Quotes by John Donne

Marry, and love thy _Flavia_, for, shee Hath all things, whereby others beautious bee, For, though her eyes be small, her mouth is great, Though they be Ivory, yet her teeth be jeat, Though they be dimme, yet she is light enough, 5 And though her harsh haire fall, her skinne is rough; What though her cheeks be yellow, her haire's red, Give her thine, and she hath a maydenhead. These things are beauties elements, where these Meet in one, that one must, as perfect, please. 10 If red and white and each good quality Be in thy wench, ne'r aske where it doth lye. In buying things perfum'd, we aske; if there Be muske and amber in it, but not where. Though all her parts be not in th'usuall place, 15 She'hath yet an Anagram of a good face. If we might put the letters but one way, In the leane dearth of words, what could wee say? When by the Gamut some Musitions make A perfect song, others will undertake, 20 By the same Gamut chang'd, to equall it. Things simply good, can never be unfit. She's faire as any, if all be like her, And if none bee, then she is singular. All love is wonder; if wee justly doe 25 Account her wonderfull, why not lovely too? Love built on beauty, soone as beauty, dies, Chuse this face, chang'd by no deformities. Women are all like Angels; the faire be Like those which fell to worse; but such as shee, 30 Like to good Angels, nothing can impaire: 'Tis lesse griefe to be foule, then to have beene faire. For one nights revels, silke and gold we chuse, But, in long journeyes, cloth, and leather use. Beauty is barren oft; best husbands say, 35 There is best land, where there is foulest way. Oh what a soveraigne Plaister will shee bee, If thy past sinnes have taught thee jealousie! Here needs no spies, nor eunuches; her commit Safe to thy foes; yea, to a Marmosit. 40 When Belgiaes citties, the round countries drowne, That durty foulenesse guards, and armes the towne: So doth her face guard her; and so, for thee, Which, forc'd by businesse, absent oft must bee, Shee, whose face, like clouds, turnes the day to night, 45 Who, mightier then the sea, makes Moores seem white, Who, though seaven yeares, she in the Stews had laid, A Nunnery durst receive, and thinke a maid, And though in childbeds labour she did lie, Midwifes would sweare, 'twere but a tympanie, 50 Whom, if shee accuse her selfe, I credit lesse Then witches, which impossibles confesse, Whom Dildoes, Bedstaves, and her Velvet Glasse Would be as loath to touch as Joseph was: One like none, and lik'd of none, fittest were, 55 For, things in fashion every man will weare.

Lett not your soule (at first with graces fill'd, And since, and thorough crooked lymbecks, still'd In many schools and courts, which quicken it,) 15 It self unto the Irish negligence submit. I aske not labored letters which should weare Long papers out: nor letters which should feare Dishonest carriage: or a seers art: Nor such as from the brayne come, but the hart. 20 [H: W: _&c._ _Burley MS._ (JD _in margin_) _i.e._ Henrico Wottoni in Hibernia belligeranti] [2 that] y^t _Bur, and similarly_ y^e (the), y^r (your), w^{ch} (which), w^{th} (with) _throughout_] [2-3 most, Respective friendship,] _no commas_, _Bur_] [4 share'is] share is _Bur_] [9 lethargies.] letargies. _Bur_] [10 restreynes;] restreynes _Bur_] [11 attack,] attack _Bur_ best,] best _Bur_] [13 (at first] _Bur closes bracket after_ first _and again after_ 15 quicken it,] [14 since,] since _Bur_] [19 art:] art _Bur_] _To the Countesse of Bedford._ MADAME, Reason is our Soules left hand, Faith her right, By these wee reach divinity, that's you; Their loves, who have the blessings of your light, Grew from their reason, mine from faire faith grew. But as, although a squint lefthandednesse 5 Be'ungracious, yet we cannot want that hand, So would I, not to encrease, but to expresse My faith, as I beleeve, so understand. Therefore I study you first in your Saints, Those friends, whom your election glorifies, 10 Then in your deeds, accesses, and restraints, And what you reade, and what your selfe devize. But soone, the reasons why you'are lov'd by all, Grow infinite, and so passe reasons reach, Then backe againe to'implicite faith I fall, 15 And rest on what the Catholique voice doth teach; That you are good: and not one Heretique Denies it: if he did, yet you are so. For, rockes, which high top'd and deep rooted sticke, Waves wash, not undermine, nor overthrow. 20 In every thing there naturally growes A _Balsamum_ to keepe it fresh, and new, If'twere not injur'd by extrinsique blowes; Your birth and beauty are this Balme in you.

