A chaunce may winne that by mischaunce was loft,
That net that holds no great, takes little fish;
In fome things all, in all things none are croft,
Fewe all they need, but none have all they with:
Unmeddled joyes here to no man befall:
Who leaft, hath fome, who moft, hath never all.

Robert Southwell.

THE SEARCH AFTER FELICITY.

THE wifest men, that Nature e're could boast,
For fecret knowledge of her power, were lɔst,
Confounded, and in deepe amazement stood,
In the discovery of the Chiefeft Good:
Keenly they hunted, beat in every bracke,
Forwards they went, on either hand, and backe
Return'd they counter; but their deep-mouth'd art
(Though often challeng'd sent) yet ne're could start
In all th' enclosures of Philosophy,

That game, from squat, they terme, Felicity:
They jangle, and their maxims difagree,
As many men, fo many mindes there be.

One digs to Pluto's throne, thinks there to finde
Her Grace, rak't up in gold: another's minde
-Mounts to the Courts of Kings, with plumes of honor
And feather'd hopes, hopes there to feize upon her;
A third, unlockes the painted gates of Pleasure,
And ranfacks there, to find this peerleffe treasure,
A fourth, more fage, more wifely melancholy,
Perfwades himselfe, her Deity's too holy
B 2

For

For common hands to touch, he rather chufes,
To make a long dayes journey to the Mufes :
To Athens (gown'd) he goes, and from that Schoole
Returnes unfped, a more instructed foole.

Where lyes fhe then? or lyes fhe any where?
Honours are bought and fold, fhe refts not there,
Much leffe in Pleasures hath fhe her abiding,
For they are fhar'd to Beafts, and ever fliding;
Nor yet in Vertue, Vertue's often poore;

And (crufh't with fortune) begs from doore to door,
Nor is the fainted in the fhrine of Wealth;
That, makes men flaves, is unfecur'd from stealth;
Conclude we then, Felicity consists

Not in exteriour fortunes, but her lifts
Are boundleffe, and her large extenfion
Out-runnes the pase of humane apprehenfion;
Fortunes are feldome measur'd by defert,
The fairer face, hath oft the fouler heart;
Sacred Felicity doth ne'er extend
Beyond itselfe; in it, all wishes end :
The swelling of an outward fortune can
Create a profp'rous, not a happy man;
A peacefull Confcience is the true Content,
And Wealth is but her golden ornament.

Job Militant,

13 Med. by F. Quarles. Edit 1630. Lond.

SCORN

SCORN NOT THE LEAST.

WHERE wards are weak, and foes encountring strong,

Where mightier do affault then doe defend,

The feebler part puts up enforced wrong,

And tilent fees that speech could not amend ;
Yet higher powers must thinke, though they repine,
When funne is fet, the little starres will shine.

While pike do range, the filly tench doth flie,
And crouch in privie creekes, with smaller fish:
Yet pikes are caught when little fish goe by,
Thele fleete aflote, while thofe doe fill the dish;
There is a time even for the wormes to creepe,
And fucke the deaw while all their foes doe fleepe.

The marline cannot ever foare on high,
Nor greedie grey-hound ftill purfue the chace,
The tender larke will finde a time to flie,
And fearfull hare to runne a quiet race.
He that high growth on cedars did bestow,
Gave alfo lowly mufhrumps leave to growe,

In Haman's pompe poor Mordocheus wept ;
Yet God did turne his fate upon his foe.
The Lazar pinde, while Dives feast was kept,
Yet he to Heaven, to Hell did Dives goe.
We trample graffe, and prize the flowers of May,
Yet grafie is greene, when flowers doe fade away.
Robert Southwell,

The Diftinction between WISDOM and
KNOWLEDGE.

THE Morail Poets, (nor unaptly) faine

That by lame Vulcans help, the pregnant brain Of foveraigne Jove, brought forth, and at that birth, Was borne Minerva, Lady of the earth.

O ftrange Divinity! but fung by rote;
Sweet is the tune, but in a wilder note.
The morall fayes, all wifedome that is given

To hood wink't mortals, first, proceeds from heaven
Truth's errour, Wifedome's but wife infolence,
And light's but darkneffe, not deriv'd from thence;
Wifdom's a straine tranfcends Morality,

No vertue's abfent, Wifedome being by.
Vertue, by constant practice is acquir'd,
This (this by sweat unpurchaft) is inspir'd:
The master-piece of knowledge, is to know
But what is good, from what is good in show,
And there it refts: Wisdome proceeds, and chufes
The feeming evill, th' apparent good refuses;

Knowledge

Knowledge defcries alone; Wisdome applyes,

That, makes fome fooles, this, maketh none but wife;
The curious hand of Knowledge doth but picke
Bare fimples, Wifdome pounds them, for the ficke;
In my afflictions, Knowledge apprehends,
Who is the author, what the cause and ends,
It findes that Patience is my fad reliefe,

And that the hand that caus'd, can cure my griefe:
To rest contented here, is but to bring

Clouds without raine, and heat without a spring:
What hope arises hence? the devils doe

The very fame :
: they know and tremble too;
But facred Wifedome doth apply that good,
Which fimple knowledge barely understood:
Wifedome concludes, and in conclufion, proves
That wherefoever God correct, he loves:
Wifedome digests, what Knowledge did but tast,
That deales in futures, this, in things are past:
Wisdom's the card of Knowledge, which, without
That guide, at random's wreck't on every doubt:
Knowledge, when Wisdome is too weak to guide her
Is like a head-ftrong horse, that throwes the rider:
Which made that great Philofopher avow,

He knew fo much that he did nothing know.

Job. Militant, Med. II. Edit. 1630. by F. Quarles.