MYTHOMYSTES WHEREIN A SHORT SVRVAY IS TAKEN OF THE NATVRE AND VALVE OF TRVE POESY AND DEPTH OF THE ANCIENTS ABOVE OVR MODERNE POETS.

To which is annexed the Tale of Narcissus briefly mythologized

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LONDON, Printed for Henry Seyle, at the Tigers-head in S t. Pauls Church-yard.

To the Right Hon ll: and my euer-honor'd Lord, Henry Lord Matrauers.

MY LORD

As I haue euer beene a louer (though ignorant one) of the Art of Painting, a frute of the Fancy that may be fitly called a silent Poësy, so of necessity must I loue her Sister the Art of Poë­sy, which is no other then a speak­ing Painting or Picture. And be­cause I presume your Lo p: fauo­ring, and so well vnderstanding the one, cannot but vnderstand, and like the other, I aduenture to present a slight drafte of her to your Lo p: that as you haue daily [Page] before your eyes, one of the best suruayes of what is, or can be in Picture, you may haue likewise limned, though in little, by a creature no lesse your owne then they are (how artfully I dare not auouch, but sure) a true picture of her Sister Poësy. A Birth (my Lord) some moneths since con­ceiued, and euen as soone borne; and which, though now ope to o­ther eyes, yet askes no other ho­nour then your acceptance; to whome in gratefull acknowledg­ment of your noble fauours, are (no lesse then this his slight issue is,) for euer dedicated the best of the poore indeauors of the pa­rent

Your Lop s. humble, and most affectionate seruant H: R:

TO THE CANDID AND INGENVOVS READER.

LOoke not generous Reader (for such I write to) for more in the few following leaues, then a plaine and simple verity; vnadorned at all with eloquution, or Rhetori­call phrase; glosses fitter perhaps to be set vpon silken and thinne paradoxicall semblances, then appertaining to the care of who desires to lay downe a naked & vnmasked Trueth. Nor expect heere an Encomium or praise of any such thing as the world ordinarily takes Poësy for; That same thing beeing (as I conceiue) a superficiall meere outside of Sence, or gaye barke only (without the body) of Reason; Witnesse so many excellent witts that haue taken so much paines in these times to defend her; which sure they would not haue done, if what is generally receiued now a dayes for Poë­sy, were not meerely a faculty, or occupation of so little consequence, as by the louers thereof ra­ther to be (in their owne fauour) excused, then for any good in the thing it selfe, to be commended. Nor must thou heere expect thy solution, if thy curiosity inuite thee to a satisfaction in any the vnder-Accidents, but in meerely the Essentiall Forme, of true Poësy: Such I call the Accidents or appendixes thereto, as conduce somewhat to the Matter, and End, nothing to the reall Forme [Page] and Essence thereof. And these accidents (as I call them) our commenders & defenders of Poësy haue chiefely, and indeed sufficiently insisted, and dilated vpon; and are first, those floures (as they are called) of Rhetorick, consisting of their Anaphoras, Epist [...]ophes, Metaphors, Me­tonymyes, Synecdoches and those their other potent Tropes and Figures; helpes, (if at all of vse to furnish out expressions with,) much properer sure, and more fitly belonging to Poesy then Ora­tory; yet such helpes, as if Nature haue not be­forehand in his byrth, giuen a Poët, all such forced Art will come behind as lame to the businesse, and deficient, as the best-taught countrey Morris d [...]uncer with all his bells and napkins, will ill de­serue to be in an Inne of Courte at Christmas, tearmed the thing they call a fine reueller. The o­ther Accidents of Poesy, and that are the greater part of the appurtenances thereof, in the accoumpt of our Poëts of these times, are also heere vtterly vnmencioned, such as are, what sort of Poëme may admit the blanke verse, what requires exacte rime; where the strong line (as they call it) where the gentle, sortes best; what subject must haue the verse of so many feete, what of other; where the masculine rime, where the feminine, and where the threesillabled (which the Italians call their rime sdrucciole) are to be vsed. These (I say) and the like Adjuncts of Poësy, (elsewhere amply discoursed of by many curious witts) are [Page] not heere mencioned. Only what I conceiued fit to speake (and with what breuity I could) of the Auncient Poëts in generall, and of the Forme and reall Essence of true Poësy, considered meerely in it owne worth and validity, without extrinsick and suppeditatiue ornament at all, together with the paralell of their foyle (our Moderne Poëts and Poësyes,) I haue, (to the end to redeeme in some parte, and vindicate that excellent Art from the iniury it suffers in the worlds generall misprizion and misconstruction thereof,) heere touched, and but touched; the rather to awake some abler vnderstanding then my owne, to the pursute (if they please) of a theame (I conceiue) well worthy a greater industry, and happyer lei­sures then I my selfe possesse.

MYTHOMYSTES.
WHEREIN A SHORT SVRVAY IS TAKEN OF THE NATVRE AND VALVE OF TRVE Poesie, and depth of the Ancients aboue our Moderne Poëts.

I Haue thought vpon the times wee liue in; and am forced to affirme the world is decrepit, and out of its age & doating estate, subiect to all the imperfections that are inseparable from that wracke and maime of Nature, that the young behold with horror, and the sufferers thereof lye vnder with murmur and languishmēt. Euen the generall Soule of this great Creature, whereof eue­ry [Page 2] one of ours is a seuerall peece, [...]emes bedrid, as vpon her deathbed, and neere the time of her dissolution to a second better estate, and being: the yeares of her strength are past; and she is now nothing but disease for the Soules health is no other than meerely the knowledge of the Truth of things. Which health, the worlds youth inioyed; and hath now F [...]r [...] world [...] l [...]st [...] y [...]th, a [...] the times b [...]in to w [...] [...]. [...] [...]d. [...]. 14. ex­changed for it, all the diseases of all errors, heresies, and different sects and schismes of opinions and vn­derstandings in all matter of Arts, Sciences, and Learnings whatsoeuer. To helpe on these diseases to incura­bility, what age hath euer beene so fruitfull of liberty in all kindes, and of all permission and allowance for this reason of ours, to runne wildely all her owne hurtfullest wayes without bridle, bound, or limit at all? For in­stance; what bookes haue wee of [Page 3] what euer knowledge, or in what mysteries soeuer, wisely by our Aun­cients (for auoiding of this present malady the world is now falne into) couched, and carefully infoulded, but must bee by euery illiterate person without exception, deflowred and broke open, or broke in pieces, be­cause beyond his skill to vnlocke thē? Or what Law haue we that prouides for the restraint of these myriads of hot headed wranglers, & ignorant wri­ters and teachers, which, out of the bare priuiledge of perhaps but puny graduate in some Vniuersity, will venter vpon all, euen the most remo­ued and most abstruse knowledges, as perfect vnderstanders and expounders of them, vpon the single warrant of their owne braine; or inuenters of bet­ter themselues, than all Antiquity could deliuer downe to them; out of the treasonous mint of their owne i­maginations? [Page 4] What hauocke, what mischiefe to all learnings, and how great a multiplicity of poysonous errours and heresies must not of necessity hence ensue, and ouer­spread the face of all Truths whatso­euer?

Among these heresies (to omit those in matter of Diuinity, or the right forme of worshipping God, which the Doctors of his Church are sitter to make the subiects of their tongues and pens, than I, a Layman, and all-vnworthy the taske,) among, I say, these, (if I may so call them) heresies, or ridiculous absurdities in matter of humane letters, and their professors in these times, I find none so grosse, nor indeed any so great scan­dall, or maime to humane learning, as in the almost generall abuse, and vio­lence offered to the excellent art of [...], first, by those learned (as they [Page 5] thinke themselues) of our dayes, who call themselues Poets; and next, by such as out of their ignorance, heede not how much they prophane that high and sacred title in calling them so.

From the number of these first mentioned, (for, for the last, I will not mention them; nor yet say as a graue Father, and holy one too, of certaine obstinate heretikes said; Decipiantur in nomine diaboli; but charitably wish their reformation, and cure of their blindnesse;) from the multitude (I say) of the common rimers in these our moderne times, and moderne tongues, I will exempt some few, as of a better ranke and condition than the rest. And first to beginne with Spaine. I will say it may iustly boast to haue afforded (but many Ages since) excellent Poets, as Seneca, the Trage­dian, Lucan, and Martiall the Epi­grammatist, with others; and in these [Page 6] latter times, as diuerse in Prose, some good Theologians also in Rime; but for other Poesies in their (now spoke) tongue, of any great name, (not to ex­toll their trifling, though extolled Celestina, nor the second part of their Diana de Monte Major, better much than the first; and these but poeticke prosers neither,) I cannot say it affords many, if any at all: The inclination of that people being to spend much more wit, and more happily in those prose Romances they abound in, such as their Lazarillo, Don Quixote, Guz­man, and those kind of [...]uenta's of their Picaro's, and Gitanillas, than in Rime. The French likewise, more than for a Rensart, or Des-Portes, but chiefly their Salust, (who may passe among the best of our modernes,) I can say little of▪ Italy hath in all times, as in all abilities of the mind besides, been much fertiler than either of these, in [Page 7] Poets. Among whom, (to omit a Petrarch, who though he was an ex­cellent rimer in his owne tongue, and for his Latine Africa iustly deserued the lawrell that was giuen him; yet was a much excellenter Philosopher in prose; and with him, a Bembo, Dante, Ang: Politiano, Caporale, Pietro A­retino, Sannazaro, Guarini, and diuers others, men of rare fancy all) I must preferre chiefely three; as the graue and learned Tasso, in his Sette giorni, (a diuine worke) and his Gierusalem liberata, so farre as an excellent pile of meerely Morall Philosophy may de­serue. Then, Ariosto, for the artfull woofe of his ingenious, though vn­meaning fables; the best, perhaps, haue in that kind beene sung since Ouid. And lastly, that smoothwrit Adonis of Marino, full of various con­ception, and diuersity of learning. The Douche I cannot mention, being a [Page 8] stranger to their minds, and manners; therefore I will returne home to my Countrey-men, and mother tongue: And heere, exempt from the rest, a Chaucer, for some of his poems; chiefe­ly his Troylus and Cr [...]sside. Then the generous and ingenious Sidney, for his smooth and artfull Arcadia (and who I could wish had choze rather to haue left vs of his pen, an Encomiasticke Poeme in honour, then prose-Apo­logy in defence, of his fauorite, the excellent Art of Poesy.) Next, I must approue the learned Spencer, in the rest of his Poems, no lesse then his Fairy Queene, an exact body of the Ethicke doctrine: though some good iudgments haue wisht (and perhaps not without cause) that he had there­in beene a little freer of his fiction, and not so close ri [...]etted to his Mo­rall; no lesse then many doe to Da­niells Ciuile warrs, that it were (though [Page 9] otherwise a commendable worke) yet somwhat more than a true Chronicle history in rime; who, in other lesse laboured things, [...] haue indeed more happily, (h [...]er, alwayes cleerely and smooth [...] written. Wee haue among vs a late-writ Polyolbion, also and an Agincourte, wherin I will only blame their honest Authours ill fate, in not hauing laid him out some happier Clime, to haue giuen honour and life to, in some happier language. After these, (besides some late dead) there are others now liuing, dram­maticke and liricke writers, that I must deseruedly commend for those parts of fancy and imagination they [...]ossesse; and should much more, could wee see them somewhat more, force those gifts, and liberall graces of Na­ture, to the end shee gaue them; and therewith, worke and constantly tire vpon sollid knowledges; the which [Page 10] hauing from the rich fountes of our reuerend Auncients, drawne with vnwearied, and wholsomely imploi­ed industrie [...] they might in no lesse pleasing and profitable fictions than they haue done (the very fittest con­duit-pipes) deriue downe to vs the vnderstanding of things euen farthest remooued from vs, and most worthy our speculation, and knowledge. But alas, such children of obedience, I must take leaue to say, the most of our ordinary pretenders to Poesy now a dayes, are to their owne, and the diseased times ill habits, as the racke will not bee able to make the most aduised among twenty of them con­fesse, to haue farther inquired, or at­tended to more, in the best of their Authours they haue chosen to read and study, than meerely his stile, phrase, and manner of expression; or scarce suffered themselues to looke [Page 11] beyond the dimension of their owne braine, for any better counsaile or in­struction elsewhere. What can wee expect then of the Poems they write? Or what can a man mee thinks liken them more fitly to, than to Ixion's is­sue? for hee that with meerely a na­turall veine, (and a little vanity of nature, which I can be content to al­low a Poet) writes without other grounds of sollid learning, than the best of these vngrounded rimers vn­derstād or aime at, what does he more than imbrace assembled cloudes with Ixion, and beget only Monsters? This might yet be borne with, did not these people as cōfidently vsurpe to them­selues the title of Schollers, and lear­ned men, as if they possest the know­ledges of all the Magi, the wise East did euer breed; when, let me demand but a reason for security of my iudge­ment in allowing them for such, they [Page 12] straite giue mee to know they vnder­stand the Greeke, and Latine; and in conclusion, I discouer, the compleate crowne of all their ambition is but to be stiled by others a good Latinist or Grecian, and then they stile themselues good Schollers. So would I too, had I not before hand beene taught to say: Non quia Graeca scias, vel calles verba La­tina, Doctus es aut sapiens, sed quia vera vi­des; & besides, hapned to know a late trauailing Odcombian among vs; that became (I know not for what mortal­ler sinne than his variety of language) the common scorne, and contempt of all the abusiue witts of the time; yet possest both those languages in great perfection; as his eloquent orations [...]ortney made him stand, and speake Greeke vpon his head with his [...]. in both toungs; (and vttered vpon his owne* head without prompting) haue euer sufficiently testified. Now, finding this to be the greate [...] part of the Schollership these our Poets in­deauour [Page 13] to haue, and which many of them also haue; I find with all, they [...] d [...]wne as satisfied, as if their vn­f [...] brests contained each one the learning and wisdome of an Orpheus, Virgil, H [...]sio, [...], and Homer alto­gether. When as, what haue they else but the barke and cloathing m [...]erely wherein their high and profound do­ctrines lay? Neuer looking farther into those their golden fictions for any higher sence, or any thing diuiner in them infoulded & hid from the vul­gar, but lu [...]ed with the meruellous ex­pression & artfull contexture of their fables- tanquam paruipueri (as one saies) per brumam ad ignem s [...]ssitantes, aniles nugas fabellásque de Poetis imbibunt, cum interim de vtiliore sanctiorèque sententia minime sunt solliciti.

