work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3685,"","Searching ""imagination"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-05-20 00:00:00 UTC,"Argument I.
How Pygmalion fell in Love with the Image he made.
Pygmalion niveum mira feliciter arte
Sculp sit ebur, formamq; dedit, qua fæmina nasci
Nulla potest, operesq; sui concepit amorem.
Ovid. l. x.
I find that heretofore was one,
whose name it was Pygmalion,
which was a lusty man of youth,
and at fine warks was very couth
above all other men, as tho,
and through fortune it fell him so.
As he that doth in Love travail,
he made an Image of entail;
like to a Woman in semblance
of feature and of countenance.
So fair, yet never was Figure,
right as a living creature
she seemed, for of Ivory white
he hath it wrote of such delight.
She was ruddy on the Cheke,
and red on her Lips eke,
whereof then he himself begyl'd,
for with a goodly look she smil'd;
so that through pure impression
of his own imagination,
with all the heat of his courage
his love upon this fair Image
he set: and her of love pray'd,
but she not one word again said.
All the long day what thing he did,
this fair Image in the same stead
was ever by, so that at meat
he would her serve, and pray'd her eat,
and put unto her mouth the cup:
and when the board was taken up,
he led her to his chamber home,
and after when the night was come,
he lay'd her in bed all naked,
he often wept and often waked.
He kist her cold lips oft and oft,
and wisht her that they were more soft;
and oft he told her in her ear,
and oft his arm now here now there
he lay'd as he would her embrace;
and ever and anon he asked grace,
as though she wyst what it meant,
and himself began to torment.
But Venus of her grace him heard
by night, and whan that least he fear'd,
and it lay naked in his arm,
the cold Image began be warm
of flesh and bone, and full of life;
lo thus he wan a lusty Wife,
which obeysant was at his will,
and of his pleasure gave him fill.
But if he would have help him still,
he should have failed of his will;
but 'cause he pray'd, his love he sped,
and had all that he would abed;
for e're away they two did go,
a jolly child between them two
they gate: Thus Love is favourable
to them that have been of Love stable.",2008-12-03,9549,"•C-H collects under the heading ""Minor Burlesques and Travesties""","""[W]ith a goodly look she smil'd; / so that through pure impression / of his own imagination, / with all the heat of his courage / his love upon this fair Image / he set.""",Impression,2009-09-14 19:34:18 UTC,""
3692,"","Searching ""rule"" and ""reason"" in HDIS (Drama)",2004-06-23 00:00:00 UTC,"HAZ.
That Servant you call Trusty, is a Traytor,
Or an o're-diligent officious Servant,
Whose care creates imaginary difficulties
And dangers, where the way is safe, and easie.
Please to consult the Steward of your Soul,
And Ruler of your Senses, Your wise Reason.
Ask if nine Winters Cold, nine Summers Heats,
And almost a continual emptiness
Can chuse but alter th' Organs of the Voice?
Oh! Madam, Madam, did you know my Story,
You'd rather wonder I can speak at all,
Then that my Tone is chang'd: if that be all
The scruple, from this hour I will be dumb;
And give no food to your distrust.
",2012-01-12,9557,•I've included twice: Government and Population,"""Please to consult the Steward of your Soul, / And Ruler of your Senses, Your wise Reason.""",Inhabitants,2012-01-12 21:05:07 UTC,""
3805,"",Searching in HDIS,2004-11-15 00:00:00 UTC,"DOR.
Think me not Lady so presumptuous to imagine by any merit or desert of mine to deserve your least of Favours; I better know to set the right value and esteem on them than so, and the less I deserve them count my happiness the more I know too, how without injury you might have denyed them me; if then my heart repine 'tis only for being so unhappy in my happiness you shou'd oblige me without design--it is the intention, sets value on the Act and a kind of undervaluing things
To do them without it, the favour then is but small,
To give me y'r hand, 'less you give me your Heart withall;
and judge how little nourishment that fire receives,
That Amorous fire inkindled in my brest,
By giving me your hand and denying me the rest.
",,9802,"","The ""Amorous fire inkindled in my brest"" receives little nourishment ""By giving me your hand and denying me the rest""","",2009-09-14 19:34:29 UTC,"Act I, scene ii"
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:44:19 UTC,"Man can no more a native Freedom boast;
That Jewel ne'er was found since first 'twas lost,
'Twas then transported to the Stygian Coast.
