Which thy clear-ey'd experience well descries,
Great keeper of the state of equity!
Refuge of mercy! upon whom relies

SIR THOMAS EGERTON, KNIGHT: The succour of oppressed misery:

TO LORD H. HOWARD...TO THE COUNTESS OF CUMBERLAND. 529

For though some hearts are blinded so, that they

Have divers doors whereby they may let out
Their wills abroad without disturbancy,
Int' any course, and into ev'ry way
Of humour, that affection turns about;
Yet bave the best but one t' have passage by ;

And that so surely warded with the guard
Of conscience and respect, as nothing must
Have course that way, but with the certain pass
Of a persuasive right; which being compar'd
With their conceit, must thereto answer just,
And so with due examination pass.

Which kind of men, rais'd of a better frame,
Are more religious, constant, and upright;
And bring the ablest hands for any 'ffect;
And best bear up the reputation, fame,
And good opinion that the action''s right,
When th' undertakers are without suspect.

But when the body of an enterprise
Shall go one way, the face another way;
As if it did but mock a weaker trust;
The motion being monstrous, cannot rise
To any good; but falls down to bewray,
That all pretences serve for things unjust:
Especially where th' action will allow
Apparency; or that it hath a course
Concentric, with the universal frame
Of men combin'd: whom it concerneth how
These motions run, and entertain their force;
Having their being resting on the same.

And be it that the vulgar are but gross;
Yet are they capable of truth, and see,

And sometimes guess the right; and do conceive
The nature of that text that needs a gloss,
And wholly never can deluded be:
All may a few; few cannot all deceive.

And these strange disproportions in the train
And course of things, do evermore proceed
From th' ill-set disposition of their minds;
Who in their actions cannot but retain
Th' encumber'd forms which do within them breed,
And which they cannot show but in their kinds.

Whereas the ways and counsels of the light
So sort with valour and with manliness,
As that they carry things assuredly,
Undazzling of their own or others' sight:
There being a blessing that doth give,success
To worthiness, and unto constancy.

And though sometimes th' event may fall amiss,
Yet shall it still have honour for th' attempt;
When craft begins with fear, and ends with shame,
And in the whole design perplexed is:
Virtue, though luckless, yet shall 'scape contempt;
And though it hath not hap, it shall have fame.

VOL III.

το

THE LADY MARGARET,

COUNTESS OF CUMBERLAND.

He that of such a height hath built his mind,
And rear'd the dwelling of his thoughts so strong,
As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame
Of his resolved powers; nor all the wind
Of vanity or malice pierce to wrong
His settled peace, or to disturb the same!
What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may
The boundless wastes and weilds of man survey?

And with how free an eye doth he look down
Upon these lower regions of turmoil?
Where all the storms of passions mainly beat
On flesh and blood: where honour, power, renown,
Are only gay afflictions, golden toil;
Where greatness stands upon as feeble feet,
As frailty doth; and only great doth seem
To little minds, who do it so esteem.

He looks upon the mightiest monarch's wars
But only as on stately robberies;
Where evermore the fortune that prevails
Must be the right: the ill-succeeding mars
The fairest and the best fac'd enterprise.
Great pirate Pompey lesser pirates quails:
Justice, he sees, (as if seduced) still
Conspires with power, whose cause must not be ill.

He sees the face of right t' appear as manifold
As are the passions of uncertain man;
Who puts it in all colours, all attires,

To serve his ends, and make his courses hold.
He sees, that let deceit work what it can,
Plot and contrive base ways to high desires;
That the all-guiding Providence doth yet
All disappoint, and mocks the smoke of wit.

Nor is he mov'd with all the thunder-cracks
Of Pow'r, that proudly sits on others' crimes;
Of tyrants' threats, or with the surly brow
Charg'd with more crying sins than those he checks.
The storms of sad confusion, that may grow
Up in the present for the coming times,
Appal not him; that hath no side at all,
But of himself, and knows the worst can fall.

Although his heart (so near ally'd to Earth)
Cannot but pity the perplexed state
Of troublous and distress'd mortality,
That thus make way unto the ugly birth
Affliction upon imbecility:
Of their own sorrows, and do still beget

He looks thereon not strange, but as fore-done.
Yet seeing thus the course of things must run,

And whilst distraught ambition compasses,
And is encompass'd; whilst as craft deceives,
And is deceiv'd: whilst man doth ransack man,
And builds on blood, and rises by distress;
And th' inheritance of desolation leaves
To great-expecting hopes: he looks thereon,
As from the shore of peace, with unwet eye,
And bears no venture in impiety.

