L.A. Seneca the philosopher, his booke of consolation to Marcia. Translated into an English poem

L. A. SENECA OF CONSOLATION TO MARCIA .

Cap. 1 BVt that I knew thee Marcia to be , As from their faults , from Womens weaknesse free ; And that thy manners argue thou wert sent , To re-inforce some ancient president , I nothing had against thy griefe attempted , Since from the like , even men are not exempted . Nor could I hope the time now so unfit , The fault so great , and thou the Judge of it , That any reason could thy will importune , To be appeas'd , and to forgive thy fortune ; But thy knowne courage , and the large extent Of thy try'd vertues , made me confident . 'T is manifest how in thy Fathers case , Thou shew'dst thy selfe , who in thy love had place , As ample as thy Children then alive , Save that thou would'st not he should them survive , And yet that 's doubtfull too , great piety Against things fit , reserves a liberty : Thy Fathers death , as much as in thee lay , Thou hinderd'st , when thou saw'st no other way , For him t' escape the shamefull servitude , Which through Sejanus hate had soone ensude , Thou favour'dst not his purpose , but content To yeeld thy selfe , and privately lament ; Swallow'dst thy groanes , yet never hadst the art , In cheerefull lookes to hide a wofull heart : And this thou didst , when throgh the wretched times , 'T was goodnesse to forbeare unnaturall crimes ; But when an alteration made truth seeme Somewhat more safe , thou didst indeed redeeme Thy Sire from death , by publishing the wit , Which valiantly with his owne blood he writ : Well maist thou therefore thy great merits boast , For Romes Records , whereof most part were lost : Posterity that to his endlesse glory , May freely read an uncorrupted story , Shall render thankes , which he shall likewise give , For that through thee his memory shall live , And flourish here , whil'st any of our heires Shall be desirous to revolve th' affaires Of their fore-fathers , or shall seeke t' inherit The knowledge of a perfect Roman spirit . Whilst any shall require to know a man , Free in thought , word , and action , who even then , When all mens neckes so slavishly did beare Sejanus yoke , was wholly void of feare . It had been dammage to the publike weale , T' have suffer'd wilfull envie to conceale . A worke with two such eminencies fraught , Both Eloquence and free revealed thought . Hee 's read , and in mens hands and hearts abides , Where boldly he times menacings derides : But those vile miscreants of whom there needs No memory , but for their damned deeds , Shall nere obtaine of any tongue to be Hereafter nam'd , though to their infamie . These acts of thine forbad me to looke backe Upon thy Sexe , to weigh what that might lacke ; Or to respect thy lookes , where griefe doth rest , And is thereof , as at the first , possest : Behold how plainely I intend to deale , That doe not on thy passions closely steale , But have reviv'd old woes , would'st thou be sure This may be heal'd , th' hast seene as great a cure . Let others then deceitfull med'cines borrow , I am resolv'd to skirmish with thy sorrow , And if thou 'lt heare me speake , to make thee know How to dry up those teares , that now more flow From custome then from reason , which I meant , And gladly would performe with thy consent , But if thou shalt in wilfulnesse persist , I le do 't perforce though thou thy selfe resist , Although thou hast determin'd to imbrace , And hug thy sorrow in thy dead sonnes place . But what good can there from our labour rise ? All meanes have been assay'd , thy friends , allies , And others whose authority might threat Thy disobedience , have been knowne t' intreat , For Learnings cause , and for thy fathers sake , Yet none could profit longer than they spake . Yea time it selfe , Natures best remedy , That heales all woes , hath lost his force in thee . Three yeeres are now expir'd , and yet at length , Thy griefe decayes no jot , but gathers strength : Custome hath so prevail'd , that now 't is growne , To make thee thinke it shame to cease thy moane : For as all vices entering our brest Take root , if they at first be not supprest ; So this and such like wilfull discontent , Raging against it selfe , findes nourishment In its owne bane , sorrow that knowes no measure , Becomes the wretched creatures deadly pleasure . I therefore could have wisht , I had begun This cure betimes , it had been easely done ; A wound yet greene , the Surgeon may be bold To seare it and to search it , but growne old , And to an ulcer bred , he must be faine To do 't with more advice and greater paine ; I cannot , as I might have done at first , Heale up thy griefe with ease , it must be burst .

Cap. 2 I Know that such as to advise intend , Begin with Precepts , with Examples end , I must invert this order , for there 's need , That diversly with divers we proceed ; Reason prevailes with some , others must heare Of famous persons , that their mindes may reare , To things of splendour , therefore I le produce Two maine examples proper for our use , And both of thine owne Sexe and of this age ; The first 's of one that unto sorrowes rage , Expos'd her selfe ; the second 's of another , Who in a greater losse did wisely smother Her passions , not permitting them to sway , But soone reduc'd her thoughts into the way . These were no meaner pers'nages in life , Then great Augustus sister and his wife ; Both lost their sonnes young and of faire renowne , Equall in hope t' have worne th' imperiall Crowne : Octavia lost Marcellus , Caesars joy , Whom as a helpe he had begun t' imploy In state affaires , he was a Youth of rare Conceit and Judgement , and past all compare , Weighing his yeeres and fortunes for his gift , Of continence and well-beseeming thrift : Patient of toyle , to no delights betray'd , Able to beare what ere his Vncle laid , ( Or as I may so say without the guilt Of flattery ) upon his shoulders built , Whose choife was not with partiall conceit , For sure he was a base for any weight . So deepely did the Mother apprehend This Princes death , that she would never lend An eare to any comfort , but was all Her life time such as at his Funerall ; Griefe did enthrall her thoughts , which I le not say She durst not , but refus'd to disobey ; Accounting it a second deprivation , To cease from her resolved lamentation , No picture ever of her dearest Sonne Would she behold , but his remembrance shun , Envy'ng all Mothers , and was most offended With Livia , to whom she saw descended , The happinesse she lookt t' have cal'd her owne , Her whole desire was still to be alone , Flying the light , and minding not the layes That were composed in Marcellus praise . And carelesse of all publike rites , would hate The too much glory of his Brothers state , Whereof toth end she might her selfe deprive , Shee seemed then to be interr'd alive . Nor could her Daughters bringing to her sight , Their Children daily , change her mournefull plight , Who deem'd her selfe , to their reproach bereft , Although she saw them all in safety left .