But still there's something which we do esteem,
Only because 'tis like the polisht Gem,
And this we Freedom call; its Credit grows
From a false Stamp, the gilded outside shows:
Which avaritious Men attempt to get,
Cheated and ruin'd with the Counterfeit.
Like Children, Soapy-bubbles they pursue,
And the fantastick Vision take for true;
But whilst they think bright Forms they do embrace,
Ixion-like, they find a Cloud i'th' place.
Consent of Crouds exceeding Credit brings,
And seems to stamp Truth's Image on false things;
Not what's a real Good, but what does seem,
Still shares the blind and popular Esteem.
Whilst Sense and Fancy over-rule their Choice,
And Reason in th'Election has no Voice.
But Souls in vain have Reason's Attribute,
If to their Rule they cannot Sense submit.
Hence the Heroick Mind makes no complaint,
But Freedom does enjoy, e'en in Restraint.
When Chains and Fetters do his Body bind,
He then appears more free, and less confin'd. [...]
(p. 382, ll. 21-45)",,21630,"","""Whilst Sense and Fancy over-rule their Choice, / And Reason in th'Election has no Voice.""","",2013-07-11 05:44:19 UTC,""
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:45:54 UTC,"Man can no more a native Freedom boast;
That Jewel ne'er was found since first 'twas lost,
'Twas then transported to the Stygian Coast.
But still there's something which we do esteem,
Only because 'tis like the polisht Gem,
And this we Freedom call; its Credit grows
From a false Stamp, the gilded outside shows:
Which avaritious Men attempt to get,
Cheated and ruin'd with the Counterfeit.
Like Children, Soapy-bubbles they pursue,
And the fantastick Vision take for true;
But whilst they think bright Forms they do embrace,
Ixion-like, they find a Cloud i'th' place.
Consent of Crouds exceeding Credit brings,
And seems to stamp Truth's Image on false things;
Not what's a real Good, but what does seem,
Still shares the blind and popular Esteem.
Whilst Sense and Fancy over-rule their Choice,
And Reason in th'Election has no Voice.
But Souls in vain have Reason's Attribute,
If to their Rule they cannot Sense submit.
Hence the Heroick Mind makes no complaint,
But Freedom does enjoy, e'en in Restraint.
When Chains and Fetters do his Body bind,
He then appears more free, and less confined. [...]
(p. 382, ll. 21-45)",,21631,"","""But Souls in vain have Reason's Attribute, / If to their Rule they cannot Sense submit. / Hence the Heroick Mind makes no complaint, / But Freedom does enjoy, e'en in Restraint. / When Chains and Fetters do his Body bind, / He then appears more free, and less confin'd.""","",2013-11-02 03:42:07 UTC,""
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:48:03 UTC,"This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Lesson, which too late was taught.
Prosperity's a Drug, that must be ta'en
Corrected (Opium like) or else 'tis bane:
A more Lethargick Quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
Her fatal Poison to the Mind she sends;
And uncorrect, in sure Destruction ends;
Whilst in the way her gilded snares she lays,
Easy and credulous Man she soon betrays;
Who sees her Roses and her Lillies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
Prosperity's Repasts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholesom Wind.
'Tis a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your daily Bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which she's fed.
Affliction (like the River Nile ) bestows
Her fruitful Blessings wheresoe'er she flows:
And if when she withdraws, strange Serpents rise,
Not in her Streams, but in the Soil it lies.
Which (like the great Apollo ) she strikes dead,
By the same Influence they first were bred,
If she return, and shew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.
Strongly suppress'd, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with sublimer Thoughts they more rebound;
Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown,
Whether she give or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are tided, and by that we know
She always ebbs when she doth leave to flow,
And constant in Inconstancy does grow.
Make an attack all Injuries that can,
They fall like Waves beneath a Rising Swan.
Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care,
Here we our Heads above the Billows bear,
Till from our Shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their summits, with dumb Gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame.
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,
Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th'Wind.
As Nightingals, our Bosoms we expose,
And sing, environ'd with the sharpest Woes.
Degraded from vain Honour here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like Froth in each Man's Glass of Beer;
'Tis least of use, tho topmost it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill Acts she's grown;
It and Religion all our Mischiefs own.
