage, doe employ,
And, fetch their yearely Harvests home, with joy.
Why then should wee, that in God's Vineyard live,
Distrust that all things needfull hee will give?
Why should his Garden doubt of what it needs,
Since hee oft waters barren Rocks and Weeds?
Why should his Children, live in slavish feare,
Since hee is kind to those that strangers are?
Or, whither from his presence, can we flie,
To whom the furthest hiding-place is nigh.
And, if I may, from lower objects clime,
(To questioning, in matters more sublime)
Why should I thinke, the Soule shall not bee fed,
Where God affoords, to Flesh, her daily Bread?
Or, dreame, that hee, for some, provided none,
Because, on us, much Mercie is bestowne?
'Tis true enough, that Hell devoureth all,
Who shall be found without the Churches pale;
But, how farre that extends, no Eye can see,
Since, in Gods hands, Earth's farthest Corners bee.


By seeming other than thou art,
Thou dost performe a foolish part.

Illvstr. III. Book. 4

He World is much for Shewes, and few there are
So diligent to bee, as to appeare;
Although a little travaile more, would make them
Those men, for which, the lookers-on mistake them.
Some, have so toyled, and consum'd so much,
To get a false repute of being Rich,
That, they have spent farre more, than would have bought,
The substance of the shadow, they have sought;
And, caused those, who deem'd them rich before,
To know them, to bee miserably poore.
Some others, would so faine be counted Wise,
That, they consume in Curiosities,
In Sophistries, and superficiall showes,
More pretious Time, than would have made them those,
They long to seeme, (had halfe that meanes been spent,
In seeking Wisdome, with a pure intent)
Whereas, the glorioust purchases of such,
(Though by their Peeres they seeme applauded much)
Are still so vaine, that little they possesse,
But fruitlesse leaves, of learned foolishnesse:
Yea, by affecting more than is their due,
They lose ev'n both the substance, and the shew;
And, so, instead of honours Crowne, have worne
The Coxcombes, of a well-deserved scorne.
But, of all Fooleries, the grossest Folly
Is theirs, who weare those garbes of seeming-holy,
Which paine them sore, yet make them still appeare,
To God and Men, as wicked as they are.
Be, therefore, what, to be thou hast profest;
But, bee not of this last, of all the rest.


Pursue thy Workes, without delay,
For, thy short houres runne fast away.

Illvstr. IIII. Book. 4

Hough this bee but the picture of that Glasse,
By which thou measur'st how thine houres doe passe,
Yet, sleight it not; for, much 'twill profit thee,
To ponder what the Morals of it bee.
And, 'tis an Emblem, whence the Wise may learne,
That, which their persons, neerely doth concerne.
The brittle Glasse, serves fitly to expresse
The Bodie's frailtie, and much crasinesse.
Foure Pillars, which the glassie worke empale,
Instruct thee, that the Vertues Cardinall,
To guard the Manhood, should bee still employ'd,
Lest else the feeble fabrick bee destroy'd.
The Sand, still running forth, without delay,
Doth shew, that Life-time, passeth fast away,
And, makes no stop: yea, and the Motto too,
(Lest thou forgetfull prove) informes thee so.
By viewing this, Occasion, therefore, take,
Of thy fast-flying Houres, more use to make;
And, heedfull bee, to shunne their common crime,
Who take much care to trifle out the time;
As if it merited their utmost paine,
To lose the gemme, which most they seeke to gaine.
Time-past is lost already: Time-to-come,
Belongs, as yet, thou knowst not unto whom.
The present-houres are thine, and, onely those,
Of which thou hast Commission to dispose;
And, they from thee, doe flye away so fast,
That, they are scarcely knowne, till they are past.
Lord, give mee grace, to minde, and use Time so,
That, I may doe thy worke, before I goe.


Repent, or God will breake the thread,
By which, thy doome hangs o're thy head.

Illvstr. V. Book. 4

Arke well this Emblem; and, (when in a thread,
You see the Globe, there, hang above their head,
Who in securitie, beneath it sit)
Observe likewise, the Knife, that threatens it;
The smallnesse of the Twine; and, what a death
Would follow, should it fall on those beneath:
And (having well observ'd it) mind, I pray,
That, which the word about it, there, doth say:
For, it includes a Caveat, which wee need
To entertaine, with a continuall heed.
Though few consider it, wee finde it thus
(Throughout our lives) with ev'ry one of us.
Destruction hangeth in a single thread,
Directly over every Sinner's head.
That Sentence is gone forth, by which wee stand
Condemn'd to suffer death. The dreadfull hand,
Of God's impartiall Iustice, holds a Knife,
Still ready, to cut off our thread of life;
And, 'tis his mercie, that keepes up the Ball
From falling, to the ruine of us all.
Oh! let us minde, how often wee have bin,
Ev'n in the very act of Deadly-sinne,
Whilst this hung over us; and, let us praise,
And love him, who hath yet prolong'd our dayes:
Yea, let our thankfulnesse, bring forth such fruit,
As, to the benefit may somewhat suit:
For, though a sudden-Death may not ensue,
Yet, (since Times Axe, doth every minute hew
The Root of Life) the Tree, e're long, must fall;
And, then perhaps, too late, repent wee shall.


When woe is in our selves begun,
Then, whither from it, can wee run?

Illvstr. VI. Book. 4

Oore Hart, why dost thou run so fast? and why,
Behind thee dost thou looke, when thou dost fly?
As if thou seem'dst in thy swift flight, to heare
Those dangers following thee, wch thou dost feare?
Alas! thou labour'st, and thou runn'st in vaine,
To shunne, by flight, thy terrors, or thy paine;
For, loe, thy Death, which thou hast dreaded so,
Clings fast unto thee, wheresoere thou goe:
And while thou toyl'st, an outward-ease to win,
Thou draw'st thine owne destruction further in;
Making that Arrow, which but prickes thy hide,
To pierce thy tender entrailes, through thy side.
And, well I may this wounded Hart bemoane;
For, here, me thinkes, I'm taught to looke upon
Mine owne condition; and, in him, to see
Those deadly wounds, my Sinnes have made in mee.
I greatly feare the World, may unawares
Intangle mee, by her alluring snares:
I am afraid, the Devill may inject
Some poys'nous fume, my Spirit to infect,
With ghostly Pestilence; and, I assay,
To flie from these, with all the pow'rs I may.
But, oh my Flesh! this very Flesh I weare,
Is worse to mee, than Worlds, and Devils are:
For, without this, no pow'r on mee, they had.
This is that Shirt, which made Alcides mad.
It is a griefe, which I shall never cure,
Nor flie from, whilst my life-time doth endure:
From thence, oh Lord, my greatest sorrowes bee;
And, therefore, from my Selfe, I flie to Thee.


When Magistrates confined are,
They revell, who were kept in feare.

Illvstr. VII. Book. 4

Tyrannous, or wicked Magistrat,
Is fitly represented by a Catt:
For, though the Mice a harmfull vermine bee,
And, Cats the remedie; yet, oft wee see,
That, by the Mice, far lesse, some house-wives leese,
Then when they set the Catt to keepe the Cheese.
A ravenous Cat, will punish in the Mouse,
The very same Offences, in the house,
Which hee himselfe commits; yea, for that Vice,
Which was his owne (with praise) he kills the Mice;
And, spoyleth not anothers life alone,
Ev'n for that very fault which was his owne,
But feeds, and fattens, in the spoyle of them,
Whom hee, without compassion did condemne.
Nay, worse than so; hee cannot bee content,
To slaughter them, who are as innocent,
As hee himselfe; but, hee must also play,
And sport his wofull Pris'ners lives away;
More torturing them, 'twixt fruitlesse hopes and feares,
Than when their bowels, with his teeth he teares:
For, by much terrour, and much crueltie,
Hee kills them, ten times over, e're they die.
When, such like Magistrates have rule obtain'd,
The best men wish their powre might be restrain'd:
But, they who shun enormities, through Feare,
Are glad when good-men out of Office are.
Yea, whether Governours bee good or bad,
Of their displacings wicked-men are glad;
And, when they see them brought into disgraces,
They boldly play the Knaves before their faces.


Loe, heere is all, that bee possest,
Which once was Victor of the East.

Illvstr. VIII. Book. 4

Hen hee, who by his conquering Arme, possest
The rich, and spacious Empires of the East,
Felt his approaching end; he bade them beare
A Shirt throughout his Armie, on a Speare,
Proclaiming, that of all his large estate,
No more was left him, then, but only that:
Perhaps intending, thereby, to expresse,
A sorrow for his wilde Ambitiousnesse;
Or, hoping, by that Spectacle, to give
Some good Instructions unto those that live.
However, let it serve us, to declare,
How vaine their toylings, and ambitions are,
Who rob themselves, and other men of rest,
For things that are so little while possest.
And, if that powerfull King, could nothing have,
That was of use, to carry to his Grave,
(Of all his conquered Kingdomes) but, one Shirt,
Or, Winding sheet, to hide his Royall durt;
Why should we pinch, and scrape, and vext become,
To heap up Riches, for we know not whom?
Or, macerate the Flesh, by raising strife,
For more, than will bee usefull during life?
Nay, ev'n for that, which sometimes shortens breath,
And makes us, also, wretched after Death.
Let mee, oh God! my labour so employ,
That, I, a competencie may enjoy.
I aske no more, than may Lifes want supply,
And, leave their due to others, when I die.
If this thou grant, (which nothing doubt I can)
None ever liv'd, or dy'd a richer man.


When Hopes, quite frustrate were become,
The Wither'd-branch did freshly bloome.

Illvstr. IX. Book. 4

'is true, a wither'd-branch I am, and seeme
To some, as voyd of Hopes, as of esteeme;
For, in their judgements, I appeare to be
A saplesse Bough, quite broken from the Tree,
(Ev'n such as that, in this our Emblem, here)
And, yet, I neither feele Despaire, nor Feare;
For, I have seene (e're now) a little Spray,
(Rent from her Stemme) lye trodden by the way,
Three moneths together; which, when Spring drew on,
To take an unexpected Root begun;
(Yea, grew to bee a Tree) and, growing, stood,
When those great Groves, were fell'd for firing-wood,
Which once had high esteeme; and sprung unhurt,
While that poore Branch, lay sleighted in the durt.
Nay, I have seene such twiggs, afford them shade,
By whom they were the meanest shrippings made,
Of all the Wood; And, you may live to see,
(For ought yet knowne) some such event in mee.
And, what if all who know mee, see me dead,
Before those hopes begin to spring and spread?
Have therefore they that hate me, cause to boast,
As if mine expectations I had lost?
No sure: For, I, who by Faith's eyes have seene,
Old Aarons wither'd Rod grow fresh and greene;
And also viewed (by the selfe-same Eyes)
Him, whom that Rod, most rightly typifies,
Fall by a shamefull Death, and rise, in spight
Of Death, and Shame, unto the glorioust height.
Ev'n I, beleeve my Hope shall bee possest,
And, therefore, (ev'n in Death) in Hope I'le rest.


True Vertue, whatsoere betides,
In all extreames, unmoov'd abides.

Illvstr. X. Book. 4

Hen, in this Emblem, here, you have espide,
The shape of a triangled Pyramide,
And, have observed well, those mightie Rockes,
Whose firme foundation bides the dreadfull shockes
Of angry Neptune; you may thereby see,
How firmly setled, Vertues reall bee.
For, as the raging Seas, although they roare,
Can make no breach upon the Rockie shore;
And, as a true triangled Pyramide,
Stands fast, and shewes alike, on ev'ry side:
So, howsoever Fortune, turnes or winds,
Those men, which are indow'd with vertuous minds,
It is impossible, to drive them from
Those Formes, or Stations, which those minds become.
And, as the raging Sea, with foming threats,
Against the Rockie-shore, but vainely beats;
So, Envie shall in vaine, loud blustrings make,
When vertuous resolutions they would shake.
For, Vertue, which receives an overthrow,
Was Vertue, not indeed, but in the show.
So farre am I, oh Lord! from laying claime
To have this Vertue, that, I doe but ayme
At such perfection; and, can come no nigher
As yet, than to obtaine it in desire.
But, fixe thou so, this weake desire of mine,
Vpon the Vertues of thy Rocke divine,
That I, and that invaluable Stone,
May bee incorporated into One:
And, then, it will bee neither shame, nor pride,
To say, my Vertues, will unmov'd abide.


The motion of the World, this day,
Is mov'd the quite contrarie way.

