Part 4
_For your sweet beauty daintily transfused With due proportion, throughout every part; What is it but a dance where LOVE hath used His finer cunning, and more curious Art? Where all the Elements themselves impart, And turn, and wind, and mingle with such measure That th' eye that sees it surfeits with the pleasure._
106.
_LOVE in the twinkling of your eyelids danceth, LOVE dances in your pulses and your veins, LOVE, when you sew, your needle's point advanceth, And makes it dance a thousand curious strains Of winding rounds; whereof the form remains To shew that your fair hands can dance the Hey, Which your fine feet would learn as well as they._
107.
_And when your ivory fingers touch the strings Of any silver-sounding instrument, LOVE makes them dance to those sweet murmurings, With busy skill and cunning excellent! O that your feet, those tunes would represent With artificial motions to and fro, That LOVE this Art in every part might shew!_
108.
_Yet your fair soul, which came from heaven above To rule this house_ (_another heaven below_) _With divers powers in harmony doth move; And all the virtues that from her do flow In a round measure, hand in hand do go: Could I now see, as I conceive this dance, Wonder and Love would cast me in a trance._
109.
_The richest jewel in all the heavenly treasure, That ever yet unto the earth was shown, Is Perfect Concord th' only perfect pleasure, That wretched earthborn men have ever known: For many hearts it doth compound in one, That what so one doth will, or speak, or do, With one consent they all agree thereto._
110.
_Concord's true picture shineth in this Art Where divers men and women rankèd be, And every one doth dance a several part, Yet all as one in measure do agree, Observing perfect uniformity: All turn together, all together trace, And all together honour and embrace._
111.
_If they whom sacred Love hath linked in one, Do, as they dance, in all their course of life; Never shall burning grief nor bitter moan, Nor factious difference, nor unkind strife, Arise between the husband and the wife; For whether forth, or back, or round he go, As doth the man, so must the woman do._
112.
_What, if by often interchange of place, Sometimes the woman gets the upper hand? That is but done for more delightful grace, For on that part, she doth not ever stand; But, as the Measures' law doth her command, She wheels about, and, ere the dance doth end, Into her former place she doth transcend._
113.
_But not alone this correspondence meet And uniform consent doth Dancing praise; For Comeliness, the child of Order sweet, Enamels it with her eye-pleasing rays: Fair Comeliness, ten hundred thousand ways, Through Dancing sheds itself, and makes it shine With glorious beauty, and with grace divine._
114.
_For Comeliness is a disposing fair Of things and actions in fit time and place; Which doth in Dancing shew itself most clear When troops confused, which here and there do trace, Without distinguishment or bounded space, By dancing rule, into such ranks are brought, As glads the eye, and ravisheth the thought._
115.
_Then why should Reason judge that reasonless Which is Wit's Offspring, and the work of Art, Image of Concord, and of Comeliness? Who sees a clock moving in every part, A sailing pinnace, or a wheeling cart, But thinks that Reason, ere it came to pass, The first impulsive cause and mover was?_
116.
_Who sees an army all in rank advance, But deems a wise Commander is in place, Which leadeth on that brave victorious dance? Much more in Dancing's Art, in Dancing's grace, Blindness itself may Reason's footsteps trace; For of Love's Maze it is the curious plot, And of Man's Fellowship the true-love knot._
117.
_But if these eyes of yours (Loadstars of Love! Shewing the world's great Dance to your mind's eye) Cannot, with all their demonstrations, move Kind apprehension in your Phantasy Of Dancing's virtue and nobility; How can my barbarous tongue win you thereto, Which heaven's and earth's fair speech could never do?_
118.
_O LOVE! my King! If all my Wit and power Have done you all the service that they can; O be you present, in this present hour, And help your servant and your true liegeman! End that persuasion, which I erst began! For who in praise of Dancing can persuade With such sweet force, as LOVE, which Dancing made?_
119.
LOVE heard his prayer; and swifter than the wind, (Like to a page in habit, face, and speech), He came; and stood ANTINOUS behind, And many secrets of his thoughts did teach. At last a crystal Mirror he did reach Unto his hands, that he with one rash view All forms therein by LOVE'S revealing knew.
120.
And humbly honouring, gave it to the Queen, With this fair speech, _See, fairest Queen!_ quoth he, _The fairest sight that ever shall be seen, And th' only wonder of posterity! The richest work in Nature's treasury! Which she disdains to shew on this world's stage, And thinks it far too good for our rude age._
121.
_But in another world, divided far, In the great fortunate triangled Isle, Thrice twelve degrees removed from the North Star, She will this glorious Workmanship compile, Which she hath been conceiving all this while Since the world's birth; and will bring forth at last, When six and twenty hundred years are past._
122.