She reigns in Youth with an unruly Heat,
And in her falser Mirror shews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rash Heads approve what sober Men despise,
And the fantastick Garb offends the Wise;
She rarely now is seen, but in Disguise.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the same;
From various Dwellings comes the various Name:
For whilst she's gay in Courts, she's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.
Indiffering States, most things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince.
The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prisoners abhor, what free, they did approve:
And still there's Power in each Man's Choice to make
Himself content, if he can wisely take,
And think his own (tho hard) a happy Stake.
In every state does some Contentment dwell,
And here we find a Palace in a Cell.
Good's good ev'ry where, and every thing,
And Good can of it self no Evil bring.
All Good's a Ray of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by spending of our Days
In Pleasure, Prince's Courts, or from their Rays.
At Vertue's Coast by Travel we arrive,
And so by Travel Vertue's kept alive.
She dwindles if she want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases Snow-ball like, roll'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to none.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Freedom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hives,
It lies i'th' Pris'ner's Heart, and not his Gives.
The Good grow better here, the Bad grow worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'st part are Male-content and Sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the Bad.
A Bliss that springs from penitential Joy,
Is the Mind's Balsam in each sharp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
(pp. 384-6, ll. 92-185)",,21632,"","""Her [Prosperity's] fatal Poison to the Mind she sends; / And uncorrect, in sure Destruction ends.""","",2013-07-11 05:48:03 UTC,""
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:49:53 UTC,"This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Lesson, which too late was taught.
Prosperity's a Drug, that must be ta'en
Corrected (Opium like) or else 'tis bane:
A more Lethargick Quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
Her fatal Poison to the Mind she sends;
And uncorrect, in sure Destruction ends;
Whilst in the way her gilded snares she lays,
Easy and credulous Man she soon betrays;
Who sees her Roses and her Lillies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
Prosperity's Repasts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholesom Wind.
'Tis a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your daily Bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which she's fed.
Affliction (like the River Nile ) bestows
Her fruitful Blessings wheresoe'er she flows:
And if when she withdraws, strange Serpents rise,
Not in her Streams, but in the Soil it lies.
Which (like the great Apollo ) she strikes dead,
By the same Influence they first were bred,
If she return, and shew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.
Strongly suppress'd, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with sublimer Thoughts they more rebound;
Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown,
Whether she give or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are tided, and by that we know
She always ebbs when she doth leave to flow,
And constant in Inconstancy does grow.
Make an attack all Injuries that can,
They fall like Waves beneath a Rising Swan.
Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care,
Here we our Heads above the Billows bear,
Till from our Shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their summits, with dumb Gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame.
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,
Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th'Wind.
As Nightingals, our Bosoms we expose,
And sing, environ'd with the sharpest Woes.
Degraded from vain Honour here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like Froth in each Man's Glass of Beer;
'Tis least of use, tho topmost it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill Acts she's grown;
It and Religion all our Mischiefs own.
She reigns in Youth with an unruly Heat,
And in her falser Mirror shews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rash Heads approve what sober Men despise,
And the fantastick Garb offends the Wise;
She rarely now is seen, but in Disguise.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the same;
From various Dwellings comes the various Name:
For whilst she's gay in Courts, she's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.
Indiffering States, most things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince.
The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prisoners abhor, what free, they did approve:
And still there's Power in each Man's Choice to make
Himself content, if he can wisely take,
And think his own (tho hard) a happy Stake.
In every state does some Contentment dwell,
And here we find a Palace in a Cell.
Good's good ev'ry where, and every thing,
And Good can of it self no Evil bring.
All Good's a Ray of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by spending of our Days
In Pleasure, Prince's Courts, or from their Rays.
At Vertue's Coast by Travel we arrive,
And so by Travel Vertue's kept alive.
She dwindles if she want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases Snow-ball like, roll'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to none.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Freedom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hives,
It lies i'th' Pris'ner's Heart, and not his Gives.
The Good grow better here, the Bad grow worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'st part are Male-content and Sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the Bad.
A Bliss that springs from penitential Joy,
Is the Mind's Balsam in each sharp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
(pp. 384-6, ll. 92-185)",,21633,"","""Prosperity's Repasts puff up the Mind / With unsubstantial and unwholesom Wind.""","",2013-07-11 05:49:53 UTC,""
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:51:52 UTC,"This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Lesson, which too late was taught.