M m

Thus, madam, fares that man, that hath prepar'd
A rest for his desires; and sees all things
Beneath him; and hath learn'd this book of man,
Full of the notes of frailty; and compar'd
The best of glory with her sufferings:
By whom, I see, you labour all you can

To plaut your heart; and set your thoughts as near
His glorious mansion, as your pow'rs can bear.

Which, madam, are so soundly fashioned
By that clear judgment, that hath carry'd you
Beyond the feeble limits of your kind,

As they can stand against the strongest head
Passion can make; inur'd to any hue

The world can cast; that cannot cast that mind
Out of her form of goodness, that doth see
Both what the best and worst of earth can be.

Which makes, that whatsoever here befalls,
You in the region of yourself remain:
Where no vain breath of th' impudent molests,
That hath secur'd within the brazen walls
Of a clear conscience, that (without all stain)
Rises in peace, in innocency rests;
Whilst all what Malice from without procures,
Shows her own ugly heart, but hurts not yours.

And whereas none rejoice more in revenge,
Than women use to do; yet you well know,
That wrong is better check'd by being contemn'd,
Than being pursa'd; leaving to him t' avenge,
To whom it appertains. Wherein you show
How worthily your clearness hath condemn'd
Base malediction, living in the dark,
That at the rays of goodness still doth bark.

Kuowing the heart of man is set to be
The centre of this world, about the which
These revolutions of disturbances

Still roll; where all th' aspects of misery
Predominate whose strong effects are such,
As he must bear, being pow'rless to redress:
And that unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!

And how turmoil'd they are that level lie

With earth, and cannot lift themselves from thence;
That never are at peace with their desires,
But work beyond their years; and ev'n deny
Dotage her rest, and hardly will dispense
With death. That when ability expires,
Desire lives still-So much delight they have,
To carry toil and travel to the grave.

Whose ends you see; and what can be the best
They reach unto, when they have cast the sum
And reck'nings of their glory. And you know,
This floating life hath but this port of rest,
A heart prepar'd, that fears no ill to come.
And that man's greatness rests but in his show,
The best of all whose days consumed are,
Either in war, or peace-conceiving war.

This concord, madam, of a well-tun'd mind
Hath been so set by that all-working hand

And this note, madam, of your worthiness
Remains recorded in so many hearts,
As time nor malice cannot wrong your right,
In th' inheritance of fame you must possess:
Yon that have built you by your great deserts
(Out of small means) a far more exquisite
And glorious dwelling for your honour'd name,
Than all the gold that leaden minds can frame.

ΤΟ

THE LADY LUCY,

COUNTESS OF BEDFORD.

THOUGH Virtue be the same when low she stands
In th' humble shadows of obscurity,

As when she either sweats in martial bands,
Or sits in court clad with authority;
Yet, madam, doth the strictness of her room
Greatly detract from her ability.
For as in-wall'd within a living tomb,
Her hands and arms of action labour not;
Her thoughts, as if abortive from the womb,
Come never born, though happily begot.
But where she hath mounted in open sight
An eminent and spacious dwelling got;
Where she may stir at will, and use her might,
There is she more herself, and more her own;
There in the fair attire of honour dight,
She sits at ease, and makes her glory known.
Applause attends her hands; her deeds have gra
Her worth, new-born, is straight as if fuil grow
With such a godly and respected face
Doth Virtue look, that 's set to look from high,
And such a fair advantage by her place
Hath state and greatness to do worthily.
And therefore well did your high fortunes meet
With her, that gracing you comes grac'd thereb
And well was let into a house so sweet,
So good, so fair: so fair, so good a guest!
Who now remains as blessed in ber seat,
As you are with her residency bless'd.
And this fair course of knowledge, whereunto
Your studies (learned lady) are address'd,
Is th' only certain way that you can go
Unto true glory, to true happiness:
All passages on Earth besides, are so
Encumber'd with such vain disturbances,
As still we lose our rest in seeking it,
Being but deluded with appearances.
And no key had you else that was so fit
T' unlock that prison of your sex as this,
To let you out of weakness, and admit
Your pow'rs into the freedom of that bliss,
That set you there where you may over-see
This rolling world, and view it as it is;
And apprehend how th' outsides do agree
With th' inward; being of the things we deem
And hold in our ill-cast accounts, to be

Of Heaven, that though the world hath done his worst Of highest value, and of best esteem:

To put it out by discords most unkind;

Yet doth it still in perfect union stand
With God and man; nor ever will be forc'd
From that most sweet accord; but still agree,
Equal in fortunes in equality.

Since all the good we have rests in the mind,
By whose proportions only we redeem
Our thoughts from out confusion, and do find
The measure of ourselves, and of our pow'rs:
And that all happiness remains confin'd

Within the kingdom of this breast of ours;
Without whose bounds, all that we look on lies
In others' jurisdictions, others' pow'rs,
Out of the circuit of our liberties.

