No More Learning

Ed. _]

[48 all wayes _1719:_ alwayes _1633-69_]

[50-1

'twas Religion,
Yet you neglected not Discretion.

_S96_]

[53 do covet] doth covet _1669_, _O'F_, _S96_]




_To the Countesse of_ Bedford.

_Begun in France but never perfected. _


Though I be _dead_, and buried, yet I have
(Living in you,) Court enough in my grave,
As oft as there I thinke my selfe to bee,
So many resurrections waken mee.
That thankfullnesse your favours have begot 5
In mee, embalmes mee, that I doe not rot.
This season as 'tis Easter, as 'tis spring,
Must both to growth and to confession bring
My thoughts dispos'd unto your influence; so,
These verses bud, so these confessions grow. 10
First I confesse I have to others lent
Your flock, and over prodigally spent
Your treasure, for since I had never knowne
Vertue or beautie, but as they are growne
In you, I should not thinke or say they shine, 15
(So as I have) in any other Mine.
Next I confesse this my confession,
For, 'tis some fault thus much to touch upon
Your praise to you, where half rights seeme too much,
And make your minds sincere complexion blush. 20
Next I confesse my'impenitence, for I
Can scarce repent my first fault, since thereby
Remote low Spirits, which shall ne'r read you,
May in lesse lessons finde enough to doe,
By studying copies, not Originals, 25
_Desunt caetera. _


[To the Countesse _&c. _ _1633-69_ (_following in 1635-69_ That
unripe side _&c. _, _p. _ 417, _and_ If her disdaine _&c. _, _p.
_
430), _O'F_]

[5 begot] forgot _1633 some copies_]

[6 embalmes mee, _Ed_: embalmes mee; _1633-69_

rot. _Ed_: rot; _1633-69_]

[9 influence; _Ed_: influence, _1633-69_]

[10 grow. _Ed_: grow; _1633-69_]

[14 or _1633-39_: and _1650-69_]

[16 Mine. _Ed:_ Mine; _1633-69_]

[18 upon _Ed:_ upon, _1633-69_]




_A Letter to the Lady_ Carey, _and M^rs_ Essex Riche, _From_ Amyens.


MADAME,

Here where by All All Saints invoked are,
'Twere too much schisme to be singular,
And 'gainst a practise generall to warre.

Yet turning to Saincts, should my'humility
To other Sainct then you directed bee, 5
That were to make my schisme, heresie.

Nor would I be a Convertite so cold,
As not to tell it; If this be too bold,
Pardons are in this market cheaply sold.

Where, because Faith is in too low degree, 10
I thought it some Apostleship in mee
To speake things which by faith alone I see.

That is, of you, who are a firmament
Of virtues, where no one is growne, or spent,
They'are your materials, not your ornament. 15

Others whom wee call vertuous, are not so
In their whole substance, but, their vertues grow
But in their humours, and at seasons show.

For when through tastlesse flat humilitie
In dow bak'd men some harmelessenes we see, 20
'Tis but his _flegme_ that's _Vertuous_, and not Hee:

Soe is the Blood sometimes; who ever ran
To danger unimportun'd, he was than
No better then a _sanguine_ Vertuous man.

So cloysterall men, who, in pretence of feare 25
All contributions to this life forbeare,
Have Vertue in _Melancholy_, and only there.

Spirituall _Cholerique_ Crytiques, which in all
Religions find faults, and forgive no fall,
Have, through this zeale, Vertue but in their Gall. 30

We'are thus but parcel guilt; to Gold we'are growne
When Vertue is our Soules complexion;
Who knowes his Vertues name or place, hath none.

Vertue'is but aguish, when 'tis severall,
By occasion wak'd, and circumstantiall. 35
True vertue is _Soule_, Alwaies in all deeds _All_.