Prosperity's a Drug, that must be ta'en
Corrected (Opium like) or else 'tis bane:
A more Lethargick Quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
Her fatal Poison to the Mind she sends;
And uncorrect, in sure Destruction ends;
Whilst in the way her gilded snares she lays,
Easy and credulous Man she soon betrays;
Who sees her Roses and her Lillies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
Prosperity's Repasts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholesom Wind.
'Tis a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your daily Bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which she's fed.
Affliction (like the River Nile ) bestows
Her fruitful Blessings wheresoe'er she flows:
And if when she withdraws, strange Serpents rise,
Not in her Streams, but in the Soil it lies.
Which (like the great Apollo ) she strikes dead,
By the same Influence they first were bred,
If she return, and shew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.
Strongly suppress'd, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with sublimer Thoughts they more rebound;
Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown,
Whether she give or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are tided, and by that we know
She always ebbs when she doth leave to flow,
And constant in Inconstancy does grow.
Make an attack all Injuries that can,
They fall like Waves beneath a Rising Swan.
Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care,
Here we our Heads above the Billows bear,
Till from our Shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their summits, with dumb Gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame.
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,
Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th'Wind.
As Nightingals, our Bosoms we expose,
And sing, environ'd with the sharpest Woes.
Degraded from vain Honour here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like Froth in each Man's Glass of Beer;
'Tis least of use, tho topmost it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill Acts she's grown;
It and Religion all our Mischiefs own.
She reigns in Youth with an unruly Heat,
And in her falser Mirror shews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rash Heads approve what sober Men despise,
And the fantastick Garb offends the Wise;
She rarely now is seen, but in Disguise.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the same;
From various Dwellings comes the various Name:
For whilst she's gay in Courts, she's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.
Indiffering States, most things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince.
The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prisoners abhor, what free, they did approve:
And still there's Power in each Man's Choice to make
Himself content, if he can wisely take,
And think his own (tho hard) a happy Stake.
In every state does some Contentment dwell,
And here we find a Palace in a Cell.
Good's good ev'ry where, and every thing,
And Good can of it self no Evil bring.
All Good's a Ray of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by spending of our Days
In Pleasure, Prince's Courts, or from their Rays.
At Vertue's Coast by Travel we arrive,
And so by Travel Vertue's kept alive.
She dwindles if she want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases Snow-ball like, roll'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to none.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Freedom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hives,
It lies i'th' Pris'ner's Heart, and not his Gives.
The Good grow better here, the Bad grow worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'st part are Male-content and Sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the Bad.
A Bliss that springs from penitential Joy,
Is the Mind's Balsam in each sharp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
(pp. 384-6, ll. 92-185)",,21634,"","""Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont / Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.""","",2013-07-11 05:51:52 UTC,""
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:53:52 UTC,"This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Lesson, which too late was taught.
Prosperity's a Drug, that must be ta'en
Corrected (Opium like) or else 'tis bane:
A more Lethargick Quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
Her fatal Poison to the Mind she sends;
And uncorrect, in sure Destruction ends;
Whilst in the way her gilded snares she lays,
Easy and credulous Man she soon betrays;
Who sees her Roses and her Lillies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
Prosperity's Repasts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholesom Wind.
'Tis a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your daily Bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which she's fed.
Affliction (like the River Nile ) bestows
Her fruitful Blessings wheresoe'er she flows:
And if when she withdraws, strange Serpents rise,
Not in her Streams, but in the Soil it lies.
Which (like the great Apollo ) she strikes dead,
By the same Influence they first were bred,
If she return, and shew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.
Strongly suppress'd, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with sublimer Thoughts they more rebound;
Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown,
Whether she give or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are tided, and by that we know
She always ebbs when she doth leave to flow,
And constant in Inconstancy does grow.
Make an attack all Injuries that can,
They fall like Waves beneath a Rising Swan.
Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care,
Here we our Heads above the Billows bear,
Till from our Shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their summits, with dumb Gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame.
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,
Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th'Wind.
As Nightingals, our Bosoms we expose,
And sing, environ'd with the sharpest Woes.
Degraded from vain Honour here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like Froth in each Man's Glass of Beer;
'Tis least of use, tho topmost it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill Acts she's grown;
It and Religion all our Mischiefs own.