Cap. 3 SO one after this was Livia's patience try'd , By the like fatall blow , for Drusus dy'd , A famous Captaine then , and like to be Inheritor of Caesars dignitie ; Who with successefull fortune did invade The heart of Germanie , and there display'd The Roman Ensignes , where the Roman name Was hardly knowne , so freely was his fame Acknowledg'd by his very enemies , That they admir'd his daring enterprise , And in his sicknesse mutuall greetings sent , Scarse wishing that was most expedient : And at his death caus'd for his Countries sake , Came people from all quarters to partake Of Funerall Duties , who in great remorse , Did Triumph-like to Rome conduct the Coarse . His Mother , as each tender Parent wishes , Had not the meanes to enjoy his latest kisses ; But waiting on the Body many a mile , Was as she went by every flaming pile , So often put in mind of her dead Sonne , Yet she when once the obsequies were done , Him and her sorrow buried in one Grave , And wept no more than decencie might crave , Or then became great Caesars Majestie , And therefore ceased not to magnifie The Acts of Drusus , wheresoere she came , And willingly to speake and heare his name . Whereas none could make mention of the other , But it begat new sorrow in the Mother . Choose then by which Example thou 'lt be led , If by the first , esteeme thy selfe but dead ; All Children will avoid thee , and thy sight As ominous , all Mothers will affright ; No solace will seeme fit , thou 'lt hate the Sunne , And curse thy yeeres that will no faster runne , And which is worst , and most against thy mind , Knowne in the better part , the world may find , And by thy carriage plainly will descry , Thou wouldst no longer live , yet canst not dye . But if this famous Queene thou 'lt imitate , Thou shalt not dwell in woe , nor macerate Thy selfe with cares , 't is madnesse to increase Our owne regret and hinder our owne peace ; That temper which in thee hath erst beene knowne , Thou 'lt keepe , for modesty in griefe is showne ; And even the Youth himselfe worthy of rest , By glad remembrance thou wilt make more blest .

Cap. 4 I Will not by more powerfull presidents , Attempt to make thee beare humane events , Inhumanely , to dry a Mothers eyes , Vpon the day of her sonnes obsequies ; I le put the case , the question is we see , Whether that griefe should great or endlesse be ; I make no doubt but thou do'st most approve Livia's example , whom thou well didst love . Shee calls thee to her counsels , who at first , When sorrowes raging fury was at worst , Was willing for her comfort to conferre , With Learned Arêus the Philosopher , Which she confest afforded much reliefe , More than the Roman people , whom her griefe , Would have dejected , more than Caesars state Which teares of friends ought not to aggravate , Crazed already with that fatall blow , More than Tiberius , whose deserts did show , That in that great and generall distresse , Shee was in nothing but in number lesse . Thus Arêus began ( as I suppose ) And with his due observer thus did close : Vnto this day ( for what I ere could see ) Who still have kept thy Husband company , And not your publique businesses alone , But even your priuate consultations knowne : Thou hast endeavour'd ( Livia ) to commit Nothing that justly might be thought unfit , And not in great things onely , but in small , Th' hast taken care , to doe no act at all , That the bold censurer of Princes , Fame , Should need to give thee pardon for the same ; And sure I thinke that no one thing doth grace , Such as are set in high and publique place , More , than to give free pardon unto many , And yet themselves not aske the same of any : Wherefore observe herein thy wonted guise , Doe naught thou 'dst wish undone , or otherwise .

Cap. 5 NExt I intreat thee that thou wouldst not be , Harsh to those friends that come to visit thee , Who as thou seest are doubtfull what to doe , Whether to speake of Drusus , yea or no , Least silence should deprive him of his due , Or mention of him , griefe in thee renue . Wee when wee meet , his memory retaine , But before thee in silence deepe remaine . Thus want'st thou great contentment , thy Sonnes praise , Which doubtlesse thou wouldst with thy hazard raise , If so thou might'st to all eternitie , Wherefore permit , or rather call to thee , Such as are willing to repeat his Name , And open thou thine eares to heare the same , And doe not thinke it irkesome , like to those , That all advice part of their ill suppose . Th' hast hitherto the other part intended , And in the worst thy fortune apprehended ; Not looking on the pleasures of thy Sonne , His life , his love , his studies well begunne . Thy thought insists on death , the last of things , Whereto , as that were not enough it brings All that it can collect , as if thereby , Thou wouldst be famous for thy misery .

Cap. 6 THinke with thy selfe that courage is not showne , In actions of prosperity alone , Nor can we well discerne a Pilots skill , When winds blow faire , or when the Seas are still ; It is adversity that must expresse A constancie of minde , and not successe . Stoope not therefore , but beare thy selfe upright , And though at first the noyse may thee affright , Endure whatever fortune hath design'd , Shee 's nere o're-matcht but by an equall mind . Hee shew'd her then her Sonne that did survive , And all her dead Sonnes Children yet alive . Behold thine owne case Marcia ; Arêus came To comfort thee , though in another name : And that I may not flatter thee , admit Thy losse so great , that none can equall it ; If teares can Fate o're-come , let 's all consent To spend the day in mournefull languishment ; Let anguish all night long deny us rest , And let our hands assault our wounded brest , Let furie seize our face , and let all kind Of cruelty be us'd that griefe can find : But if no sorrow can the dead recall , If fate be ever fixt , not mov'd at all , And Death what once it gets , doth still retaine , Let passions cease as altogether vaine ; And let 's be wise , not suffering our sense , To be transported with this violence : It is a shame to see a Pilot quit His necessary charge , and to remit His floating ship unto the Tempests rage , Not daring in the storme himselfe t' ingage ; Whereas he praise deserves that holds the helme , And ship-wrackt , strives till Seas him overwhelme .

Cap. 9 BUt it is naturall , when deare friends dye , To mourne I yeeld , if done with modesty ; And not then only , but when urgent reason Requires their absence from us for a season ; The firmest thoughts at parting will relent , And with a kind of griefe the same resent : But now opinion hath suggested more Then Nature ere requir'd of us before ; Behold the passions of bruit beasts , how strong And violent they are , yet last not long . The Cow but for a time is heard to low , And Mares to neigh , and wander to and fro , Wild Beasts pursuing the vast Woods about The foot-steps of their young , to find them out , Doe oft review their spoiled Dens in rage , But in short time their wrath doth quite asswage . Birds haunt their empty nests in dolefull plight , Yet soone appeas'd , resume their wonted flight . No creature so bewailes his young ones losse , As man , who even nourisheth his crosse , Lamenting not according to the ill He feeleth , but according to his will . And that it may appeare thus to inthrall Our selves to griefe , not to be naturall ; First , Women are more subject to such passions Than men , the wild and barbarous Nations More than the civill , th' ignorant and rude More than such as with learning are endu'd , Whilst Nature holds the selfe-same force in all , That which is various is not naturall : Fire burnes all people at all times alike Both men and women , irons force doth strike , And cut all bodies of like mixture , why ? Nature can never change her property . Want , losse of Children grievously affect This , or that man , whil'st some the same neglect : As custome and opinion make them seeme , More or lesse terrible , so men them deeme .

