SIR, more then kisses, letters mingle Soules;

For, thus friends absent speake. This ease controules

The tediousnesse of my life: But for these

I could ideate nothing, which could please,

  5But I should wither in one day, and passe

To'a bottle'of Hay, that am a locke of Grasse.

Life is a voyage, and in our lifes wayes

Countries, Courts, Towns are Rockes, or Remoraes;

They breake or stop all ships, yet our state's such,

10That though then pitch they staine worse, wee must touch.

If in the furnace of the even line,

Or under th'adverse icy poles thou pine,

Thou know'st two temperate Regions girded in,

Dwell there: But Oh, what refuge canst thou winne

15Parch'd in the Court, and in the country frozen?

Shall cities, built of both extremes, be chosen?

Can dung and garlike be'a perfume? or can

A Scorpion and Torpedo cure a man?

Cities are worst of all three; of all three

20(O knottie riddle) each is worst equally.

Cities are Sepulchers; they who dwell there

Are carcases, as if no such there were.

And Courts are Theaters, where some men play

Princes, some slaves, all to one end, and of one clay.

25The Country is a desert, where no good,

Gain'd (as habits, not borne,) is understood.

There men become beasts, and prone to more evils;

In cities blockes, and in a lewd court, devills.

As in the first Chaos confusedly

30Each elements qualities were in the'other three;

So pride, lust, covetize, being feverall

To these three places, yet all are in all,

And mingled thus, their issue incestuous.

Falshood is denizon'd. Virtue is barbarous.

35Let no man say there, Virtues flintie wall

Shall locke vice in mee, I'll do none, but know all.

Men are spunges, which to poure out, receive,

Who know false play, rather then lose, deceive.

For in best understandings, sinne beganne,

40Angels sinn'd first, then Devills, and then man.

Onely perchance beast sinne not; wretched wee

Are beasts in all, but white integritie.

I thinke if men, which in these places live

Durst looke for themselves, and themselves retrive,

45They would like strangers greet themselves, seeing than

Utopian youth, growne old Italian.

Be thou thine owne home, and in thy selfe dwell;

Inne any where, continuance maketh hell.

And seeing the snaile, which every where doth rome,

50Carrying his owne house still, still is at home,

Follow (for he is easie pac'd) this snaile,

Bee thine owne Palace, or the world's thy gaile.

And in the worlds sea, do not like corke sleepe

Upon the waters face; nor in the deepe

55Sinke like a lead without a line: but as

Fishes glide, leaving no print where they passe,

Nor making sound; so closely thy course goe,

let men dispute, whether thou breathe, or no.

Onely'in this one thing, be no Galenist: To make

60Courts hot ambitions wholesome, do not take

A dramme of Countries dulnesse; do not adde

Correctives, but as chymiques, purge the bad.

But, Sir, I advise not you, I rather doe

Say o'er those lessons, which I learn'd of you:

65Whom, free from German schismes, and lightness

Of France, and faire Italies faithlesnesse,

Having from these suck'd all they had of worth,

And brought home that faith, which you carried forth,

I throughly love. But if my selfe, I'have wonne

70To know my rules, I have, and you have

Donne:

WHO makes the Past, a patterne for next yeare,

Turnes no new leafe, but still the same things reads,

Seene things, he sees againe, heard things doth heare,

And makes his life, but like a paire of beads.

  5A Palace, when'tis that, which it should be,

Leaves growing, and stands such, or else decayes:

But hee which dwels there, is not so; for hee

Strives to urge upward, and his fortune raise;

So had your body'her morning, hath her noone,

10And shall not better; her next change is night:

But her faire larger guest, to'whom Sun and Moone

Are sparkes, and short liv'd, claimes another right.

The noble Soule by age growes lustier,

Her appetite, and her digestion mend,

15Wee must not sterve, nor hope to pamper her

With womens milke, and pappe unto the end.

