Motion and their slender Sense transmit Like living Watches each of these conceals A thousand Springs of Life and moving Wheels Each Ligature a Lab'rynth seems each part All wonder is all Workmanship and Art Rather let me this little Greatness know Then all the Mighty Acts of Great Ones do These Engines understand rather than prove An Archimedes and the Earth remove These Atom-Worlds found out I would despise Columbus and his vast Discoveries Beauty of Chance WHo Nature busie in her Shop have seen And with the Mistress too her Hand-maid Art At work on what her Mistress did begin And filling up and finishing each part Have in their curious Search yet nothing found For Workmanship or Beauty to compare With what blind Fortune fashions under ground Nothing in Art so gay or Nature fair The Tulip-buds rais'd by her gentle hand Prove Chance not blind but we that call her so Who neither how she forms them understand Nor how the Blind can Skill in Colours show If Nature to these Flowers lays a Claim Why do they not her steady Lawes obey Like Fortune's Subjects they are ne're the Same And Chance their Queen less fickle is than they Roses in their first Crimson dress appear Lillies their antient Braveries display And Violets the same blue Mantles wear They wore on their Creation's great Show-Day But Tulips each new Year their Robes have new Fertile in Colours with the fertile Spring All Shades pursuing still save only Blue The Season's Changes markt in theirs they bring These that like freckled Beauties now appear Their freckles gone boast clearer white and red Their Colours changing with the changing Year They with new Smiles and Blushes dye their Bed Those which sprung from their Mothers painted Womb In naked Yellow shew a tawny Skin In new Successions fairer yet will come And white as in their naked Smocks be seen The Widow in her Royal Purple vail'd That hangs her head till her short Mourning 's done When she her time of Widow-hood has wail'd Light Colours and strip'd Indian Silks puts on Their sev'ral Streaks and Stains who thus would trace As vain a Project and succesless tries As he who Proteus paints with one fixt face Or limns the necks of Doves with all their dies The chang'd leaves of each new Flow'r change anew Nay each Stripe disagreeing dies does bear As on each leaf new Tulips grafted grew And each apart a Crop of Glory were Their Folds all unlike their pied Neighbours blown Various as Folds of Taffaties appear All paintings of the Garden show in one And all the diff'ring Motlies of the Year The particolour'd Buds thus num'rous bred The Children are of married Light and Shade From their Coition form'd i th' Tulip-Bed Brought forth by Fortune's Midwif'ry and aid These more compounded Fortune's Stroakings make Those mingled less Marks of their Parents bear The Purple their black Mothers Features take And their white Fathers lineaments the Fair. Could living fair ones living Tulips so As they resemblances in Beauty hold Like resemblances in their Changes show Changing more lovely still as they grow old Could Lover's Beauties like the Florist's bloom And ever blow afresh they would not grieve That those impairing Years which are to come Take from their Loves what they to Flowers give Magnificence under Ground IN that deep Gulf where all past Times are thrown Where waning Moons and setting Suns are gone There Moneths and Days extinguishing their Light Are lost and buried in eternal Night Our Fathers Ages and our Youth there cast Our Yesterdaies and their thousand Years past All hid in that thick Darkness which invades New-born Man's fair Paradise and blest Shades Man's Heav'n on Earth to us as much unknown As that Heav'n in Reversion Man's alone Our Parents Labours vanish't with their Ground Both under Water once ne're since were found Sunk in that Floud when th' Earth lost in the Deep As in the Sea of Chaos lay asleep Till rising Billows into Hills did swell As their sunk Spaces into Vallies fell That World the Deluge whole at once drank down Time yet in parts and by degrees does drown Time which stronger than a full Sea does run Wiâ—h a High-Tide comes ever flowing on And with a lawless and impetuous sway Bears all that would controul its force away Those Bounds set by Fame having once o'reflown Their Shipwrackt Spires are in low Water shown Were there a Globe in which we all could see The World reverst in Fates Geography Could we the Antients Drown'd Lands all there view And with them all their buried Treasure too The vast Plantations of all Ages Dead The fallen Tow'rs and Towns in Ruines spread The Cities and Inhabitants there thrust Cities now measuring new Bounds in Dust And with their Suburbs stretching by degrees Until they border on th' Antipodes Their enlarg'd Limits downwards cast so far As they Confiners on Earth's Center were Compar'd with this