Cap. 8 YEa further what is naturall abides , But time consumes all sadnesse , and provides A remedy by sorrow-healing age , Against the most perverse unbridled rage . Thy griefe continues great , growne hard of late , Not furious as at first , but obstinate ; Yet that by slow degrees an end shall find , All businesse will at present ease thy mind . Now thou dost watch that naught might thee relieve , But whether thou command'st thy selfe to grieve , Or whether onely thou permit'st the same , Is that which more or lesse augments thy blame . How much more would it to thine honour tend , Rather to give , than to receive an end ? Rather to quit thy sorrow , than to stay , Vntill against thy will it we are away .

Cap. 9 WHence comes it then , if not from Natures will , That we so grievously bewaile our ill ? The reason is , we never doe present Mischances to our thoughts before th' event , And as it were exempted from such crosses , No warning take by others frequent losses . How many Funerals passe by our doore ? Yet we on death thinke not a jot the more . While others Children goe unto the grave , We thinke what honours , riches , ours shall have . How many rich men have we seene grow poore , Yet thinke of no decay of our owne store ? Needs must we therefore tumble to the ground , What strikes us unawares doth most confound : Mishaps fall lightly on us , when our care Foreseeing them hath taught us to prepare . But would'st thou know thy danger , that the Dart That wounds another , might have pierc't thy heart ? As one unarm'd approaching neere a wall , Whence shot and stones in great abundance fall , Expect a wound , and when the Arrowes flye Before thee and behind thee , boldly cry , Fortune I am prepar'd , and though I see Thou hitst another , yet thou aim'dst at me . Who is there , that his owne hath lookt upon , As a thing perishing and quickly gone ? Who is there , that before-hand was content To thinke of want , of death , or banishment ? Or who is he , that having been advis'd What may befall , hath not the same despis'd , And wisht it on his foe , or on the head Of him perhaps that so admonished : But strucken once , will then cry out alas , I never thought it would have come to passe ; As if one could be safe against what may , And doth to many happen every day . It is a Verse that Publius Name advanceth , That may to all that unto one man chanceth . One hath his Children lost , thine slaine may be , This mans condemn'd , thine innocence not free . This errour doth our misery procure , Enduring what we thought not to endure : Whereas the fore-sight of a future blow , Doth mitigate the force of present woe .

Cap. 10 THese goods of fortune that about us shine , As Children , Honours , Riches , and a fine And noble Wife , faire Palaces , and store Of Suitors , that attend us at our doore , With all things else that are from fortune sent , Are ornaments not given us , but lent , Our Scene therewith is for the time adorn'd , Then to the owners backe they are return'd : Some stay a day , some more , few to the end , We cannot boast them ours , what others lend ; The use is ours during the owners will , What 's borrow'd for uncertaine time must still Be ready without strife to be repay'd , No debtor should his creditor upbray'd , We must our Parents then so love , and those Who by the Law of Nature we suppose Will out-live us , as of their lives increase , We had no promise of the shortest lease : And all these humane things must so receive , As at the instant we the same should leave : Let 's not deferre , but take our present pleasure Of Parents , Children , and of worldly treasure , For Death 's at hand , and nothings in our power , To hold ( a day were too much time ) an houre , There is a sudden change of all delight , Our life is not a passage but a flight . Know then if thou beway lest thy Sonnes death , The fault was in the time that gave him breath , 'T was then decree'd , on those conditions he Came forth thy wombe , and first was given thee . Into her Kingdome Fortune all men brings , To suffer worthy and unworthy things , When they all kind of misery endure , Some feele the fire for punishment or cure , To some she makes the Sea become their graves , And having struggled with the raging waves , She doth not drive them to the shore at last , But into some Sea-Monsters belly cast , Others with sicknesse wasted she doth hold , Long between life and death , and uncontrol'd , Using her wretched vassals at her pleasure , In punishments and favours keepes no measure . What need we then the parts of life lament , When as the whole in misery is spent ; New unexpected mischiefs on us seize , Before that we old sorrowes can appease , Thou therefore must thy passions still inure , T' endure those things that thou canst least endure : And equally thy constant thoughts divide 'Twixt present ill , and that which may betide .

Cap. 11 WHence then proceeds this strange oblivion Of thine and all the worlds condition ? Thou mortall art , and mortals hast brought forth ; How couldst thou hope , a body fram'd of earth Subject to chance , to sicknesse and to paine , Could solid , and eternall things containe . Thy Sonne 's departed , hastned to that end , To which all those that now survive him bend : Even all those troopes that wrangle at the barre , That fill the Theaters , that prostrate are In Temples , death at sundry times doth strike , The honour'd and despis'd she maketh like . Apollo's Oracle thou must fulfill , Know thine owne selfe it is the chiefest skill . What 's man ? a vessell broken with a knock , Notable to endure a common shock : By nature weake , on others aide depending , And in his chiefest strength himselfe defending Against a Savage Beast , becomes her prey , His body is compos'd of mire and clay , Though nere so neat , and comely to behold , Impatient of toyle , of heat , or cold , Whom very ease and rest consumes , and whom The sustenance he takes doth overcome , Dying as well with surfeit as with want , Whose soule suspitious of her guard can scant Be woo'd to stay , but oft leapes out for feare , When as a suddaine noyse doth strike the eare . Why doe we wonder at the death of one ? When as the same can be escapt by none : There needs no great adoe , the smell , the taste , Watching , and wearinesse , mans life doth waste ; Humours and meates that doe maintaine his breath , Become at length the causes of his death , Where ere he goes , his weaknesse he may find , In change of Aire , of Water , and of Wind Not us'd unto , in every thing appeares The frailty of his life begun in teares . And yet what Tumults doth this vile wretch move ? What thoughts he harbours in him , farre above His seely reach , and how doth he devise To Childrens Children perpetuities : And while hee 's busi'd in his vaine pretence , Death unexpected comes and takes him hence , And that which we call age , is at the most The course of some few yeeres , that swiftly post .