I haue staid longer, and rubde har­der mee thinkes than needes, vpon the sore of our now a day Poets. Let mee [Page 14] leaue them, and looke backe to the neuer enough honoured Auncients; and set them before our eyes, who no lesse deseruedly wore the name of Prophets, and Priuy-counsellors of the Gods (to vse their owne H [...]m. in Odiss. phrase, or Sonnes of the Gods, as Plato [...] Repub. lib. [...]. calls them) than Poets. To the end wee may, if in this declining state of the world we cannot rectify our oblique one, by their perfect and strait line, yet indeauour it: and in the meane time giue the awefull reuerence due to them, for the many regions of di­stance between their knowledges and ours. And this that wee may the better doe, let vs paralell them with the Poets (if I may so call them) of our times, in three things only, and so carry along together their strait and our crooked line; for our better knowledge of them, and reformation of our selues. In the first place then, [Page 15] let vs take a suruay of their naturall inclination and propensenesse to the acquisitiō of the knowledge of truth, by what is deliuered to vs of them; as also, of their willing neglect, and a­uersion from all worldly businesse and cogitations that might be hindrances in the way to their desired end.

1. It is in humane experience found, as well as by all writers determined, that the powerfullest of al the affects of the minde is Loue, and therefore the diuine Plato In Phaed [...]. sayes, it is iustly cal­led Roma; which among the Greeks, is force, potency, or vehemence. Of this Loue there be two kinds; Cele­stiall or Intellectuall; or else Carnall or Vulgar. Of both these kinds Sal [...]mon hath spoken excellently; of the Vul­gar, in his Prouerbes as a Morall, and in his Ecclesiastes as a Naturall Phi­losopher; and diuine-like of the di­uine and Intellectuall Loue in his [Page 16] Canticle; for which it is called a­mong all the rest of the holy Scrip­ture Canticum canticorum, as the most sacred and diuine. The obiect of this Celestiall or Intellectuall Loue, (for the other, or vulgar Loue it con­cernes mee not to mention,) is the excellency of the Beauty of Supernall and Intellectuall thinges: To the contemplation whereof, rationall and wise Spirits are forcibly raised and lifted aloft; yea lifted oftentimes so far (sayes Plato) In Iöne. aboue mortality, as euen- in Deum transeunt, and so full fraught with the delight and abon­dance of the pleasure they feele in those their eleuations, raptures, and mentall alienations (wherin the sould remaines for a time quite seperated as it were from the body) do not only sing with the ingenious Ouid: Est D [...]us in nobis, agitante calescimus illo, But [...]n an Extaticke manner, and to vse [Page 17] Plato's In Iöne. phrase) diuino afflatu cōcilati, cry out with the intraunced Zoroaster-Ope thine eyes, ope them wide; raise and lift them aloft. And of this, the ex­cellent Prince [...]o: Picus-Mirandula, (in a discourse of his vpon the do­ctrine of Plato) giues the reason; say­ing: Such, whose vnderstanding (being by Philosophicall studie refined and illumi­nated) knowes this sensible Beauty to bee but the image of another more pure and excellent, leauing the loue of this, desire to see the other; and perseuering in this ele­uation of the minde, arriue at last to that celestiall loue; which although it liues in the vnderstanding of the soule of euery man, yet they only (sayes he) make vse of it, and they are but few, who separating themselues wholy from the care of the bo­dy, seeme thence oftentimes extaticke, and as it were quite rauisht and exalted aboue the earth and all earthly amusements. And farther, in another place of that Trea­tise, Fol. 507. [Page 18] adds that many with the feruent loue of the beauty and excellence of intellectuall things, haue beene so raized aboue all earthly considera­tions, as they haue lost the vse of their corporall eyes. Homer (sayes he) with seeing the ghost of Achilles, which inspired him with that Poeticke fury, that who with vnderstanding reades, shall find to con­taine in it all intellectuall contemplation, was thereby depriued (or faigned to bee de­priued) of his corporall eye-sight, as one that seeing all things aboue, could not attend to the heeding of triuiall and meaner things below. And such rapture of the spirit, is exprest (saies he) in the fable of [...] that Calima [...]us sings; who for hauing seene Pallas naked (which [...] no other than that Ideall [...]y, whe [...] proceeds all sincere wisdome, and not cloathed or couered with corporall matter) became sodainly blind, and was by the same Pallas made a Prophet; so as that [Page 19] which blinded his corporall eyes, opened to him the eyes of his vnderstanding; by which he saw not only all things past, but also all that were to come.

Loe, these, and such Spirits as these the learned Picus speakes of, such were those of those Auncient Fathers of all learning, and [...]yresia like Pro­phets, as Poets: such their neglect of the body, and businesse of the world! Such their blindnesse to all things of triuiall and inferiour condition; And such lastly were those extaticke ele­uations; or that truly -diuinus furor of theirs, which Plato speaking of In I [...]ne. sayes it is a thing so sacred, as-non sine maximo fauore Dei comparari queat; cannot bee attained to without the wonderfull fauour of God. And which selfe thing themselues ment in their fable of that beautifull Ganimede, they sing of, (which interpreted, is the Con­templation of the Soule, or the Ra­tionall [Page 20] part of Man) so deare to the God of gods and men, as that he rai­seth it vp to heauen, there to powre out to him (as they make him his cupbearer) the soueraigne Nectar of Sapience and wisdome, the liquor he is onely best pleased and delighted with. These were those fathers (as I lately called them) and fountes of knowledge and learning; or nurses of wisdome, from whose pregnant brests the whole world hath suckt the best part of all the humane knowledge it it hath; And from whose wise and excellent fables (as * one of our late Mythologians truely notes) All those Nata [...] Co­mes. were after them called Philosophers tooke their grounds and first initia Philoso­phandi; adding, that their Philosophy was no other than meerely- fabularum sensa ab inuolucris exuuijsque fabularum explicata-the senses and meanings of fables taken out and seperated from [Page 21] their huskes and inuoluements. With whom the excellent Io: Picus (or rather Phaenix as wisemen Ang [...] Poli­tianus, (who likewise calls him- Doctio­rum omnium doctissimus,) Pau: Iouius, Baroaldus, and our Sir Tho [...] Moore, who (among infinite many others) hath voluminous­ly write his praises. haue na­med him) consenting, sayes in his A­pologia (speaking of the Poesies of Zo­roaster and Orpheu [...]-Orpheus apud Grae­cos fermè intiger; Zoroaster apud eos mancus, apud Caldaeos absolutior legitur. Ambo (sayes he) priscae Sapientiae patres & authores. Both of them fathers and authors of the auncient Wisdome. With these also the most autenticke Iamblicus, the Caldean, who writes- Pythagoras had- Orphicam Theologiam tanquam exemplar, ad quam ipse suam ef­fingeret formaretque philosophiam; the Theology of Orpheus as his coppy and patterne, by which hee formed and fashioned his philosophy. I will ad a word more of the before-cited Picus; who thus far farther of Orpheus in particular In Apolog. fol. 83. sayes- Sacreta de Nume­ris doctrina, & quicquid magnum subli­mèque [Page 22] habuit Graeca philosophia, ab Or­phei institutis vt a primo fonte manauit; the mysticall doctrine of Numbers, and what euer the Greeke philoso­phy had in it great and high, flowed all from the Institutions of Orpheus, as from their first fount. And of the rest of his ranke and fraternity, those- Sapientiae patres, ac duces (as Plato In Lyside. calls those old excellent Poets), I will conclude in generall, with the testi­mony of first, the now-mentioned Plato; who sayes likewise elsewhere In [...]. Nihil aliud sunt quàm deorum inter­pretes; they are no other than the In­terpreters of the gods. And in another place In Phaedro. that-their praeclara poemata non hominum sunt inuenta, sed caelestia munera. Their excellent Poëms are not the inuentions of men, but gifts and and graces of heauen. And lastly with Farra the learned Alexandrian, who speaking likewise [...]. [...]. 32. of the old Poets, [Page 23] sayes. Their fables are all full of most high Mysteries; and haue in them that splendor that is shed into the fancy and intellect, ra­uisht, and inflamed with diuine fury. And in the same Treatise makes this parti­cular fol. 322. mention of some of them- and in those times flourished Linus, Orpheus, Mu­seus, Homer, Hesiod, and all the other most famous of that truly golden age.

Now to apply this short view we haue taken of these auncient Poets; whither there appeares ought in any our students, or writers of our times, be they Poets or Philosophers (I put them together, as who are, or should be both professors of but one, and the same learning, though by the one re­ceiued and deliuered in the apparell of verse, the other of prose,) that may in any degree of coherence suffer a paralell with either the Inclinations or Abilities of such as these before mentioned, I wish we could see cause [Page 24] to grant. but rather, that there is in them (for ought appeares) no such inclination to the loue or search of a­ny great or high truthes (for the Truthes sake, meerely) nor the like neglect of the world and blindnesse to the vanities thereof, in respect of it, nor lastly, any fruites from them, sauouring of the like Industry, or bea­ring any shadow scarce of similitude with that of theirs, wee may posi­tiuely affirme; as a truth no lesse ob­uious to euery mans eye, than the la­mentable cause and occasion thereof is to euery mans vnderstāding; which is the meane accoumpt, or rather contempt and scorne that in these dayes, all vngaining Sciences, & that conduce not immediately to world­ly profit, or popular eminence, are held in the. Poet especially.

Qual vaghezza di lauro, qual di mirto?
Pouera, e nuda vai filosofia,
Dice la turba al vil guadagno intesa.