dark Globe of all below How small a Point would this Globe of ours show Or what of th' Old World's standing or the New With what the Graves of both conceal from view All that remains yet high or strong or fair In vain we equal to those Reliques there What Death under the Tropicks has possest What beneath each Pole what from East to West That little left unburied of the Masse Does in Circumference as far surpass As both the Northern and the Southern Dead In Number all the Living Race exceed In this low World's dark Countries under Ground Geographers another Rome have found Those Amphitheaters that climb'd the Sky Climb downwards now and are in Earth as high So great their Ruines and so proud their Fall Their Height reverst they are in Depth as tall Troy Thebes and Carthage sunk long since did go Metropolis'es to the World below Their Empire and their Height translated there Leaving no Marks of their old Greatness here The Tyrian Princes dead new Honours boast Themselves more richly with their Purple lost Egypt's black Kings enshrin'd with th' Idol-Rat Embalm'd thought once immortal too as that From rottenness of vulgar Graves though free They linger out a long Mortality Kept fresh some Hundred years of Death those past Mixe with the Ashes of their Tombs at last Some place unknown as th' Head of their own Nile Their Royal Dust depos'd confounds with Vile Their Monuments with them themselves interre And in their Quarry fall and Sepulcher Swallow'd in that vast Heap where all things lie That are unborn and all return that die In that Abyss all Springs of Beings sleep As Rivers lost within their Mother-Deep The Intellectual Prospect IN Prospects op'ning wide to our large view A Countrey far remov'd yet near in shew Our Eye quick as Heav'ns great-short Journies makes Measures the Bounds and Distance over-takes The Vallies humbly falling here surveys Who on themselves in Streams betwixt 'em gaze Ascending there with prouder Hills does rise Hills seen far off above the falling Skies Strayes in the
so quick when scatter'd wide And far disperst they many wayes divide What secret Pipes and Cavities unknown Transmit them so distinctly one by one Where are those lost which start aside and stray Since nought can intercept them in their way How seems the Horn to snatch the Air so short And so the News of each Success report And all the Bus'ness of the Chace declare As remote Hunters in the Pleasure share In what wild Notes does War approach the Ear When Trumpets bring a distant-Battel near And Sounds seem so to skirmish in their flight As they in Air began th' approaching Fight Some perishing for want of stronger Breath In gentle Whispers lost and silent Death Others expiring in their last rebounds Kill'd by the Thunder of more potent sounds Some vanishing into a softer Sigh As some with the short Gasps of Eccho's die Thâ—se in deep Groans or piercing Shreeks are fled While those drop down which stronger force does dead What various Changes in one Trumpet meet As Sounds increasing did new Sounds beget So thick they issue and succeed so fast As each did strive to overtake the last With double speed each hasting to repair The Breaches which the former made in Air. Each Breath which does that single Throat inspire Swells pregnant with the Consort of a Quire And as in Notes so thus in Voices none Is found or like another or our own Whence is 't of many Speeches which we hear Each strikes a diff'ring Stroke upon the Ear. Or which way are these Changes wrought that frame Voices distinct the Breath unvoic'd the same Since Air which varies in so many Keyes Is of it self nor Treble Mean nor Base Does not the Speech these several Stamps partake Passing through Organs of a diff'ring make What Breath in Fifes mocks the Winds whistling noise Pour'd in a Horn turns to a hoarser Voice Is shrill in Trumpets and what high they raise In Bag-pipes dwindles to a feeble Base Nay ev'n in the same Organ some Pipes go As high at once as some run flat and low If such Variety we can pursue In Voice and Sound where ev'ry Breath is new What is there in the Motion of each Sphere Set to that Musick which we cannot hear That heard regardless we should all neglect The toils of Life and listen with Respect All Noise and Tumult here below would cease And all return to an harmonious Peace To a Lady on her Picture FAirest where were these Colours sought Which full of their own Heaven shine Such Shades below were never wrought And no Art here is so Divine May we not think these Features were Th' unseen Art of a Hand unseen None knows in all that does appear Where these Lines end or those begin Knitting of Parts together seems The finest Sight to pose as much As the soft moulding of the Limbs Or the smooth Skin the slendrest Touch. Cheeks yong and ruddy as those fair Yong rosie Beauties have above Which old