Illvstr. XI. Book. 4

Hat was this Figures meaning, but to show,
That, as these kinde of Shell-fish backward goe,
So now the World, (which here doth seeme to take
An arseward Iourney on the Cancer's backe)
Moves counterwise; as if delight it had,
To runne a race, in Courses retrograde:
And, that, is very likely to be true,
Which, this our Emblem, purposeth to shew.
For, I have now, of late, not onely seene,
What backward motions, in my Friends have beene;
And, that my outward Fortunes and Affaires,
Doe of themselves, come tumbling downe the staires:
But, I have also found, that other things,
Have got a wheeling in contrary Rings;
Which Regresse, holding on, 'tis like that wee,
To Iewes, or Ethnicks, backe shall turned bee.
Some punie Clerkes, presume that they can teach
The ancient holy Doctors, how to preach.
Some Laicks, learne their Pastors how to pray.
Some Parents, are compelled to obay
Their Sonnes; and, so their Dignitie to lose,
As to be fed and cloth'd, at their dispose.
Nay, wee have some, who have assay'd to draw,
All backward, to the Bondage of the Law;
Ev'n to those abrogated Rites and Dayes,
By which, the wandring Iew markes out his wayes.
And, to pursue this Round, they are so heady,
That, they have made themselves, and others giddy.
Doe then, these froward Motions, Lord, restraine,
And, set the World in her due course againe.


Invincibilitie is there,
Where Order, Strength, and Vnion are.

Illvstr. XII. Book. 4

Rom these well-order'd Arrowes, and the Snake,
This usefull Observation you may make;
That, where an able Prudence, doth combine
Vnited-forces, by good Discipline,
It maketh up a pow'r, exempted from
The feare, or perill, to be overcome:
And, if you covet safetie, you will seeke
To know this Ward, and to acquire the like.
For, doubtlesse, neither is it in the force,
Of iron Charets, or of armed Horse,
In which, the King, securitie may finde,
Unlesse the Riders bee well Disciplinde.
Nor, lyes it in the Souldiers common Skill
In warlike Postures; nor in theirs, who drill
The Rankes and Fyles, to order them aright,
According as Occasion makes the Fight.
But, men must use a further Prudence too,
Or else, those vulgar-Arts will all undoe.
For, these, are onely Sciences injoynd,
To order well the Body, not the Mind:
And, men best train'd in these (oft times) we see,
The Hare-brain'dst-fooles, in all our Armies bee.
To strength, and skill, unite we must, therefore,
A manly Prudence, comprehending more,
Than all these Powr's: ev'n such, as when shee please,
To all her ends, can use and mannage these;
And, shew us how to cure, or to prevent
All HaZards; or, withall to bee content.
Hee that's thus arm'd, and trusts in God alone,
May bee oppos'd, but, conquered of none.


When thou art shipwrackt in Estate,
Submit with patience, unto Fate.

Illvstr. XIII. Book. 4

Hen I beheld this Picture of a Boat,
(Which on the raging Waves doth seeme to float)
Forc'd onward, by the current of the Tide,
Without the helpe of Anchor, Oare or Guide,
And, saw the Motto there, which doth imply,
That shee commits her selfe to Destinie;
Me thinkes, this Emblem sets out their estate,
Who have ascribed ev'ry thing to Fate;
And dreame, that howsoe're the businesse goe,
Their Worke, nor hinders, neither helpes thereto.
The leaking Ship, they value as the sound:
Hee that's to hanging borne, shall ne're bee drown'd;
And, men to happinesse ordain'd (say these)
May set their Ship to float, as Fate shall please.
This Fancie, springing from a mis-beleeving
Of God's Decrees; and, many men deceiving,
With shewes of Truth, both causeth much offence
Against God's Mercies, and his Providence;
And brings to passe, that some to ruine runne,
By their neglect of what they might have done.
For, Meanes is to bee us'd, (if wee desire,
The blessing of our safetie to acquire)
Whose naturall effects, if God deny,
Vpon his Providence wee must relye,
Still practising what naturall aydes may bee,
Vntill no likely ayd untride wee see.
And, when this Non plus wee are forc'd unto,
Stand still, wee may, and wayt what God will do.
Hee that shall thus to Fate, his fortunes leave,
Let mee bee ruin'd, if Shee him deceive.


The best, and fairest House, to mee,
Is that, where best I love to bee.

Illvstr. XIV. Book. 4

Hey are not Houses builded large and high,
Seel'd all with Gold, and pav'd with Porphyrie,
Hung round with Arras, glaz'd with Christall-glasse,
And cover'd o're with plates of shining Brasse,
Which are the best; but, rather, those where wee
In safetie, health, and best content, may bee;
And, where wee finde, though in a meane Estate,
That portion, which maintaines a quiet Fate.
Here, in a homely Cottage, thatcht with reed,
The Peasant seemes as pleasedly to feed,
As hee, that in his Hall or Parlour dines,
Which Fret-worke Roofes, or costly Cedar Lines:
And, with the very same affections too,
Both to, and from it, hee doth come and goe.
The Tortois, doubtlesse, doth no house-roome lack,
Although his House will cover but his back;
And, of his Tub, the Cynicke seem'd as glad,
As Alexander was of all hee had.
When I am setled in a place I love,
A shrubby hedge-row, seemes a goodly Grove.
My liking maketh Palaces of Sheds,
And, of plaine Couches, carved Ivory Beds:
Yea, ev'ry path, and pathlesse walke, which lies
Contemn'd, as rude, or wilde, in others eyes,
To mee is pleasant; not alone in show,
But, truly such: For, liking makes them so.
As pleas'd in theirs, the Snailes, and Cocles dwell,
As doth a Scallop in his pearly shell:
For, that commends the House, which makes it fit,
To serve their turnes, who should have use of it.


The King, his pow'r from God receives:
For, hee alone the Scepter gives.

Illvstr. XV. Book. 4

He Gift of Kingdomes, Children, and good-Wives,
Are three of God's most choice Prerogatives,
In temp'rall Blessings; and, of all these three,
The gifts of Kingdomes, his rar'st Favours bee:
For, in five hundred Millions, there's not one,
Whom this high Honour is conferr'd upon;
Nor is there any knowne Estate on earth,
(Whereto wee come, by Merit, or by Birth)
Which can, to any man assurance bring,
That, hee shall either live, or die a King.
The Morning-Starre, that's Heire unto a Crowne,
Oft sets, before the shining-Sunne is downe;
And, some, that once a glorious Empire swayd,
Did lose their Kingdomes, e're their heads were layd.
The greatest earthly Monarch hath no powre,
To keepe his Throne one minute of an houre,
(Vse all the meanes, and policies hee can)
If God will give it to another man.
Hee, when Belshazzar was in high'st estate,
His Kingdome to the Persians did translate.
King Saul, and Rehoboam, could not stay
The Royalties, which God would give away;
And, Hee that was the proudest of the rest,
God, changed from a King, into a Beast.
Nor is there any man so meane, but hee,
When God shall please, an Emperour may bee.
Some, from the Pot-kilne, from the Sheep-cote, some,
Hee raised hath, great Princes to become:
Yea, hee o're heav'n and earth, hath rear'd his Throne,
That was on earth, the most despised-one.


Her favours, Fortune, oft imparts,
To those that are of no deserts.

Illvstr. XVI. Book. 4

Ould you not laugh, and thinke it beastly fine,
To see a durtie, and ill-favour'd Swine,
Weare on her snout, a Diamond, or a Pearle,
That might become the Ladie of an Earle?
And hold it head, as if it meant to show
It were the Pigg of some well-nurtur'd Sow?
Perhaps, you thinke there be not any where
Such Antickes, but in this our Emblem here.
But, if you take these Charmes, and then goe forth
Among some troupes, which passe for folkes of worth,
You shall discover, quickly, if you please,
A thousand sights, as mimicall as these.
Here, you shall see a noble Title worne,
(That had not mis-beseem'd one better borne)
By him, whose vertues are of little price,
And, whose estate, was gotten by his Vice.
You shall behold another Mushrome, there,
Walke with our Lords, as if hee were their Peere,
That was well knowne, to be but tother day,
No fit companion for such men as they;
And, had no other meanes to climbe this height,
But Gaming, or to play the Parasite.
Yet (though he neither hath his Trade, nor Lands,
Nor any honest In-come, by his hands)
Hee, oft consumes at once, in Games or Cheare,
More than would keepe his Better all the yeare.
Yea, many such as these, thou shouldst behold,
Which would bee vext, if I describe them should:
For, thus, unworthily, blind Fortune flings,
To Crowes, and Geese, and Swine, her precious things.


The best good-turnes that Fooles can doe us,
Proove disadvantages unto us.

Illvstr. XVII. Book. 4

Foole, sent forth to fetch the Goslings home,
When they unto a Rivers brinck were come,
(Through which their passage lay) conceiv'd a feare
His Dames best Brood, might have been drowned there;
Which, to avoyd, hee thus did shew his wit,
And his good nature, in preventing it.
Hee, underneath his girdle, thrusts their heads,
And, then the Coxcombe through the water wades.
Here learne, that when a Foole his helpe intends,
It rather doth a mischiefe, then befriends;
And, thinke, if there be danger in his love,
How harmefull his Maliciousnesse may prove:
For, from his kindenesse, though no profit rise
To doe thee spight, his Malice may suffise.
I could not from a Prince beseech a boone
By suing to his Iester or Buffoone:
Nor, any Fooles vaine humor, sooth or serve,
To get my bread, though I were like to starve.
For, to be poore, I should not blush so much,
As if a Foole should raise me to be rich.
Lord, though of such a kinde my faults may be,
That sharpe Affliction still must tutor mee,
(And give me due Correction in her Schooles)
Yet, oh preserve me from the scorne of Fooles.
Those wicked Fooles, that in their hearts have sed
There is no God; and, rather give me Bread
By Ravens, Lord, or in a Lions Den,
Then by the Favours of such foolish men:
Lest, if their dainties I should swallow downe,
Their smile might more undoe, me, than their frowne.


Though weaknesse unto me belong,
In my Supporter, I am strong.

Illvstr. XVIII. Book. 4

Lthough there bee no Timber in the Vine,
Nor strength to raise the climbing Ivie-twine,
Yet, when they have a helper by their side,
Or, prop to stay them, like this Pyramide,
One roote sometime, so many Sprayes will beare,
That, you might thinke, some goodly Grove it were:
Their tender stalkes, to climbe aloft, are seene;
Their boughs are cover'd with a pleasant greene;
And, that, which else, had crept upon the ground,
Hath tops of loftie trees, and turrets crown'd.
This Emblem, fitly shadowes out the Natures
Of us, that are the Reasonable-creatures:
For, wee are truely by our nat'rall-birth,
Like Vines undrest, and creeping on the earth;
Nor free from spoyling, nor in case to beare
Good fruits, or leaves, while we are groveling there.
But, if new-borne by Grace, streight borne are wee,
From earthly creepings, by that Living-tree,
Which, here, was planted, meerely to this end,
That, by his pow'r, our weaknesse might ascend.
And, hee our frailtie to himselfe so takes,
So, of his might, the partners us hee makes;
That, hee, in us, doth seeme to hide his pow'rs,
And, make the strength hee gives, appeare as ours.
Continue, Lord, this Grace, and grant wee may,
Firme hold, on our Supporter, alwayes lay:
So climbing, that wee nor neglect, nor hide
His Love; nor over-climbe it, by our Pride.
Thus, our yet staggering weaknesse, shall at length,
Bee fully changed into perfect Strength.


Be wary, whosoe're thou be,
For, from Loves arrowes, none are free.

Illvstr. XIX. Book. 4

Ood Folkes, take heede; for, here's a wanton Wagge,
Who, having Bowes and Arrowes, makes his bragg
That, he hath some unhappy trick to play;
And, vowes to shoot at all he meets to day.
Pray be not carelesse; for, the Boy is blinde,
And, sometimes strikes, where most he seemeth kinde.
This rambling Archer spares nor one, nor other:
Yea, otherwhile, the Monkey shoots his Mother.
Though you be little Children, come not neere;
For, I remember (though't be many a yeare
Now gone and past,) that, when I was a Lad,
My Heart, a pricke, by this young Wanton had,
That, pain'd me seven yeares after: nor had I
The grace (thus warn'd) to scape his waggery;
But many times, ev'n since I was a man,
He shot me, oftner then I tell you can:
And, if I had not bene the stronger-hearted,
I, for my over-daring, might have smarted.
You laugh now, as if this were nothing so;
But, if you meet this Blinkard with his Bow,
You may, unlesse you take the better care,
Receive a wound, before you be aware.
I feare him not; for, I have learned how
To keepe my heart-strings from his Arrowes now:
And, so might you, and so might ev'ry one
That vaine Occasions, truely seekes to shunn.
But, if you sleight my Counsells, you may chance
To blame at last, your willfull ignorance:
For, some, who thought, at first, his wounds but small
Have dyed by them, in an Hospitall.


On whether side soe're I am,
I, still, appeare to bee the same.