Cap. 12 TEll me ( O Marcia ) if at least there be A reason of the griefe which troubles thee , Whether the same thy dammage doe respect , Or most on thy deceased sonne reflect ; Is it that thou no pleasure yet hast gain'd , Or that thou might'st , if he had still remain'd ? If 't be confest none hitherto t' have had , Thy losse then doubtlesse is not halfe so bad . Men have those things more willingly forsaken , Wherein they have but little pleasure taken . But if thou say'st th' hadst joy in him before , Give thankes for that , grudge not t' have had no more . His very education was gaines , Sufficient for all thy care and paines , Vnlesse thou 't say that those which nourish whelps And little Birds , with all such flattering helps Of divers minds , doe in the touch , or sight , Or fawning of mute creatures take delight , And that our childrens education , Is not sufficient fruit thereof alone . Then though his labour , diligence , and wit Did not redound unto thy benefit , Yet certainely some fruit from hence doth grow , T' have had him once , and to have lov'd him so . But he might have increa'st in yeeres , and worth , 'T is better yet than not t' have brought him forth , For were it in our choise , whether that we Would not at all or not long happy be , We should desire , rather than none , t' accept A benefit that could not long be kept : Doubtlesse thou wouldst not wish t' have had a Son , Whose ill conditions and lewd courses run , Would have but made him beare the empty name , Rather than thine that so adorn'd the same . A young man quickly wise , and soone devout , A husband , and a father soone , and out Of knowledge of his worth , soone made a Priest , And in all good things else as quickly blest . No great felicity can long remaine , Men may perhaps a Common good retaine , The Gods , who length of dayes to him deny'd , With ages full perfection that supply'd . Nor canst thou say , that thou alone by Fate Art thus design'd to be unfortunate ; Looke round about , and thou shalt easely find In every place examples of this kind ; Captaines , and Princes , yea as Poets write , The Gods themselves are not exempted quite ; Which they the rather would have us beleeve , That we with such partakers lesse might grieve . Looke round I say , and see if thou canst spy A house afflicted with such misery , That doth-not find a kind of ease , to know Another plunged in a greater woe . Though I of thee have no such ill conceit To thinke that others woes should thine abate , To heare of many mourners is at best But envious comfort to a mournefull brest , Yet some I will repeat , not to th' intent To shew that this to man is incident , For that were folly , but to shew how some By bearing , have afflictions overcome . And herein Lucius Sylla shall be first , Who lost his Sonne , which did not slacke his thirst Of vengeance to his foes , nor any way His fury to the Citizens allay ; But after his great losse as fully bore The Sir-name Happy , as he did before , And on mens ruines building his successe , Their hatred his despis'd , and scorn'd no lesse The very env●e of the Gods , whose crime It was that Sylla to that height did clime . Yet here I will not censure but let passe As yet a thing uniudg'd what Sylla was , Although his foes confesse to his renowne He both tooke up Armes well , and laid them downe : I onely prove the same not ill to be , That may concurre with great felicity . And therefore let not Greece too much admire Her Xenophon , who at the holy fire And as he was about his Sacrifice , Of his Sonnes death received sure advise , Who onely bidding then the musicke cease , And taking from his head the Crowne , made peace With all his rising passions instantly , And so accomplisht the solemnity .

Cap. 13 OUr owne high Priest Puluillus did the same , To whom the tidings of his Sonnes death came , Even in the midst of that most solemne state , When he the Capitoll did consecrate , Whereof he tooke no notice , but went on , Chanting the Hymne of Consecration , And without signe of griefe devoutly pray'd To Iupiter the Common-wealth to aide . Could'st thou conceive that sorrow like t' abide , Which he at first assault so well did hide ? He worthy was to be so highly imploy'd , And worthy of the Priest-hood he enjoy'd , Who in a constant zeale did not forbeare To serve the Gods , yea when they angry were : Yet comming home he mourn'd , and teares let fall , And having done the rites of Funerall , Vnto the Capitoll againe return'd , With chearefull looks as though he had not mourn'd . Paulus Emilius , when he captive led King Perseus in such Triumph , buried The Sonnes that wholly he rely'd upon , When all the rest were in adoption ; What they were whom he kept thou may'st suppose , When Scipio himselfe was one of those Were given away , it was no small regret , To see him in his empty Chariot set : Yet he discours'd , and thankt the Gods that gave Him his desire , who oftentimes would crave , That if perchance they should some ill pretend After so great a Victory to send , It rather might upon himselfe redound , Than any way the Common-wealth to wound . How bravely did he beare that stroke of Fate , Who did his Childrens deaths congratulate : No stranger chance could any man betide , He lost his comforts and his helpes beside ; Yet notwithstanding Perseus never had The happinesse , to see Emilius sad .

Cap. 14 WHat should I need to urge a multitude Of presidents , by fortune so pursude ? As if it were not harder farre to name Them , upon whom misfortunes never came . Survey the Consulls , Lucius Bibulus And Caius Caesar have been dealt with thus ; Two colleagues that were enemies profest , Yet both by Fortune equally opprest . Lucius a man for honesty commended Rather than valour , had two Sonnes that ended Their lives at once , and that which to be borne Was worse than death , they both were made a scorne To an Aegyptian Souldier who them slew , Yet he , who all that yeere himfelfe with-drew To shun his fellowes envie , did for all The newes of such a double Funerall Come forth the next day , and with cheerefull face Perform'd the publike duties of his place : He might bewaile one day his two sonnes fate , That did a yeere lament the Consulate . Caesar , when he all Britanie ore-ran With armes not bounded by the Ocean , Heard of his Daughters death , whereon he knew A publike dammage was most like t' ensue , For he on Pompey quickly cast his eyes His Sonne in Law , who would have no man rise Beside himselfe , although so neere of kin , That he might looke to have his share therein ; Yet Caesar that high charge perform'd againe . Within three dayes , and did his griefe restraine , As soone as he , the glory of our Rome , Was wont all other things to overcome .

Cap. 15 WHat should I other Caesars deaths rehearse , 'Gainst whom the fates the rather have bin fierce , To give the world a wholsome document , Since they , who from the race of Gods were sent To propagate the same , could not command Their owne , though others lives were in their hand . Divine Augustus having beene depriv'd Of Children and of Nephews too , reviv'd Th' extinguisht name of Caesar , with a Sonne Receiv'd into it by adoption : Yet he endur'd it constantly , as one That had his future interest fore-knowne , And by his owne example would maintaine , That no man should against the Gods complaine . Tiberius lost both him that he begat , And him that he adopted , yet thereat Unmov'd , he o're the Corps of his dead Sonne , Pronounc't the Funerall Oration , Where but a vaile as then was requisite , Did hide the Body from the High Priests sight , And though the people round about him wept , Yet he his countenance unclouded kept ; Letting Sejanus that stood next him know , How easely he could any friend forgoe . Thou seest how all these famous men have far'd , Whom Fate for no respect of worth hath spar'd , Which like a tempest with impetuous blast , Flies round the World and all things down doth cast , And aske but any man the reason why , The answer is , that all are borne to dye .