Age shall no more impair Then Angels Beauty or their Love Though no false Raies encircle round This Face as those of heav'nly frame Yours is with its own Glory crown'd And bright without a borrow'd flame The Colours seem wrought all in Light And your Face so divinely fair That though you have no Wings for flight We fear you 'l vanish into Air. Such is the Artists happy fate Such your own and your Pictures due That Judges say one Angel sate For what another Angel drew Dreaming of her WHo gaze upon the Sun are brought To paint it fairer in their Thought The Glorie which their Eyes does blind Let brighter thus into their Mind Does make a clearer Day break out Within while all is Night without Her Shape seen thus by inward Light While Sleep drew Curtains o're my Sight Did but that Image then restore Which waking Eyes ador'd before And closing full of her withdrew And kept the Object still in view Though Faces seen but once we find Copied in th' all-resembling Mind And some the Mem'ry shows more plain Keeps fresh and longer does retain Some soon blots out in a lost Thought 'Cause first in fading Colours wrought Their Lines worn out till a Review Does varnish o're their Stroaks anew No Mem'ry sure like mine e're prov'd So constant to the Face it lov'd She entertains my Sight all Day And does all Night before me stray The fairest Light I waking view And th' Angel in my Visions too I have no Thought but of my Love All others she does far remove And makes them give place and resign That she may thus be wholly mine But if the World at large is seen In the Minds Looking-Glass within How comes it then that mine alone Of many Shapes reflects but one Alas it is but reason she Should be a single world to me Since others in their greater Store That World divided but adore Which I in her contracted view Who ev'ry day seems to me new While She in one shape does unite All that is fair divine or bright Having seen her Like HEav'ns bless me what was that my Fair Or some enliv'ned piece of Air Or was 't her Genius in her Shape Or what of her does Eyes escape Which having only chang'd its Shroud Did now shine through another Cloud What other thing beside so Like Could or my Sight or Fancy strike And thus have her Reflexion wrought Both in my Eye and in my Thought Has Nature learn't from duller Art One Stamp to fair ones to impart And cast her Beauties in a Mould That they may all Resemblance hold And giv'n us this her first Essay To show the Rule she must obey No no 't were pity that though She Might Standard for all Beauties be To make her Common would abate Her Value and bring down her Rate Since things so Wondrous and so Rare All Phoenix-like unfellow'd are On surer grounds we may pretend That Angels in her Shape descend And cause her borrow'd Soul of Light Was first perhaps a Cherub's Right Some Spirit or some Soul drop't down Her Form mistaking for its own Has snatch't and in her Likeness dress't Has stole thus from among the Blest And personating her has worn Her glorious Body in Return The Bounds of Sight WHen some vast Space the Sight encloses round And does within its narrow Circle bound That Land which Distance does so far remove As none beyond is seen nor none above Which crown'd with an exalted Height does shew And that proud Height crown'd with an heav'nly ' Blue Imposes so on the mistaken Eye It seems no rising Earth but falling Sky As if the Mountain did not there ascend But Heav'n descending softly on it lean'd And seem'd to rest upon that hanging Height Which half way rose to meet the glorious Weight As parts in Prospect situated lie They pass with diff'ring Shades into the Eye Those nearer to the common Level seen Presented in a fresh and youthful Green And what afar off does approach the Sky
embrace Or court it with so rough a Grace To act his Sports you him persuade To shew what crooked turns he plaid And doubles he in Hunting made You teach him all his Pranks and how He leap't from Tree to Tree and now His dance cut short from Bough to Bough As through High Woods rough waies he past His shady Tail behind him cast Nuts browner than himself to tast Happy in climbing you to show How he the Top Branch climb'd and so Ran down the Boughs in stairs below A braver Height he thus does soar Upon your lifty Shoulders bore Then his High Travels knew before As pleasant and as frolick now While you his merry Tricks allow As dancing on a bending Bough Though wild he had his Liberty What Tree to perch on and what Tree His Nuts to gather from as free Nor Nuts nor Freedom were so sweet As what he in a Chain does meet Vnperch't and prostrate at your Feet Bathing her self HAppy this wandring Stream Which gently proud does seem As it had ne're before So rich a Burthen bore Swell'd with her Body now It does with Ioy o'reflow Th' exulting Waves forget The Limits to them set With