PENELOPE the Queen, when she had viewed The strange eye-dazzling admirable sight, Fain would have praised the State and Pulchritude; But she was stricken dumb with wonder quite, Yet her sweet mind retained her thinking might. Her ravished mind in heavenly thoughts did dwell; But what she thought, no mortal tongue can tell.
123.
You, Lady Muse, whom JOVE the Counsellor Begot of MEMORY, Wisdom's Treasuress, To your divining tongue is given a power Of uttering secrets, large and limitless; You can PENELOPE'S strange thoughts express; Which she conceived, and then would fain have told, When she the wondrous Crystal did behold.
124.
Her wingèd thoughts bore up her mind so high As that she weened she saw the glorious throne, Where the bright Moon doth sit in Majesty: A thousand sparkling stars about her shone, But she herself did sparkle more, alone, Than all those thousand beauties would have done, If they had been confounded all in one.
125.
And yet she thought those stars moved in such measure, To do their Sovereign honour and delight, As soothed her mind with sweet enchanting pleasure, Although the various Change amazed her sight, And her weak judgement did entangle quite: Besides, their moving made them shine more clear; As diamonds moved more sparkling do appear.
126.
This was the Picture of her wondrous thought! But who can wonder that her thought was so, Sith VULCAN, King of Fire, that Mirror wrought (Which things to come, present, and past doth know), And there did represent in lively show Our glorious English Court's divine Image, As it should be in this our Golden Age?
[_See duplicate ending from this point on the next pages._]
127.
Away, TERPSICHORE, light Muse, away! And come, URANIA, Prophetess divine! Come, Muse of Heaven, my burning thirst allay! Even now, for want of sacred drink, I pine: In heavenly moisture dip this pen of mine, And let my mouth with nectar overflow, For I must more than mortal glory show!
128.
O that I had HOMER'S abundant vein, I would hereof another Ilias make! Or else the Man of Mantua's charmèd brain, In whose large throat great JOVE the thunder spake! O that I could old GEOFFREY'S Muse awake, Or borrow COLIN'S fair heroic style, Or smooth my rhymes with _DELIA'S_ servant's file!
129.
O could I, sweet Companion, sing like you Which of a _Shadow_, under a shadow sing! Or like fair SALVES' sad lover true! Or like the Bay, the marigold's darling, Whose sudden verse, Love covers with his wing! O that your brains were mingled all with mine, T' enlarge my Wit for this great work divine!
130.
Yet ASTROPHEL might one for all suffice. Whose supple Muse camelion-like doth change Into all forms of excellent device: So might the Swallow, whose swift Muse doth range Through rare _Idæas_ and inventions strange, And ever doth enjoy her joyful Spring, And Sweeter than the Nightingale doth sing.
131.
O that I might that singing Swallow hear, To whom I owe my service and my love! His sugared tunes would so enchant mine ear, And in my mind such sacred fury move, As I should knock at heaven's great gate above, With my proud rhymes; while, of this heavenly state, I do aspire the Shadow to relate.
FINIS.
[_In later editions a different ending of the poem was substituted for the above, from after Stanza 126, thus:_
* * * * *
_Here are wanting some stanzas describing Queen ELIZABETH.
Then follow these:_
127.
Her brighter dazzling beams of Majesty Were laid aside: for she vouchsafed awhile With gracious, cheerful, and familiar eye, Upon the Revels of her Court to smile, For so Time's journey she doth oft beguile: Like sight no mortal eye might elsewhere see So full of State, Art, and variety.
128.
For of her Barons brave, and Ladies fair (Who had they been elsewhere, most fair had been), Many an incomparable lovely pair With hand-in-hand were interlinkèd seen, Making fair honour to their sovereign Queen: Forward they paced, and did their pace apply To a most sweet and solemn melody.
129.
So subtle and curious was the measure With such unlooked-for change in every strain, As that PENELOPE rapt with sweet pleasure Weened she beheld the true proportion plain Of her own web, weaved and unweaved again: But that her Art was somewhat less, she thought, And on a mere ignoble subject wrought.
130.
For here, like to the silkworm's industry, Beauty itself out of itself did weave So rare a work, and of such subtlety, As did all eyes entangle and deceive; And in all minds a strange impression leave. In this sweet labyrinth did CUPID stray, And never had the power to pass away.
131.
As when the Indians, neighbours of the Morning, In honour of the cheerful rising Sun, With pearl and painted plumes themselves adorning, A solemn stately measure have begun; The god well pleased with that fair honour done, Sheds forth his beams, and doth their faces kiss With that immortal glorious face of his:
132.
So * * * *]
Nosce teipsum!
_This Oracle expounded in two Elegies._
1. Of Human Knowledge.
2. Of the Soul of Man, and the Immortality thereof.
_LONDON:_
Printed by RICHARD FIELD, for JOHN STANDISH.
1599.