Provide you manlyer dyet; you have seene

All libraries, which are Schools, Camps, and Courts;

But aske your Garners if you have not beene

20In harvests, too indulgent to your sports.

Would you redeeme it? then your selfe transplant

A while from hence. Perchance outlandish ground

Beares no more wit, then ours, but yet more scant

Are those diversions there, which here abound.

25To be a stranger hath that benefit,

Wee can beginnings, but not habits choke.

Goe; whither? Hence; you get, if you forget;

New faults, till they prescribe in us, are smoake.

Our soule, whose country'is heaven, and God her father,

30Into this world, corruptions sinke, is sent,

Yet, so much in her travaile she doth gather,

That she returnes home, wiser then she went;

It payes you well, if it teach you to spare,

And make you,'ashm'd, to make your hawks praise, yours,

35Which when herselfe she lessens in the aire,

You then first say, that high enough she toures.

However, keepe the lively tast you hold

Of God, love him as now, but feare him more,

And in your afternoones thinke what you told

40And promis'd him, at morning prayer before.

Let falshood like a discord anger you,

Else be not froward. But why doe I touch

Things, of which none is in your practise new,

And Tables, or fruit-trenchers teach as much;

45But thus I make you keepe your promise Sir,

Riding I had you, though you still staid there,

And in these thoughts, although you never stirre,

You came with mee to Micham, and are here.

LIKE one who'in her third widdowhood doth professe

 Her selfe a Nunne, tyed to retirednesse,

So'affects my muse now, a chast fallownesse;

Since shee to few, yet to too many'hath showne

  5How love-song weeds, and Satyrique thornes are growne

Where seeds of better Arts, were early sown.

Though to use, and love Poëtrie, to mee,

Betroth'd to no'one Art, be no'adulterie;

Omissions of good, ill, as ill deeds bee.

10For though to us it seeme,'and be light and thinne,

Yet in those faithfull scales, where God throwes in

Mens workes, vanity weighs as much as sinne.

If our Soules have stain'd their first white, yet wee

May cloth them with faith, and deare honestie,

15Which God imputes, as native puritie.

There is no Vertue, but Religion:

Wise, valiant, sober, just, are names, which none

Want, which want not Vice-covering discretion.

Seeke wee then our selves in our selves; for as

20Men force the Sunne with much more force to passe,

By gathering his beames with a christall glasse;

So wee, If wee into our selves will turne,

Blowing our sparkes of vertue, may outburne

The straw, which doth about our hearts sojourne.

25You know, Physitians, when they would infuse

Into any'oyle, the Soules of Simples, use

Places, where they may lie still warme, to chuse.

So workes retirednesse in us; To rome

Giddily, and be every where, but at home,

30Such freedome doth a banishment become.

Wee are but farmers of our selves, yet may,

If we can stocke our selves, and thrive, uplay

Much, much deare treasure for the great rent day.

Manure thy selfe then, to thy selfe be'approv'd,

35And with vaine outward things be no more mov'd,

But to know, that I love thee'and would be lov'd.

HERE'S no more newes, then vertue,'I may as well

  Tell you Cales, or S^t Michaels tale for newes, as tell

That vice doth here habitually dwell.

Yet, as to'get stomachs, we walke up and downe,

  5And toyle to sweeten rest, so, may God frowne,

If, but to loth both, I haunt Court, or Towne.

For here no one is from the'extremitie

Of vice, by any other reason free,

But that the next to'him, still, is worse then hee.

10In this worlds warfare, they whom rugged Fate,

(Gods Commissary,) doth so throughly hate,

As in'the Courts Squadron to marshall their state:

If they stand arm'd with seely honesty,

With wishing prayers, and neat integritie,

15Like Indians'gainst Spanish hosts they bee.

Suspitious boldnesse to this place belongs,

And to'have as many eares as all have tongues;

Tender to know, tough to acknowledge wrongs.

Beleeve mee Sir, in my youths giddiest dayes,

20When to be like the Court, was a playes praise,

Playes were not so like Courts, as Courts'are like playes.