All glory honour, fame, applause, renown,
Are not belonging to our royalties,

But t' others' wills, wherein they're only grown:
And that unless we find us all within,
We never can without us be our own;
Nor call it right our life that we live in;
But a possession held for others' use,
That seem to have most interest therein;
Which we do so dissever, part, traduce,
Let out to custom, fashion; and to show
As we enjoy but only the abuse,
And have no other deed at all to show.
How oft are we constrained to appear
With other countenance than that we owe;
And be ourselves far off, when we are near!
How oft are we forc'd on a cloudy heart
To set a shining face, and make it clear;
Seeming content to put ourselves apart,
To bear a part of others' weaknesses!
As if we only were compos'd by art,
Not Nature; and did all our deeds address
T' opinion, not t' a conscience, what is right;
As fram'd by example, not advisedness,
Into those forms that entertain our sight.
And though books, madam, cannot make this mind,
Which we must bring apt to be set aright;
Yet do they rectify it in that kind,

And touch it so, as that it turns that way
Where judgment lies. And though we cannot find
The certain place of truth; yet do they stay,
And entertain us near about the same;
And give the soul the best delight, that may
Encheer it most, and most our spirits inflame
To thoughts of glory, and to worthy ends.
And therefore, in a course that best became
The clearness of your heart, and best commends
Your worthy pow'rs; you run the rightest way
That is on Earth, that can true glory give;
By which, when all consumes, your fame shall live.

ΤΟ

THE LADY ANNE CLIFFORD.

UNTO the tender youth of those fair eyes
The light of judgment can arise but new,
And young; the world appears t' a young conceit,
Whilst thorough the unacquainted faculties:
The late invested soul doth rawly view
Those objects which on that discretion wait.

Yet you that such a fair advantage have,
Both by your birth and happy pow'rs, t' outgo,
And be before your years, can fairly guess
What hue of life holds surest without stain;
Having your well-wrought heart full furnish'd so
With all the images of worthiness,

As there is left no room at all t' invest
Figures of other form, but sanctity.

Whilst yet those clean-created thoughts within
The garden of your innocencies rest;
Where are no motions of deformity,
Nor any door at all to let them in.

With so great care doth she that hath brought forth
That comely body, labour to adorn
That better part, the mansion of your mind,
With all the richest furniture of worth,
To make y' as highly good as highly born,
And set your virtues equal to your kind.

She tells you, how that honour only is
A goodly garment put on fair deserts;
Wherein the smallest stain is greatest seen,
And that it cannot grace unworthiness;
But more apparent shows defective parts,
How gay soever they are deck'd therein.

She tells you too, how that it bounded is,
And kept enclosed with so many eyes,
As that it cannot stray and break abroad
Into the private ways of carelessness;
Nor ever may descend to vulgarise,
Or be below the sphere of her abode.

But like to those supernal bodies set
Within their orbs, must keep the certain course
Of order; destin'd to their proper place,
Which only doth their note of glory get.
Th' irregular appearances enforce

A short respect, and perish without grace:
Being meteors seeming high, but yet low plac'd,
Blazing but while their dying matters last.
Nor can we take the just height of the mind,
But by that order which her course doth show,
And which such splendour to her actions gives;
And thereby men her eminency find,
And thereby only do attain to know
The region, and the orb wherein she lives.
For low in th' air of gross uncertainty,
Confusion only rolls, order sits high.
And therefore since the dearest things on Earth,
This honour, madam, hath his stately frame
From th' heavenly order, which begets respect;
And that your nature, virtue, happy birth,
Have therein highly interplac'd your name,
You may not run the least course of neglect.
For where not to observe, is to profane
Your dignity; how careful must you be,
To be yourself? and though you may to all
Shine fair aspects; yet must the virtuous gain
The best effects of your benignity.

Nor must your common graces cause to fall
The price of your esteem t' a lower rate,
Than doth beget the pitch of your estate.

Nor may you build on your sufficiency,
For in our strongest parts we are but weak;
Nor yet may over-much distrust the same,,
Lest that you come to check it so thereby,
As silence may become worse than to speak:
Though silence women never ill became.

And none we see were ever overthrown
By others' flatt'ry, more than by their own.
For though we live amongst the tongues of praise,
And troops of smoothing people, that collaud
All that we do; yet 't is within our hearts
Th' ambushment lies, that evermore betrays
Our judgments, when ourselves be come 't' ap,
plaud

Our own ability, and our own parts.

So that we must not only fence this fort
Of ours against all others' fraud, but most
Against our own; whose danger is the most,
Because we lie the nearest to do hart,
And soon'st deceive ourselves; and soon'st are

lost

By our best pow'rs, that do us most transport.