Illvstr. XX. Book. 4

His Cube, which is an equall-sided-square,
Doth very well, in Emblem-wise, declare
The temper of that vertuous minded man,
Whose resolutions nothing alter can.
For, as the Cube, which way soever plac't,
Stands ever in one posture, firmely fast,
And, still, appeares the same in forme and size,
Vpon what side or part soe're it lyes:
So, men well formed by the Word divine,
And, truly squar'd by vertuous Discipline,
Will keepe (though changes them shall turne & wind)
The forme and firmnesse of an honest-minde.
If, digging deepe, his Fortunes lay him, there,
Where he his owne, and others weights must beare,
(There, many yeares compelling him to lie,
Opprest with dis-respect or povertie)
Hee keepes the place to which hee stands enjoyn'd,
And brooks his chances with a constant mind.
If shee remoove him thence, and set him up
On temporall Prosperities high top,
The Squarenesse of Plaine dealing hee retaines,
And, in the same integritie remaines:
Nor coveting vaine Wealth, or false esteemes;
Nor, being any other than he seemes.
Although by Nature, wee are wondrous hard,
Lord, let us into such like Stones be squar'd:
Then, place us in thy spirituall Temple, so,
That, into one firme Structure, we may grow;
And, when we, by thy Grace, are fitted thus,
Dwell Thou thy selfe, for evermore, in us.


Deformitie, within may bee,
Where outward Beauties we doe see.

Illvstr. XXI. Book. 4

Ooke well, I pray, upon this Beldame, here,
For, in her habit, though shee gay appeare,
You, through her youthfull vizard, may espy
Shee's of an old Edition, by her Eye:
And, by her wainscot face, it may bee seene,
Shee might your Grandams first dry nurse have been.
This is an Emblem, fitly shaddowing those,
Who making faire, and honest outward showes,
Are inwardly deform'd; and, nothing such,
As they to bee suppos'd, have strived much.
They chuse their words, and play well-acted parts,
But, hide most loathsome projects in their hearts;
And, when you think sweet Friendship to embrace,
Some ugly Treason, meets you in the face.
I hate a painted Brow; I much dislike
A Mayden-blush, dawb'd on a furrowed Cheeke:
And, I abhorre to see old Wantons play,
And, suite themselves, like Ladies of the May.
But, more (yea, most of all) my soule despiseth
A Heart, that in Religious formes, disguiseth
Prophane intentions; and arrayes in white,
The coale-blacke conscience of an Hypocrite.
Take heed of such as these; and, (if you may)
Before you trust them, tract them in their way.
Observe their footsteps, in their private path:
For, these (as 'tis beleev'd, the Devill hath)
Have cloven feet; that is, two wayes they goe;
One for their ends, and tother for a show.
Now, you thus warned are, advise embrace;
And, trust nor gawdy Clothes, nor painted Face.


My Hand and Heart, in one agree,
What can you more desire of mee?

Illvstr. XXII. Book. 4

Heart with Hand-in-hand, united thus,
Makes here an Emblem not unknowne to us;
And, 'tis not hard for any Vulgar wit,
Without a Comment, to interpret it.
But, though of ev'ry man confest it be,
That Hand and Heart together should agree;
And, that, what we in outward-shew expresse,
Perform'd should be, with inward-heartinesse.
(Since, now the World, to such a passe is growne,
That, all is not consider'd, which is knowne)
I cannot thinke it altogether vaine,
To speake of that, which may appeare so plaine.
When thou dost reach thy hand unto thy friend,
Take order, that thy heart the same intend:
For, otherwise in Hand, or Heart, thou lyest,
And, cuttest off a Member, e're thou dyest.
Some, give their Hearts (as many Lovers do)
Yet, are afraid, to set their hands thereto.
Some give their Hands; and, then by many a deed,
To ratifie the gift, they dare proceede;
Yet, keep their tongues from saying what they meant,
To helpe excuse their hearts, when they repent.
Yea, some can very cunningly expresse,
In outward shew, a winning heartinesse,
And, steale the deare affections they have sought,
From those, to whom they meant, nor promis'd ought.
Then, will they, if advantage come thereby,
Make all their Deeds, for want of Words, a ly.
Among Dissemblers, in things temporall,
These Raskalls are the ver'est Knaves of all.


No Emblem, can at full declare,
How fickle, Minds-unconstant are.

Illvstr. XXIII. Book. 4

Ome, thinke this Emblem serveth to expresse
No more, but onely Womens ficklenesse;
And, they will most desire to have it so,
Who, like those best, that most inconstant grow.
Although my Fortunes were, in some things, bad,
I never in my life, experience had
Of an inconstant woman: Wherefore, then,
Should I condemne the Females, more than men?
I heare some talke, that Women fickle be:
And so I thinke; and so I know are wee.
And (being put together) say I dare,
That, they and wee, in equall manner, share
A giddinesse, and ficklenesse of minde,
More wavering, than a Feather, or the Winde.
The Woman, heere, is plac'd, to typifie
A minde distracted with much levitie:
Not, that the womans Wav'rings are the more;
But, for this cause: Most Vices, heretofore,
And Vertues too, our Ancestors did render,
By words declined in the female-gender.
The winged Ball, (whose tottering Foundation,
Augments the causes of our variation)
Meanes, here, those uselesse, and vaine temp'rall things,
That come and goe, with never-staying wings;
And, which (if thereupon our hearts we set)
Make Men and Women, the Vertigo get.
Hereafter, then, let neither Sexe accuse
Each other; but, their best endeavours use,
To cure this Maladie in one another,
By living well, and lovingly together.


Hee that enjoyes a patient Minde,
Can Pleasures in Afflictions finde.

Illvstr. XXIV. Book. 4

Hat meanes this Countrey-peasant, skipping here
Through prickling Thistles wth such gamesom cheere?
And, plucking off their tops, as though for Posies,
He gather'd Violets, or toothlesse Roses?
What meaneth it, but onely to expresse
How great a joy, well-grounded Patientnesse
Retaines in Suff'rings? and, what sport she makes,
When she her Iourney through Affliction takes?
I, oft have sayd (and, have as oft, beene thought
To speake a Paradox, that favours nought
Of likely truth) that, some Afflictions bring
A Honey bag, which cureth ev'ry Sting
(That wounds the Flesh) by giving to the Mind,
A pleasing taste of Sweetnesses refin'd.
Nor can it other be, except in those,
Whose Better part, quite stupifyed growes,
By being Cauterized in the Fires
Of childish Feares, or temporall Desires.
For, as the Valiant (when the Coward swounds)
With gladnesse lets the Surgion search his Wounds;
And, though they smart, yet cheerefully indures
The Plaisters, and, the Probe, in hope of Cures:
So, Men, assured that Afflictions paine
Comes not for vengeance to them, nor in vaine;
But, to prepare, and fit them for the place,
To which, they willingly direct their pace;
In Troubles, are so farre from being sad,
That, of their Suffring, they are truely glad.
What ever others thinke, I thus beleeve;
And, therefore, joy, when they suppose I grieve.


All is not Gold, which makes a show;
But, what the Touchstone findeth so.

Illvstr. XXV. Book. 4

Hen Silver Medalls, or some coynes of Gold,
Are by the Gold-smith either bought or sold,
Hee doth not only search them with his Eye,
But, by the Scale, their weight will also trie;
Or, by the Touchstone, or the Test, assay
The truenesse of them, and their just Alay.
Now, by their warinesse, who thus proceed,
Wee fairely are admonished, to heed
The faithfulnesse of him wee make our Friend;
And, on whose love wee purpose to depend:
Or else, when wee a Iewell thinke to get,
Wee may bee cheated by a Counterfet.
All is not Gold that glisters: Otherwhile,
The Tincture is so good, it may beguile
The cunningst eye: But, bring it to the Touch,
And, then, you find the value not so much.
Some, keepe the Tincture, brooking, likewise, well
An ordinarie Touch; but, yeeld a Smell,
Which will discover it, if you apply
Vnto your Nose, that piece of Chymistrie.
Sometime, when there's enough to give content,
In Colour, in the Touch, and in the Scent;
The Bulke, is more than answers Gold in weight,
And, proves it a sophisticall deceit.
Nay, some, is fully that which you desire,
In all these Properties; and, till the fire
Hath made assayes, you'l thinke you might be bold
To pawne your life, it had been Ophir-gold:
But, to bee false, the Metall's then descride;
And, such are many Friends, when they are tride.


Apollo shoots not ev'ry day,
But, sometime on his Harpe doth play.

Illvstr. XXVI. Book. 4

Here are a sort of people so severe,
That, foolish, and injurious too, they are;
And, if the world were to bee rul'd by these,
Nor Soule, nor Bodie, ever should have ease.
The Sixe dayes, (as their wisdomes understand)
Are to bee spent in Labour, by command,
With such a strictnesse, that they quite condemne
All Recreations which are us'd in them.
That, which is call'd the Sabbath, they confine
To Prayers, and all Offices-divine,
So wholly, that a little Recreation,
That Day, is made a marke of Reprobation:
And, (by this meanes) the reason is to seeke,
When their poore Servants labour all the weeke,
(Of which, they'l bate them nothing) how it tyes
Them, to observe the sixe-fold Sacrifice
By some injoyn'd; and gives them such due Rest,
As God allowed, both to Man and Beast.
Hee, gave the Woods, the Fields, and Meddowes, here,
A time to rest, as well as times to beare.
The Forrest Beasts, and Heards, have howres for play,
As well as time to graze, and hunt their prey:
And, ev'ry Bird some leasure hath to sing,
Or, in the Aire, to sport it on her wing.
And, sure, to him, for whom all these were made,
Lesse kindnesse was not meant, then these have had.
The Flesh will faint, if pleasure none it knowes;
The Man growes madd, that alway muzing goes.
The Wisest men, will sometimes merry bee:
And, this is that, this Emblem teacheth me.


Live, ever mindfull of thy dying;
For, Time is alwayes from thee flying.

Illvstr. XXVII. Book. 4

His vulgar Figure of a winged glasse,
Doth signifie, how swiftly Time doth passe.
By that leane Scull, which to this houre-glasse clings,
We are informed what effect it brings;
And, by the Words about it, wee are taught
To keepe our latter ending still in thought.
The common houre-glasse, of the Life of Man,
Exceedeth not the largenesse of a span.
The Sand-like Minutes, flye away so fast,
That, yeares are out, e're wee thinke months are past:
Yea, many times, our nat'rall-day is gone,
Before wee look'd for twelve a clocke at Noone;
And, where wee sought for Beautie, at the Full,
Wee finde the Flesh quite rotted from the Skull.
Let these Expressions of Times passage, bee
Remembrancers for ever, Lord, to mee;
That, I may still bee guiltlesse of their crime,
Who fruitlesly consume their precious Time:
And, minde my Death; not with a slavish feare,
But, with a thankfull use, of life-time, here:
Not grieving, that my dayes away doe post;
But, caring rather, that they bee not lost,
And, lab'ring with Discretion, how I may
Redeeme the Time, that's vainely slipt away.
So, when that moment comes, which others dread,
I, undismay'd, shall climbe my dying bed;
With joyfull Hopes, my Flesh to dust commend;
In Spirit, with a stedfast Faith ascend;
And, whilst I living am, to sinne so dye,
That dying, I may live eternally.


In ev'ry Storme, hee standeth fast,
Whose dwelling, on the Rocke is plac'd.

Illvstr. XXVIII. Book. 4

Hat thing soever some will have exprest,
As typified by this Halcyons-nest,
I shall not thinke this Emblem ill-appli'd,
If, by the same, the Church bee signifi'd.
For, as it is (by some) affirm'd of these,
That, whilst they breed, the fury of the seas
Is through the world alayd; and, that their Brood
Remaines in safetie, then, amidst the flood:
So, when the Christian Church was in her birth,
There was a generall Peace throughout the earth;
And, those tumultuous Waves, which after that
Began to rise, and bee enrag'd thereat,
Were calmed so, that Hee was borne in peace,
From whom, the faithfull Off-spring did encrease.
They, likewise, on a Rocke, their dwellings have,
As here you see; and, though the raging Wave,
Of dreadfull Seas, hath beaten, ever since,
Against the Fortresse of their strong defence,
Yet, still it stands; and, safe, it shall abide,
Ev'n in the midst of all their foming pride.
Vpon this Rocke so place me, oh my God!
That, whatsoever Tempests bee abroad,
I may not feare the fury of my Foe;
Nor bee in danger of an overthrow.
My life is full of Stormes; the Waters roule,
As if they meant to swallow up my soule.
The Tides oppose; the furious winds doe roare;
My Cable's weake, my tacklings, Lord, are poore,
And, my fraile vessell cannot long endure;
Yet, reach to mee thy hand, and I'm secure.


That's Friendship, and true-love, indeed,
Which firme abides, in time of need.

Illvstr. XXIX. Book. 4

Hat's Love in earnest, which is constant found,
When Friends are in Affliction, or in Bands;
And, their Affection merits to be crown'd,
Whose hearts are fastned where they joyne their hands.
Tis easie to be friendly, where wee see
A Complement or two will serve the turne;
Or, where the kindnesse may required bee;
Or, when the charge is with a trifle borne.
It is as easie too, for him to spend
At once, the full Revenues of a yeare,
In Cates, for entertainment of his Friend,
Who thinkes his glorie, is expensive-cheere:
For, 'tis his pleasure; and, if none should come
Like fashionable-Friends, for him to court,
Hee would with Rogues, and Canters, fill the Roome,
Or, such as should abuse, and flout him for't.
But, hard it is, to suffer, or to spend
For him (though worthy) that's of meane estate,
Unlikely our occasions to befriend,
Or, one unable to remunerate.
Few men are liberall, whom neither Lust,
Vaine glorie, Prodigalitie, nor Pride,
Doth forward into foolish Bountie thrust;
As may, by Observation bee espide.
For, when a slender Bountie would relieve
Their vertuous Friend, whose wants to them are knowne,
To their Buffoone, a Knights estate they'l give,
And, thinke on t'other trifles ill-bestowne.
Yet, this Ile say; and, give the Devill his due;
These Friends, are to their lusts, and humours, true.