Whence it is, that much time spent in sollid contemplatiue studies is held vaine and vnnecessary; and these slight flashes of vngroūded fancy, (ingenious Nothings, & meere imbroideries vpō copwebbs) that the world swarmes with, (like sophisticate alchimy gold that will not abide the first touch, yet glitters more in the eye than the sadd weight yer true gold), are only labou­red for and attended too; because they take best, and most please the cor­rupt tast and false appetite of the sor­did and barbarous times wee liue in. And yet to speake a troth, I cannot herein blame the diseased world so much, as I do the infelicity of that sa­cred Art of Poesy; which like the soueraigne prescriptions of a Galen or Hypocrates, ordered and dispen­sed [Page 26] by illiterate Empyricks or dog­leeches, must needes (as the best phi­sicks ill handled) proue but so much variety of poyson instead of cure. And such are the mont'ibanke Rimers of the time, and so faulty, that haue so much abused their prefession, and the world; and stucke so generall a scan­dall vpon that excellent Physicke of the minde; with the poyson of their meritricious flatteries, and base ser­uile fawning at the heeles of worldly wealth and greatnesse, as makes it abhorred of all men; and most, of those that are of most vnderstanding. For indeed what can bee more con­temptible, or breed a greater indigna­tion in wise, and vnderstanding minds, than to see the study of Wisdome made not only a mercinary, but viti­ous occupation. And that same pu [...]i­cam Palladem, (as a wise Author from the like resentment aptly saies) deorum [Page 27] munere inter homines diuersantem eijci, ex­plodi exibilari, Non habere qui amet, qui faueat, nisi ipsa quasi prostans, & praeflo­ratae virginitatis accepta mercedula, male­paratum aes in amatoris arculam refe­rat.

2. The second great disparity, that I find betweene those auncient Fa­thers of learning, and our moderne writers, is in the price and estimati­on they held their knowledges in. Which appeares in the care they tooke to conceale them from the vn­worthy vulgar; and which doth no lesse commend their wisdome, than conclude (by their contrary course) our Modernes, empty, and barren of any thing rare and pretious in them; who in all probability would not prostitute all they know to the rape and spoile of euery illiterate reader, were they not conscious to them­selues their treasor deserues not many [Page 28] locks to guard it vnder. But that I may not conclude vpon a- non conces­sum, for I remember I haue heard it affirmed, (and by some too that the time calls Schollers), that the Aun­cients certainely spoke their mea­nings as plaine as they could, and were the honester men for doing so; and there may be more birds beside, of the same feather with these; therefore I will in charity speake a word or two for these peoples instruction; and in the meane betweene the whining He­raclite, and ouer-rigid Democritus (as much as in me lyes) comiter erranti monstrare viam.

Let such then as are to learne whi­ther to conceale their knowledges, was the intent and studied purpose of the Auncient Poets all, and most of the auncient Philosophers also; let such I say, know, that, when in the worlds youth & capabler estate, [Page 29] those old wise Aegyptian Priests be­ganne to search out the Misteries of Nature, (which was at first the whole worlds only diuinity) they de­uized, to the end to retaine among themselues what they had found, (lest it should be abused and vilefied by being deliuered to the vulgar) cer­taine marks, and characters of things, vnder which all the precepts of their wisdome were contained; which markes they called Hieroglyphicks or sacred grauings. And more then thus, they deliuered little: or what euer it was, yet alwaies dissimulanter, and in Enigma's and mysticall riddles, as their following disciples also did. And this prouizo of theirs, those I­mages of Sphynx they placed before all their Temples did insinuate; and which they set for admonitions, that high and Mysticall matters should by riddles and enigmaticall knotts be [Page 30] kept inuiolate from the prophane Multitude. I will giue instance of one or two of them. The authentike testimony late cited (to other pur­pose) by mee of Orpheus, and his lear­ning, (viz. That he was one of the priscae sapientiae patres, and that the Se­creta de numeris doctrina and what euer the Greeke Philosophy had in it- Magnum & sublime, did from his In­stitutions, vt a primo fonte manare,) hath these words immediately fol­lowing- Sed qui erat veterum mos philo­sophorum, ita Orpheus suorum dogmatum mysteria fabularum intexit inuolucris, & poetico velamento dissimulauit; vt si quis legat illos Hymnos nihil subesse credat prae­ter fabellas nugàsque meracis fimas-but as it was the manner of the Auncient Philosophers, so Orpheus within the foults and inuoluements of fables, hid the misteries of his doctrine; and dis­sembled thē vnder a poeticke maske; [Page 31] so as who reades those hymnes of his, will not beleeue any thing to bee in­cluded vnder them, but meere tales and trifles. Homer likewise, by the same mouth positiuely auerred to haue included in his two Poems of Iliads and Odisses-all intellectuall contem­plation; and which are called the Sun and Moone of the Earth, for the light they beare (as one well notes) before all Learning; (and of which Demo­critus speaking, (as Farra In Settena: fol. 259. the Alex­andrian obserues) sayes- it was impos­sible but Homer, to haue composed so won­derfull workes, must haue been indued with a diuine and inspired nature; who vnder a curious, and pleasing vaile of fable, hath taught the world how great and excellent the beauty of true wisdome is. no lesse then Ang: Politianus who sayes In Ambra. - Om­nia in his, & ab his sunt omnia.) yet what appeares (I say) in these workes of Ho­mer to the meere; or ignorant reader, [Page 32] at all of doctrine or document, or more, than two fictious impossible tales, or lyes of many men that neuer were, and thousands of deedes that neuer were done? Nor lesse cautious than these, were most of the Aunci­ent Philosophers also. The diuine Plato writing to a friend of his de su­premis substantijs-Per aenigmata (sayes he) dicendum est: ne si epistola fortè ad a­liorum peruenerit manus, quae tibi scribi­mus, ab alijs intelligantur-we must write in enigma's and riddles; lest if it come to other hands; what wee write to thee, be vnderstood by others. Aristotle of those his books, wherein he treates of Supernaturall things, sayes (as Aulus Gellius testifies) In Nect: Attic: that- they were­editi, & non editi; as much as to say, Mystically or enigmatically written; adding farther- cognobiles ijs tantum e­runt qui nos audiunt-they shall be only knowne to our hearers or disciples. [Page 33] and this closenesse Pythagoras also ha­uing learned of those his Masters, and taught it his disciples, he was made the Master of Silence. And who, as all the doctrines hee deliuered were (after the manner of the Hebrewes, Ae­gyptians, and most auncient Poets,) layd downe in enigmaticall and figu­ratiue notions, so one among other of his is this- Giue not readily thy right hand to euery one, by which Precept (sayes the profound Iamblicus In lib: [...] Mister:) that great Master aduertiseth that wee ought not to communicate to vnworthy mindes, and not yet practized in the vnderstanding of occulte doctrines, those misterious instructions that are only to bee opened (sayes he) and taught to sacred and sublime wits, and such as haue beene a [...] long time exercised and versed in them.

Now, from this meanes that the first auncients vsed, of deliuering their [Page 34] knowledges thus among themselues by word of mouth; and by successiue reception from them downe to after ages, That Art of mysticall writing by Numbers, wherein they couched vnder a fabulous attire, those their verball Instructions, was after, called Scientia Cabalae, or the Science of re­ception: Cabala among the Hebrews signifying no other than the Latine receptio: A learning by the auncients held in high estimation and reuerence and not without great reason; for if God (as the excellent Io: Picus In Apolog. fol. 115. re­hearses)- nihil casu, sed omnia per suam sapientiam vt in pondere & mensura, ita in numero disposuit; did nothing by chance, but through his wisdome disposed all things as in weight and measure, so likewise in number; (and which taught the ingenious Saluste to say, Sig [...]. du Bertas in his Columnes. that,—

——Sacred harmony
And law of Number did accompany
Th'allmighty most, when first his ordināce
Appointed Earth to rest, and Heauen to daunce)

Well might Plato In Epime­nide. consequently af­firme that- among all liberall Arts, and contemplatiue Sciences, the chiefest and most diuine was the-Scientia numerandi. and who likewise questioning why Man was the wisest of Animalls, answers himselfe againe (as Aristotle in his Problemes obserues)- quia nume­rare nouit-because hee could number. no lesse than Auenzoar the Babylonian, whose frequent word by Albumazars report (as Picus Mirandula In Apo­log: notes) was- eum emnia nosse qui nouerat nume­rare-that hee knowes all things that knowes number. But howsoeuer an Art thus highly cried vp by the Aun­cients; Yet a Learning (I say) now more than halfe lost; or at least by [Page 34] [...] [Page 35] [...] [Page 36] such as possesse any limbe of it, rather talked of, thau taught. Rabanus a great Doctor of the Christian Church only excepted, who hath writ a par­ticular booke- de Numerorum virtuti­bus. by diuerse others, as Ambrose, Na­zianzen, Origine, Augustine, and ma­ny more, (as the learned Io: Picus at large in his Apology showes) reue­rendly mentioned, but neuer publi­shed in their writings. And I am fully of opinion (which till I find reason to recant, I will not bee ashamed to owne) that the Ignorance of this Art, and the worlds mayme in the want, or not vnderstanding of it, is insinua­ted in the Poets generally-sung fable of Orpheus: whom they faigne to haue recouered his Euridice from Hell, with his Musick; that is Truth and Equity, from darkenesse of Barba­risme and Ignorance, with his pro­found and excellent Doctrines; but, [Page 37] that in the thicke caliginous way to the vpper-earth, she was lost againe; and remaines lost to vs, that read and vnderstand him not, for want, meere­ly of the knowledge of that Art of Numbers that should vnlocke and explane his Mysticall meanings to vs.

This Learning of the Aegyptians (thus concealed by them, as I haue shewed) being transferred from them to the Greekes; was by them from hand to hand deliuered still in fabu­lous riddles among them; and thence downe to the Latines. Of which beades, the ingenious Ouid has made a curious and excellent chaine; though perhaps hee vnderstood not their depth; as our wisest Naturalists doubt not to affirme, his other Con­trey men I ucretius, and that more lear­ned Scholler (I meane Imitater) of Hesiod, the singular Uirgil, did; and [Page 38] which are the sinewes and marrow, no lesse than starres and ornaments of his incomparable Poems: And still by them, as by their masters be­fore them, preserued with equall care, from the mischiefe of diuulga­tion, or Prophanation: a vice by the Auncients in generall, no lesse than by Moses particularly, in the deliue­ring of the Law (according to the o­pinions of the most learned, both Christian Diuines, and Iewish Ra­bines) with singular caution proui­ded against and auoided. Write (said the Angell to Esdras) Lib: 2. ca: [...]2. ver: 37. all these things that thou hast seene, in a booke, and hide them, and teach them only to the wise of the people, whose heartes thou knowest may comprehend and keep these secrets. And since I late mentioned that great Se­cretary of God, Mos [...]s, to whose sa­cred pen as we cannot attribute too much, so, that wee may giue the [Page 39] greater reuerence to him, and conse­quently the greater credit to the au­thority of those Auncient followers and imitaters of his, or (that I may righter say, and not vnreuerently) those iointrunners with him in the same example of closenesse, and care to conceale, I will speake a word or two of him. And vpon the warrant of greater vnderstandings than my owne, auerre That it is the firme opinion of all ancient writers, which (as an indubitable troth), they do all with one mouth confirm [...], that the full and entire knowledge of all wis­dome both diuine & humane, is inclu­ded in the five bookes of the Mosaicke law- dissimulata autem, & occultata (as the excellent Io: Picus in his learned In Heptap: exposition vpon him sayes) in literis ipsis, quibus dictiones legis contextae sunt-But hidden and disguized euen in the letters themselues that forme the pre­cepts [Page 40] of the Law. And the same Pi­cus, in In Apolog: fo: 81. another discourse of his vpon the bookes of Moses more at large to the same purpose sayes- Scribunt non modo celebres Hebraeorū doctores (whom afterwards he names, Fo: 116. as) Rabi Elia­zar, Rabi Moysis de Aegypto, Rabi Si­meon Ben Lagis, Rabi Ismahel, Rabi Iodam, & Rabi Nachinan; sed ex nostris quoque Esdras, Hilarius, & Origines, Mosem non legem modo, quam quinque exaratam libris posteris reliquit, sed secretiorem quo­que, & veram legis enarrationem in monte diuinitus accepisse. Praeceptum autem ei a Deo, vt legem quidem populo publicaret, legis autem interpretationem nec traderet literis nec inuulgaret, sed ipse Iesu Naue tantum; tum ille, alijs deincèps sacerdo­tum primoribus, magna silentij religione re­uelaret-the most renowned and authē ­tique not only among the Hebrew Doctors, as Rabi Eliazar, Rabi Moy­ses de Aegypto, Rabi Symeon &c. but [Page 41] among ours [...]lso, Esdras, Hillary, and Origine, doe write that Moses recei­ued from God vpon the mount not the Law only, which he hath left in fiue bookes exactly deliuered to po­steri [...]y, but the more hidden also, and true explanation of the Law: But with all, was warned and commaun­ded by God, that as he should pu­blish the Law to the People, so the interpretation thereof, he should nei­ther commit to letters nor diuulge; but he to Iosua only and Iosua to the o­ther succeeding primaries among the Priests; and that, vnder a great religi­on of secrecy. and concludes- Et meri­to quidem; Nam satis erat vulgaribus, & per simplicem historiam nunc Dei potenti­am, nunc in improbos iram, in bonos cle­mentiam, in omnes iustitiam agnoscere, & per diuina salutariàque praecepta, ad bene beatèque viuendum & cultum relligionis institui; at misteria secretiora, & sub cor­tice [Page 42] legis rudique verborum praetextu la­titantia altissimae diuinitatis arcana plebi palam facere, quid erat aliud quàm dare sanctum canibus, & inter porcos spargere margaritas; and not without great rea­son; for it was enough for the multi­tude to be by meerely the simple sto­ry, taught and made to know, now the Power of God, now his Wrath against the wicked, Clemency to­wards the good, and Iustice to all; and by diuine and wholesome precepts in­structed in the wayes of religion, and holy life. But those secreter Mysteries, and abstrusities of most high diuini­ty, hidden and concealed vnder the barke, and rude couer of the words, to haue diuulged and layd these open to the vulgar; what had it been other than to giue holy things to dogs, and cast pearles among swine? So he. And this little that I haue heere re­hearsed (for in a thing so knowne to [Page 43] all that are knowers, mee thinkes I haue said rather too much than other­wise) shall serue for instance of Moses his mysticall manner of writing. Which I haue the rather done for in­struction of some ignorant, though stiffe opposers of this truth, that I haue lately met with; but chiefely in iustification of those other wise Aun­cients of his, and succeeding times, Poets, and Philosophers, that were no lesse carefull then Moses was, not to giue- Sanctum canibus, (as before said) nor inter porcos spargere margaritas.