Ioy now swelling more Then e're with Rage before Her Breast yet lightly raise To measure its smooth waies While her soft Arms divide The Current on each side Which in new Circles broke By ev'ry bending Stroke Thus troubled does appear As strook with Sun-beams clear From out of Water n'ere Did rise a Shape so fair Nor could it e're to Sight Reflect a form so bright Such sweetness nor such grace Shin'd not in Venus Face When froth did it enclose As 'bove the Waves it rose And in white Circles crown'd The whiter Goddess round Less pleasing she did shew Her naked Glories new Though all the Deep then smil'd To see the Sea-born Child No undisturbed Brook In which th' Heav'ns chuse to look Sees such a Beauty move As this reflects above No Deeps such Treasures know As what this hides below Of some Pieces of her Drawing FAir Hand whose gentle Labour 's such As dashes Beauties with a Touch. Whose Stroaks are drawn so quick and short They make our Wonder but your Sport What Art is this such Shapes does shew And yet conceals it self from view As not the smallest subt'lest Eye Can all the curious Lines descry Or the fine Pencil's track pursue And keep its slender Steps in view Colours with Colours so combine They grow together more then join Extremes with such Agreement knit As they without Confusion meet The Creatures of your Pencil you With Motion and with Breath indue As they the Lookers on persuade That they were rather born then made Diviner Beings which your Brain Seems deliver'd of without pain Soft as their Makers hand and fair As your Idea's of them were Such in your Mind they first were wrought Limn'd in the Images of Thought And what at large is copy'd here A small Original was there When Fancy which such Skill provokes Drew in your Brain their tender Stroaks Though none may wish that Art were less Which clothes your Thoughts in such a Dress We wish our Insight were more clear That what not seen is might appear Which in mysterious Lines express't To us seems hidden as your Breast Seeing her in a Balcone THe Sun at his first Rising so Gilding some Mountain-top does show Illuminating all below As She does from on high appear And with like Glory crowns her Sphere Enlightning her Horizon here Above those darkning Shadows plac't Which lower House-tops round us cast That usher Night e're Day be past The proper Seat and only Scene Off all things fair and all serene Which nearest Heaven still are seen Our winged Thoughts in their bold flight Out-fly not yet our raised Sight Nor ever soar a braver Height Vpwards our Eyes can nought pursue Beyond what we now boast in view While we look up to Heav'n and You. Vouchsafe then fair One to allow That we whom Fate has plac'd below To our Divinity may bow And though beneath your feet we bend Permit our Eyes but to ascend Further our Hopes dare not pretend Fanning her self SEE how the charming fair Does break the yielding Air Which by her troubled so More pure more smooth does flow Winds without murmurs rise Complaining in sad Sighs Though they dare not repine How loth they 're to resign Their Int'rest in the fair To new succeeding Air. How silently they grieve Their snatch't Embrace to leave To new Winds who their place Supply and their Embrace Courting their longer Bliss At ev'ry parting Kiss While with a gentle Gale They swell her painted Sail. Then trembling they give way Fearing to disobey Though fain they her would bear With ev'ry moving Air In vain alas they prove Unkindness to remove In vain to win the Field Air may she cannot yield Her Hand a thousand waies New Favourites does raise Which to salute her proud Do round about her croud And Rival-like pursue Th' old thrust out by the new Well may they boast they can Move false Trees in her Fanne And with their tremblings make Their Trunks though rooted shake With Oaks they may contend But She can never bend She should ev'n Storms engage Her with their roughest Rage And all their utmost prove Too stubborn is to move Looking through a Perspective SHe fearing one Eye might Let in too large a Light Or wandering betray The other 's close Survey And with new Shows amuse One Eye consents to lose But does that loss requite With th' other Eyes delight Which doubling thus its Raies Its borrow'd Beams repayes And spreading wide her view Doubles the Pleasure too The Glass she does apply Becomes another Eye And a new Sense does add To those before she had Which a new Knowledge gives Of what from far arrives And varies still her View As 't is apply'd anew While it on each Remove The Prospect does improve Stretching her length'ned Sight Yet guiding it aright Pleas'd and Amaz'd she is While she at Distance sees Fields Trees and Houses pass Through th' hollow of the Glass Approaching her so near As they had entred there But if such Power lies In her bewitching Eyes As they far off attract How would they nearer act They that draw Houses then Would near at hand draw Men. Gathering Peaches BEhold wherever she does pass How all the am'rous Trees contend Whose loaded Arms should her embrace While with their fruit tow'rds her they bend As if the willing Branches meant To her their Bounty to present The upper Boughs all bending low Her raised Arm seem to prevent While those that level with her grow To meet her easie hand consent To court her thus Lo ev'ry Peach Submits it self within her reach These she prefers refusing those Unhappy in their rip'ning last Persuaded by her Eye to choose As that the colour'd fruit does tast Which her Desire does gently move To what her Sense did first approve Fair