The Sword hath place, till War doth cease;
And, usefull is, in time of Peace.

Illvstr. XXX. Book. 4

He Sword, to bee an Emblem, here, we draw,
Of that Authoritie, which keeps in awe
Our Countries Enemies; and, those that are
The Foes of Peace, as well as those of Warre;
That, Peace may give the Law of Armes her due,
And, Warre, to Civill-pow'rs, respect may shew.
For, Kingdomes, nor in Warre nor Peace, can stand,
Except the Sword have alway some command:
Yea, that, for which our forraine Spoylers come,
Domesticke Foes, will else devoure at home;
And, stranger-drones the peacefull Bees will harme,
Vnlesse with warlike stings, themselves they arme.
Considering this, let none bee so unwise,
The Swords well-us'd protection to despise:
Or, thinke the practice of this double-guard,
In any place, or age, may well bee spar'd.
Let not the Sword-man sleight the pow'rfull Gowne;
Nor Gowne-men cast the Sword out of their Towne,
Because it terrifies, or draweth Blood;
For, otherwhile Phlebotomy is good:
And, though to kill a Lowse, the Banians feare;
(Though Anabaptists love no Sword to weare)
Yet, being drawne, to fright, or cut off Sinne,
It may bee brandish'd by a Cherubin.
However, from the Sword divide not you
(In any case) the peacefull Olive-bough:
That is, let Peace, at all times, be that End,
For which, to draw the Sword you doe intend;
And, for well-doing, bee as ready, still,
To give rewards, as blowes, for doing-ill.


A Fortune is ordain'd for thee,
According as thy Labours bee.

Illvstr. XXXI. Book. 4

He Spade, for Labour stands. The Ball with wings,
Intendeth flitting-rowling-wordly-things.
This Altar-stone, may serve in setting foorth,
Things firmer, sollid, and of greater worth:
In which, and by the words inclosing these,
You, there may read, your Fortune, if you please.
If you, your labour, on those things bestow,
Which rowle, and flutter, alwaies, to and fro;
It cannot be, but, that which you obtaine,
Must prove a wavering, and unconstant gaine:
For, he that soweth Vanitie, shall finde,
At reaping-time, no better fruit then Winde.
Your houres, in serions matters, if you spend,
Or, such, as to a lasting purpose tend,
The purchase of your paines will ever last;
And, bring you Pleasure, when the Labour's past.
Yea, though in teares, your Seed-time, you imploy,
Your Harvest shall be fetched home, with ioy.
If much be wrought, much profit will ensue;
If little, but a little meede is due.
Of nothing, nothing comes: On evill deedes
An evill conscience, and, ill fame succeedes:
An honest-life, still findes prepared for't,
Sweet Hopes in Death; and, after, good-report.
Of Sexe, or of Degree, there's no regard:
But, as the Labour, such is the reward.
To worke-aright, oh Lord, instruct thou mee;
And, ground my Workes, and buildings all on thee:
That, by the fiery Test, when they are tride,
My Worke may stand, and I may safe abide.


Let none in troublous times repine;
For, after Stormes, the Sun will shine.

Illvstr. XXXII. Book. 4

Iscourage not your selves, although you see
The weather blacke, and stormes prolonged be.
What though it fiercely raines, and thunders loud?
Behold, there is a Raine-bow in the Cloud,
Wherein, a trustfull promise may be found,
That, quite, your little-worlds, shall not be drown'd.
The Sun-shine, through the foggy mists appeare,
The lowring Skie, begins againe to cleare;
And, though the Tempest, yet, your eyes affright,
Faire weather may befall you, long ere night.
Such comfort speakes our Emblem, unto those,
Whom stormie Persecution doth enclose;
And, comforts him, that's for the present sad,
With hopes, that better seasons may bee had.
There is nor trouble, sorrow, nor distresse,
But mitigation hath, or some release.
Long use, or time, the storme away will turne,
Else, Patience makes it better to be borne.
Yea, sorrowes lowring dayes, will come and goe,
As well as prosp'rous houres of Sunshine doe;
And, when 'tis past, the paine that went before,
Will make the following pleasure seeme the more.
For, hee, hath promis'd, whom we may beleeve,
His blessing, unto those that mourne and grieve;
And, that, though sorrow much dejects their head,
In ev'ry need, wee shall be comforted.
This promise I beleeve; in ev'ry griefe,
Performe it, Lord, and helpe my unbeliefe:
So, others viewing how thou cheerest mee,
Shall, in all sorrows, put their trust in thee.


For whatsoever, Man doth strive,
The Conquest, God alone, doth give.

Illvstr. XXXIII. Book. 4

Hen on the Sword, the Olive-branch attends,
(That is, when bloody Warres, have peacefull Ends)
And, whensoever Victories are gained;
This Emblem shewes, by whom they are obtained:
For, that all Victorie, doth onely from
The pow'rfull hand of God-Almightie, come,
The Boughes of Bayes and Olives, doe declare,
Which round the Tetragrammaton appeare.
Nor must we thinke, that God bestowes, alone,
The Victories of Warre, on any one;
But, that, when we contend in other things,
From him, th'event that's wisht for, also springs.
This being so, how dare wee, by the Lawes,
Or, by the Sword, pursue a wicked Cause?
How dare wee bring a matter that's unjust,
Where hee (though few perceive him) judge it must?
Or, prosecute with fury, or despite,
Against the person of his Favourite?
What Fooles are they, who seeke the Conquest, by
Oppression, Fraud, or hellish Perjurie?
How mad are those, who to the Warres prepare,
For nothing, but to spoyle and murther there?
Who, nor ingag'd by Faith to their Alies,
Nor urg'd by any private injuries,
(Nor sent, nor tolerated, by their Prince,
Nor caring whether side hath giv'n offence)
Run rambling through the World, to kill and slay,
Like needie Butchers, for two groats a day?
These men may side, where Conquests, God bestowes;
Yet, when the Field is wonne, these men doe lose.


Since overmuch, will over-fill,
Powre am enough; but doe not spill.

Illvstr. XXXIV. Book. 4

T is this Emblems meaning, to advance
The love and practise, of true Temperance.
For, by this Figure (which doth seeme to fill,
Vntill the liquor overflow, and spill)
Wee are, as by example, taught to see
How fruitlesse our Intemperancies bee:
Thus by the Rule of Contrarieties,
Some Vertues, best are showne to vulgar eyes.
To see a nastie Drunkard, reele and spew,
More moves to Sobernesse, than can the view
Of twentie civill men; and, to behold
One Prodigall, (that goodly lands hath sold)
Stand torne and louzie, begging at the dore,
Would make Intemperance abhorred more,
(And, manly Sobernesse, much better, teach)
Than all that sixe Philosophers can preach:
So, by the Vessels overflowing, here,
True Moderation doth more prais'd appeare,
Than by the meane it selfe: And, without sinne,
That's pictur'd, which to doe, had wicked bin,
For, though to vertuous ends; wee doe deny
The Doing-ill, that Good may come thereby.
From hence, let us be taught, that carefull heed,
Whereby wee should both Minde and Bodie, feed.
Let us, of our owne selves, observe the size;
How much wee want, how little will suffize;
And, our owne longings, rather leave unfill'd,
Than suffer any portion to bee spill'd:
For, what we marre, shall to account be layd,
And, what wee wisely spend, shall be repayd.


They passe through many stormes, and streights,
Who rise to any glorious heights.

Illvstr. XXXV. Book. 4

His Tree, which here doth largely seeme to grow,
(And spreads above, though streightned in below)
Through adverse Winds, and many a Winters blast,
Hath gain'd a faire proportion at the last;
And, from a lowly shrub, is growne to bee
A well-esteemed, and a goodly Tree.
Thus, hath it chanced unto many a man:
And, he that first in misery began,
(So poore and meane, that very few or none
Have judg'd him to be worth the looking on)
Ev'n he, through scornes, through wrongs, and povertie,
Hath crept, and screw'd, and rais'd himselfe so high,
That, he hath placed been among the prime,
Of those, who seem'd the Worthies of the time;
Yea, overtopt and aw'd, the best of those,
Who sought to curbe him, when he first arose.
This, I have seene; And, as wee seldome find
A Tree grow faire, that cannot brooke the Wind,
Or, must be hous'd at Winter; or, on whom
The Gardners pruning-knife, did never come:
So, I have rarely knowne those men to rise
To any good, or noble qualities,
Who feele not, first some hardship, or some storme,
To prune, to discipline, and to reforme
Their wits and manners. For, prosperitie,
Ease, plentie, and too large a libertie,
Doth often blast them; and, somtime bereave them,
Of what their Predecessors worth's, did leave them.
Let, therefore, no man, feare when this he knowes,
Although in tempests, and through streights he goes.


God, ever will bee present, there,
Where, of one Faith, and Mind they are.

Illvstr. XXXVI. Book. 4

Fixed Palme, (whose Fingers doe appeare,
As if displayed, and advanc'd they were)
Intended by our Author, here, wee see,
To shaddow out agreeing-Minds, that bee
Establish'd in one Trust. And, well it may,
That Vertue, of the holy Church display.
For, as our hands, the better meanes can make,
To gaine, as well as to retaine, or take,
The benefits we seeke; when wee intend,
Our differing Fingers, all, to worke one end:
So, when the Church of Christ (wherein wee finde
A diff'rence of Degrees) shall with one minde,
Pursue a faithfull hope; they'l soone obtaine,
That wished benefit, they seeke to gaine:
For, when but two or three shall in Gods name,
Request a blessing, he will grant the same.
Let all thy sev'rall Churches, Lord (that stand
Like many Fingers, members of one Hand)
Thy Will-Essentiall with joynt love obay,
Though circumstantially, they differ may.
Some have the larger Circuit, some are stronger,
Some are of short continuance, some of longer;
But, though their Guifts may differ, yet provide,
That, still, on one Foundation, they may bide;
And, that, all those, who in one Faith agree,
May, in one Band of Love, united bee:
Till our confined Wisdome comes to know,
That, many things, for which wee wrangle so,
Would further that, whose hindrance wee doe feare,
If more our Faith, and lesse our Discord were.


Protect mee, if I worthy bee;
If I demerit, punish mee.

Illvstr. XXXVII. Book. 4

His Emblem, forth unto your view hath set,
A Sword, together with a Coronet;
To shew the prudent Reader, what Reward
For ill, and for well doing, is prepar'd;
That they, who heretofore, amisse have done,
May learne, their threatned punishments to shun:
That they, whose Actions warrantable were,
May, in their honest Courses, persevere:
And, that those men, who great and pow'rfull bee,
Should punish and reward, as cause they see.
Men are of diff'ring tempers: Some, are wonne
By promises, and gentle meanes alone:
Some, moved are by shame; and, some through dread,
To bee in purse, or bodie punished.
And, some, their duties are allur'd to doe,
No way, but by a mixture of these two.
They, therefore, neither Wise, nor Honest bee,
Who dandle all Offenders on their knee;
Or, punish onely with a God-forbid;
Or, Doe not so, my sonnes, as Ely did.
Nor wiser ought, are they, nor honester,
Who alwayes fright, and threaten those that erre;
No mercie joyning, to the chastisement
Of them, whose faults are worthy to bee shent.
Nor are they lesse to blame, who carry Swords,
To punish errors; but, nor lookes, nor words,
To cherish well deservings: And, in this,
Most men, that punish others, doe amisse.
Sure, if the Sword misdoing, may pursue,
For doing-well, the Coronet is due.


The Tongue, which every secret speakes,
Is like a Barrell full of leakes.

Illvstr. XXXVIII. Book. 4

He Barrell, from whose bottome, sides, and bung,
The liquor (as in this our Emblem) flowes,
May fitly typifie the babling Tongue,
Of him that utters ev'ry thing hee knowes.
For, such as are their taskes, who strive to fill
An ever-leaking Vessell, to the brim;
Ev'n such are his, who laboureth to still
A tatlers tougue; for, paines are lost on him.
This Figure, also, serveth to expresse,
The trustlesse nature of a whorish woman;
For, shee to all displayes her wantonnesse,
And, cares to keepe her secresies, from no man.
Within her bosome, nothing long shee keeps,
But, whatsoever shee conceives or knowes,
Streight, from the heart, up to her tongue, it creeps;
And, round about the Citie, then, it goes.
Bee warned therefore, and commit thou not
Thy person, state, or fame, to such as these;
Lest, they thy Reputation doe bespot,
Consume thy Substance, or thy Minde disease.
But, most of all, bee wary, lest the crime,
Which here wee doe reproove, thy mind infect:
For, Vice, like weeds, will grow in little time,
And, out-grow Vertues, if Wee them neglect.
The surest way to keepe such errors out,
And, in our selves true Vertnes to maintaine;
Is, to bee hoopt with Temp'rance, round about,
And, our out-flowing humors to restraine.
If thus we practise, 'twill prevent the wrongs
Of our owne errors, and of others tongues.