Now to go about to examine whi­ther it appeares our Modernes (Poets especially, for I will exempt diuerse late prose-writers), haue any the like closenesse as before mentioned; were a worke sure as vaine and vnnecessary, as it is a truth firme and vnquestio­nable, that they possesse the know­ledge of no such mysteries as deserue [Page 44] the vse of any art at all for their con­cealing.

3. The last, and greatest disparity, and wherein aboue all others, the grossest defect and maime appeares, in our Modernes (and especially Po­ets) in respect of the Auncients; is their generall ignorāce, euen through­out all of them, in any the myste­ries and hidden properties of Nature; which as an vnconcerning Inquisition it appeares not in their writings they haue at all troubled their heads with. Poets I said especially (and indeed on­ly) for we haue many Prose men ex­cellent naturall Philosophers in these late times; and that obserue strictly that closenesse of their wise Masters the reuerend Auncients; So as now a dayes our Philosophers are all our Poets, or what our Poets should bee; and our Poesies growne to bee little better than fardles of such small ware [Page 45] as those Marchants the French call pedlers, carry vp and downe to sell; whissles, painted rattles, and such like Bartholomew-babyes. for what o­ther are our common vninstructing fabulous rimes then amusements for fooles and children? But our Rimes (say they) are full of Morall doctrine. be it so. But why not deliuered then in plaine prose and as openly to euery mans vnderstanding, as it deserues to be taught, and commonly knowne by euery one. The Auncients (say they) were Authors of Fables, which they sung in measured numbers, as we in imitation of them do. True: but sure enough their meanings were of more high nature, and more diffi­cult to be found out, then any booke of Manners wee shall readily meete withall affoordes; else they had not writ them so obscurely, or we should find them out more easily, and make [Page 46] some vse of them: whereas not vnder­standing nor seeking to vnderstand them, we make none at all. Wee liue in a myste, blind and benighted; and since our first fathers disobedience poysoned himselfe and his posterity, Man is become the imperfectest and most deficient Animall of all the field: for then he lost that Instinct that the Beast retaines; though with him the beast, and with it the whole vegitable and generall Terrene nature also suffered, and still groanes vnder the losse of their first purity, occasio­ned by his fall. What concernes him now so neerely as to attend to the cul­tiuating or refining, & thereby aduan­cing of his rationall part, to the pur­chase & regaining of his first lost feli­city? And what meanes to conduce to this purchase, can there bee, but the knowledge first, and loue next (for none can loue but what hee first [Page 47] knowes) of his Maker, for whose loue and seruice he was only made? And how can this blind, lame, and vtterly imperfect Man, with so great a lode to boote of originall and actuall of­fence vpon his back, hope to ap­proach this supreme altitude, and im­mensity, which

——In quella inaccessibil luce,
Quafi in alta caligine s'asconde,

(as an excellent Poetesse La Sig: [...]a vitto: Colon­na. discribes the inscrutable Beeing of God) but by two meanes only: the one, by lay­ing his burden on him that on his Crosse bore the burthen of all our de­fectes, and interpositions betweene vs and the hope of the vision of his bles­sed Essence face to face heereafter; and the other, by carefull searche of him here in this life (according to Saint Paules instruction), in his works; who telles vs Rom: cap: 1. ver: 20. - those inuifible things of God are cleerely seene, being vnderstood [Page 48] by the things that are made; or by the workes of his blessed hands? So as, betweene these two mayne and only meanes of acqui [...]ing here the know­ledge, and hereafter the vision of him wherein all our present and fu­ture happinesse consists, what middle place (to descend to my former dis­course) can these mens Morall Phi­losophy (trow we) challenge? which in its first Masters and teachers time, before there was any better diuinity knowne, might well enough passe for a course kind of diuinity; but how­euer, such as one, as (with the leaue of our Poets) needes no fiction to clothe or conceale it in. And therfore vtterly vnfit to bee the Subiect of Poems: since it containes in it but the obuious restraints or impulsions of the Humane Sence and will, to or from what it ynly before-hand (with­out extrinsicke force or law) feeles [Page 49] and knowes it ought to shunne, or im­brace. The other two more remoo­ued and harder lessons do certainely more in the affaire both of soule and body, concerne vs. And these (if we be wise enough to loue our selues so well), wee must seeke and take from the hands of their fittest teachers. As, in the first, we need goe no far­ther (though learned & wise Writers haue made mention, and to high pur­pose, of a Theologia Philosophica, as they call some of the doctrines of the aun­cient Poets), then to the Doctors, and Doctrines of that Church that God dyed to plant, and which shall liue till the worlds death. And for in­struction in our next necessary Les­son, to wit, the Misteries of Nature, we must, if we will follow Plato's aduice- inquire of those (and by them be directed) who liued neerest to the time of the gods; meaning the old wise [Page 50] Ethnicks: among whom, the best Masters were certainly most, if not all of them, Poets; and from whose fires (as I haue formerly touched) the greatest part of all humane know­ledges haue taken their first light. A­mong these, I say, and not elsewhere (excepting the sacred Old Law on­ly) must we search for the know­ledge of the wise, and hidden wayes & workings of our great Gods hand maid, Nature. But alas who findes, or who seekes now adayes to finde them? Nay (what is more strange) there want not of these learned of our times, that will not bee intreated to admit those excellent Masters of knowledge to meane (if they allow them any meaning) scarce other at all, then meerely Morall doctrine.

I haue knowne Latine and Greeke Interpreters of them in these times; men otherwise of much art, and such [Page 51] as able to render their Authors phrase to the height of their good, in our worse language; yet aske the most, as I haue some of them, and I feare they will answere, as one (and the best) of our Greeke translators hath ingenuously confest to mee, that for more then matter of Morality, hee hath discouered little in his Authors meanings. Yet my old good friend as well as I wish him, (and very well I wish him for those parts of Fancy, In­dustry, and meritorious Ability that are in him) must pardon mee that I affirme, it is not truer that there euer was such a thing as a Musaeus, or He­siod, or Homer, whom he has taught to speake excellent English; then it is, that the least part of the Do­ctrine (or their wisest expositors a­buse mee, and other Ignorants with mee) that they meant to lay downe in those their wise, though impossible [Page 52] fables, was matter of Manners, but chiefely Nature: No lesse then in the rest of those few before, and many after them, whom all Antiquity has cried vp for excellent Poets, and cal­led their works perfect Poems.

For proofe of which Truth; wee will first mention two or three of the best of them; and to omit the multi­plicity of lesse autentike testimonies, that all Authors are full of, alledge only the beforecited Mirandula, who speaking of that- Magia naturalis, or naturall wisdome, or as he defines it In Apolog: so: 112. - exacta & absoluta cognitio omnium re­rum naturalium-the exact and abso­lute knowledge of all naturall things (which the Auncients were Masters of) sayes, Ibid: s [...]. 80. that in that Art (among some others he mentions) Praestitit Homerus, Homer excelled; and who- vt omnes alias sapientias, ita hanc quo (que) sub sui V [...]yxis erroribus dissimulauit-as all other [Page 53] knowledges, so hath hiddenly layd downe this also in his Ulysses his tra­uailes. As likewise of Orpheus In Conclus. - Nihil efficacius Hymnis Orphei in naturali Ma­gia, si debita musica, animi intentio, & coeterae circumstantiae quas nôrunt sapientes fuerint adhibitae: There is nothing of greater efficacy then the hymnes of Orpheus in naturall Magick, if the fit­ting musick, intention of the minde, and other circumstances which are knowne to the wise, bee considered and applyed. And againe Ibid. - that they are of no lesse power in naturall magick, or to the vnderstanding thereof, then the Psalmes of Dauid are in the Caball, or to vnderstand the Cabalistick Science by. And lastly, Zoroaster; who that he was a possessor likewise of that- abso­luta cognitio rerum Naturalium before metioned, no lesse then of that Theolo­gicall Philosophy his expounders find in him, may appeare by that Doctrine [Page 54] of his (in particular) of the- Scala á Tartaro ad primum ignem, which the learned Io: Picus interprets In Conclu: - Seriem naturarum vniuersi à non gradu materiae, ad eum qui est super omnem gradum gra­duatè protensum-the series or concate­nation of the vniuersall Natures, from a no degree (as he speakes) of matter, to him that is aboue or be­yond all degree graduately extended; no lesse then by that Attribute (in generall) giuen him by all the lear­ned of all Ages; viz: that he was one of the greatest (as first) of Naturall Magicians, or Masters of the absolute knowledge of all Nature.

To omit (as I said) the Testimo­nies of an infinity of other Authors in confirmation of the before-affir­med troth; who knowes not, that most, if not all of those fables in all the rest of the Auncients, of their gods and goddesses especially, with [Page 55] the affinities, entercourses, and com­merces betweene themselues, and with others; (of which, as Homer, that Greeke Oracle is abūdantly full, so the rest, as a Hesiod, Linus the Master, and Musaeus the Scoller of Or­pheus, and (as we haue said) Zoroaster, and Orpheus himselfe, and all those most auncient, (if we may beleeue their best expounders and relaters of most we haue of them, made the maine grounds and Subiects of their writings;) who knowes not (I say) that most, if not all, of those their fables of this kinde, and which haue of all learned, in all ages, been chiefe­ly tearmed Poetick, & sittest matter for Poesy; haue neuer been by any wise expounder made to meane other then meerely the Generation of the Elements, with their Vertues, and Changes; the Courses of the Starres, with their Powers, and Influences; [Page 56] and all the most important Secrets of Nature, hanging necessarily vpon the knowledge of These; which could not suffer so simple a Relation as the Ethick doctrine requires; be­cause by the vulgarity of Those, much mischiefe must in all reason ensue; being (also) of those tenderer things, that are soonest prophaned & vilefied by their cheapnesse; & This, cannot for the generall benefit of mankinde be among the plainest of lessons too commonly knowne and openly diuulged to euery body.