[This work was thus registered for publication at Stationers' Hall: 10 Aprilis [1599].
JOHN STANDYSHE
Entred for his copie A booke called _Nosce Teipsum The oracle expounded in two Elegies._ 1. _of human kno[w]ledge._ 2. _of the soule of Man and th[e] immortality thereof._
Master PONSONBYES
[_the junior Warden_ _at the time_] hand is to yt.
This is aucthorised vnder the hand of the L[ord] Bysshop of LONDON PROVYED that yt must not be printed without his L[ordships] hand to yt again.
_Transcript &c._ iii. 142. _Ed._ 1876.
To my most gracious dread Sovereign.
_To that clear Majesty which in the North Doth like another sun in glory rise; Which standeth fixt, yet spreads her heavenly worth Loadstone to hearts, and loadstar to all eyes:_
_Like heaven in all; like th' earth in this alone, That though great States by her support do stand, Yet she herself supported is of none, But by the finger of th' Almighty's hand:_
_To the divinest and the richest Mind, Both by Art's purchase and by Nature's dower, That ever was from heaven to earth confined, To shew the utmost of a creature's power:_
_To that great Spirit which doth great kingdoms move, The sacred spring, whence Right and Honour streams, Distilling Virtue, shedding Peace and Love In every place, as CYNTHIA sheds her beams:_
_I offer up some sparkles of that fire, Whereby we Reason, Live, and Move, and Be. These sparks, by nature, evermore aspire; Which makes them to so high a Highness flee._
_Fair Soul, since to the fairest body knit, You give such lively life, such quick'ning power. Such sweet celestial influence to it As keeps it still in youth's immortal flower;_
_(As where the sun is present all the year, And never doth retire his golden ray, Needs must the Spring be everlasting there, And every season, like the month of May)_
_O many, many years, may you remain A happy Angel to this happy land! Long, long may you on earth our Empress reign! Ere you in heaven, a glorious angel stand._
_Stay long, sweet Spirit, ere than to heaven depart, Which mak'st each place a heaven, wherein thou art._
_Her Majesty's least and unworthiest subject,_
_JOHN DAVIES._
Of Human Knowledge.
Why did my parents send me to the Schools, That I with knowledge might enrich my mind? Since the Desire to Know first made men fools, And did corrupt the root of all mankind.
For when GOD's hand had written in the hearts Of the First Parents, all the rules of good; So that their skill infused, did pass all Arts That ever were, before, or since the Flood;
And when their Reason's eye was sharp and clear, And, as an eagle can behold the sun, Could have approached the Eternal Light as near As th'intellectual angels could have done:
Even then, to them the Spirit of Lies suggests That they were blind, because they saw not Ill; And breathes into their incorrupted breasts, A curious Wish, which did corrupt their Will.
For that same Ill they straight desired to know, Which Ill (being nought but a defect of Good); In all GOD's works, the Devil could not show, While Man, their Lord, in his perfection stood.
So that themselves were first to _do_ the Ill Ere they thereof the _knowledge_ could attain; Like him, that knew not poison's power to kill, Until, by tasting it, himself was slain.
Even so, by tasting of that fruit forbid, Where they sought Knowledge, they did Error find; Ill they desired to know, and Ill, they did; And to give Passion eyes, made Reason blind.
For then their minds did first in Passion see, Those wretched Shapes of Misery and Woe, Of Nakedness, of Shame, of Poverty, Which then their own experience made them know.
But then grew Reason dark, that she no more Could the fair forms of Good and Truth discern: Bats they became, that eagles were before; And this they got by their Desire to Learn.
But we, their wretched offspring, what do we? Do not we still taste of the fruit forbid? Whiles, with fond fruitless curiosity, In books profane we seek for knowledge hid?
What is this Knowledge but the sky-stol'n fire For which the Thief still chained in ice doth sit, And which the poor rude Satyr did admire, And needs would kiss, but burnt his lips with it?
What is it, but the cloud of empty rain, Which when JOVE'S guest embraced, he monsters got? Or the false pails, which oft being filled with pain, Received the water, but retained it not?
Shortly, what is it but the fiery Coach Which the Youth sought, and sought his death withal? Or the Boy's wings, which when he did approach The sun's hot beams, did melt, and let him fall?
And yet, alas, when all our lamps are burned, Our bodies wasted, and our spirits spent; When we have all the learned volumes turned, Which yield men's wits, both help and ornament:
What can we know? or what can we discern? When Error chokes the windows of the Mind; The divers Forms of things how can we learn, That have been, ever from our birthday, blind?
When Reason's lamp (which, like the sun in sky, Throughout man's little world her beams did spread) Is now become a Sparkle, which doth lie Under the ashes, half extinct, and dead;
How can we hope, that through the Eye and Ear, This dying Sparkle, in this cloudy place, Can re-collect these beams of knowledge clear, Which were infused in the first minds, by grace?