If poysonous mineralls, and if that tree, Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damn'd; Alas; why should I bee? Why should intent or reason, borne in mee, 5 Make sinnes, else equall, in mee more heinous? And mercy being easie, and glorious To God; in his sterne wrath, why threatens hee? But who am I, that dare dispute with thee O God? Oh! of thine onely worthy blood, 10 And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood, And drowne in it my sinnes blacke memorie; That thou remember them, some claime as debt, I thinke it mercy, if thou wilt forget. [IX. _1635-69_, _B_, _O'F_, _S96_, _W:_ V. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c._] [1 poysonous] poysons _1639-54_ and if that] or if the _B_, _O'F_, _S96_] [2 (else immortal) _1635-69_] [5 or] and _B_, _O'F_, _S96_] [6 mee] mee, _1633_] [8 God;] God, _1633_] [9-10 thee O God? _W:_ thee? O God, _1633-69_] [12 memorie;] memorie, _1633_] [14 forget.] forget, _1633_] X. Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, 5 Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, 10 And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then? One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. [X. _1635-69:_ VI. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ XI. _B_, _O'F_, _S96_, _W_] [4 mee.] mee; _1633_] [5 pictures _1633 and MSS.:_ picture _1635-69_] [8 deliverie.] deliverie _1633-69_] [9 Chance, _W:_ chance, _1633-69_] [10 dost] doth _1633_ dwell,] dwell. _1633_] [12 better] easier _B_, _O'F_, _S96_, _W_] [13 wake] live _B_, _S96_, _W_] [14 more; death, _Ed:_ more, death _1633-69_] XI.

1633_, _1669_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _HN_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _P_, _S_, _TCD:_ Sea-gulls, _1635-54_, _O'F_, _Chambers:_ Sea-snayles, _B_, _JC_] [38 our Pinnaces, now _1635-54_, _B_, _O'F:_ our venices, now _1633_, _A25_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _P_, _Q_, _S_, _TCD:_ with _Vinice's_, our _1669_] [40 Or] Or, _1633-69_] [44 and a coward _1633_, _MSS.:_ and coward _1635-69:_ a coward _P_, _S_] [45 and all] and each _B_, _Q_, _S_] [48 forget _1633-54_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _P_, _S:_ forgot _1669_, _A25_, _HN_, _JC_, _L74_, _N_, _Q_, _TCD_] [50 poles] pole _JC_, _Q_] [52-3 he was? he was Nothing; for us, wee are for nothing fit; _1633_, _N_, _P_, _S_, _TCD_ (_but MSS. have no stop after_ Nothing): he was, he was? Nothing; for us, wee are for nothing fit; _1635-54:_ he was, he was? Nothing for us, we are for nothing fit; _1669_, _A25_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _HN_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _Q:_ _but the MSS. have not all got a mark of interrogation or other stop after second_ he was. _See note_] To S^r _Henry Wotton_. Sir, more then kisses, letters mingle Soules; For, thus friends absent speake. This ease controules The tediousnesse of my life: But for these I could ideate nothing, which could please, But I should wither in one day, and passe 5 To'a bottle'of Hay, that am a locke of Grasse. Life is a voyage, and in our lifes wayes Countries, Courts, Towns are Rockes, or Remoraes; They breake or stop all ships, yet our state's such, That though then pitch they staine worse, wee must touch. 10 If in the furnace of the even line, Or under th'adverse icy poles thou pine, Thou know'st two temperate Regions girded in, Dwell there: But Oh, what refuge canst thou winne Parch'd in the Court, and in the country frozen? 15 Shall cities, built of both extremes, be chosen? Can dung and garlike be'a perfume? or can A Scorpion and Torpedo cure a man? Cities are worst of all three; of all three (O knottie riddle) each is worst equally. 20 Cities are Sepulchers; they who dwell there Are carcases, as if no such there were.

Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection? 5 Why dost thou bull, and bore so seelily Dissemble weaknesse, and by'one mans stroke die, Whose whole kinde, you might swallow and feed upon? Weaker I am, woe is mee, and worse then you, You have not sinn'd, nor need be timorous. 10 But wonder at a greater wonder, for to us Created nature doth these things subdue, But their Creator, whom sin, nor nature tyed, For us, his Creatures, and his foes, hath dyed. [XII. _1635-69:_ VIII. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ _omitted_ _B_, _S96:_ _among_ Other Meditations. _O'F:_ XIV. _W_] [1 are wee] ame I _W_] [4 Simple, _1633_, _D_, _H49_, _W:_ Simpler _1635-69_, _A18_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC_, _Chambers_] [9 Weaker I am,] Alas I am weaker, _W_] [10 timorous. _W:_ timorous, _1633-69_] [11 a greater wonder, _1633_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _O'F_ (greate), _TC_, _W:_ a greater, _1635-69_] XIII. What if this present were the worlds last night? Marke in my heart, O Soule, where thou dost dwell, The picture of Christ crucified, and tell Whether that countenance can thee affright, Teares in his eyes quench the amasing light, 5 Blood fills his frownes, which from his pierc'd head fell. And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell, Which pray'd forgivenesse for his foes fierce spight? No, no; but as in my idolatrie I said to all my profane mistresses, 10 Beauty, of pitty, foulnesse onely is A signe of rigour: so I say to thee, To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd, This beauteous forme assures a pitious minde. [XIII _1635-69:_ IX. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ _om. B_, _S96:_ _among_ Other Meditations. _O'F:_ XV. _W_] [2 Marke] Looke _W_] [4 that _A18_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC_, _W:_ his _1633-69_, _D_, _H49_] [6 fell. _1639-69:_ fell _1633-35_] [8 fierce] ranck _W_] [14 assures _A18_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC_, _W:_ assumes _1633-69_] XIV.

Ed:_ be; _1633_] [46 a] the _1669_, _M_, _P_] [47 naturall lation _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _L74_, _M_, _N_, _P_, _S_, _TC_ (_sometimes thus_, natural-lation): motion naturall _1633:_ naturall station _1635-69_, _Lec_, _O'F_] [50 ebbe out _1633:_ ebbe on _1635-69_, _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _M_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _TC_] ELEGIE X. _The Dreame._ Image of her whom I love, more then she, Whose faire impression in my faithfull heart, Makes mee her _Medall_, and makes her love mee, As Kings do coynes, to which their stamps impart The value: goe, and take my heart from hence, 5 Which now is growne too great and good for me: _Honours_ oppresse weake spirits, and our sense Strong objects dull; the more, the lesse wee see. When you are gone, and _Reason_ gone with you, Then _Fantasie_ is Queene and Soule, and all; 10 She can present joyes meaner then you do; Convenient, and more proportionall. So, if I dreame I have you, I have you, For, all our joyes are but fantasticall. And so I scape the paine, for paine is true; 15 And sleepe which locks up sense, doth lock out all. After a such fruition I shall wake, And, but the waking, nothing shall repent; And shall to love more thankfull Sonnets make, Then if more _honour_, _teares_, and _paines_ were spent. 20 But dearest heart, and dearer image stay; Alas, true joyes at best are _dreame_ enough; Though you stay here you passe too fast away: For even at first lifes _Taper_ is a snuffe. Fill'd with her love, may I be rather grown 25 Mad with much _heart_, then _ideott_ with none. [Eleg. X. The Dreame. _1635-54:_ Elegie X. _1669:_ Elegie. _1633:_ Picture. _S96:_ Elegie. _or no title_, _A18_, _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _S96_, _TCC_, _TCD_] [7 sense] sense, _1633_] [8 dull; _1635-69:_ dull, _1633_] [16 out] up _B_, _P_, _S_] [17 a such _1633-54:_ such a _1669_] [22 _dreame_] _dreams_ _1669_] ELEGIE XI.