Cap. 16 YEt here perchance thou 'lt tell me , I forget I comfort now a woman , since I set Before thee mens examples , but let none Imagine Nature hath lesse favour showne To women , or their vertues more restrain'd , In whom like power to goodnesse is contain'd : And who , beleeve me , can through custome beare Of griefe , and labour , equally their share . Where speake I this ( good Gods ) but in that place Where Brutus and Lucretia the race Of Tyrants did expell ? for as we know That we our liberty to Brutus owe , So we for Brutus are to Lucrece bound , By whom so great a benefit wee found . Where speake I ? but where Claelia the force Of foe and flood contemning , rid her Horse Through Tiber , for which bold attempt each Pen Rankes her amongst the valiantest of men : Whose Statue fixed in the sacred street , Where frequently the Roman people meet , Our young men in their Coaches doth upbraid , When they on horse-backe there behold a Maid . But if examples thou desir'st to have Of women , that their Childrens deaths with brave And constant minds have borne , we may find store , And need not beg the same from doore to doore . One family had two Cornelia's , The first the Daughter of great Scipio was , The Gracchi●s Mother , who twelve Children bore , And all againe did backe to Fate restore : Often of them Rome little notice tooke , And therefore she their losse might easely brooke , But Titus , and his Brother Caius , then If not accounted good , yet famous men , She both saw slaine , and for a grave at last , Beheld their bodies into Tiber cast ; Telling all those that thought her in distresse , And seem'd to pitty her unhappinesse , That she unhappy never could be thought , That had into the world the Gracchi brought . The other saw her Livius Drusus dead , A young man of great hope , that followed The Gracchi's steps , who having then propounded Some controverted Lawes , to death was wounded In his owne house , the actor never knowne , Yet she with the same mind that he had showne In stout defence of those his Lawes , endur'd The unrevenged murther so procur'd . Now Marcia thou maist reconciled be To Fortune , if that she no worse by thee Than by the house of Scipio hath done , And spar'd no more the Caesars than thy Sonne . This life doth various accidents produce , And granteth peace to none , nor scarce a truce . Thou hadst foure Children Marcia , Shots that fall Amongst a thicke troope , hardly can misse all ; And therefore t' were more strange that thou so many , Should'st long enjoy without the losse of any . But thou perhaps dost Fortune most accuse , In that she did not onely take but chuse ; It can by no meanes be accounted wrong , To share with death , to whom they all belong , Two daughters with their children are alive , Nor yet did fortune utterly deprive Thee of that Sonne that thou dost so deplore , ( Having forgotten him that dyed before , ) For he two daughters also left behind That should bring him , not sorrow to thy mind , Which thou great pleasures , or great paines maist make , Accordingly as thou the same shalt take . The husband-man , when any trees he findes Torne by the rootes , or split with sudden winds , Some grafts thereof doth instantly replant , And with advantage soone supply's their want , For time , whom all these humane things obey , Is swift as well in growth as in decay : Place thou those daughters in Metellius stead , And let two joyes be from one sorrow bred . It is the nature of all mortalls , most To Covet what they utterly have lost , And with such earnestnes the same t' effect , As what they present have , they quite neglect . Behold how fortune hath to thee extended Her favour , though she seem'd to be offended , Who doth , beside those daughters that yet live , The comfort of so many Nephews give .

Cap. 17 COnsider likewise Marcia , that if all According unto merit should befall , No evill ever good-men should betide , But now both good and bad alike divide . And though it grievous be , to have him dye , On whom his parents might so much relye , Yet it is humane , thou and all mankind Art certainely to all these things design'd , To suffer losse , to dye , to hope , to feare , To grieve and to be grieved , to appeare Desirous , and yet fearefull to depart , And not to know in what estate thou art . If any man before-hand should propound To one that were for Syracusa bound The good and evill that from thence arise , And thus , before he went , should him advise : These rare things shalt thou find , first thou shalt see That Iland severed from Italy , By such a narrow sea , as by consent Of all , is thought t' have beene the continent , Through which the sea with sudden breach did flow , And ever since the land divided so . Then thou by knowne Charybdis gulfe must saile , Which while the winds forbeare their southerne gale , Continues calme , but otherwise hath power The greatest vessells wholly to devoure : Next shalt thou see the cleere and famous spring Of Arethusa , whereof Poets sing , Which either there begins , or passage makes Beneath the Sea , and not thereof partakes : And then thou shalt the safest harbour gaine That nature ere did make or art obtaine For ships to ride in , where it shall be showne , Where all the power of Athens was o'rethrowne , And where were many thousand captives shut In one vast prison out of maine rocks cut . Thou shalt arrive at Syracuse at length , A citty of large circuit and great strength . Where winter is so temperat , that no day , Without some sun-shine ere doth passe away : But when th' ast found all this , thou shalt be sure A hot contagious summer to endure , That with diseases will the land annoy , And that mild winters Benefit destroy : There shalt thou Dionysius behold Who having law and equity controld , The County's freedome under foot doth tread , And though he have divinest Plato read , Yet to the height of Tyranny aspires , And after a base exile life desires . Some he will burne , and some to death will scourge , Others when no occasion him doth urge He will behead , and overgrowne with vice He male and female will to lust entice , And 'mongst those bruitish sinnes that men should loath , Hee 'le active be at once and passive both . Th' ast heard what may invite , what may deter , And therefore with thy serious thoughts conferre , Whether thou wilt resolve to goe or stay : If after all this warning any say , He will adventure , let him beare the blame That undertooke advisedly the same . Thus nature doth to every one declare , If thou bring'st children , know , some may be faire , Some foule , and some , if that thou many have , Their countrey may betray as well as save . Despaire not but thy children may attaine To so great worth , as may mens tongues restraine From obloquy , yet likewise thinke they may Be such as will a curse upon thee lay . I see no cause but thee they should out-live , Yet be prepar'd them unto death to give In child-hood , youth , or age , for there appeares Small difference here in concerning yeeres , Since parents seldome go but with moist-eyes To any of their childrens obsequies . When thou hast all these things before thee laid , Thou no way canst the heavenly powers upbraid , If thou wilt then bring children , for behold How they before-hand did the truth unfold .