How ever thou the Viper take,
A dang'rous hazzard thou dost make.

Illvstr. XXXIX. Book. 4

His Figure warnes us, that wee meddle not
With matters, whereby nothing may bee got,
Save harme or losse; and, such as once begun,
Wee may, nor safely doe, nor leave undone.
I should bee loath to meddle in the strife
Arising 'twixt a Husband, and his Wife;
For, Truth conceal'd, or spoke, on either side,
May one or th'other grieve, or both divide.
I would not with my most familiar Mate,
Be Partner in the whole of my estate;
Lest I, by others errors, might offend,
Or, wrong my Family, or, lose my Friend.
I would not, willingly, in my distresse,
From an unworthy hand, receive redresse;
Nor, when I need a Suretie, would I call
An Vnthrift, or a roaring Prodigall:
For, either these I thanklesly must shun,
Or, humour them, and be perhaps undone.
I would not heare my Friend unwisely prate
Those things, of which I must informe the State:
And, seeme unfriendly; or, else leave to doe,
That, which a stronger Band obligeth to.
Nor would I, for the world, my heart should bee
Enthrald by one, that might not marry mee;
Or, such like passions, bee perplexed in,
As hang betwixt a Vertue, and a Sinne;
Or, such, as whether way soe're I went,
Occasion'd guilt, or shame, or discontent:
For, howsoe're wee mannage such like things,
Wee handle winding Vipers, that have stings.


The gaining of a rich Estate,
Seemes, many times, restrain'd by Fate.

Illvstr. XL. Book. 4

Bserve this Wheele, and you shall see how Fate
Doth limit out to each man, that Estate
Which hee obtaines; Then, how hee doth aspire
To such a height; and, why hee mounts no higher:
For, whatsoere their Authors understood,
These Emblems, now, shall speake as I thinke good.
The Cornucopias fastned to a Round,
Thus fixt, may shew, that Riches have their bound;
And, can be raised, by mans pow'r or wits,
No higher than Gods Providence permits.
The placing of them on that Wheele, doth show,
That, some waxe Poore, as others Wealthy grow:
For, looke how much the higher, one doth rise,
So much the lower, still, the other lies;
And, when the height of one is at an end,
Hee sinkes againe, that others may ascend.
The many stops, which on this Wheele you spie,
Those many obstacles may typifie,
Which barre all those that unto Wealth aspire,
From compassing the Round of their desire.
The want of Wit, from Riches, barreth some;
Some, cannot rich, because of Sloth, become.
Some, that are wise, and painefull, are deny'd
Encrease of wealth, through Pleasure, or through Pride.
Some, lose much profit, which they else might make,
Because of Conscience, or for Credit sake.
If none of these did hinder, wee have store,
That might bee Rich, who, yet, are very Poore.
And, these, indeed, doe come to be those Fates,
Which keepe most men, from getting large Estates.


In all thine Actions, have a care,
That no unseemlinesse appeare.

Illvstr. XLI. Book. 4

He Virgine, or the Wife, that much desires,
To please her Lovers, or her Husband's Eyes,
In all her costl'est Robes, her selfe attires;
And, seekes the coml'est Dresse, shee can devise.
Then, to her trustie Looking-glasse, shee goes,
(Where, often, shee her person turnes and winds)
To view, how seemely her attiring showes;
Or, whether ought amisse therein she finds.
Which praisefull Diligence, is figur'd thus
In this our Emblem; that, it may be made
A documentall signe, remembring us,
What care of all our Actions, must bee had.
For, hee that in God's presence would appeare
An acceptable Soule; or, gracious grow
With men, that of approv'd conditions are,
Must by some faithfull Glasse, be trimmed so.
The good Examples of those pious men,
Who liv'd in elder times, may much availe:
Yea, and by others evills, now and then,
Men see how grossely, they themselves, doe faile.
A wise Companion, and, a loving Friend,
Stands nearer, than those ancient glasses doe;
And, serveth well to such an usefull end:
For, hee may bee thy Glasse, and Fountaine too.
His good Example, shewes thee what is fit;
His Admonition, checks what is awry;
Hee, by his Good-advise, reformeth it;
And, by his Love, thou mend'st it pleasedly.
But, if thou doe desire the perfect'st Glasse,
Ioyne to the Morall-Law, the Law of Grace.


Wee, bring the Hony to the Hive;
But, others, by our labours thrive.

Illvstr. XLII. Book. 4

He prettie Bees, with daily paines contrive
Their curious Combes, and from the flowry Fields,
Doe bring that pleasant sweetnesse to their Hive,
Which Nectar, and Ambrosiack dainties, yeelds,
Yet, when themselves with labours they have tir'd,
The following Winters famine to prevent,
For their good service, either they are fir'd,
Or, forth into an emptie Hive are sent:
And, there, with slender diet they are served,
To leave another Summers worke, to those
Who take no care, though all the swarme be starved,
If weake, and quite past labour once it growes.
As with such Bees, it fares with many a one,
That, spends his youthfull time in honest thrift;
And, by the Waspe, the Hornet, or the Drone,
Of all their labours, they are soone bereft.
Sometime, the bordring Flies, much wrong this brood,
Through idle visitings; or, them despoyle,
By making friendly shewes of neighbourhood;
When, all their Complements, are nought but guile.
Sometime, their powerfull Foes do rob them quite;
Sometime, their Lords, or Landlords, with pretence,
Of claiming only what is just and right,
Oppresse them without mercie, or defence.
Thus, by one course or other, daily, some
(That are laborious in an honest way)
The prey of Pride, or Idlenesse become:
And, such as these, may therefore truely say,
That, whatsoever they to passe have brought,
Not for themselves, but others, they have wrought.


God, by their Names, the Stars doth cal;
And, hee is Ruler of them all.

Illvstr. XLIII. Book. 4

Ome say, (and many men doe these commend)
That, all our deeds, and Fortunes doe depend
Vpon the motions of celestiall Spheres;
And, on the constellations of the Starres.
If this were true, the Starres, alone, have bin
Prime cause of all that's good, and of all sinne.
And, 'twere (me thinkes) injustice to condemne,
Or, give rewards to any, but to them.
For, if they made mee sinne, why for that ill,
Should I be damn'd, and they shine brightly, still?
If they inforc'd my goodnesse, why should I
Bee glorified for their Pietie?
And, If they neither good nor ill constraine,
Why then, should wee of Destinie complaine?
For, if it bee (as tis) absurd to say,
The starres enforce us (since they still obay
Their just Commander) 'twere absurder, farre,
To say, or thinke, that God's Decree it were,
Which did necessitate the very same,
For which, we thinke the starres might merit blame.
Hee made the starres to bee an ayd unto us,
Not (as is fondly dream'd) to helpe undoe us:
(Much lesse, without our fault, to ruinate,
By doome of irrecoverable Fate)
And, if our good Endeavors, use wee will,
Those glorious creatures will be helpfull still
In all our honest wayes: For, they doe stand
To helpe, not hinder us, in God's command;
And, hee not onely rules them by his pow'rs,
But, makes their Glory, servant unto ours.


Who, Patience tempts, beyond her strength,
Will make it Fury, at the length.

Illvstr. XLIIII. Book. 4

Lthough wee know not a more patient creature,
Than is the Lambe, (or, of lesse harmfull nature)
Yet, as this Emblem shewes, when childish wrong,
Hath troubled, and provok'd him overlong,
Hee growes enrag'd; and makes the wanton Boyes,
Bee glad to leave their sports, and run their wayes.
Thus have I seene it with some Children fare,
Who, when their Parents too indulgent were,
Have urg'd them, till their Doting grew to Rage,
And, shut them wholly from their Heritage.
Thus, many times, a foolish man doth lose
His faithfull Friends, and justly makes them foes.
Thus, froward Husbands; and, thus, peevish Wives,
Doe foole away the comfort of their lives;
And, by abusing of a patient-Mate,
Turne dearest Love, into the deadliest Hate:
For, any wrong may better bee excused,
Than, Kindnesse, long and wilfully abused.
But, as an injur'd Lambe, provoked, thus,
Well typifies how much it moveth us,
To finde our Patience wrong'd: So, let us make
An Emblem of our selves, thereby to take
More heed, how God is moved towards them,
That, his long suffring, and his Love contemne.
For, as wee somewhat have of every Creature,
So, wee in us, have somewhat of his Nature:
Or, if it bee not sayd the same to bee,
His Pictures, and his Images are wee.
Let, therefore, his long-suffring, well be weigh'd,
And, keepe us, to provoke him, still afraid.


Hee that is blind, will nothing see,
What light soe're about him bee.

Illvstr. XLV. Book. 4

T is by some supposed, that our Owles,
By Day-time, are no perfect-sighted Fowles;
And, that, the more you doe augment the light,
The more you shall deprive them of their sight.
Nor Candles, Torches, nor the Sunne at noone,
Nor Spectacles, nor all of these in one
Can make an Owlet in the day-time see,
Though none, by night, hath better eyes than shee.
This Emblem, therefore, sets their blindnesse forth,
Who cannot see, when an apparant worth
Illustrates vertuous Men; yet, seeme to spie
Those faults, wherewith ill-willers them belie.
The blindnesse, also, well it may declare,
Of Heretikes, who Eagle-sighted are,
In Sophistries, and in the cloudie-night,
Of those darke Errors, which delude the sight;
Yet, cannot see the Rayes of Truth divine,
Though, brighter than the Day-light, shee doth shine.
It, likewise, very fitly typifies,
Those, in our dayes, who spie out mysteries,
Beyond the Moone; yet, cannot gain the view
Of that, which common Reason proveth true:
And, therefore, onely, crie it (madly) downe,
Because, by Reasons light, it may be knowne.
These, when 'twas offred, first, the light refused;
And, they have now the darknesse which they chused.
Till, therefore, God shall offer Grace againe,
Man strives to set up Lights, to these, in vaine:
For, what are Lights to those who blinded bee?
Or, who so blinde, as they that will not see?


None knowes, untill the Fight be past,
Who shall bee Victor, at the last.

Illvstr. XLVI. Book. 4

Hile, these two Champions for the Conquest fight,
Betwixt them both Victoria takes her flight,
On doubtfull wings; and, till the fray bee past,
None knowe, to whether, shee the Wreath will cast.
Which Emblem serves, not onely, to expresse
The danger, and the issues doubtfulnesse,
In all Contentions; but, may warne us too,
That, wee no strivings rashly undergoe;
Since they, who long with painfull skill have striv'd,
Of likely Conquests, are at length depriv'd.
Force, much prevailes; but Sleight and Wit hath pow'r,
Sometime, to hurle downe Strength upon the floore.
Sometimes againe, our Ingineeres doe faile;
And, Blowes, doe more than Stratagems, prevaile.
Though, I, upon mine honest-Cause depend,
Another may o'rethrow it, by his Friend:
And, hee that boasteth of his Patrons grace,
May lose his hopes, if Bribing come in place.
To say the Truth, in whatsoever Cause,
Wee by the Sword contend, or by the Lawes,
There's no event or issue more assured,
Than this, that, losse to both shall bee procured:
And, that, sometime, as well an innocent,
As guilty-cause, may finde an ill event.
Let, therefore, our endeavours be, to strive,
Who, shall hereafter, least occasion give
Of those contentions, and of those debates,
Which hurt our honor, safetie, or estates:
That, we, a Conquest, may be sure to gaine,
And, none repine, at that which we obtaine.


Why should I feare the want of Bread?
If God so please, I shall bee fed.

Illvstr. XLVII. Book. 4

He faithlesse Iewe's repining currishnesse,
The blessed Psalmist, fitly did expresse,
By grinning-dogs, which howling roame by night,
To satisfie their grudging appetite.
Here, therefore, by an Emblem, wee are showne,
That, God, (who as hee lists, bestowes his owne)
Providing so, that none may bee unfed,
Doth offer to the Dogges, the Childrens bread.
And, by this Emblem, wee advised are,
Of their presumptuous boldnesse to beware,
Who bound God's Mercie; and, have shut out some
From hope of Grace, before the Night is come:
Since, to the Dogs, his meat is not denide,
If they returne, (though not till Evening-tide.)
Moreover, wee, some notice hence may take,
That, if provision, God, vouchsafes to make,
For Lyons, Dogs, and Ravens, in their need,
Hee will his Lambes, and harmlesse Turtles feed:
And, so provide, that they shall alwayes have
Sufficient, to maintaine the Life hee gave.
I must confesse, I never merit shall,
The Crummes, which from thy Childrens table fall:
Yet, thou hast oft, and freely fed mee, Lord,
Among thy Children, at thy Holy-board:
Nor have I, there, been fill'd with Bread alone;
But, on the blessed Bodie of thy Sonne,
My Soule hath feasted. And, if thou dost grant
Such favours, Lord! what can I feare to want?
For, doubtlesse, if thy Sonne thou please to give,
All other things, with him, I shall receive.