I will not deny but the Auncients mingled much doctrine of Morality (yea, high Diuinity also) with their Naturall Philosophy; as the late mentioned Zoroaster first; who hath diuinely sung of the Essence and at­tributes of God. and was (as the lear­ned Farra auouches), In Settena: fo [...] 57. - the first Au­thor of that Religious Philosophy, or Phi­losophicall [Page 57] Religion, that was after followed & amplified by Mercurius Trismegistus, Or­pheus, Aglaophemus, Pythagoras, Eudoxus, Socrates, Plato, &c. And Orpheus next; who, as he writt particular bookes; of Astrology, first (as Lucian In Dialog: de Astrol: tells vs) of any man; as also of diseases and their cures; of the natures and quali­ties of the Elements; of the force of Loue or agreemēt in Naturall things; and many more that we read of, be­sides his Hymnes which are perhaps the greatest part of what now re­maines of him heere among vs: so his expounders likewise find in him that Theologia Philosophica as they call it, which they giue to Zoroaster. Wit­nesse Pausanias, who reports In Boeoti [...]: - Or­pheus multahumanae politicaeque vitae vti­lia inuenit: & vniuersam Theologiam pri­mus aperuit, & nesariorum f [...]orum ex­piationes excogitauit, &c. But let vs heare how himselfe In I [...]b: de verbo sacr [...]. sings; and which [Page 58] is by Eusebius Pamphilus, in his ho­nour rehearsed Lib: 13. de Praep: Euan­gel:.

O you that vertue follow, to my sense
Bend your attentiue minds: Prophane ones hence.
And thou Musaeus, who alone the shine
Highly contemplat'st of the formes di­uine,
Learne my notes; which with thinward eye behold,
And vntouch'd in thy sacred bosome hold.
Incline thee by my safe-aduizing verse
To the high Author of this Vniuerse.
One only, all immortall, such is he;
Whose Being I discouer thus to thee;
This alone-perfect, this eternall King
Rais'd aboue all, created eu'ry thing,
And all things gouernes. with the Spirit alone
(Not otherwise) to be beheld, or knowne.
From him no ill springs. there's no god but he.
Thinke now, and looke about thee pru­dently;
[Page 59] And better to discouer him, loe I
His tracts and footsteps vpon earth, and high
Strong hand behold, but cānot him des­crie;
Who (to an vnimaginable height
Rais'd) in darke clouds conceales him from my sight.
Only a Caldean
Meaning [...] Moses; who the ho­ly [...] saies- [...]. vnlesse with Eusebius, we will haue him meane the Patriarke Abraham.
saw him; and the grace
Hath now aloft to view him face to face.
His sacred right hand graspes the Oce­an; and
Touch'd with it, the proud mountaines trembling stand
Eu'n from the deep rootes to their vt­most height:
Nor feeles at all th'immensnesse of their weight,
He, who aboue the heau'n doth dwell, yet guides
And gouernes all that vnder heau'n a­bides.
O're all, through all doth his va [...]l power extend;
Of th'Vniuerse beginning, midds, & end.

[Page 60] And as these two diuine Authors in particular, so likewise among the r [...] of the Auncient Poets in generall, I will graunt they haue in their Poe­sies (as I haue said) mingled much Morality with their Ethick do­ctrines. As in their Hercules [...], U [...]s, Aene [...]s and other their Heroes they haue giuen example of all ver­tues; and punisht all vices; as pride and ambition, in their Giants and [...], &c. Contempt of the gods, in their Niobe, Ar [...]hne, Cass [...]ope, M [...]dusa, Amphion, Mar [...]s, the M [...]eides, &c. murder, lust, couetise, and the rest, in their [...], Ixion, S [...]phus, Mid [...], T [...], T [...], &c. Yet questionlesse infinite many more of their fables then these,) though euen these and the rest of this kind want not among our best Mythologians their Phy­sick, as well as Ethick meanings,) as all those of their gods and goddesses, [Page 61] with their powers and dignies, and all passage of affinity and commerce betweene themselues, and betweene them and others, were (as I haue said before) made to meane meere matter of Nature; and in no possibility of Sense to bee wrested to the doctrine of Manners, vnlesse a man will (with­all) bee so inhumane as to allow all those riotts rapes, murders, a [...] ulteries, incestes, and those nefaria and nefanda, vnnaturally-seeming vices that they tell of them, to bee (litterally or Morally taken) sit examples of Man­ners, or wholesome instructions for the liues of men to be leuelled and di­rected by.

Whereas, on the contrary side, (that I may instance some of them) who can make that Rape of Pro [...]r­pine, whom her mother Ceres (that vnder the Species of Corne might in­clude as well the whole Genus of the [Page 62] Vegetable nature) sought so long for in the earth, to meane other, then the putrefaction, and succeeding genera­tion of the Seedes we commit to Plu­to, or the earth? whome they make the God o [...] weal [...]h, calling him also Dis quasi diues (the same in Latine that Pluto is in Greeke) rich, or weal­thy, because all things haue their ori­ginall from the earth, and returne to the earth againe. Or what can Iupiters blasting of his beloued Semele, after his hauing defloured her, and the wrapping of his sonne he got on her (Bacchus, or wine) in his thigh after his production meane other then the necessity of the Ayres heate to his birth, in the generation; and (after a violent pressure and dilaceration of his mother the Grape) the like close imprisoning of him also, in a fit ves­sell, till he gaine his full maturity, and come to be fit aliment?

[Page 63] After these two particular scanda­lous fabl [...]s, and which I will call but inferiour speculations, yet necessary documents, because, of the Natures of Co [...]e, and Wine, the Sustentacula vitae; (To omit the Adultery of Mars and Venus, by which the Chymists will haue meant the inseperability of those two Metals that carry their names; witnesse that exuberance of Uenus or copper which wee call Vi­triole, that is seldome or neuer found without some mixture more or lesse of Mars or iron in it; as her husband Uulcan, or materiall fire findes and shewes the practitioners in Chymi­stry. And with this, other also of the like obuiouser kinde of truths in Na­ture; as Hebe's stumbling and f [...]lling with the Nectar bowle in her hand, and thereby discouering her hidden parts to the gods, as she serued them at their boord; meaning the naked­nesse [Page 64] of the trees and plants in Au­tumne, when all their leaues are falne from them by the downefall or de­parture of the Spring, which their H [...]be, or goddesse of youth as the Auncients called her (because the Spring renewes and makes young all things) meanes. And with these, the Inceste of Mirrha with her father; meaning the Myrrh-tree, which the Sun (father of Plants) inflames, and making ouertures in it, there flowes thence that odorous Sabaean gumme wee call Myrrhe, (meant by her child Adonis, which interpreted is sweet, pleasant, or delightfull.) To omit (I say) these, and the like triui­aller (though true) obseruations in Nature; and th [...]t carry also so foule a face to the eye; I would aske who can make those fights and cont [...]nti­ons that the wise Homer faignes be­tweene his Gods and Goddesses to [Page 65] meane other then the naturall Con­trariety of the Elements: and especi­ally of the Fire and Water; which as they are tempered and reconciled by the aire, so Iuno (which signifies the aery region) reconciles, & accords the warring Gods. and next, what in generall those frequent, and no lesse scandalous brawles betweene Iupiter and (his wife and sister) Iuno, can be made to meane other, then those Meteors occasioned by the vpper and lower Region of the Ayres differing temperatures; Or what all those his vnlawfull loues, his compressing so many Dryads, Nayads, and Nereiads (woodnymphes, and waternymphes) and the rest, can meane other then meerely the Fires power vpon the Earth, and waters; (a study of a higher nature and vaster extente then the first alledged) and which Iupiters Inceste with his sister Ceres [Page 66] likewise meanes; and is the same with the tale of the contention of Phaeton which is Incendium, with the sonne of Isis which is Terra.

A Theame too infinite to pursue; and no lesse a fault heere, then (per­haps) a folly at all to mencion: For (besides the beeing a subiect vtterly vnfit to suffer a mixture with a dis­course of so light a nature as this of mine, where a slight touch at the generall mistake and abuse of Poesy in our times, was only intended) suppose a man should (wheras I haue heere layd downe the faire sense of but two or three of the foulest of them) be at the paines of running through all the Fables of the Aun­cients, and out of them shew the reader, and leade him by the fingar as it were (who yet can discouer no­thing but matter of Manners in them) to the speculation of the entire Secret [Page 67] of our great God of Nature, in his miraculous fabrick of this World, (which, their god Pan, or the vniuersall simple bodyes, and seedes of all Nature, gotten by Mercu­ry or the diuine Will, by which all things came to bee created meanes;) And (beginning with Moses) shew him how the Spirit of God first moouing vpon the waters (a Mystery perhaps by few of our dul­ler Modernes vnderstood, though a Thales Milefius, or Heraclius the Ephe­sian, two Heathens, could instruct them) they faigne him vnder the name of Iupiter, by compressing La­tona (meaning the shades or darke­nesse of the first Chäos) to haue begot on her, Apollo and Diana, which is the Sun and Moone, when he said- fiat lux, & lux fuit, and carry him along from this beginning to the end and com­pleate knowledge of all Nature, [Page 68] which as Moses darkely, they no lesse darkely deliuered;) Suppose (I say) a man should take this taske vpon him, I would faine know who they are that would be perhaps, at least, that were, fit readers now a dayes of such a Treatise? Because what one of a million of our Scollers or writers among vs, vnderstands, or cares to be made vnderstand scarse the lowest and triuiallest of Natures wayes? much lesse seekes to draw (by wisely obseruing her higher and more hidden workings) any profitabler vse or benefit from them, for their owne, or the publike good, then perhaps to make an Almanack, or a diuing­bote to take butts or crabs vnder wa­ter with; or else some Douch water­bellowes, by rarefying water into a comprest ayre to blow the fire with­all?

Whenas if they could, but from [Page 69] that poore step, learne the way to get a little higher vp the right scale of Nature, and really indeed accord, and make a firme peace and agree­ment betweene all the discordant E­lements; and (as the Fable of Cupids wrassle with Pan, and ouercomming him, teaches them the beginning of all Natures productions are loue and strife,) indeauour to irritate also, and force this Pan, or Simple Matter of things to his fit procreatiue ability, by an industrious and wise strife and colluctation with him; then they might perhaps do somewhat in Phi­losophy not vnworth the talking of. No lesse then our common practitio­ners in Physick might better deserue their names then most of them do; (for to be a Physitian, what is it but to be a generall Naturalist, not meere transcriber and applyer of particu­lar booke- recipes?) if they would [Page 70] but practise, by that Rule and Base of Nature the world was built vpon, to make likewise and establish that E­quality and concord betweene those warring Elements (which are the Complexions) in Mans body, that one exceed not an other in their Qua­lities: Or if they could but giue better instance of their acquaintance with the wayes of Phylosophy, then in burdning and oppressing nature, ra­ther then otherwise, as most of them doe, with their crude Vegetable and Minerall Physicks, for not vnder­standing the necessity, (or though they did, yet not the Art) of exalting and bettering their natures, by corre­cting or remoouing their in-bred imperfections, with that fit prepa­ration that Nature teaches them.

The hidden workings of which wise Mistresse, could wee fully in all her wayes comprehend, how much [Page 71] would it cleare, and how infinitely ennoble our blind and groueling con­ditions, by exalting our vnderstan­dings to the sight (as I haue before toucht) of God, or- those inuisible things of God (to vse S. Pauls words once a­gaine) which are cleerely seene, being vn­derstood by the things that are made; and thence instructing vs, not sawcily to leap, but by the linkes of that golden chaine of Homer, that reaches from the foote of Iupiters throne to the Farthe, more knowingly, and conse­sequently more humbly climbe vp to him, who ought to bee indeed the only end and period of all our knowledge, and vnderstanding. the which in vs though but a small fainte beame of that our great bles­sed Sun, yet is that breath of life that he breathed into vs, to draw vs thereby (fecisti nos Domine propeter te; sayes the holy S. Augustine) In Confess: neerer [Page 70] to him, then all irrationall Animalls of his making; as a no lesse tenderly louing Father, then immense and om­nipotent Creator.