Cap. 18 With this example therefore we may well The lives of men and women parallell , As thou , intending Syracuse to view , Hast understood what thereon will ensue , So now imagine that before thy birth , I come to tell what thou shalt find on earth . Here nature thee into a cittie brings Common to gods and men , where in all things Contained are , by lawes eternall tide , Where the celestiall bodies doe abide , In their unwearied courfe : there shall thine eyes Behold the starres in their varieties , And see with admiration one great light That fills the world , dividing day and night By dayly motion , by whose annuall race , Winter and Summer have their equall space . Then shalt thou see the Mooue succeed the other , Who by encounters borrowes from her brother Her dimmer light , which sometimes not appearing , And sometimes with full face the sad earth cheering , Is , in increasing and decreases strange , And every day from what she was doth change . Then shalt thou see five planets that all bend Their courses severally , and do contend With heavens swift motion , these controle the fates Of private people , and of publicke states , Which subject are to good or bad effects According to their different aspects . Then shalt thou see the clouds , the raine , and wonder At oblique lightnings , and heaven-piercing thunder ; And when thine eyes are filled with that fight , Behold the earth affordeth new delight , Smooth boundlesse plaines , & high snow-headed mountaines , The falls of rivers , and cleare streaming fountaines , Floods from one source that runne both East & west , And tottring woods with their owne beight opprest . Thicke forrests fraught with beasts , and birds that fly , And warble foorth their differing harmony : Then shalt thou see the divers scituations Of citties , and of farre disjoyned nations , Whereof some for security retire Into the mountaines , some the plaines desire , Others delight neere rivers to remaine , And some to dwell in Fens do not disdaine . Then shalt thou see the plow-man till the land , Preparing harvest with industrious hand , Trees fructifie alone , brookes gently slide Along the moddowes , in their flowry pride , Havens and creeks that all beholders please , And scattered Ilands giving names to Seas . What should I tell of pretious stones , of gold , That swiftest torrents in their sands infold ? Of fires in midst of land and sea that shine , And of the Ocean whose large armes intwine The spacious earth , which that in three parts cuts , And so a barre betwixt the nations puts : Which rageth oft with an unbridled will Within whose waters , that are seldome still , Huge monsters live , that all beleefe exceed , Some are so great and heavy that they need The art of others , some so lightly float , Their course is swifter then the swiftest boat , And some such floods of water from them fling As oftentimes do ships in danger bring . Where thou shalt see adventrous fleets prepar'd To find out lands whereof few ever heard , There being nothing now left unattempted By humane boldnesse , nor art thou exempted , But shalt thy selfe herein have much to doe As a spectator , and an actor too : Thou Arts shalt learne and teach , some liberall , Mechanique some , some Philosophicall To perfect life , but having all this found , Know , that this city likewise will abound With pestilent diseases , that will foule , And quite destroy the body and the soule , Warres , rapines , poysonings hasting so our ends , Ship-wracks , ill ayre , and losse of dearest friends , Death and the same , as much uncertaine , when , As whether easie or with torments , then Bethinke thy selfe if thou on life wilt venture , For here thou must goe out that there dost enter . Thou 'lt choose to live , why not ? can I suppose Thou seekest that whereof th' art loath to lose Any one part : live therefore as is fit , And beare thy losse as one prepar'd for it . But here perhaps t' will be objected thus , That none before hand hath consulted us , Our parents , who the worlds condition knew , Consulted were and thence our covenant grew .

Cap. 19 But to returne to consolations now , First let us see what 's to be done , then how : We commonly with sorrow much are mov'd Upon the losse of those we dearely lov'd , And yet we find that we can easily beare The absence of our friends , which commeth neere ? To death it selfe , because we are thereby Deprived of their help and company : Opinion then our sorrow doth beget , And we our selves a rate upon it set , This remedy we have , let 's but conceive That they as absent only tooke their leave , And since we all must follow , t is no more But to suppose that they are gone before . Yet this perchance our griefe doth much augment That children are for our protection sent , But shall I tell , what strange to thee may seeme , That childlesse folkes are now in most esteeme , And fruitfullnesse that usually hath fav'd Old age from ruine , is so much deprav'd , That many their owne children strive to hate , And seeke the meanes to become desolate . But as for thee , thy dammage not so much As thy affection makes thy sorrow such , For he unworthy comfort is to have That parteth with a child as with a slave , Or that doth thinke of any thing beside , The very person of his Sonne that dy'd . Why doth thy passion then remaine so strong , Because hee 's dead , or that he liv'd not long ? If that the reason be , because hee 's dead , Then sure thou shouldst have ever sorrowed ; For thou didst ever know he was to dye : Three or foure lines omitted , repugnant to the rest , impugning the immortality of the soule . And therefore thinke what he hath gain'd thereby , Since his enthralled bondage now doth cease , And he abideth in eternall peace , Where no vaine feare of poverty affrights him , Nor vainer hope of getting wealth delights him , And where no provocations of lust Do him into unlawfull pleasures thrust : Who neither envies any others good , Or any way by envy is with-stood , Whose eares heare no revilings , and whose eyes Behold no manner of calamities : Who doth no more depend upon events That hourely alter from their first intents , But hath obtain'd a place of that defence , That fraud nor force can ever drive him thence .

Cap. 20 HOw little do men know their miseries That do not death as natures best gift prise : Whether that she felicity include , Or the calamity that them pursu'd Doth drive away , or whether she do end The irksome troubles that old age attend , Or that the same the flowre of youth doth crop , In the chiefe prime of his expected hope , Or whether tender childhood she recall , Ere that into a worse condition fall : Shee is the end of all , the help of many , The wish of some , not meriting from any More then from these , to whom without request She with the soonest hath her selfe addrest . Shee free 's the slave in spight of his sterne lord , Shakes off his chaines , and of her owne accord Releaseth prisoners that committed stand , By cruell tyrants under strickt command . Shee teacheth them that are in banishment ( Whose thoughts and eies are on their country bent ) Not to be troubled , how , when they are dead Or in what place they shall be buried . She when blind fortune hath divided ill Her gifts , 'tweene those that had by natures will An equall right , doth them againe restore To that equality they had before . Shee it is that could never yet obey , That takes all sence of poverty away , She it is Marcia whom thy father sought , That makes it not a punishment be thought To have beene borne , but helps us in despight Of fortunes threats , to keepe our minds upright . Death is our refuge , though we tortur'd bee In severall kinds , she us at length shall free : Some their heads downe ward are to gibbets ty'd , And some with stretcht out armes are crucify'd , Where every member sundry engines rent , And some have stak's thrust through their fundament , Yet death's their cure : here enemies invade , There friends insult , yet death at length brings aid , It is not hard to serve , when at one step We weary growne may into freedome leape : Against the injury of life we have A sure and common benefit , a grave . Thinke but what good a timely death hath brought , And how much ill a longer life hath wrought . Had Pompey this great Empire's strength and pride , At Naples of his burning-feaver dy'd , He then the Prince of Rome had sure beene stil'd , Whereas his glorious hopes were all beguil'd By the addition of a little time , And he throwne swifter downe , then he could climbe . He saw his legions lie before him dead , Whose vanguard by grave Senators was led , That did escape , to testifie to all The too long life of him their Generall : His sacred body he did then submit To base Aegyptians that betrayed it , Though had he liv'd , it would have beene a griefe , To thinke how he was forc't to seeke reliefe , That Pompey through the world surnam'd the great , Of any King should life or aid intreat . Had Tully dy'd when he escap't the slaughter Design'd by Catiline , or with his daughter Had left the world , he had great honor wonne , And had not seene so many mischiefes done , Swords sheath'd in mutuall bowells , and their goods By murd'rers shar'd , who therfore sought their bloods : Nor beene so much unhappy to behold The Consulary spoyles at out-cries fold , When as our state no insolence debar'd , But unto theeves and traitors gave reward , Encouraging all sorts of lewd designes , The Senate having many Catilines . If Cato , when from Cyprus he did bring To Rome the wealth of that deceased King . Had with the same , intended for the pay Of a dire civill warre , beene cast away , This honour had accompanied his end , That none in Cato's presence durst offend , Whereas a little tract of time compel'd Him , that Romes freedome with his owne upheld , To fly from Caesar and to Pompey cleave , And at the length himselfe of life bereave . An early death no dammage then hath sent Upon thy sonne , but rather did prevent The cares that to a longer life belong , And therefore do not thinke de dy'd too yong . For if the life of the most aged man Considered be , what is it but a span ? As in an Inne he lodgeth in the world , And in a moment out againe is hurl'd ; So swiftly posts our life , and if the story Thou dost but read of cities that most glory In their antiquity , it will appeare , That nothing can be old accounted here . All humane things are fraile , and haue no right To any part of that vast infinite . We say the earth , men , cities , rivers , seas , Whose larger circuit comprehends all these , Are but a point compar'd with all the rest , Our life , of no part of a poynt's possest Compar'd with time , the world exceeding farre , Whose revolutions thereby measur'd are . Why should our minds then on that thing be bent , Which brought unto the uttermost extent Is little more then nothing ? therefore hee Lives long enough that can contented be : For though thy life a hundred yeeres should last , Yet that compar'd with all the time that 's past And is to come , would in effect amount No more then to the shortest in account . He dyed not too soone that liv'd the time . Appointed , though he dyed in his prime : Men live not all alike nor beasts , for some Grow weary , when to fourteene yeeres they come , And that which is their last , is mans first age , Wee all of us have our prefixed stage , Which we by no endeavour can exceed , Nor should we grudge at what is so decreed : He had what was allotted him , no chance His life could ere diminish , or advance , Wee all are in this errour , to conceive That we this world are never like to leave But in old crooked age , when as we know We may as well in youth or childhood goe . Our birth is towards death the first degree , And what we live beyond is given free : Fate ply's her worke , and to delude our sense , Makes death steale on us under lifes pretence , For childhood doth our infancy surprise , And youth or childhood , then age quickely hyes , And such as seeme increases , if well weigh'd , Are dammages that secretly invade .