thus at large and in gen'rals view'd It cheats the Eye and does with Shows delude Cast up is found defective in the tale And when examin'd by the touch or scale A lighter proves but courser Coine wash't o're A golden Out-side only and no more That which for th' Image-sake we over-rate And from the Royal Stamp mistake for Plate Such is the Beauty of this lying Stone Which Clearness has and Hardness wants alone Its colour and its flames for Orient pass Till th' undeceiving Hammer proves it Glass Our distant Hopes present our Pleasures fair And bigger shap'd then our Enjoyments are But when the Landschape we behold too nigh Which standing off did seem to court the Eye The fineness of the Stroaks does disappear What Painting shew'd far off is Daubing near Our Wants and Expectations both thus kind These shew Ioyes fair before and those behind Fame seems to speak of them untried and new With that Civility to Strangers due And mentions them with that Respect when fled We use to give the Absent and the Dead Opinion thus our Pleasures over-rates As idle Rumor magnifies Estates Which swell and rise to many Thousand Pounds Coin'd only in pure Air and empty Sounds So dear we purchase when our Hopes bid high Yet dearer part with what we dearly buy Like Gamesters then that have been beat at Play When once we come our Losses to survey Too lib'ral Mistakes we in counting make And frankly lose more then was laid at Stake While gen'rous Grief does to the Winner throw More then he did to his good fortune owe. The Scenes and Images of vain Delight Seen by false Beams and a deluded Sight Among the Ioyes of Misers Dreams have place Who Fairy Gold with empty Arms embrace But when at last the golden Dream is o're With a rich Sigh lament their waking poor So swift our Ioyes are snatch't that they but last For our sad Pleasure to behold them past So yong are all things fair and all things gay Which can no more then Angels with us stay The best of Good things thus like Spirits are They have their Wings or vanish into Air When seen but once and we their Stay invite The pretty winged Strangers take their flight They for our Tast too heav'nly are and pure Too delicate and subtle to endure Our Senses too as much too gross and rude Which things too strong o'recome too fine elude The Aether thus too delicate for Breath Instead of Life le ts in a finer Death And thus the piercing over-radiant Light Scatters and blinds the weaker Raies of Sight Things soft and smooth we cannot nicely tast Nor will the Air or Water be embrac't The Down of Swans the finest Touch deceives And Oyl no certain Tast behind it leaves What 's Hard or Rough the Sense does best excite And what is Sharp best moves the Appetite Rareness and Labour all good things commend Which once grown cheap and easie do offend Like Hunters we the Pleasure do misplace And lose the dear Enjoyment in the Chace The Game we prize because we hunted hard And by the Toil we measure the Reward Plenty and Want our Sense alike does blame While deep Draughts drown and little Tasts inflame Perfumes enjoy'd too free delight us less And are impair'd with nauseating Excess Tasted more rarely they inflame us more Then their Excess did surfeit us before Thus some in Feavers their sick Palates please And cure their Thirst by feeding their Disease Against Fame WHat should fond Man in all his Works persuade To Noise Solemnity or vain Parade Since Nature where she Bus'ness does intend Silence and Secrecy does most commend If we look up the Heavens seem to flye In rouling swift the measures of the Eye They strike no Hours nor in their Motions chime Though we with Noise distinguish silent Time And boast we hear the measur'd Howers run Told by no Larum how whole Dayes are gone Nay Years are past our count and notice fled As silently as Night does Day succeed If we look down what Eye distinctly sees The growing Shade and rising Height of Trees Or by what crooked Steps in winding slow Rivers wash neighb'ring Meadows as they goe Still while deep Waters are the shallow Stream Does louder in its prating Murmurs seem Hollow and empty things are only found To yield