To whom as wee cannot giue too much loue and reuerence; so neither can wee with too wary hands ap­proach his sacred Mysteries in Holy Writ. Howbeit I must (to returne home to my former discourse) in ho­nour & iust praise of the before men­tioned wise Auncients (and with the premised befitting caution) not doubt to say, that as his Instructions in the holy Scripture, and especially in the old Law, must of necessity reach as far farther then the bare historicall trueth (though not in the same man­ner) as extends the difference in our selues betweene Nature alone, and Nature and Grace vnited; so likewise, that one, and a great portion of the doctrine of that part of holy Writ, [Page 73] the wise Ethnicks vndoubtedly pos­sest in all perfection; to wit, the knowledge of all Natures most high and hidden wayes and workings: and though far short in the safer part of wisdome, of their more inlightned successors, yet was the bare light (or rather fire) of nature in them, enough to draw thē as high as Reason could help flesh and bloud to reach heauen with. Nay which is more, were it not wide of my purpose (though it con­tradicts it not) to conster them other then meere children of Nature, I might perhaps gaine fauour of some of our weaker persuaders in their spi­rituall Cures (if to flanke and streng­then the diuine letter wi [...]h prophaner Authorities, be in this backward and incredulous age, not irrequisite) by paralelling in the Historicall part I meane chiefely, and as it lies, the Sa­cred letter and Ethnick Poesyes to­gether [Page 74] to a large extention: And be­ginning with Moses, shew them, all those- dij ma [...]orum gentium from Saturne to Deucalions deluge, were but names for Adam, Caine, Lamech and the rest of their successors to Noahs floud: Nor that their Rhaea (or Terra, mo­ther of all the Gods) and Uenus, could be other then Moses his Eua and Noem... What other can He fiod's * Pan­dora-the Lib: 1. Oper: & dier: first and beautifullest of all wo­men, by whome all euils were dispersed and spred vpon the Earth, meane then Moses his Eue? What can Homers Ate, whom he calls* the first daughter of Ilia: lib: 19. Iupiter, and a woman pernicious and harmefull to all vs mortalls; and in an other place tells how the wisest of men was cosened and deceiued by his wife; what can he I say, meane in these women but Eue? What was the Poets Bacchus but his Noah, or Noa­chus, first corrupted to Boachu [...], and af­ter, [Page 75] by remoouing a letter, to Bacchus; who, (as Moses tels vs of Noah,) was the first likewise in their accompt, that planted the vine, and taught men the vse of wines soone after the vniuersall deluge? What can be plainer then that by their Ianus they ment Noah al­so, whome they giue two faces to, for hauing seene both the old and new world; and which, his name (in Hebrew, Iain, or wine) likewise con­firmes; Noah being (as we late alled­ged Moses for witnesse) the first in­uentor of the vse of wines? What could they meane by their Golden-Age, when—

Nulli subigebant arua coloni;
——Ipsaque tellus
Omnia liberius, nullo poscente ferebat;

But the state of Man before his Sin? and consequently by their Iron age, but the worlds infelicity, and miseries that succeeded his fall? when—

[Page 76]
Luctus, & vltrices posuere cubilia curae;
Pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus,
Et metus, & malesuada fames, & tur­pis egestas.

Lastly, (for I haue too much alrea­dy exceeded my commission) what can Adonis horti among the Poets meane other then Moses his Eden, or terrestriall Paradise? the Hebrew E­den being Uoluptas or Delitiae, whence the Greeke [...] (or pleasure) seemes necessarily deriued: The Caldaeans and Perfians (so I am tould) called it Par­deis, the Greeks, [...], the Latines altered the Greeke name to Paradisus; which as Eden, is (as, In Noc: Attic. Aulus Gellius defines it) Locus amaenissimus, & volup­tatis plenissimus; the which selfe thing the auncient both Poets and Philoso­phers certainely ment by their- horti Hesperidum likewise.

Now though we reuerence Moses [Page 77] more (as we ought to doe) then these his condisciples, because inspired so far aboue them with the immediate spirit of Almighty God; yet ought we neuerthelesse to reuerence them, and the wisdome of their fables, how­euer not vnderstood by euery body: his condisciples I call them, because they read bothe vnder their Aegyptian teachers one lesson; & were (as Moses of himselfe sayes) expert in the learning of the Aegyptians: yea many of them (and Poets all) were (to speake fitly­er) the teachers of that Learning themselues, and Masters therein no lesse then Moses. How can we then indeed attribute too much to their knowledges, though deliuered out of wise consideration in riddles and fictious tales?

But alas (with shame enough may we speake it) so far are we now a­dayes from giuing the due to them [Page 78] they deserue, as those their learned and excellent fables seeme rather read to be abused, then studyed in these times; and euen by people too that are, or would be accompted profound men.

What child of learning or louer of Truth could abide to see great pre­tenders to learning among vs, that doubt, and obstinately too, whether the pretious treasure of that wisdome of the Auncients, so carefully by them left sealed vp to the vse of their true Heires (the wise and worthy of their posterity) be any more indeed then a legacy of meere old wiues tales to poyson the world with. If we will call this but ignorance, let vs go farther; and suppose that a man (nor vnlearned one neither) shall haue taken paines in foure or fiue fables of the Auncients to vnfould and deliuer vs much doctrine and high meanings [Page 79] in them, which he calls their wis­dome; and yet the same man in an o­ther Treatise of his, shall say of those auncient Fables.- I thinke they were first made, and their expositions deuised after­ward: and a little after- Of Homer him­selfe, notwithstanding he was made a kind of Scripture by the latter Scooles of the Graecians, yet I should without any diffi­culty pronounce his fables had in his owne meaning no such inwardnesse, &c. What shall we make of such willing con­tradictiōs, when a man to vent a few fancies of his owne, shall tell vs first, they are the wisdome of the Aun­cients; and next, that those Auncient fables were but meere fables, and without wisdom or meaning, til their expositours gaue them a meaning; & then, scornefully and contemptuous­ly (as if all Poetry were but Play-va­nity) shut vp that discourse of his of Poetry, with- It is not good to stay too [Page 80] long in the Theater.

But let me not stick too long neither in this myre; nor seeme o­uer-sensible of wrong to what can suffer none; for- Veritas (sayes the ho­ly writ) magna es [...], & praeualebit: and such are (nor lesse great and preuai­ling then truth it selfe) those before mentioned Arcana of our wise Aun­cients; which no Barbarisme I know can efface; nor all the dampes and thick fogs by dull & durty Ignorance breathed on them, darken at all, or hide from the quick eye of select and happier vnderstandings; who know full well, the ripest friutes of know­ledge grow euer highest; while the lower-hanging boughs (for euery ones gripe) are either barren, or their fruite too sowre to be worth the ga­thering. And among such may they euer rest, safe wrapt vp in their huskes, and inuoluements: And let [Page 81] our writers write (if it can bee no better) and Rime [...]s rime still after their accustomed and most accepted manner, and still captiuate and rauish their like hearers. Though in my owne inclination, I could with much iuster alacrety, then in person of the Roman Poet, with his- Uilia miretur vulgus; or Roman Orator, with his- Similes habent sua labra lactucas (while he laught to see a greedy Asse at his sutable thissles,) wish we might each one, according to the measure of his illumination, and by the direction of Gods two great bookes, that of his law first, and that of the Creature next, (wherein, to vse the excellent [...]o: Picus his phrase In Conclus: - leguntur magnalia Dei-the wonderfull things of God are read) run on together in a safe and firme rode of Trueth: to the end that vindicating some part of our lost He­ritage and Beatitude heere, we may thence (an aduantage the holy Maxi­mus [Page 82] Tyrius In Sermon: sayes the more happy spirits haue ouer others) arriue the lesse Aliens and strangers in the Land of our eternall Heritage, and Beati­tude heereafter.

APPENDIX.

The before-written Treatise of the dignity of the ould Poets and their Poesies, falling into the view of some not iniudicious eyes; Among them, there arose question, how it could be, that Plato, so great a louer and honorer of the Auncient. Poets in generall, and of Homer (one of the best of them) in particular; should exclude and banish him neuerthelesse out of his Common-wealth: To which is easily and briefely answered, that, as there is no Citty, corporation, or common-wealth in the world, but differs from all others, if not in all, at least in some particular lawes, insti­tutions, [Page 83] or customes; so, most reaso­nable is it, that such a Common-wealth as Plato formes, should more then any other, be differing from all others, in new Lawes, rules, and in­stitutions: His intention being to frame an assembly of men, or repub­like, which consisting onely of Reason, was rather the Idaea of what a perfect common-wealth should be, then as eyther being, or easy or pos­sible to bee put into Act. Hee formes all his Cittizens, diuine, he­roique, and perfectly Philosophick and wise spirits, and such as are al­ready arriued to the summe of all in­tellectuall height, and perfection of vertue and Sapience; And therefore can haue no need of a Homer or his in­structions, to shew them the way to bee, or make them what they are already made: In all other Common-wealthes, the case is differing; where [Page 84] Homers, Hesiods, Orpheusses, and those Fathers of knowledge and learning, are euer necessary, to allure with the sweetnesse and pleasure of their fi­ctions, the mindes of men to the loue and knowledge of vertue and wis­dome: So as, out of this respect meer­ly, and not that he was at all the lesse worthy of honour and admira­tion, (in his fit place of vse) was Ho­mer exempt, and shut out from Plato's imaginary assembly, and excellent republike. And therefore I will con­clude with Maximus Tyrius, who sayes (as [...]arra Alexandrinus obserues In Sette­ [...]r:) - We ought to giue honour to Plato; but yet [...], as we rob not the great Homer, nor [...] him of his due and deserued prayses.

FINIS.

THE TALE OF NARCISSVS briefly Mythologised.

Aduertisment to the Reader.

AFter I had writ the precedent Discourse of the value of true Poesy, and therein giuen a short generall Notion only, of the being (as I conceiued) somewhat in the fables of the Auncients, considerable, and to be esteemed a­boue the multitude of the vninstructing workes of most of our Moderne Poets; I remembred my selfe of the Fable of their Narcissus, which I had diuerse yeares since, put into Euglish: and finding it not voide of his meaning, no lesse then those o­ther the like documents deliuered in Fables by the wise Auncients for the worlds instruction; I was not vnwilliug to annexe it (together with a short obseruation vpon it) to the former Treatise: to the end the worthy louer of Trueth, finding in but this one among a million of their fables, somewhat he perhaps before, heeded (or vnderstood) not, (though a tale frequently read by euery body) he might the lesse erre in his search of humane know­ledge; being prompted where it is in an ample manner to bee found and approached: to wit, a­mong the wiser expounders of the excellent fictions of those auncient Fathers and masters of learning and wisdome.