She reigns in Youth with an unruly Heat,
And in her falser Mirror shews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rash Heads approve what sober Men despise,
And the fantastick Garb offends the Wise;
She rarely now is seen, but in Disguise.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the same;
From various Dwellings comes the various Name:
For whilst she's gay in Courts, she's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.
Indiffering States, most things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince.
The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prisoners abhor, what free, they did approve:
And still there's Power in each Man's Choice to make
Himself content, if he can wisely take,
And think his own (tho hard) a happy Stake.
In every state does some Contentment dwell,
And here we find a Palace in a Cell.
Good's good ev'ry where, and every thing,
And Good can of it self no Evil bring.
All Good's a Ray of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by spending of our Days
In Pleasure, Prince's Courts, or from their Rays.
At Vertue's Coast by Travel we arrive,
And so by Travel Vertue's kept alive.
She dwindles if she want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases Snow-ball like, roll'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to none.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Freedom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hives,
It lies i'th' Pris'ner's Heart, and not his Gives.
The Good grow better here, the Bad grow worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'st part are Male-content and Sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the Bad.
A Bliss that springs from penitential Joy,
Is the Mind's Balsam in each sharp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
(pp. 384-6, ll. 92-185)",,21635,"","""But during all this Storm, we still do find / An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind, / Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th'Wind.""","",2013-07-11 05:53:52 UTC,""
7526,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-07-11 05:56:01 UTC,"This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Lesson, which too late was taught.
Prosperity's a Drug, that must be ta'en
Corrected (Opium like) or else 'tis bane:
A more Lethargick Quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
Her fatal Poison to the Mind she sends;
And uncorrect, in sure Destruction ends;
Whilst in the way her gilded snares she lays,
Easy and credulous Man she soon betrays;
Who sees her Roses and her Lillies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
Prosperity's Repasts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholesom Wind.
'Tis a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your daily Bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which she's fed.
Affliction (like the River Nile ) bestows
Her fruitful Blessings wheresoe'er she flows:
And if when she withdraws, strange Serpents rise,
Not in her Streams, but in the Soil it lies.
Which (like the great Apollo ) she strikes dead,
By the same Influence they first were bred,
If she return, and shew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious Palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.
Strongly suppress'd, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with sublimer Thoughts they more rebound;
Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown,
Whether she give or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are tided, and by that we know
She always ebbs when she doth leave to flow,
And constant in Inconstancy does grow.
Make an attack all Injuries that can,
They fall like Waves beneath a Rising Swan.
Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care,
Here we our Heads above the Billows bear,
Till from our Shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their summits, with dumb Gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame.
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,
Not beaten now, tho then expos'd to th'Wind.
As Nightingals, our Bosoms we expose,
And sing, environ'd with the sharpest Woes.
Degraded from vain Honour here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like Froth in each Man's Glass of Beer;
'Tis least of use, tho topmost it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill Acts she's grown;
It and Religion all our Mischiefs own.
She reigns in Youth with an unruly Heat,
And in her falser Mirror shews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rash Heads approve what sober Men despise,
And the fantastick Garb offends the Wise;
She rarely now is seen, but in Disguise.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the same;
From various Dwellings comes the various Name:
For whilst she's gay in Courts, she's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.
Indiffering States, most things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince.
The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prisoners abhor, what free, they did approve:
And still there's Power in each Man's Choice to make
Himself content, if he can wisely take,
And think his own (tho hard) a happy Stake.
In every state does some Contentment dwell,
And here we find a Palace in a Cell.
Good's good ev'ry where, and every thing,
And Good can of it self no Evil bring.
All Good's a Ray of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by spending of our Days
In Pleasure, Prince's Courts, or from their Rays.
At Vertue's Coast by Travel we arrive,
And so by Travel Vertue's kept alive.
She dwindles if she want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases Snow-ball like, roll'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to none.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Freedom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hives,
It lies i'th' Pris'ner's Heart, and not his Gives.
The Good grow better here, the Bad grow worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'st part are Male-content and Sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the Bad.
A Bliss that springs from penitential Joy,
Is the Mind's Balsam in each sharp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
(pp. 384-6, ll. 92-185)",,21636,"","""A Bliss that springs from penitential Joy, / Is the Mind's Balsam in each sharp Annoy; / Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.""","",2013-07-11 05:56:01 UTC,""