So might the heir, whose father hath in play Wasted a thousand pounds of ancient rent, By painful earning of one groat a day, Hope to restore the patrimony spent.
The wits that dived most deep, and soared most high, Seeking man's powers, have found his weakness such; "Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth fly; We learn so little, and forget so much."
For this, the wisest of all moral men Said, _He knew nought, but that he nought did know!_ And the great mocking Master, mocked not then, When he said, _Truth was buried deep below!_
For how may we, to other's things attain, When none of us, his own Soul understands? For which, the Devil mocks our curious brain, When, _Know thyself!_ his oracle commands.
For why should we the busy Soul believe, When boldly she concludes of that and this? When of herself, she can no judgement give, Nor How, nor Whence, nor Where, nor What she is?
All things without, which round about we see, We seek to know, and have therewith to do; But that, whereby we Reason, Live, and Be, Within ourselves, we strangers are thereto.
We seek to know the moving of each sphere, And the strange cause of th' ebbs and floods of Nile; But of that Clock, which in our breasts we bear, The subtle motions we forget the while!
We that acquaint ourselves with every zone, And pass both tropics, and behold both poles; When we come home, are to ourselves unknown And unacquainted still with our own souls!
We study Speech, but others we persuade; We Leechcraft learn, but others cure with it; We interpret Laws which other men have made, But read not those which in our hearts are writ.
Is it because the Mind is like the Eye, (Through which it gathers knowledge by degrees) Whose rays reflect not but spread outwardly, Not seeing itself, when other things it sees?
No, doubtless, for the Mind can backward cast Upon herself, her understanding light; But she is so corrupt, and so defac't, As her own image doth herself affright.
As in the fable of that Lady fair, Which, for her lust, was turned into a cow; When thirsty to a stream she did repair, And saw herself transformed (she wist not how;)
At first, she startles! then, she stands amazed! At last, with terror, she from thence doth fly, And loathes the wat'ry glass wherein she gazed, And shuns it still, though she for thirst do die.
Even so, Man's Soul, which did God's Image bear, And was, at first, fair, good, and spotless pure; Since with her sins, her beauties blotted were, Doth, of all sights, her own sight least endure.
For even, at first reflection, she espies Such strange CHIMERAS and such monsters there! Such toys! such antics! and such vanities! As she retires, and shrinks for shame and fear.
And as the man loves least at home to be, That hath a sluttish house, haunted with sprites; So she, impatient her own faults to see, Turns from herself, and in strange things delights.
For this, few _know themselves_! for merchants broke, View their estate with discontent and pain; And seas are troubled, when they do revoke Their flowing waves into themselves again.
And while the face of outward things we find, Pleasing and fair, agreeable and sweet; These things transport and carry out the mind, That with herself, herself can never meet.
Yet if Affliction once her wars begin, And threat the feeble Sense with sword and fire; The Mind contracts herself, and shrinketh in, And to herself she gladly doth retire,
As spiders touched, seek their web's inmost part; As bees in storms, unto their hives return; As blood in danger, gathers to the heart; And men seek towns, when foes the country burn.
If ought can teach us ought, Affliction's looks (Making us look into ourselves so near) Teach us to _know ourselves_, beyond all books, Or all the learned Schools that ever were!
This Mistress, lately, plucked me by the ear, And many a golden lesson hath me taught, Hath made my Senses quick, and Reason clear, Reformed my Will, and rectified my Thought.
So do the winds and thunders cleanse the air; So working lees settle and purge the wine; So lopt and pruned trees do flourish fair; So doth the fire the drossy gold refine.
Neither MINERVA, nor the learned Muse, Nor Rules of Art, nor Precepts of the Wise, Could in my brain, those beams of skill infuse, As but the glance of this Dame's angry eyes.
She, within lists, my ranging mind hath brought, That now beyond myself I list not go; Myself am Centre of my circling thought, Only Myself, I study, learn, and know.
I _know_ my Body's of so frail a kind, As force without, fevers within, can kill; I _know_ the heavenly nature of my Mind; But 'tis corrupted, both in Wit and Will.
I _know_ my Soul hath power to know all things, Yet is she blind and ignorant in all; I _know_ I am one of Nature's little kings, Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall!
I _know_ my Life's a pain, and but a span; I _know_ my Sense is mocked with every thing: And to conclude, I _know_ myself a Man; Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing!
Of the Soul of Man; and the Immortality thereof.
The Lights of Heaven, which are the world's fair eyes, Look down into the world, the world to see; And as they turn, or wander in the skies, Survey all things, that on this Centre be.
And yet the Lights which in my Tower do shine, Mine Eyes! (which view all objects, nigh and far) Look not into this little world of mine, Nor see my face, wherein they fixed are.