LIriope (faire Nymphe, of Thetis borne)
The god Cephissus lou'd; and hauing long
In vaine her maidenly denialls boarne,
Forc'd her at last his siluer streames among.
'Tweene them a buoye was got, faire as the Morne,
And (if truth were in graue Tiresia's toung)
Immortall as his Sire; might he know neuer,
But liue a stranger to himselfe for euer.
No sooner from his birth-day bad the Sun
After three Lusters, in his carre of light
Three yearely rounds more through the Zodiack run,
When this bright-visadg'd buoye (Narcissus hight)
Was growne to that supreme perfection
Of beauty and grace, combinde to breed delight,
As no degree, no sexe, no age are free,
But all perforce of him enamour'd be.
The winning features of his face were such,
As the best beauties seem'd to his, but bad;
Sweet, soft, and fresh to looke vpon, and touch,
The tender hue was of the louely lad;
Widdowes desir'd, and married wiues as much,
And eu'ry maid a longing for him had;
No harte so chaste, and free from amo'rous fire,
But he could tainte, and kindle with desire.
Yet his proude hawty minde had in disdaine
What euer beauty came within his fight;
Nor car'de the choycest Virgins loue to gaine,
Whereto by kinde, Nature doth man inuite;
Nor yet of riper women sought to'obtaine
The vs'de allay of the blouds appetite;
But only lou'de, ador'de, and deifi'de
Himselfe, dispizing all the worlde beside.
One day, that louely browe, those liuely eyes,
That ruby lip, that alabaster chi [...]e
And crimson cheeke of his, a Nymphe espyes,
A Nymphe that neuer doth to speake beginne,
But readily to such as speake, replies;
Though all her words lame and imperfect been,
While in her mouthe confounding all the rest,
Her last worde only comes out perfectest.
This Nymphe which then, and still we Eccho name,
That answers others speeche, but speakes to none,
Was not as now, a meere voice peec'd, and lame,
But forme and substance had of flesh and bone;
When to her toung that imperfection came
To vente but halfe wordes, and them not her owne,
Through a disdaine shee in the breste did raise
Of Iuno, ielious of her husbands wayes.
Ere which a voyce shee had, so sweete to th' eare,
With a discourse so smooth, and full of pleasure,
As it a heauen was her wordes to heare,
Wordes which the heauyest grieuance and displeasure
Could mitigate, and easyer make to beare,
(Of sweete and sage so equall was their measure;)
For still shee kept them by discretion good,
Within the seemely bounds of womanhood.
Farre was this faire maydes faire toungs glory spred,
Winning the minds of all men, by the swaye
Of her imperious eloquution ledd,
Where with a thousand brabbles euery daye
Among the Nymphes, Siluans, and shepherds bredd
Shee easily atton'de; but Heau'ns queene (aye
Frying in a jelious fire) refte her of the' honour
Of her smooth speech, for the shrewd turnes 't had done her.
Iuno, that euer had a ielious head,
(Her husband did so ofte her bed abuse)
Meaning t'haue stolne vpon him, where i'bed
Shee thought he tooke the pleasure he did vse,
This Nymphe to' auuerte (by good aduizement ledd)
The mischiefe that such errors ofte ensues,
Would with smooth storyes entertayne his queene,
Till he had time to get away vnseene.
Hauing bin oft beguild with this deceipt,
Iuno at length [...] ayme of [...]er speech perceiu'd,
And sayd, You shall (Nymphe) with your suttle bayte
Catch me no more, or I am much deceiu'd;
Your fluent toung shall haue a medcine straite,
That by' it I may be neuer after grieu'd;
When you haue fewer words to speake, wee'll see
How you can make your wonted sporte with me.
And what she threatned, quickly tooke effect;
For, from that time she could speake plaine no more,
Nor but repeate (such was her toungs defect)
Peeces of words that had bin spoke before.
This Nymphe, the buoy whom so much beauty deckt
No sooner view'd, but loue assayled sore
Her brest; she prooues to him her thoughts to breake
In words, but cannot first begin to speake.
Amaz'd as mute she slands, loth to be seene,
And to a thicket by, anon she hyes;
Thence, (where he layd was on a flowry greene,)
Conuayes about him her attentiue eyes
In many' a fearefull glance, the boughs betweene,
Then, how to' aproach him neerer, doth deuize;
S [...]ill with new fuell feeding her desire,
Till all her brest falls of a burning fire.
While thus th' inkindled maide viewes him vnseene,
And neither yet, a word to other spake,
He heares a noise among the bushes greene
That vnawares her foote did (tripping) make,
And lookes if any had about him been,
But sees not her that languisht for his sake.
Heare I not one? quoth he; One, sayes the mayde:
Framing a troth from the last word he sayd.
Much at this voyce began the lad to muze,
But whence it yssue'd could not yet deuize;
And as men oft on such occasion vse;
Now heere now there he throwes his earnest eyes;
Then once againe he thus his speech renewes,
May not I see thee? she, I see thee, cryes;
He turnes, and looks this way, and that againe;
She feares and hides her, and he looks in vaine.
Still more and more amaz'd he growes, and goes
Searching each place about him busily,
But nothing finds: then cryes come hither; those
Words she returnes, and cryes come hither; he
Sayes heere I am, do thou thy selfe disclose,
For as I heare, faine would I know thee. She
Replyes I know thee: so she did; for none
Ere came so neere her harte as he had done.
He addes (desirous to heare out the rest)
If then thou know'st me, come and let's imbrace;
And let's imbrace, shee soone replyes: that blest
And soueraigne worde inforc'd her from the place
Where she was hidd, and from her mayden brest
Chasing her feare, she' appeares before the face
Of the faire buoy, whose words assur'd her cleerely,
She should imbrace him whom she lou'd so dearely.
Her neck to wreathe with his, she faire enclin'd,
Her armes to meete his armes, extended be;
But he that was quite of another minde,
Sayes, Do not thinke I loue thee; readily
I loue thee, she replyes, rudely vnkinde
He addes, nor euer will I loue thee. She
Still sayes, I loue thee, as she said before;
He held his peace, and she could speake no more.
She hides her shaming eyes, the froward lad
Pusheth her from him, and then from her flies.
She ynly raues, well nigh with sorrow mad
To' haue woo'd him so, that doth her loue despize;
And if by such a toung as erst she had,
But halfe the griefe that in her bosome lyes
Were vtt'red, she might mooue with her laments
The heau'ns, the Earth, and all the Elements.
Her pale sick lookes the woefull witnesse beare
Of her hartes agonye, and bitter teene;
Her flesh she batters, martyrs her faire baire,
And, shaming ere to be of any seene,
Hides her in some wilde wood or caue, and there
Answers perhaps if she haue question'd been;
And more and more increaseth eu'ry day
Loues flame in her, and meltes her life away.
That flame eftsoone gan all her body blast;
Th'humor and bloud resolu'd into grosse aire;
The flesh to ashes in a moment past,
That was so sleeke to feele, and look'd so faire,
The bones and voice only remain'd at last;
But soone the bones to hard stones turned are;
All that of her now liues is th'empty sound
That from the caues doth to our eares rebound.
Beside this Nymphe, not the most faire Napaea
Or Hamadriad that was euer borne,
Could mooue Narcissus; no not Cytherea
Or wise Minerua could his fancy turne.
'Mong the neglected troope, a Nymphe to' Astraea
For iustice prayes, and vengiance on the scorne
Of this disdainefull youth, that doth despize
Not nymphes alone, but heau'nly deities.
O thou (she cryes) whose all-impartiall hand
The balance of heau'ns Equity sustaines,
Do on this hawty head that doth withstand
Nature, and heau'n, and all the world disdaines,
Due justice; ô let some auengeing brande
Teach him by's owne to pitty others paines,
And graunt he may himselfe approoue the grieues
He hath to thousands giu'n, and daily giues.
The just Petition that this Nymphe prefer'd,
Which she with rayning eyes repeated oft,
The Poures immortall had no sooner heard,
But they Ramnusia summond from alofte,
Whose sad doome was (and was not long defer'd)
That loue should render his hard boosome soft;
But such a loue, and of so strange a nature,
As nere before possessed human creature.
Within a shady groue (vnder a hill)
That opes into a medow faire, and wide,
Whose ample face a thousand py'ed floures fill,
And many' an odorous herbe, and plant beside,
Rizeth a fountaine fresh and coole; for still
The wood of one, and of the other side
The shady shoulders, of the hill defende it,
That the warme midday sun cannot offende it.
The water of this well is euer cleare,
And of that wonderfull transparency,
That his deepe bottome seemes to rise, and neere
Offer it selfe to the behoulders eye.
The hot Sun burnes the ground, and eu'ry where
Shepherd and sheep to the coole shadowes fly;
When loue, (to' auenge himselfe) to this Fount guideth
This louely buoy in whom no loue abideth.
Scalt with the Sun, and weary with the chace,
He seekes to rest himselfe, and quench his thirst,
And glad of hauing found so fit a place,
Layes by his bow and quiuer from him first,
Then, his impatient drouth away to chace,
Inclines him to the flattring Fount. accurst
For euer may that trech'erous mirbor be
Wherin he hapt his own faire shade to see.
While ore the Fountaines face his faire face lyes,
And greedy lips the cooling liquor draw,
A greater hea [...]e doth in his brest arise,
Caus'd by the shade he in the water saw.
Loue finding soone whereon he fixt his eyes,
Gan to th [...] head his goulden arrow draw,
And all his hart with the vaine loue infected
Of what the liquid-christall glasse reflected.
The beautious image that he sees so cleerely,
And his owne shadow in the fountaine makes;
Not for a shadow immateriall meerely,
But for a body palpable, he takes;
Each part apart, then altogether neerely
Viewes, and growes thirstier as his thirst he slakes;
His eye his owne eye sees, and loues the sight,
While with it selfe it doth it selfe delight.
He' extolls the lip, admires the cheeke, where he
The red and white so aptly mingled findes;
His either eye a starre he deemes to be;
The shining haire that the brow faire imbindes,
He calls a sun-beame, 'tis so bright to see;
And his affection so his reason blindes,
As all this faire for which all eyes adore him,
He still imputes to what he sees before him.
Long gazing with this earnest admiration,
(Which well his eu'ry gesture testifies,)
The shadow seemes copartner in his passion,
And in the same vnrest to sympathize;
His owne cach motion in the selfe same fashon
Appearing manifestly to his eyes;
The same expression that he giues his paine,
The same the shadow renders him againe.
Transported with the filly vaine desire
That the deceiptfull shadow breedes in him,
With his inkindled lips he presses nigher
To kisse the lips that on the water swimme;
Those lips, as if they did his lips require,
Arize with equall hast to the wells brimme;
But his abused lips their purpose misse,
And only the deluding water kisse.
The water (troubled) doth the shade deface
With many' a wrinkle, he for feare to looze it,
Extends with louing hast ouer the place
His greedy armes, of either side to' incloze it;
But they (beguild) only vaine ayre imbrace;
He frowing lookes againe; that frownes, he wooes it
Againe with smiles. ah dire and cruell law
Of thy owne frowne (poore buoy) to stand in awe.
Yll-fated wretch, alas what dost thou see
That in thy brest this mutiny awakes?
Perceiu'st thou not that what enamors thee
Is but the shadow thy owne body makes?
And of how strange, and filly a quality
The passion is wherewith thy bosome akes,
That fondly flatters thee, 'tis still without thee,
When what thou seek'st, thou euer bear'st about thee?
So neere about thee, as thou needst not feare
But while thou tarriest heere, 'twill tarry too;
And when thou weary art of staying heere,
'Twill go along with thee where ere thou goe:
I see thine eyes blubbred with many'a teare,
And weary'ed, yet not satisfy'd with woe;
Thou mourn'dst at first, to' allay and ease thy paine,
And now thon mourn'st to see that mourne againe.
The teares the shadow shedds, doth this accurst
Fonde louer for a firme assurance take,
That what he loues, feeles no lesse amorous thirste,
And in compassion sorrowes for his sake.
He opes his armes to' imbrace it at first;
The Shade consents, and doth like gesture make:
He nothing gripes; but turnes, and rudely teares
His haire, and drownes his rosy cheekes in teares.
Desire of food, nor want of sleepe can free
His thought from prosequuting still the woe
His tirannizing Passion breedes, whence be
Becoms a despe'rate praye to his lou'dfoe;
Th' enamourd eyes will nere auuerted be
From their owne splendor, that enthralls him so,
As (spight of any reason can instruct him)
They sure will to a speedy death conduct him.
He rises vp at length, and standing by,
Pointes to the Founte, as author of the wrong
His hart receiu'd through his vnwary eye;
Then these sad accents the leau'd woods among
Sighes from his brests impatient agony;
Yee woods to whome these wailing words belong,
(For you alredy haue beheld in parte
The wretched plight of my afflicted harte.)
Yee woods, whose browes to heau'n, and feete to hell
Through th' ayre and ample earth extended be,
That haue so long held your faire right so well
Against th' vnciuile winters injury,
And many' a loue-sick wight haue sure heard tell
The story of his sadd captiuity
'Mong your dumb shades, O tell mee' if euer brest
Y' haue heard with such a loue as mine, possest.
What harte ere such a darknesse found to' infould it,
To loue a false and fleeting thing so deare,
Which when I thinke within my armes I hould it,
Is fled from me, and I am nere the neere;
I finde my error; somewhat does withhould it,
And my delusion plainely doth appeare;
Yet can I nere the more auuerte my minde
From seeking still what I shall neuer finde.
But see this woe that doth all woe surmount,
What is it barres, what is it hinders me?
Is't either foming sea, or craggy mount,
Strong gate, or thick wall rear'd to' eternity?
Alas 'tis but a narrow shallow fount
That's interpos'd tweene my desires and me,
Where what I seeke, appeares, & would come to me,
Did not the jelious waters bould it fro' me.
For I my head no sooner downwards hould,
With will to' impresse those ruby lips with mine,
But with like will (redyer then can be tould)
It smiles, and doth the beautious head encline.
O thou faire fabrick of celestiall mould
Come forth, and let our lips and bosomes joine;
Leaue that vnfriendly fountaine, and come hether,
And sporte we in this flowry mede together.
Aymee I call, but none will answer me.
Come yet at last, if but to let me know
Since I am young, louely, and faire to see,
Why thou dost hide thy selfe, and shunne me so;
Looke in my face, and view the harmony
The various floures make that there freshly grow,
And tell me then, wherfore thou dost abhorre
That, that a thousand hartes do languish for.
I know (wretch that I am) I know thee now:
Th' art my owne shadow meerely; 'tis the shine
That falls vpon the waters christall brow
From this bright face, and beautious limbs of mine,
And nothing else; I finde, alas I know
'Tis I and only I for which I pine;
At my owne eyes alone (vnhappy elfe)
I light the fire wherein I burne my selfe.
I know that I am it, and it is I
That both the loued am, and louer too;
But to allay my feau'rous malady
Alas what shall I say, what shall I doe?
Shall I my selfe, to wooe my selfe, apply,
Or stay perhaps till other do mee wooe?
Aymee, wealth makes mee poore; accursed blessing
To pine in want, with ouer-much possessing.
Ah could I this flesh-frame asunder parte
And take a body from this body free;
And (hauing what I loue so well, aparte,)
Deuide my loue betweene them equally,
So as they both, one interlouing harte
Possest; I might perhaps contented be:
But ô alas it neuer may be done
To make that two, that Nature made but one.
Under the combrous weight my soule doth beare,
Wanting the meane it selfe to satisfy,
I fainte, and feele my death aproaching neere;
And more I grieue a thousand fold to dye,
That in my ruine, that that is more deare
Then life to mee, must fall as well as I;
Deaths face were not so soure to looke vpon,
Might that sweete face suruiue when I were gone.
He weepes, and to the water turnes againe,
Where he the weeping fain'd Narcissus viewes;
And eu'ry teare which the false faire eyes raine,
Th' impatience of his balefull woe renewes;
He striues to touch the lou'd cause of his paine,
Troubling the waters that his eyes abuse;
Then chafes, and cryes if I may neither feele
Nor heare, at least let mee behould thee still.
He raues impatient of his harts vnreste,
His garment teares, martyrs his haire and rendes it:
Then with his each bent sist, his inn'ocent brest
Beats, but the weede he weares somewhat defends it;
He findes it, and (himselfe more to moleste)
Remooues the garment, and starknak'd offends it
With many' a churlish blow, and so betakes him
Wholly to 's woe, as one whose sence forsakes him.
The battr'ed juory brest shewes to the view
Like halfe-ripe grapes, apples, halfe red, or roses
Strew'd on some lilly banke, that (blowing nue)
The virgin leaues to the warme Sun disclozes;
And such, as though chang'd from the former hue,
Yet nought at all of his first beauty loozes,
But seemes (though sore perhaps, and akeing more)
As faire, or fairer then it was before.
He stoopes againes to take an other sight
Of the belou'd occasion of his woe;
The water shewes him soone the euill plight
The flesh was in had boarne so many' a blow;
He mournes to see't; and stody'ing how he might
Heale, and appeaze what he had injur'd so,
His armes (though well he knowes the labour vaine)
He needes will plunge into the fount againe.
The water mooues, he mournes, the Shadow flyes;
He lets it settle, and then lookes againe.
And now the fatall fire wherein he fryes,
His Sence consumes, through too much sence of paine;
So th'ore, that in a melting furnace lyes,
Growes warme, then hot; nor long doth so remaine,
But meltes, (the fire tyring vpon't the whiles)
And fusible, 'as the liquid water boiles.
The white, and faire vermilion faded be
That late imbellisht and adorn'd him so;
His eye the faint lidd couers heauily;
Each limbe growes slack and powrelesse. Ecco al­though
He loath'd and vs'd her so disdainefully
Hath still accompany'de him in his woe,
And euer would repeate, and answer make
Well as she could, to whatsoere he spake.
What sound his hands (beating each other) made,
Or when his bosome felt their battery,
She the like sound returnes. he to the Shade
Languishing cryes, Behould for thee I dye:
For thee I dye, answers th'inamour'd maide,
Remembring her owne cruell destiny.
At length he sadly sighes farwell, and dyes.
Farewell sayes Eccho, and no more replyes.
His ghost is to the shades infernall gon,
And (carry'ng still his error with him) there
Lookes him in those pale streames of Acheron,
And wooes, & winnes himselfe, and ne're the neere.
The Nymphes and hamadryads eu'ry one
With the sad Nayads who his sisters were,
With shriekes & cryes which they to heau'n inforce,
Strew their faire shorne haires on the bloudlesse corse.
Ecco, (that grieues no lesse then th' other do)
Confounds her lamentation lowd with theirs;
And would her tresses teare, and her flesh too,
Had she them still; but as she may, she beares
Her part in eu'ry sound of griefe, and woe,
That from beat hand, or wayling voice she heares.
If any (weeping) cry, aymee he's gone,
She sayes the same, and multiplies the moane.
His fun'erall pile rounded with tapers bright,
The wayling Nymphes prepare without delay;
But the dead corse is vanisht from their fight;
And in the place where the pale carcasse lay,
A flowre with yallow seed, and leaues milke white
Appeares; a fairer flowre Aprill nor May
Yeelds; for it keeps much of his beauty still.
Some call't a Lilly, some a Daffadill.