All Flesh, is like the wither'd Hay,
And, so it springs, and fades away.

Illvstr. XLVIII. Book. 4

His Infant, and this little Trusse of Hay,
When they are moralized, seeme to say,
That, Flesh is but a tuft of Morning-Grasse,
Both greene, and wither'd, ere the day-light passe.
And, such we truly finde it; for, behold,
Assoone as Man is borne, hee waxeth old,
In Griefes, in Sorrowes, or Necessities;
And, withers ev'ry houre, untill hee dyes:
Now, flourishing, as Grasse, when it is growne,
Straight perishing, as Grasse, when it is mowne.
If, wee with other things, mans Age compare,
His Life is but a Day (For, equall'd are
His Yeares with Houres: His Months, with Minutes bee
Fit parallels; and, ev'ry breathing, wee
May tearme a Day) yet, some, ev'n at the Night
Of that short Day, are dead, and witherd quite.
Before the Morning of our lives bee done,
The Flesh oft fades: Sometime, it growes till Noone:
But, there's no mortall Flesh, that will abide
Vnparched longer, than till Evening-tide.
For, in it selfe, it alwayes carries that,
Which helpeth so, it selfe to ruinate;
That, though it feele, nor storme, nor scorching flame,
An inbred Canker, will consume the same.
Considering well, and well remembring this,
Account the Flesh no better than it is:
Wrong not thine everlasting Soule, to cherish
A Gourd, which in a moments time will perish.
Give it the tendance, fit for fading Crops;
But, for Hay-harvest, lose not better hopes.


Make use of Time, that's comming on;
For, that is perish'd, which is gone.

Illvstr. XLIX. Book. 4

His Glasse declares, how Time doth passe away;
And, if the Words, about it, rightly say,
Thy Time that's gone, is lost: and, proofe will shew,
That, many find both Words, and Emblem, true.
How fast their Time departs, they best perceive,
From whom it steales, before they take their leave,
Of what they love; and, whose last houre is gone,
Before their chiefest businesses are done.
How fast it slides, ev'n they are also taught,
(Too late, perhaps) who never kept in thought
Their ending-day; but, alwayes did presume,
Or, largely hope upon the Time to come;
The present-howres, nor thankfully enjoying,
Nor, honestly, nor usefully employing.
That, yeares expir'd, are lost, they likewise find:
For, when their understanding brings to mind,
How fondly (or, how ill perchance) they spent
Their passed age; they see, with discontent,
The Time, not onely lost, but, worse than so;
Lost, with a thousand other Losses moe:
And, that, when they shall need it, wealth nor pow'r,
Can purchase them, one minute of an howre.
Consider this, all ye that spend the prime,
The noone tide, and the twilight of your Time,
In childish play-games, or meere worldly things;
As if you could, at pleasure, clip Times wings,
Or turne his Glasse, or, had a Life, or twaine
To live, when you had fool'd out this in vaine.
Short is the present; lost Times-passed bee;
And, Time to come, wee may not live to see.


The Garland, He alone shall weare,
Who, to the Goale, doth persevere.

Illvstr. L. Book. 4

N Arme is with a Garland here extended;
And, as the Motto saith, it is intended,
To all that persevere. This being so;
Let none be faint in heart, though they be slow:
For, he that creepes, untill his Race be done,
Shall gaine a Wreath, aswell as they that runne.
This being so; let no man walke in doubt,
As if Gods Arme of Grace were stretched out
To some small number: For, whoe're begins
And perseueres, the profer'd Garland winns:
And, God respects no persons; neither layes
A stumbling blocke in any of our Waies.
This being so, let no man think't enough
To set his hand, a little, to the Plough,
And, then desist; but, let him still pursue,
To doe that Worke, to which that Wreath is due:
For, nor on Good-beginners, nor on those
That, walke halfe-way, (much lesse on him, that goes
No stepp at all) will God this gift conferre;
But, onely, unto those that persevere.
Lord, by thy Grace, an entrance I have made
In honest Pathes; and, thy assistance had,
To make in them, some slow proceedings too.
Oh grant me, full abilitie, to doe
Thy sacred Will; and, to beginn, and end
Such Workes, as to thy glory, still, may tend.
That (Walking, and continuing in the Path,
Which evermore, thine approbation hath)
I may that Garland, by thy grace, obtaine,
Which, by mine owne desert, I cannot gaine.

Glory be to God.





Hou, of a noble minde, art thought,
Which, heav'nly things, hath chiefly sought.
And, scorn'st thy vertue to debase,
By loving those of lower place.
If so, thine Emblom doth expresse
Thy Wisdome, and thy worthynesse.
But, if to earthward thou incline;
Thence, learne Affections more Divine.
See, Emb. I.


Some words or thoughts, perhaps, of your
Have wrong'd Gods providence, or Pow're:
Els, you (it may be) to some place,
Confine his unconfined Grace;
Or, thinke, he never taketh care,
Of any Realme, but where you are.
Your Lot, now, therefore, doth provide,
To have your Iudgement rectifide.


Thou maist be wise, but, there is, yet,
Some crack, or, failing in thy wit:
For, thou dost personate a part,
That, showes thee other, then thou art.
Thine Emblem, therefore, doth declare,
What Habit, such deserve to weare;
And, that, he merits Asses eares,
Who is not, that, which he appeares.


You have, as yet, much worke to doe,
But, yoo have little time thereto:
That, little, flyes away with speed,
And, you the Losse, as little heed.
Lest, therefore, all your time be gone,
Before you duely thinke thereon,
A memorandum you have got,
By drawing, of this luckie Lot.



Though you, perhaps, no perill dread,
A mischiefe hangs above your head;
By which, you (taking little care)
May perish ere you be aware.
To minde you, therefore, to eschew
Such Miseries as may ensue;
Your Lot, this warning Emblem sent;
Observe it, and your harmes prevent.
See, Emb. V.


Thou fly'st, in hope, to shun thy griefe;
Thou changest place, to seeke releefe;
And, many blamelesse things are shent
As, causers of thy discontent.
But trouble, now, no more thy minde,
The root of thy disease to finde;
For, by thine Emblem, thou shalt see,
The Fountaine, whence thy torments bee.


Thou art, or els thou wert, of late,
Some great, or petty, Magistrate;
Or, Fortune thereunto, perchance,
In time to come, will thee advance.
But, by thine Emblem, thou shalt see,
That, when restrein'd, thy pow'r shall be,
Offenders, thereof will be glad,
And skoffe the pow're which thou hast had;
Observe it; and be so upright,
That, thou maist laugh at their despight.


Promotion thou dost much desire,
And, spacious Fortunes to acquire;
As, if thou thoughtst, thou mightst attaine,
True Blessednesse, by such a gaine:
To shew thee, therefore, what event,
What happinesse, and what content,
Such things, will bring vs, at the last,
An usefull Object, now, thou hast.


Disheartned be not, though thou see,
Thy Hopes, quite frustrate seeme to be;
For, many Hopes, appearing past,
Have, beene renew'd againe, at last;
And, grew far greater, then before,
When, they seem'd lost, for evermore.
Examples, therefore, now are brought,
That, still, to Hope, thou mayst be taught.


M 10

Most men desire to gaine the Fate,
Which keepes them safe, in ev'ry state;
And, you, no doubt, would faine provide,
A Station, which might firme abide.
If so you meane; your Lot hath brought,
Some newes of that, which you have sought:
For, by your Emblem, you may see,
What men shall most unmooved be.
See, Emb. X.


You seeme, to wonder, much of late,
That, some goe backward in Estate,
Who seeme to thrive; and, why, we finde,
Those Friends, who seemed very kinde,
(And, forward good respects to show)
Doe now unkinde, and froward grow.
But, when your Emblem you shall see,
No wonder, then, such things will be.


Thou seek'st a Conquest; or, (at least)
Of such a Pow're to be possest,
As none can conquer; And, bohold,
Thou, in an Emblem, shalt be told
The meanes to get thy hearts desire.
Yet, know, that if thou come no nigher,
Then but to know the meanes of blisse,
The farther off, the blessing is.


Thou liv'st, as one who thinks, that, Fate
All Actions did nesessitate;
And, that to doe, or leave undone,
Thy Businesses, came all to one.
If, thus thou thinke, perhaps, this Chance;
May helpe to cure thine Ignorance;
And, show, when 'twill be, wholly, fit
To Fate, our matters, to commit.


Thy Neighbors house when thou dost view,
Welfurnisht, pleasant, large, or new,
Thou thinkst good Lares, alwaies dwell,
In Lodgings that are trimm'd so well.
But, by thine Emblem, thou art showne,
That (if thou lov'dst what is thine owne)
Thatcht Roofes, as true Contentments yeeld,
As those, that are with Cedar seeld.
Vaine Fancies, therefore, from thee cast;
And, be content with what thou hast.



Thou seek'st Preferment, as a thing,
Which East, or Westerne-winds might bring;
And, thinkst to gaine a temp'rall Crowne,
By Powres and Vertues of thine owne:
But, now, thy Lot informes from whom,
The Scepter, and preferments come;
Seeke, thence, thy lawfull hopes fruition,
And, cherish not a vaine ambition.


This Lot, though rich, or poore, thou bee,
Presents an Emblem, fitt for thee.
If Rich, it warnes, not to be proud;
Since, Fortunes favours are allow'd
To Swinish-men: If thou be poore,
Deject thou not thy selfe, the more;
For, many worthy men, there are,
Who, doe not Fortunes Iewels weare.


Thou, dost not greatly care, by whom
Thy wealth, or thy Preferments, come:
So, thou maist get them, Foole or Knave,
Thy prayers, and thy praise may have;
Because, thou dost nor feare, nor dreame,
What disadvantage comes by them:
But, by thine Emblem, thou shalt see,
That, Mischieves, in their favours bee.


You boast, as if it were, unknowne
The power you have were not your owne:
But, had you not an able Prop,
You could not beare so high a Top;
And, if that Ayde forsake you shall,
Downe to the ground, you soone will fall.
Acknowledge this; and, humble grow,
You may be, still, supported so.


This Lot of yours doth plainely show,
That, in some danger now you go.
But, wounds by Steele, yet, feare you not;
Nor Pistoling, nor Cannon-shot;
But, rather, dread the shafts that fly,
From some deepe-wounding wantons eye.
Your greatest perills are from thence;
Get therefore, Armour of defence.



Thy Vertues, often, have beene tride,
To finde what proofes they will abide:
Yet, thinke not all thy Trialls past,
Till thou on ev'ry side art cast;
Nor, feare thou, what may chance to thee,
If truely, square, thy dealings be:
For, then, what ever doth befall,
Nor harme, nor shame, betide thee shall.


Fine Clothes, faire Words, entising Face,
With Maskes of Pietie and Grace,
Oft, cheat you, with an outward show,
Of that, which prooveth nothing so.
Therefore, your Emblems Morall read;
And, ere too farre you doe proceed,
Thinke, whom you deale withall, to day,
Who, by faire shewes, deceive you may.


You, are accus'd of no man, here,
As, if to any, false, you were
In word, or Deed; and, wish, we doe,
Your Conscience may acquit you too,
But, if your selfe you guilty finde,
(As, unto such a fault inclin'd)
The crime, already past, repent;
And, what is yet undone, prevent.


You haue delighted much, of late,
Gainst Womens ficklenesse, to prate;
As if this frailety you did find,
Entail'd, alone, on Womankind:
But, in your selfe, ther's now and then,
Great proofes, of wav'ring minds, in men:
Then, jugde not faults which are unknown;
But, rather learne to mend your owne.


At your Afflictions, you repine,
And, in all troubles, cry, and whine;
As if, to suffer, brought no Ioy;
But, quite, did all contents destroy.
That, you might, therefore, patient grow,
And, learne, that Vertues pow're, to know,
This Lot, unto your view, is brought:
Peruse, and practise what is taught.



On out side Friends, thou much reli'st,
And, trustest, oft, before thou try'st;
By which, if Cousnage thou escape,
Thy Wit wee praise not, but thy Hap:
But, lest by trust, (e're triall due)
Thou, overlate, thy Trusting rue;
Observe the Morall of thy Lot,
And, looke that thou forget it not.


By this your Lot, it should appeare,
That, you your selfe are too severe;
Or, have, by some, perswaded bin,
That, ev'ry Pleasure is a sinne.
That, wiser therefore, you may grow,
You have an Emblem, now, to show,
That, Hee, whose wisdome all men praise,
Sometime, layes downe his Bow, and playes.