Cap. 21 BUt thou complainest Marcia that thy Sonne Attained not the yeeres he might have done , Yet knowest not whether the same were fit , Or whether that were not a benefit : For no man is in such assur'd estate But may in time become unfortunate , So fraile are worldly things , and we may boast Least of that part of life that pleaseth most : And therefore death that bringeth certaine rest , Is ever to be wish't for of the best , Because we plainely see that in this vast Confusion , nothing's sure but what is past . Who could assure thee that the beauteous frame Of thy sonnes body , though he kept the same With modesty safe-guarded from the eyes , Of a lewd city fild with luxuries , Should likewise from diseases be secure , And to old age unblemished endure ?

Cap. 22 THinke on the spots wherewith the soule is stain'd , How some great wits have not to age retain'd The wayes of vertue in their youth begun , But have into degenerate courses runne : How luxury , which men should ever hate So much the more because it commeth late , Doth oftentimes the hope of youth deface , And gluttony intruding in the place Of temperance well begun , so makes men swerve , That they in age the belly only serve , When as their chiefest care is but to thinke Continually what they shall eat & drinke . Adde likewise ruines both of sword and fire , Ship-wracks , diseases that strange cures require , Where corrosives pierce live mens bones & marrow , And Surgeons hands their very intralles harrow , Who many times some secret paine to ease , Give remedies as bad as the disease : Then after these , consider banishment , For sure thy Sonne was not more innocent Then was Rutilius ; or a prison , hee Then Socrates could hardly wiser be ; Or voluntary death ; he could not raise His vertues above holy Catoes praise . All which consdered duely , in regard That death must in the end be lifes reward , Thou may'st conclude that nature dealeth best With those to whom she soonest giveth rest : For life so wretched is , that it would scant Accepted be but of the ignorant . And therefore as its best not to be borne , So next to that is quickly to returne ; Thinke on the time wherein Sejanus gave To Satrius his mercenary slave , Thy fathers goods , whose free speech him offended , Saying , He was not put , but had ascended Vpon our necks , and when it did appeare That he his statue did intend to reare In Pompeys Theatre , that had of late Beene burnt and now re-built with no lesse state , Cremutius crying out against it , said , The Theatre then truely perished . For what man could behold Sejanus sit On Pompey's ashes , and not storme at it , Or see the most unworthy souldier crown'd With honour of a Captaine so renown'd ? Yet there his image with th' inscription stood , And those fierce doggs nourish't with humane blood , That being gentle unto him alone , Their fury to all others might be showne , At Cordus suddainely began to bay , That he to live must now Sejanus pray , Or of his daughter must to dye crave leave , Inexorable both : he to deceive His daughter did resolve , and with intent His plot to hide , he us'd a bath , and went Into his chamber with pretence to eate . Then sending forth his servants threw some meate Out at the window , to make shew thereby As if he there had supped privately : He fasted so the next day and the third , Whereby a mortall weaknesse he incurr'd : Then thee imbracing thus his mind reveal'd , My dearest daughter , I have nought conceal'd In all my life from thee , save this alone , I now a journey towards death am gone , And haue by this time gotten halfe the way : Thou mee , nor may'st , nor canst , revoke or stay . This said , he caus'd the windowes to be shut , And from that time himselfe in darknesse put : This fact divulg'd through Rome , had great applause , Because the prey was snatcht from th' wolfes jawes , But his accusers by Sejanus sent , To the tribunall of the Consulls went , Craving that Cordus might be yet with-held From doing what themselves had him compeld , So loath were they who hungerly did gape That in this manner he should them escape : There grew a doubt whether they might by law A man accus'd from such an act with-draw , Whilst this was in dispute on every side , Cordus at home releast himselfe and dy'd . Seeft thou not Marcia , what unlook't for woe In such recourses of ill times do flow ? Thou griev'st that fate did one to dye constraine , And yet another scarce could leave obtaine .