Think then my soule that death is but a Groome, Which brings a Taper to the outward roome, Whence thou spiest first a little glimmering light, And after brings it nearer to thy sight: For such approaches does heaven make in death. . . . . . . . Up, up my drowsie Soule, where thy new eare Shall in the Angels songs no discord heere, &c. In passages like these there is an earnest of the highest note of spiritual eloquence that Donne was to attain to in his sermons and last hymns. Another aspect of Donne's poetry in the _Anniversaries_, of his _contemptus mundi_ and ecstatic vision, connects them more closely with Tennyson's _In Memoriam_ than Milton's _Lycidas_. Like Tennyson, Donne is much concerned with the progress of science, the revolution which was going on in men's knowledge of the universe, and its disintegrating effect on accepted beliefs. To him the new astronomy is as bewildering in its displacement of the earth and disturbance of a concentric universe as the new geology was to be to Tennyson with the vistas which it opened into the infinities of time, the origin and the destiny of man: The new philosophy calls all in doubt, The Element of fire is quite put out; The Sun is lost, and th' earth, and no mans wit Can well direct him where to look for it. And freely men confesse that this world's spent, When in the Planets, and the Firmament They seeke so many new; they see that this Is crumbled out againe to his Atomies. On Tennyson the effect of a similar dislocation of thought, the revelation of a Nature which seemed to bring to death and bring to life through endless ages, careless alike of individual and type, was religious doubt tending to despair: O life as futile, then, as frail! . . . . . What hope of answer, or redress? Behind the veil, behind the veil. On Donne the effect was quite the opposite. It was not of religion he doubted but of science, of human knowledge with its uncertainties, its shifting theories, its concern about the unimportant: Poore soule, in this thy flesh what dost thou know? Thou know'st thy selfe so little, as thou know'st not, How thou didst die, nor how thou wast begot. . . . . . . . . . Have not all soules thought For many ages, that our body is wrought Of Ayre, and Fire, and other Elements?

our _1635-69_, _O'F_, _P_] [18 lay; _Ed:_ lay, _1633-69_] [25 knew _1635-69_, _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _N_, _P_, _TC:_ knowes _1633_, _D_, _Lec_] [29 doth] do _1669_] [31 sexe, _1669:_ sexe _1633-54_] [42 Interinanimates _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _TC:_ Interanimates _1633-69_, _D_, _Lec_] [44 loneliness] loveliness _1669_] [46 made, _1633-39:_ made: _1650-69_] [47 Atomies _1633-54:_ Atomes _1669_] [48 are soules, _1633_, _1669:_ are soule, _1635-54_] [51 though they are not _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _S96_, _TC:_ though not _1633-69_] [52 spheare. _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _S96_, _TC:_ spheares. _1633-69_] [55 forces, sense, _A18_, _A25_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _S96_, _TC:_ senses force _1633-69_] [59 Soe _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _H40_, _JC_, _N_, _P_, _S_, _S96_, _TC:_ For _1633-69_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_] [64 makes] make _1635-39_] [72 his] the _1669_] [76 gone. _1633_, _A18_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _S_, _TC:_ growne. _1635-69_, _P_, _S96_] _Loves Deitie._ I long to talke with some old lovers ghost, Who dyed before the god of Love was borne: I cannot thinke that hee, who then lov'd most, Sunke so low, as to love one which did scorne. But since this god produc'd a destinie, 5 And that vice-nature, custome, lets it be; I must love her, that loves not mee. Sure, they which made him god, meant not so much, Nor he, in his young godhead practis'd it; But when an even flame two hearts did touch, 10 His office was indulgently to fit Actives to passives. Correspondencie Only his subject was; It cannot bee Love, till I love her, that loves mee. But every moderne god will now extend 15 His vast prerogative, as far as Jove. To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend, All is the purlewe of the God of Love. Oh were wee wak'ned by this Tyrannie To ungod this child againe, it could not bee 20 I should love her, who loves not mee. Rebell and Atheist too, why murmure I, As though I felt the worst that love could doe?

Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harme Nor question much That subtile wreath of haire, which crowns my arme; The mystery, the signe you must not touch, For 'tis my outward Soule, 5 Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to controule, And keepe these limbes, her Provinces, from dissolution. For if the sinewie thread my braine lets fall Through every part, 10 Can tye those parts, and make mee one of all; These haires which upward grew, and strength and art Have from a better braine, Can better do'it; Except she meant that I By this should know my pain, 15 As prisoners then are manacled, when they'are condemn'd to die. What ere shee meant by'it, bury it with me, For since I am Loves martyr, it might breed idolatrie, If into others hands these Reliques came; 20 As'twas humility To afford to it all that a Soule can doe, So,'tis some bravery, That since you would save none of mee, I bury some of you. [The Funerall. _1633-69_, _A18_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _S96_, _TCC_, _TCD_] [3 which ... arme;] about mine arm; _1669_] [6 then to _A18_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _S96_, _TC:_ unto _1633-69_] [12 These _A18_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _L74_, _N_, _S_ (The), _S96_, _TC:_ Those _1633-69_, _Lec_, _O'F_ grew, _1633-39:_ grow, _1650-69_] [16 condemn'd] condem'nd _1633_] [17 with me, _1635-69 and MSS.:_ by me, _1633_] [24 save _A18_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _L74_, _N_, _P_, _TC:_ have _1633-69_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _S96:_ _om. S_] _The Blossome._ Little think'st thou, poore flower, Whom I have watch'd sixe or seaven dayes, And seene thy birth, and seene what every houre Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise, And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough, 5 Little think'st thou That it will freeze anon, and that I shall To morrow finde thee falne, or not at all.

20 Doe thy will then, then subject and degree, And fruit of love, Love I submit to thee, Spare mee till then, I'll beare it, though she bee One that loves mee. [Loves Vsury. _1633-69_, _L74:_ _no title_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _P_, _S:_ Elegie. _S96_] [5 raigne, _1633_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _P_, _S:_ range, _1635-69_, _O'F_, _S96_. _See note_] [6 snatch, _1633_, _1669:_ match, _1635-54_] [7 relict] relique _1669_] [12 that] her _1669_] [13 sport; _1669:_ sport _1633-54:_ sport, _most MSS._] [15 let report _1633_, _1669_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _L74_, _Lec_, _P_, _S:_ let not report _1635-54_, _O'F_, _S96_, _Chambers_. _See note_] [19 or paine _1633, 1669, and most MSS.:_ and paine _1635-54_, _O'F_] [22 fruit] fruites _B_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _S96_] [24 loves _1633, 1669 and all the MSS.:_ love _1635-54_] _The Canonization._ For Godsake hold your tongue, and let me love, Or chide my palsie, or my gout, My five gray haires, or ruin'd fortune flout, With wealth your state, your minde with Arts improve, Take you a course, get you a place, 5 Observe his honour, or his grace, Or the Kings reall, or his stamped face Contemplate, what you will, approve, So you will let me love. Alas, alas, who's injur'd by my love? 10 What merchants ships have my sighs drown'd? Who saies my teares have overflow'd his ground? When did my colds a forward spring remove? When did the heats which my veines fill Adde one more to the plaguie Bill? 15 Soldiers finde warres, and Lawyers finde out still Litigious men, which quarrels move, Though she and I do love. Call us what you will, wee are made such by love; Call her one, mee another flye, 20 We'are Tapers too, and at our owne cost die, And wee in us finde the'Eagle and the Dove.