Obseruation vpon the Tale of Narcissus.

As not the least of the Fables of the Auncients but had their mea­nings, [Page 106] and most of them diuerse mea­nings also, so no lesse hath this of Narcissus, which Ouid hath smoothe­ly sung, and I paraphrastically Eng­glisht after my owne way, and for my owne pleasure. Wherein I am not vnwilling to render (withall) what, as I am taught a little by my owne Genius, and more by better vn­derstandings then my own, the Fable was by the first deuizers therof made to meane. And first, for the Geo­graphick parte; the Sence thereof is the Geogra­phick sence. (I conceiue) obuious enough: The Tale tells vs, the god Cephissus, a great Riuer in Boeotia, that running through the ager Atticus or Attick field (as the place was aunciently called meetes, and mingles his streames with the Water-nymphe Liriope, a narrow brooke so named; and hauing be­tweene them compassed a flat low ground almost Iland-wise, before [Page 107] their falling together into the Phale­rick gulphe, they were fitly called the Parents of this Narcissus or Daffa­dill, beeing a floure which, (besides the specificall nature it hath to grow, and thriue best in waterish places,) the medowy groundes those waters encompassed, did chiefely yeeld and abound in. This Narcissus is fai­ned to eschew and flye the compa­nie the Physick sence. of all women, no lesse then of the Nymphe Ecco that is enamour'd and doates vpon him; denoting by this auuersion of his, the nature of the floure that beares his name; for the daffadill or water-lilly, the seedes thereof especially (as the applyers of them in medcine haue obserued) do powerfully extinguish the ability and desire of carnall copulation, by ouercooling of the Animall seed; no lesse then does Porcelane, Lettuce, Agnus castus, Calamint, White vio­letts, [Page 108] and the like of that kinde. From this his before mencioned quality, and the ill effect it workes in mans body, his name Narcissus (which is torpedo, languor, segnities-slothe, stupi­ditie, lazinesse) was by the Anncients not vnfitly giuen to this vegitable. And they out of this consideration likewise faigned that Preserpine, when Pluto rauished her away as she was gathering floures, had her lap full of Narcissusses; because lazy & vn­busied women are most subject vnto such inconueniences. And because slothfull, vnactiue, and vnindustri­ous mindes are for the most parte vn­capable of producing any permanent, substantiall or reall effects or frute in any kinde, this fraile flowre there­fore (the symbole of such like imper­fect and dificient inclinations,) was among the number of lost, dead, and soone-to-be-forgotten things, by [Page 109] those Auncient inuestigators of Na­tures trueths, particularly dedicated to their Infernall gods. The Morall expounders of this Fable will haue the Morall sence. it meane thus,- Ecco, or Fame, (a faire voice) loues and wooes Narcissus, or Philautia; but the selfe-louing man, enamor'd (like this Narcissus) only on himselfe, and blinde to all plea­sures but those of the Sence, despises and slightes the more to be imbraced happinesse of a lasting renowne, and memory; and therefore dying, his fame, and all of him dyes with him, and he becomes only- charus dis inferis. A much higher and nobler meaning the Diuine sence. then any of these before deliuered, is by excellent Authors giuen to this Fable: wherein we must know, that as all the first wise Auncients in ge­nerall, vnder characters, figures, and simboles of things, layd downe the precepts of their wisdome to Poste­rity, [Page 110] so in particular did Pythagoras, who (as the most autentick Iamblicus the Caldaean tells vs) deliuered also the most parte of his doctrines in fi­guratiue, tipick, and symbolick No­tions: among which, one of his do­cuments is this- While the winds breathe, adore Ecco. This Winde is (as the be­fore-mencioned Iamblicus, by consent of his other fellow- Cabalists sayes) the Symbole of the Breath of God; and Ecco, the Reflection of this diuine breath, or Spirit vpon vs; or (as they interpret it) -the daughter of the diuine voice; which through the beatifying splendor it shedds & diffuses through the Soule, is justly worthy to be re­uerenced and adored by vs. This Ecco descending vpon a Narcissus, or such a Soule as (impurely and vitiously affected) slights, and stops his eares to the Diuine voice, or shutts his harte frō diuine Inspirations, through [Page 111] his being enamour'd of not himselfe, but his owne shadow meerely, [...]d (buried in the ordures of the Sence) followes corporall shadowes, and flyes the light and purity of Intelle­ctuall Beauty, he becoms thence (be­ing dispoyled, (as the great Iamblicus speakes) of his propper, natiue, and celestiall vertue, and ability,) an ear­thy, weake, worthlesse thing, and fit sacrifize for only eternall obliui­on, and the dij inferi; to whom the Auncients (as is before noted) be­queathed and dedicated this their la­zy, stupid, and for-euer-famelesse Narcissus.

FINIS.

Errata.

  • FOl: 2. lin: 7. for than. read then, and so throughout the booke.
  • fol: 3. lin: 12 for hotheaded reade hot-headed.
  • fol: 20. lin: 13. for-it it hath r. it hath.
  • fol: 21. lin: 7. for-intiger, r. integer. in the marginall note ibid: for Baroaldus r. Beroalaus, and for write his praises. r. writ his praises.
  • fo: 22. lin: 20. for. and and graces. r. and graces.
  • fo: 23. lin: 12. for. whither r. whether.
  • fo: 24. lin: vltim: for. are held in the. Poet espetially. r. are held in. the Poet espe [...]ially.
  • fo: 26. lin: 7. for-prefession. r. profession. and 5. lines after for fawning r. fawnings.
  • ibid: lin: 22. for- publicam r. pudicam.
  • fo: 31. lin: 4. for. Homer likewise. r. In Homer likewise.
  • fo: 33. lin: 20. for. a liaue bin as. r. as haue bin a.
  • fo: 36. lin. 2. for than: r. then.
  • fo: 40. lin. vltim: for Rabi Moyses. r. Rabi Moysi [...].
  • fo: 43. lin: 4. for knowledge. r. knowledge.
  • fo: 55. lin. 11. for of them; made. r. of them) mad [...]
  • fo: 61. lin: 1. for. digni [...]. r. dignities.

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