Thou little heedst how Time is lost,
Or, how thine Howres away doe post;
Nor art thou mindfull of the day,
In which thy life, will breath away.
To thee this Lot, now, therefore, came,
To make thee heedfull of the same.
So, of thy Dutie, let it mind thee,
That, thou maist live, when Death shall finde thee.


A safe-abiding, wouldst thou know,
When Seas doe rage, and winds doe blow?
If so; thine Emblem shewes thee, where
Such Priviledges gained are.
Observe it well; then, doe thy best,
To bee a Yongling, in that nest
There Moraliz'd; and, mocke thou not
At what is taught thee, by this Lot.


Beleeve not, alwayes, as thy Creed,
That, Love-profest, is Love-indeed;
But, their Affections entertaine,
Who in thy need, firme Friends remaine.
Perhaps, it much may thee concerne,
This Lesson, perfectly, to learne.
Thine Emblems morall, therefore, view,
And, get true Friends, by being, true.



The Consciences, of some, afford
No Lawfull use unto the Sword:
Some dreame, that, in the time of peace,
The practise of all Armes may cease;
And, you, perhaps, among the rest,
With such like fancies are possest.
However, what your Morall sayes
Observe; and, walke in blamelesse waves.


A better Fortune you might gaine,
If you, could take a little paine:
If you have Wealth, you should have more,
And, should be Rich, (though you are poore)
If to the longings you have had,
A true endevour you would adde:
For, by your Emblem, you may see,
Such, as your Paines, your Gaines will be.


When any troublous Time appeares,
Your Hope is ouercome, with feares,
As, if with every Floud of Raine,
The World would quite be drownd againe.
But, by your Emblem, you shall see,
That, Sunshine, after Stormes may be:
And, you this Lot, (it may be) drew,
In times of neede, to comfort you.


When, you to ought, pretend a right,
You thinke to winne it by your might.
Yea, by your strength, your purse or friends,
You boast to gaine your wished Endes.
But, such Presumptions to prevent
You to an Emblem now are sent
That, showes, by whom he Victor growes,
That winnes, by giving overthrowes.


If, truely temperate, thou be,
Why should this Lot, be drawne by thee?
Perhaps, thou either dost exceed,
In costly Robes; or, drinke, or feede,
Beyond the meane. If this thou finde,
Or, know'st, in any other kinde,
How thou offendest by excesse,
Now, leave off, that intemp'ratnesse.



Thou hop'st, to climbe, to honor'd heights,
Yet, wouldst not passe through stormes or streights;
But, shun'st them so, as if there were
No way to blisse, where troubles are.
Lest, then, thou lose thy hop'd-for praise,
By, seeking wide, and easie wayes;
See what thine Emblem doth disclose.
And, feare not ev'ry winde that blowes.


Sometimes, it may be, thou dost finde,
That, God, thy prayers, doth not minde,
Nor, heede, of those Petitions take,
Which, men and Congregations make.
Now, why they take so ill effect,
Thou, by our Morall, maist collect:
And, by the same, shalt also see,
When, all thy suits will granted be.


Thou, hast been very forward, still,
To punish those, that merit ill;
But, thou didst never, yet, regard
To give Desert, her due Reward.
That, therefore, thou maist now have care,
Of such Injustice, to beware,
Thine Emblem, doth to thee present,
As well Reward, as punishment.


Thou, either hast a babling tongue,
Which, cannot keepe a secret, long;
Or, shalt, perhaps, indanger'd growe,
By such, as utter all they know.
In one, or other, of the twaine,
Thou maist be harm'd; and, to thy gaine,
It may redound, when thou shalt see,
What, now, thine Emblem, counsels thee.


By this, thy Lot, we understand,
That, somewhat, thou hast tooke in hand,
Which, (whether, further, thou Proceed
Or quite desist) will danger breed.
Consider, then, what thou hast done,
And, since the hazzard is begun,
Advised be to take the Course,
Whrch may not make the danger worse.



The Destinies, thou blamest, much,
Because, thou canst not be so rich,
As others are: But, blame no more.
The Destinies, as heretofore;
For, if it please thee to behold,
What, by thine Embleme, shall be told,
Thou, there, shalt find, which be those Fates,
That, keepe men low, in their estates.


Thou thinkst, that thou from faults art free;
And, here, unblamed thou shalt be.
But, if to all men, thou wilt seeme
As faire, as in thine owne esteeme,
Presume thou not abroad to passe,
Vntill, by ev'ry Looking-Glasse,
Which, in thy Morall, is exprest,
Thou hast, both Minde, and Body drest.


Some, labour hardly, all their daies,
In painefull-profitable wayes;
And, others taste the sweetest gaine,
Of that, for which these tooke the paine:
Yet, these, they not alone undo,
But, having robd, they murther too.
The wrongs of such, this Emblem showes,
That, thou mayst helpe, or pitty those.


Thou, often hast observ'd with feares,
Th'aspects, and motions of the Starres,
As if, they threatned Fates to some,
Which, God could never save them from.
If this, thy dreaming Error be,
Thine Emblems Morall shewes to thee,
That, God restraines the Starry-Fates,
And, no mans harme, necessitates.


Thou, hast provoked, over long,
Their patience, who neglect the wrong;
And, thou dost little seeme to heede,
What harme it threats, if thou proceed.
To thee, an Emblem, therefore, showes,
To what, abused-Patience growes.
Observe it well; and, make thy Peace,
Before to Fury, Wrath increase.



Thou hast the helps of Natures light;
Experience too, doth ayde thy sight:
Nay more, the Sun of Grace-divine,
Doth round about thee daylie shine;
Yet, Reasons eye is blind in thee,
And, clearest Objects cannot see.
Now, from what cause, this Blindnesse growes
The Morall of thine Emblem showes.


Thy cause, thy Money, or thy Friend,
May make thee forward to contend;
And, give thee Hopes, that thy intents,
Shall bring thee prosperous events.
But view thy Lot; then, marke thou there,
That Victories uncertaine are;
And rashly venture not on that
Whose End may be, thou knowest not what.


To them who grudgingly repine,
Assoone as their estates decline,
This Lot pertaines; or, unto those,
Who, when their neighbour needy growes,
Contemne him; as if he were left,
Of God; and, of all hopes bereft.
If this, or that, be found in thee,
Thou, by thy Morall, taught shalt be,
That, there is none so ill besped;
But may have hope, he shall be fed.


Thy Flesh thou lov'st, as if it were,
The chiefest Object, of thy Care;
And of such value, as may seeme,
Well meriting, thy best esteeme.
But, now, to banish that conceit,
Thy Lot an Emblem brings to sight,
Which, without flattery, shewes to thee
Of what regard it ought to be.


It may suspected be, thou hast,
Mispent the Time, that's gone and past;
For, to an Emblem thou art sent,
That's made, such folly to prevent:
The morall heed; Repent thy Crime;
And, Labour, to Redeeme the Time.



With good applause thou hast begunne,
And, well, as yet, proceedest on:
But, e're the Lawrell, thou canst weare,
Thou to the End must persevere.
And, lest this dutie, be so got,
Thou hast a Caveat, by this Lot.
See, Emb. L.


Although, this time, you drew it not,
Good Fortune, for you, may be got.
Perhaps, the planets ruling now,
Have cast no good Aspects on you.
For, many say, that, now and then,
The Starres looke angerly on men:
Then, try your Chance againe, anon;
For, their displeasure soone is gone.


If, by your Lot you had beene prais'd
Your minde, perchance, it would have rais'd,
Above the meane. Should you receive
Some check, thereby, It would bereave
Your Patience: For, but few can beare,
Reproofes, which unexpected are.
But, now prepared you have beene,
To draw your Lot once more begin;
And, if another Blancke you get,
Attempt your chance, no more, as yet.


To crosse your hopes, Misfortune sought;
And, by your Lot, a Blanck hath brought:
But, he who knew her ill intent,
Hath made this Blanke her spight prevent;
For, if that Number you shall take,
Which these two fignres, backward, make,
And view the place to which they guide;
An Emblem, for you, they provide.


These Lots are almost Ten to One
Above the Blankes; yet, thou hast none.
If thus thy Fortune still proceed,
Tis Ten to One if well thou speed.
Yet, if thou doe not much neglect,
To doe, as Wisdome shall direct,
It is a Thousand unto ten
But all thy Hopes will prosper, then.



It seemes, Dame Fortune, doth not know,
What Lot, on thee, she should bestow;
Nor, canst thou tell, (if thou mightst have
The choice) what Fortune, thou shouldst crave.
For, one thing, now, thy minde requires;
Anon, another it desires.
When Resolution thou hast got,
Then, come againe, and draw thy Lot.


The Chance, which thou obtained hast,
Of all our Chances, is the last;
And, casting up the totall summes,
We finde thy Gaine, to Nothing comes.
Yet if it well be understood,
This Chance may chance to doe thee good;
For, it inferres what Portion shall,
To ev'ry one, (at last) befall;
And warnes, while something, is enjoyd,
That, well it (alwaies) be imployd.





A Table for the better finding out of the
principall things and matters, mentioned in
these Foure Bookes.

A Supersedeas to all them, whose custome
it is, without any deserving, to importune
Authors to give unto them their

IT merits nor your Anger, nor my Blame,
That, thus I have inscrib'd this Epigram:
For, they who know me, know, that, Bookes thus large,
And, fraught with Emblems, do augment the Charge
Too much above my Fortunes, to afford
A Gift so costly, for an Aierie-word:
And, I have prov'd, your Begging-Qualitie,
So forward, to oppresse my Modestie;
That, for my future ease, it seemeth fit,
To take some Order, for preventing it.
And, peradventure, other Authors may,
Find Cause to thanke me for't, another day.
These many years, it hath your Custom bin,
That, when in my possession, you have seene
A Volume, of mine owne, you did no more,
But, Aske and Take; As if you thought my store
Encreast, without my Cost; And, that, by Giving,
(Both Paines and Charges too) I got my living;
Or, that, I find the Paper and the Printing,
As easie to me, as the Bookes Inventing.
If, of my Studies, no esteeme you have,
You, then abuse the Courtesies you crave;
And, are Vnthankfull. If you prize them ought,
Why should my Labour, not enough be thought,
Vnlesse, I adde Expenses to my paines?
The Stationer, affoords for little Gaines,
The Bookes you crave: And, He, as well as I
Might give away, what you repine to buy:
For, what hee Gives, doth onely Mony Cost,
In mine, both Mony, Time, and Wit is lost.
What I shall Give, and what I have bestow'd
On Friends, to whom, I Love, or Service ow'd,
I grudge not; And, I thinke it is from them,
Sufficient, that such Gifts they do esteeme:
Yea, and, it is a Favour too, when they
Will take these Triflles, my large Dues to pay;
(Or, Aske them at my hands, when I forget,
That, I am to their Love, so much in debt.)
But, this inferres not, that, I should bestow
The like on all men, who, my Name do know;
Or, have the Face to aske: For, then, I might,
Of Wit and Mony, soone be begger'd, quite.
So much, already, hath beene Beg'd away,
(For which, I neither had, nor looke for pay)
As being valu'd at the common Rate,
Had rais'd, Five hundred Crownes, in my Estate.
Which, (if I may confesse it) signifies,
That, I was farre more Liberall, than Wise.
But, for the time to come, resolv'd I am,
That, till without denyall (or just blame)
I may of those, who Cloth and Clothes do make,
(As oft as I shall need them) Aske, and Take;
You shall no more befoole me. Therfore, Pray
Be Answer'd; And, henceforward, keepe away.

A Direction, shewing how they who are so
disposed, shall find out their Chance, in the
Lotteries aforegoing

TUrne about one of the Indexes in the Figures, which are in the following Page, without casting your eyes thereupon, so observe where it stayeth untill your hand ceaseth to give it motion. If it be the upper Figure, whose Index you moved; than, that Number whereupon it resteth, is the number of your Lot, or Blancke.

This being knowne, move the other Index in like manner, and that Quarter of the said Figure whereon the same standeth (when your hand is taken away) sheweth in which of the foure Bookes, or Lotteries, that Chance is to be expected, whereunto your Number doth send you, whether it be Lot, or Blancke. If it be any Number above Fifty, it is a Blancke Chance, and you are to looke no further. If it be any of the other Numbers, it sends you to the Emblem answering to the same Number, in the Booke next before the same Lotterie.

If the letter M. be placed before the alotted Number; then, that Lot is proper onely to a Man: If W. stand before it, it is proper onely to a Woman: if there be no letter, it is indifferent to both Sexes: And, therefore, when a Man or Woman happneth on a Chance impertinent to their proper Sexe, they are then, to take the next Chance which pertaineth properly to their Sexe, whether it be Blancke or Lot; the triall whereof, I have thus contrived, without the use of Dice; lest by bringing them into sight, they might, sometimes, occasion worse Gaming.