Then let us at these mimicke antiques jeast,

Whose deepest projects, and egregious gests

Are but dull Moralls of a game at Chests.

25But now'tis incongruity to smile,

Therefore I end; and bid farewell a while,

At Court; though From Court, were the better stile.

WENT you to conquer? and have so much lost

Yourself, that what in you was best and most,

Respective friendship, should so quickly dye?

In publique gaine my share'is not such that I

  5Would lose your love for Ireland: better cheap

I pardon death (who though he do not reap

Yet gleanes hee many of our frends away)

Then that your waking mind should bee a prey

To lethargies. Lett shott, and boggs, and skeines

10With bodies deale, as fate bids and restreynes;

Ere sicknesses attack, yong death is best,

Who payes before his death doth scape arrest.

Lett not your soule (at first with graces fill'd,

And since, and thorough crooked lymbecks, still'd

15In many schools and courts, which quicken it,)

It self unto the Irish negligence submit.

I aske not labored letters which should weare

Long papers out: nor letters which should feare

Dishonest carriage: or a seers art:

20Nor such as from the brayne come, but the hart.

Madame,

REASON is our Soules left hand, Faith her right,

  By these wee reach divinity, that's you;

Their loves, who have the blessings of your light,

Grew from their reason, mine from faire faith grew.

  5But as, although a squint lefthandednesse

Be'ungracious, yet we cannot want that hand,

So would I, not to encrease, but to expresse

My faith, as I beleeve, so understand.

Therefore I study you first in your Saints,

10Those friends, whom your election glorifies,

Then in your deeds, accesses, and restraints,

And what you reade, and what your selfe devize.

But soone, the reasons why you'are lov'd by all,

Grow infinite, and so passe reasons reach,

15Then backe againe to'implicite faith I fall,

And rest on what the Catholique voice doth teach;

That you are good: and not one Heretique

Denies it: if he did, yet you are so.

For, rockes, which high top'd and deep rooted sticke,

20Waves wash, not undermine, nor overthrow.

In every thing there naturally growes

A Balsamum to keepe it fresh, and new,

If'twere not injur'd by extrinsique blowes;

Your birth and beauty are this Balme in you.

25But you of learning and religion,

And vertue,'and such ingredients, have made

A methridate, whose operation

Keepes off, or cures what can be done or said.

Yet, this is not your physicke, but your food,

30A dyet fit for you; for you are here

The first good Angell, since the worlds frame stood,

That ever did in womans shape appeare.

Since you are then Gods masterpeece, and so

His Factor for our loves; do as you doe,

35Make your returne home gracious; and bestow

This life on that; so make one life of two.

For so God helpe mee,'I would not misse you there

For all the good which you can do me here.

Madame,

YOU have refin'd mee, and to worthyest things

(Vertue, Art, Beauty, Fortune,) now I see

Rarenesse, or use, not nature value brings;

And such, as they are circumstanc'd, they bee.

  5Two ills can ne're perplexe us, sinne to'excuse;

But of two good things, we may leave and chuse.

Therefore at Court, which is not vertues clime,

(Where a transcendent height, (as, lownesse mee)

Makes her not be, or not show) all my rime

10Your vertues challenge, which there rarest bee;

For, as darke texts need notes: there some must bee

To usher vertue, and say, This is shee.

So in the country'is beauty; to this place

You are the season (Madame) you the day,

15'Tis but a grave of spices, till your face

Exhale them, and a thick close bud display.

Widow'd and reclus'd else, her sweets she'enshrines;

As China, when the Sunne at Brasill dines.

Out from your chariot, morning breaks at night,

20And falsifies both computations so;

Since a new world doth rise here from your light,

We your new creatures, by new recknings goe.

This showes that you from nature lothly stray,

That suffer not an artificiall day.

25In this you'have made the Court the Antipodes,

And will'd your Delegate, the vulgar Sunne,

To doe profane autumnall offices,

Whilst here to you, wee sacrificers runne;

And whether Priests, or Organs, you wee'obey,

30We sound your influence, and your Dictates say.