Cap. 23 BVt beside this , that future things are still Doubtfull , and never certaine but to ill , The passage is more easie , when the soule Is speedily dismissed from her foule Abode , for she doth then contract lesse slime , And to her station may more lightly clime . Great spirits cannot willingly reside Long in the body , nor those straights abide , But to breake through , and mount aloft , desire , And to their first originall aspire . And therefore learned Plato sayeth well , A wise mans mind on death doth ever dwell , Doth wish , doth will , and thereto in effect In all his actions hath his whole respect . When such grave vertue Marcia thou did'st view In thy yong Sonne , and how he did subdue All his affections , given to no vice , In midst of wealth abhorring avarice , How honour without pride he did possesse , And recreations without wantonnesse , Couldst thou conceive that he could long remaine ? What ere at highest is , goes backe againe ; Vertue growne perfect vanisheth away ; And fruits that ripen soone , doe soone decay , Fire that burnes cleare , is soone extinguished , That lasteth more that with grosse matter fed Burnes with a thicke smoake , for it best subsisteth With nourishment whose quality resisteth : So wit , that is most delicate and pure , Is ever found a short time to endure ; For dissolution followeth apace , When as for future growth there is no place . Fabian reports a monstrous thing in nature , Of a child seene in Rome of a mans stature , But it soone dy'd , as wisemen did presage , His stature had so gained on his age . Decay doth still maturity attend , And things when growth is spent , draw neer their end .

Cap. 24 COunt thy Sons vertues then , and not his yeeres , Though he t' have lived long enough appeares , Who fourteene yeeres was under Tutors bred , And by thy counsell ever governed ; Who though he had a houshold of his owne , Vnwilling was to have thee live alone , And being fit the warres to undertake , The same refused wholly for thy sake ; For thinke how small a time they are enjoy'd , That often are in forraigne parts imploy'd ; How mothers usually that time lament , No lesse then death which in the warres is spent ; And then beleeve he liv'd as long as others That alwaies have beene absent from their mothers . He thus remaining in thy house and sight , To order there his studies tooke delight , Gaining a wit by precepts dayly read , That would his grand-fathers have equalled , Had it not beene with-stood by bash fullnesse , That great worth oft in silence doth suppresse : A youth of rare aspect , who 'mongst so many Men-tempting women , gave no hope to any , But when the lust of some durst him assault , Would blush and thinke his comlinesse a fault . This holinesse of manners was the cause That he , though very yong , with great applause Was made a Priest , by meanes his mother us'd , Though notwithstanding he had beene refus'd , Had not his owne true worth their judgements led , Then do not thou conceive him to be dead , But that his vertues make him so remaine , That thou for him shalt never grieve againe : For all , that can be now , thou hast endur'd , The rest is free from chance , of joy assur'd . And if thy Sonne thou wilt but rightly prise , Then know his image onely buried lyes , And that not very like , whilst he , now eas'd Of all the burdens that him so displeas'd , Is rendred to himselfe , for flesh , and skin , And all the rest that we are wrapped in , Are nothing but the fetters of the soule , And such as doe her faculties controule , Which shee opposing ever strives to bee In endlesse blisse , from all darke errours free ; And therefore 't is but folly to repayre Unto his Sepulchre , where ashes are , And bones , and that which troubled him , no more Parts of thy Sonne , then were the clothes , he wore : For he went hence intire , staying a while Above us to be purged from the vile Contracted dregs of nature , mounted then And was receiv'd amongst those happy men , The Scipio's , and the Cato's , with the rest That life contemn'd and now in death are blest . Thy father there ( O Marcia , though that place Makes all of kinne ) his Grandchild doth embrace , And there instructs the new enlightened youth Not by conjecture , but assured truth In all the courses of the starres neere hand , And makes him all those secrets understand : And as a stranger joyeth to find one That in a city where he is not knowne , Will take the paines to lead him up and downe , And shew him all the pleasures of the towne , So glad was he , when he did first arrive ( Being of heavenly things inquisitive ) Of this well knowne interpreter , that so , He likewise might be shew'd the things below , For 't is a pleasure to th'infranch is'd mind To view from heaven what it hath left behind . Frame all thy actions then as they were done In sight both of thy father and thy Sonne , Who are not now , as when from hence they went , But every way become more excellent , And be ashamed of these triviall things , To grieve for them , whose change such honor brings , Who left the world to fixe themselves on high , And there to dwell in endlesse liberty , Where neither Seas , nor hills , nor danger barres Their entercourse , whose wayes are mixt with starres .

Cap. 26 THink therfore now that from that heavenly Tower Thy father speakes , who had with thee like power That thou hadst with thy Sonne , not in that straine Wherein he did of civill warres complaine , Wherein the banishers themselves he sent , With shame into eternall banishment , But with a farre more elevated wit , As he doth now in greater glory sit . Why Daughter doth thy griefe remaine so long ? Why dost thou so continue in the wrong ? To thinke thy Sonne ill dealt with ? who withdrew Himselfe to his forefathers when he grew Weary of life , dost thou not know what blasts Of trouble fortune upon all things casts ? How she her favour only doth conferre On those that have conversed least with her ? Wilt thou that I those famous Kings repeat , Whose happinesse would have been found compleat , Had timely death , whereof none ere repented , The evills of their future lives prevented ? Or Roman captaines , who could nothing lacke , Had some few yeeres of life beene given backe ? Or those great men that of their owne accord Expos'd their necks unto the souldiers sword ? Thy father and thy grand-father behold He murthered was , I shewing with how bold A mind I writ , did rather then to lye At others mercy , choose to fast and dye . Why is he in our house so much bewail'd , Whom death in so great measure hath avail'd ? We dwell together in a glorious light , And see you compast with a dismall night , Where all your best things base and sordid are , And may not with the least of ours compare . What should I say ? heere are no battells fought By land or sea , no mischiefes done or thought ? Our Courts are not with clamours fill'd , our dayes Perpetuall are , our hearts , our lives , our wayes Open , and nothing hid within our brest , But all events to us are manifest . I when I liv'd , took pleasure to compose The story of one age , and but of those That in a corner of the world did dwell , Wee the succession of all times can tell , And doe the rise and falls of kingdomes view , The ruines of great cities with the new And uncontrolled courses of the Seas , For know , that if it may thy sorrow ease , To understand the truth of common fate , That nothing shall continue in the state That now it is , time all things shall devoure , And not with men alone , of Fortunes power , ( The smallest part alas ! ) shall pastime make , But the whole world shall of the same partake . Here it shall hills suppresse , there rocks inforce , And supp up Seas , and change the usuall course Of rivers , and dissolving all commerce , The race of man shall utterly disperse : Causing else-where the trembling earth to cleave , And greedily whole cities to receive Into her bowells , belching out from thence Damps that will breed a generall pestilence . Then shall it both with inundations drowne And with strange fires all mortall things burne down : And when the world that is to be renew'd , Shall thus dissolve , there shall be deadly feud Betweene the starres that with such order shine Which shall their fires to that vast fire resigne . Wee also being blessed soules that claime Aeternity , when God shall please to frame The world anew , must therein have our share , And shall to our first elements repaire . And therefore , Marcia happy is thy Sonne , That know's all this as 't were already done .

FINIS .