If King, Queene, Prince, or any one that springs
From Persons, knowne to be deriv'd from Kings,
Shall seeke, for Sport sake, hence to draw their Lot;
Our Author sayes; that, hee provided not
For such as those: Because, it were too much
For him, to find out Fortunes, fit for such,
Who, (as hee thinkes) should, rather, Ayde supply
For him, to mend his evill Fortunes by.
To them, hee, therefore pleased is to give
This noble, and this large Prerogative;
That, they shall chuse from hence, what Lots they please,
And make them better, if they like not these.
All other Personages, of High degree,
That, will professe our Authors friends to be,
This Freedome, likewise, have; that till, they find
A Lot, which is agreeing to their mind,
They shall have libertie, anewe, to try
Their fought-for Chance: And, ev'rytime-apply
The Morrals they disliked, unto those,
Which are, ill-quallifide, among their Foes.
All others, who this Game, adventure will,
Must beare their Fortunes, be they Good, or Ill.


Spinner 1
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Transcriber's notes:

In the text version italics are represented with _underscore_ and small caps with ALL CAPS. Upright text in italic sections, has been marked with =equals=.

As noted at the start of the text, inconsistencies and apparent errors in the text have been left. The only changes that have been made are to unclear or missing punctuation marks (e.g. where a gap in the text is seen). In these cases, consistent punctuation has been used.

A list of inconsistencies and problems found in the text:—


Book I

Book 2.

Book 3.

Book 4.

Index. (Punctuation has been left as printed).

Transcriber's Addendum

Transcriptions and translations of the mottoes engraved around each emblem are provided as a convenience to the reader. Each transcription is shown as written (with any notes), followed by the text normalised to modern standards of punctuation and spelling (u/v, æ/ae, -cunque/-cumque, oe/ae etc.) and its translation.

Effigies Georgii Witheri poetae
Portrait of the poet George Wither
Vivitur ingenio; caetera mortis erunt
We live by our genius; the rest will belong to death
Sapientia constans
Wisdom is constant
Lex regit et arma tuentur
Law directs and arms protect
Ill 4 Bk 1 NE TENEAR
Ne tenear
Lest I be held back
Labore virtus, virtute gloria paratur
Virtue is acquired through labour, glory through virtue
Non obest virtuti sors
Chance is no hindrance to virtue
Non sceptro sed plectro ducitur
She is led by the plectrum, not by the sceptre
In hunc intuens pius esto
Look on this and be pious
In nocte consilium
Deliberation at night
Spernit pericula virtus
Virtue scorns danger
Ad scopum licet aegre et frustra
Towards the goal, but painfully and unsuccessfully
πάντα λέλοιπα
I have left all things
Remigio ventisque secundis
By rowing and favourable winds
Ill 14 Bk 1 QVID SI SIC3dots
Quid si sic
What if so?
Dum nutrio consumor
As I nourish I am consumed
Concussus surgo
When struck I rise
Dum extendar
Until I am stretched
Ill 18 Bk 1 MATVRA
Lente sed attente
Slowly but carefully
Ill 20 Bk 1 TRANSEAT
Let it pass
Mors vitae initium
Death is the beginning of life
Quo me vertam nescio
I know not where to turn
Patior ut potiar
I suffer to obtain
Consequitur quodcumque petit
She attains whatever she aims at
Non quam crebro sed quam bene
Not how often, but how well
Ill 26 Bk 1 DVRABO
I shall endure
Ubi Helena, ibi Troia
Where Helen is, there is Troy
Victrix patientia duri
Patience victorious over hardship
Non uno sternitur ictu
It is not felled with one blow
Nudrisco il buono et spengo il reo
I nourish the good and destroy the malefactor
Sapiens dominabitur astris
The wise man shall rule over the stars
Ex utroque Caesar
A Caesar either way
Persequar exstinctum
I will follow him into death
Flammescit uterque
Each catches fire
For posterity
Nil penna, sed usus
Not the plume, but its use
Dum clavum rectam teneam
As long as I hold the tiller steady
Si sciens fallo
If I knowingly deceive
Speque metuque pavet
It trembles with hope and fear
Così vivo piacer conduce a morte
So lively pleasure leads to death
Puris manibus
With clean hands
Lingua, quo tendis?
Tongue, where are you going?
Ill 43 Bk 1 original reads "ΟΥΜE ΒΛLΨΟΝ ΑΝΩ" which has been corrected to "ΘΥΜΕ ΒΛΕΨΟΝ ΑΝΩ"
θυμέ, βλέψον ἄνω
Look up, my soul
They shall turn golden
Finis ab origine pendet
The end depends on the beginning
Tandem fit arbor
At last it becomes a tree
Superata cruce coronor
I rise above the cross and am crowned
Mors sceptra ligonibus aequat
Death levels sceptres and spades
Paulatim non impetu
Gradually, not by force
De parvis grandis acervus erit
From small things a great heap will grow
Nequeo compescere multos
I cannot restrain so many
Ingenii largitor venter
The belly is the bestower of genius
Musica serva dei
Music is the handmaid of God
Discite iusticiam
Learn justice
Consensu populi regnum subsistit
The kingdom is sustained by the consent of the people
Qui me alit me extinguit
He who feeds me extinguishes me
Sequitur sua poena nocentem
His punishment follows the evildoer
Post tentationem consolatio
After temptation, consolation
Pro gallinis
For the hens
Tutius ut possit figi
To be fixed more securely
In silentio et spe
In silence and hope
Fato prudentia maior
Prudence is greater than fate
Coniunctis votis
Joined in prayer
Ill 14 Bk 2 CVI BONO?
Cui bono?
For whose benefit? (This is what the phrase usually means. But our author understands it as: For what benefit?)
Sacrificium deo cor contribulatum
A contrite heart is a sacrifice to God
Regni corona rex
The king is the crown of the kingdom
Studio et vigilantia
By study and watchfulness
Arte et marte
By art and by arms
Constante fiducia
By art and by arms
Amor docet musicam
Love teaches music
Non te sed nummos
Not you but your money
Fide sed cui vide
Trust, but be careful whom
Humana fumus
All things human are smoke
Omnia mea mecum porto
All that is mine I carry with me
Tamen discam
Yet I shall learn
Virtuti fortuna comes
Fortune is the companion of virtue
Deus nobis haec otia fecit
God has granted us this ease
Ill 28 Bk 2 EX BELLO PAX
Ex bello pax
From war, peace
Cor rectum inquirit scientiam
An upright heart seeks knowledge
ἐκ πόνου κλέος
From labour, glory
Pueros castigo virosque
I chastise boys and men
Vita mortalium vigilia
The life of mortals is watchfulness
Manet immutabile fatum
Fate remains unalterable
Deterius formido
I fear something worse
Adversis clarius ardet
It burns brighter in adversity
Sic transit gloria mundi
So passes the world's glory
Jusqu'à la mort
Until death
Suum cuique tribue
Allow each his own
In virtute et fortuna
In virtue and fortune
αἰώνιον καὶ πρόσκαιρον
Eternal and temporal
Viribus iungenda sapientia
Wisdom should be joined to strength
Ill 42 Bk 2 SOLVM A SOLE
Solum a sole
The soil from the sun
Recto cursu
On a steady course
Spes alit agricolas
Hope nourishes farmers
Ill 45 Bk 2 POCO A POCO.
Poco a poco
Little by little
Tribulatio ditat
Affliction enriches
Victrix fortunae sapientia
Wisdom victorious over fortune
Aut mors aut vita decora
Either death or life with honour
Donec totum impleat orbem
Until it fills the whole world
Virtus lorica fidelis
Virtue is a trusty coat of mail
Si recte facies
If you act rightly
Superat solertia vires
Cleverness outdoes strength
Non sine causa
Not without cause
Pando recondita
I disclose what is hidden
Virtute duce comite fortuna
With virtue as guide and fortune as companion
Florebo prospiciente deo
Under God's gaze I shall flourish
Ill 7 Bk 3 FAC ET SPERA.
Fac et spera
Do and hope
Rerum sapientia custos
Wisdom is the guardian of all things
Labore et constantia
By labour and constancy
Evertit et aequat
He overturns and levels
Scientia immutabilis
Knowledge is immutable
Virtute ac studio per orbem fama perpetua comparatur
By virtue and zeal everlasting worldwide fame is obtained
Noli altum sapere
Be not over-wise
Tractant fabrilia fabri
Workmen wield their own tools
Non dormit qui custodit
He who is on guard does not sleep
In spe et labore transigo vitam
I spend my life in hope and labour
Prudente simplicitate
In prudent simplicity
Transitus celer est et avolamus
The passage is swift, then we fly away
Step by step
Pro lege et pro grege
For the law and for the flock
Discite iustitiam
Learn justice
Non est mortale quod opto
What I choose is no mortal thing
In se sua per vestigia volvitur
It rolls round on its own tracks onto itself
Nulla dies sine linea
No day without a line
Ad regis nutus
At the king's pleasure
Hac virtutis iter
This way is the path of virtue
Concedo nulli
I yield to no-one
Manus manum lavat
One hand washes another
Legibus et armis
By laws and arms
Non quam formosa sed quam recta
Not how beautiful, but how straight
Aliis inserviendo consumor
I am consumed in the service of others
Ditat servata fides
Keeping faith brings riches
Fures privati in nervo, publici in auro
Private thieves in fetters, public thieves in gold
Memento mori
Remember you will die
Ill 35 Bk 3 SERVA MODVM.
Serva modum
Observe due measure
Fulcrum tutissimum
The safest support
Virtus inexpugnabilis
Impregnable virtue
Veritas premitur non opprimitur
Truth is oppressed but not suppressed
Ill 39 Bk 3 PAS A PAS.
Pas a pas
Step by step
Fortuna ut luna
Fortune like the moon
Ante ferit quam flamma micet
It strikes before the flame kindles
Paupertate premor sublevor ingenio
I am borne down by poverty, and uplifted by genius
Virtus unita fortior
Virtue is stronger when united
Ill 44 Bk 3 AMORE MUTUO.
Amore mutuo
By mutual love
Concordia insuperabilis
Unconquerable harmony
In manu dei cor regis
The heart of the king is in God's hand
Celata virtus ignavia est
Virtue concealed is worthlessness
Redibo plenior
I shall return more full
Nusquam tuta fides
Nowhere is trust secure
Hodie mihi cras tibi
Today for me, tomorrow for you
Non inferiora secutus
Following no lesser things
In manu domini omnes sunt fines terrae
All the ends of the earth are in the hand of the Lord
Quod non es ne videare cave
Take care lest you seem what you are not
Festinat decurrere
Swiftly it runs through
Ill 5 Bk 4 ABRUMPAM.
I will break it off
Hinc dolor inde fuga
Hence my pain; thence my flight
Captivum impune lacessunt
They provoke the prisoner without fear of harm
Restat de victore orientis
This remains of the conqueror of the east
Insperata floruit
It flourished unhoped-for
Nescit labi virtus
Virtue knows no failure
Hodie sic vertitur orbis
So the world turns today
Vis nescia vinci
A power that knows no defeat
Quo fata trahunt
Where the fates lead
οἴκος φίλος οἴκος ἄριστος
The best house is the house you love
Deus dat cui vult
God gives to whom he wishes
Indignum fortuna fovet
Fortune cherishes the unworthy
Stultorum adiumenta nocumenta
The assistance of fools is a hindrance
Te stante virebo
While you stand I shall flourish
Ill 19 Bk 4 FERIO.
I hit
Quocumque ferar
Wherever I am carried
Bella in vista dentro trista
Fair without, foul within
En dextra fidesque
See, the right hand and the pledged faith
Varium et mutabile semper
Always inconstant and changeable
Gaudet patientia duris
Patience rejoices in hardships
Sic spectanda fides
So good faith should be examined
Non semper arcum tendit
He does not always draw the bow
Vive memor leti; fugit hora
Live mindful of death; time flies
Mediis tranquillus in undis
Calm amid the waves
Ill 29 Bk 4 BONA FIDE.
Bona fide
In good faith
Pacisque bonus bellique minister
A good servant in peace and in war
Par sit fortuna labori
Let fortune be a match for labour
Post nubila Phoebus
After clouds, the sun
Omnis victoria a domino
All victory is from the Lord
Ill 34 Bk 4 NE QUID NIMIS.
Ne quid nimis
Nothing to excess
Per angusta ad augusta
Through difficulties to greatness
Fiducia concors
United in faith
Pro me; si mereor, in me
For me, or if I deserve it, against me
Hac atque illac perfluit
It leaks in all directions
Ill 39 Bk 4 UTCUNQUE.
Fata obstant
The fates oppose
Ut ne quid dedeceat
So there may be nothing unseemly
Ill 42 Bk 4 NON NOBIS.
Non nobis
Not for us
Astra deus regit
God rules the stars
Furor fit laesa saepius patientia
Patience too often offended turns to fury
Caecus nil luce iuvatur
A blind man is not helped by light
Inter utrumque volat
She flies between the two
Si deus voluerit
If God wishes
Omnis caro faenum
All flesh is grass
Perit quod elapsum est
That which has gone by is lost
Perseveranti dabitur
It will be given to the persevering

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Collection of Emblemes, Ancient and
Moderne, by George Wither


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