Yet to that Deity which dwels in you,

Your vertuous Soule, I now not sacrifice;

These are Petitions and not Hymnes; they sue

But that I may survay the edifice.

35In all Religions as much care hath bin

Of Temples frames, and beauty,'as Rites within.

As all which goe to Rome, doe not thereby

Esteeme religions, and hold fast the best,

But serve discourse, and curiosity,

40With that which doth religion but invest,

And shunne th'entangling laborinths of Schooles,

And make it wit, to thinke the wiser fooles:

So in this pilgrimage I would behold

You as you'are vertues temple, not as shee,

45What walls of tender christall her enfold,

What eyes, hands, bosome, her pure Altars bee;

And after this survay, oppose to all

Bablers of Chappels, you th'Escuriall.

Yet not as consecrate, but merely'as faire,

50On these I cast a lay and country eye.

Of past and future stories, which are rare,

I finde you all record, and prophecie.

Purge but the booke of Fate, that it admit

No sad nor guilty legends, you are it.

55If good and lovely were not one, of both

You were the transcript, and originall,

The Elements, the Parent, and the Growth,

And every peece of you, is both their All:

So'intire are all your deeds, and you, that you

60Must do the same thinge still; you cannot two.

But these (as nice thinne Schoole divinity

Serves heresie to furder or represse)

Tast of Poëtique rage, or flattery,

And need not, where all hearts one truth professe;

Oft from new proofes, and new phrase, new doubts grow,

66As strange attire aliens the men wee know.

Leaving then busie praise, and all appeale

To higher Courts, senses decree is true,

The Mine, the Magazine, the Commonweale,

70The story of beauty,'in Twicknam is, and you.

Who hath seene one, would both; As, who had bin

In Paradise, would seeke the Cherubin.

MAN is a lumpe, where all beasts kneaded bee,

Wisdome makes him an Arke where all agree;

The foole, in whom these beasts do live at jarre,

Is sport to others, and a Theater;

  5Nor scapes hee so, but is himselfe their prey,

All which was man in him, is eate away,

And now his beasts on one another feed,

Yet couple'in anger, and new monsters breed.

How happy'is hee, which hath due place assign'd

10To'his beasts, and disaforested his minde!

Empail'd himselfe to keepe them out, not in;

Can sow, and dares trust corne, where they have bin;

Can use his horse, goate, wolfe, and every beast,

And is not Asse himselfe to all the rest.

15Else, man not onely is the heard of swine,

But he's those devills too, which did incline

Them to a headlong rage, and made them worse:

For man can adde weight to heavens heaviest curse.

As Soules (they say) by our first touch, take in

20The poysonous tincture of Originall sinne,

So, to the punishments which God doth fling,

Our apprehension contributes the sting.

To us, as to his chickins, he doth cast

Hemlocke, and wee as men, his hemlocke taste;

25We do infuse to what he meant for meat,

Corrosivenesse, or intense cold or heat.

For, God no such specifique poyson hath

As kills we know not how; his fiercest wrath

Hath no antipathy, but may be good

30At lest for physicke, if not for our food.

Thus man, that might be'his pleasure, is his rod,

And is his devill, that might be his God.

Since then our businesse is, to rectifie

Nature, to what she was, wee'are led awry

35By them, who man to us in little show;

Greater then due, no forme we can bestow

On him; for Man into himselfe can draw

All; All his faith can swallow,'or reason chaw.

All that is fill'd, and all that which doth fill,

40All the round world, to man is but a pill,

In all it workes not, but it is in all

Poysonous, or purgative, or cordiall,

For, knowledge kindles Calentures in some,

And is to others icy Opium.

45As brave as true, is that profession than

Which you doe use to make; that you know man.

This makes it credible; you have dwelt upon

All worthy bookes, and now are such an one.

Actions are authors, and of those in you

50Your friends finde every day a mart of new.