and empty Air to spread a Sound And none but such as hollow Places ring With Sounds which first from hollow Causes spring As void of Substance is an airy Fame And vain as He who does that Nothing claim Or as the hollow World which still employs Its empty Eccho's to return the Noise Fame grows from Opposition and like Sound Seems only from Resistance to rebound And as two solid Bodies set at jar Produce a Bounce in their unglorious War Such is that nobler Fights and Combats give And which the Brave from clashing Arms derive The Noise which does from warlike Actions come Is but the empty Loudness of a Drum The Brave are led thus to maintain their Fame For which they fought the same way that it came Meer Sound does them to greater Deeds excite Who were encourag'd with a Sound to fight Vain as alas that dying Man would sport Who boasts his murd'ring Canon's loud Report So vain is He who all his Art employes Living or dying still to make a Noise THE NEW-YEAR To my LORDS GRACE of CANTERBURY Presented Ianuary 1. 1674. AS now the restless and unwearied Sun In new Successions his fair Course does run His Motion shap'd like his resembling Sphere Which figures the round World and Circling Year So you to whom alike our Eyes we raise Born on the Heavens and on You to gaze Your endless Race of Glorie still pursue And guide our Course and shine above us too Repeating your unwearied Travels till You your bright Circle of great Actions fill And as the Sun unchang'd does us behold Grown with the Changes which he measures old His Glories fresh as when he first did rise And took his Station in the new-made Skies So you to whom old Age unknown appears Seem yong with the increase of many years As all th' Advances which you make in Time Were Steps whereby you to Perfection climb And those past Years by which you count us old For us you only numbred out and told Thus Angels fashion'd by a Hand Divine Still ever yong as their own Heavens shine Born old as all the Elements yet n'ere No more then they with crooked Age impair What is above not subject is to Time Eternal Youth smiles in the Heav'nly Clime Like as some Hill the antient Throne and State Whereon the World's first humble Monarchs sate Beholds the black Clouds in the Bottom seen Th' Imperial Height still smiling and serene So you who by experienc't Travels climb To gain the Prospect on the top of Time Serener seem the higher still you go And see more of the changing World below Thus when we thought our Sky was calm and clear You saw our threatning Storms far off appear And those black Clouds which after fell on all While you from your calm Height o're-look't our Fall Then stood you like your Church upon a Hill Firm as a Rock and as conspicuous still Then when your Country was with Arms oppress 't And Peace was no where found but in your Breast That sacred Quiet which on you did wait Slep't not unactive in your humble State But waking kept and did not idly rest Like Nights dark Quiet a dull Calm at best So high the Confessor his Cross did bear As that has higher rais'd the Primate's Chair Your Suff'rings shed as great a Lustre then As now adorns your more Triumphant Scene May kinder Suns their whiter Times restore In lieu of those they snatch't from you before And many smiling Years to come employ The Sacred Quire's more New and Solemn Ioy Still exercis'd in Angels Songs that so Our Church may long Triumphant be below The TABLE TO his Grace Gilbert Lord Arch-bishop of Canterbury Page 1 On the Oxford Theater Page 9 To her Highness the Princess Sophia Dutchess of Brunswick and Lunenburgh Page 16 On the Duke of Newburgh's Entertainment and Musick Page 22 On a fair Lady looking in the Glass Page 28 The Thought To a Lady enquiring after him in his Travels Page 31 Petrilla in Iewels Page 33 Greatness in Little Page 35 Beauty of Chance Page 39 Magnificence under Ground Page 43 The Intellectual Prospect Page 47 The Revolutions of Fate Page 53 Light Page 59 Air Page 65 To a Lady on her Picture Page 71 Dreaming of her Page 73 Having seen her Like Page 76 The Bounds of Sight Page 78 The Union of Friendship Page 80 The Eccho Page 84 The Whisper Page 86 The Inconstant Page 87 The Modest Fair Page 89 To a Lady playing with a Squirrel Page 90 Bathing her Self Page 93 Of some Pieces of her Drawing Page 95 Seeing her in a Balcone Page 97 Fanning her self Page 99 Looking through a Perspective Page 102 Gathering Peaches Page 104 Singing to her Guittar in an Arbor Page 106 Her Window Page 110 Sleeping on her Couch Page 112 Seeing Smoak rise Page 114 Hearing of a Drum Page 116 On a Picture of Snow and Ice Page 118 On the Picture of an Old Man with Spectacles Page 119 On an Old Beldame washing her Face Page ibid. Against Fruition Page 120 Against Fame Page 125 The New-Year to my Lords Grace of Canterbury presented January 1. 1675. Page 128 FINIS