T 'HAVE written then, when you writ, seem'd to mee

Worst of spirituall vices, Simony,

And not t'have written then, seemes little lesse

Then worst of civill vices, thanklessenesse.

  5In this, my debt I seem'd loath to confesse,

In that, I seem'd to shunne beholdingnesse.

But 'tis not soe; nothings, as I am, may

Pay all they have, and yet have all to pay.

Such borrow in their payments, and owe more

10By having leave to write so, then before.

Yet since rich mines in barren grounds are showne,

May not I yeeld (not gold) but coale or stone?

Temples were not demolish'd, though prophane:

Here Peter Ioves, there Paul hath Dian's Fane.

15So whether my hymnes you admit or chuse,

In me you'have hallowed a Pagan Muse,

And denizend a stranger, who mistaught

By blamers of the times they mard, hath sought

Vertues in corners, which now bravely doe

20Shine in the worlds best part, or all It; You.

I have beene told, that vertue in Courtiers hearts

Suffers an Ostracisme, and departs.

Profit, ease, fitnesse, plenty, bid it goe,

But whither, only knowing you, I know;

25Your (or you) vertue two vast uses serves,

It ransomes one sex, and one Court preserves.

There's nothing but your worth, which being true,

Is knowne to any other, not to you:

And you can never know it; To admit

30No knowledge of your worth, is some of it.

But since to you, your praises discords bee,

Stoop, others ills to meditate with mee.

Oh! to confesse wee know not what we should,

Is halfe excuse; wee know not what we would:

35Lightnesse depresseth us, emptinesse fills,

We sweat and faint, yet still goe downe the hills.

As new Philosophy arrests the Sunne,

And bids the passive earth about it runne,

So wee have dull'd our minde, it hath no ends;

40Onely the bodie's busie, and pretends;

As dead low earth ecclipses and controules

The quick high Moone: so doth the body, Soules.

In none but us, are such mixt engines found,

As hands of double office: For, the ground

45We till with them; and them to heav'n wee raise;

Who prayer-lesse labours, or, without this, prayes,

Doth but one halfe, that's none; He which said, Plough

And looke not back, to looke up doth allow.

Good seed degenerates, and oft obeyes

50The soyles disease, and into cockle strayes;

Let the minds thoughts be but transplanted so,

Into the body,'and bastardly they grow.

What hate could hurt our bodies like our love?

Wee (but no forraine tyrants could) remove

55These not ingrav'd, but inborne dignities,

Caskets of soules; Temples, and Palaces:

For, bodies shall from death redeemed bee,

Soules but preserv'd, not naturally free.

As men to'our prisons, new soules to us are sent,

60Which learne vice there, and come in innocent.

First seeds of every creature are in us,

What ere the world hath bad, or pretious,

Mans body can produce, hence hath it beene

That stones, wormes, frogges, and snakes in man are seene:

65But who ere saw, though nature can worke soe,

That pearle, or gold, or corne in man did grow?

We'have added to the world Virginia,'and sent

Two new starres lately to the firmament;

Why grudge wee us (not heaven) the dignity

70T'increase with ours, those faire soules company.

But I must end this letter, though it doe

Stand on two truths, neither is true to you,

Vertue hath some perversenesse; For she will

Neither beleeve her good, nor others ill.

75Even in you, vertues best paradise,

Vertue hath some, but wise degrees of vice.

Too many vertues, or too much of one

Begets in you unjust suspition;

And ignorance of vice, makes vertue lesse,

80Quenching compassion of our wrechednesse.

But these are riddles; Some aspersion

Of vice becomes well some complexion.

Statesmen purge vice with vice, and may corrode

The bad with bad, a spider with a toad:

85For so, ill thralls not them, but they tame ill

And make her do much good against her will,

But in your Commonwealth, or world in you,

Vice hath no office, or good worke to doe.

Take then no vitious purge, but be content

90With cordiall vertue, your knowne nourishment.