1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ _om. B_, _S96:_ _among_ Other Meditations. _O'F:_ XV. _W_] [2 Marke] Looke _W_] [4 that _A18_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC_, _W:_ his _1633-69_, _D_, _H49_] [6 fell. _1639-69:_ fell _1633-35_] [8 fierce] ranck _W_] [14 assures _A18_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC_, _W:_ assumes _1633-69_] XIV. Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new. I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due, 5 Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end, Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend, But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue. Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine, But am betroth'd unto your enemie: 10 Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe, Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free, Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee. [XIV. _1635-69:_ X. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ _om. B_, _O'F_, _S96:_ XVI. _W_] [7 mee should] wee should _1669_] [8 untrue. _W:_ untrue, _1633-69_] [9 loved _MSS.:_ lov'd _1633-69_] [10 enemie: _W:_ enemie, _1633-69_] XV. Wilt thou love God, as he thee! then digest, My Soule, this wholsome meditation, How God the Spirit, by Angels waited on In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy brest. The Father having begot a Sonne most blest, 5 And still begetting, (for he ne'r begonne) Hath deign'd to chuse thee by adoption, Coheire to'his glory,'and Sabbaths endlesse rest. And as a robb'd man, which by search doth finde His stolne stuffe sold, must lose or buy'it againe: 10 The Sonne of glory came downe, and was slaine, Us whom he'had made, and Satan stolne, to unbinde. 'Twas much, that man was made like God before, But, that God should be made like man, much more.

[1 poysonous] poysons _1639-54_ and if that] or if the _B_, _O'F_, _S96_] [2 (else immortal) _1635-69_] [5 or] and _B_, _O'F_, _S96_] [6 mee] mee, _1633_] [8 God;] God, _1633_] [9-10 thee O God? _W:_ thee? O God, _1633-69_] [12 memorie;] memorie, _1633_] [14 forget.] forget, _1633_] X. Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, 5 Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, 10 And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then? One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. [X. _1635-69:_ VI. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ XI. _B_, _O'F_, _S96_, _W_] [4 mee.] mee; _1633_] [5 pictures _1633 and MSS.:_ picture _1635-69_] [8 deliverie.] deliverie _1633-69_] [9 Chance, _W:_ chance, _1633-69_] [10 dost] doth _1633_ dwell,] dwell. _1633_] [12 better] easier _B_, _O'F_, _S96_, _W_] [13 wake] live _B_, _S96_, _W_] [14 more; death, _Ed:_ more, death _1633-69_] XI. Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side, Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee, For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd, and onely hee, Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed: But by my death can not be satisfied 5 My sinnes, which passe the Jewes impiety: They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I Crucifie him daily, being now glorified. Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire: Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment. 10 And _Iacob_ came cloth'd in vile harsh attire But to supplant, and with gainfull intent: God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh, that so Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe.

As in the first Chaos confusedly Each elements qualities were in the'other three; 30 So pride, lust, covetize, being feverall To these three places, yet all are in all, And mingled thus, their issue incestuous. Falshood is denizon'd. Virtue is barbarous. Let no man say there, Virtues flintie wall 35 Shall locke vice in mee, I'll do none, but know all. Men are spunges, which to poure out, receive, Who know false play, rather then lose, deceive. For in best understandings, sinne beganne, Angels sinn'd first, then Devills, and then man. 40 Onely perchance beast sinne not; wretched wee Are beasts in all, but white integritie. I thinke if men, which in these places live Durst looke for themselves, and themselves retrive, They would like strangers greet themselves, seeing than 45 Utopian youth, growne old Italian. Be thou thine owne home, and in thy selfe dwell; Inne any where, continuance maketh hell. And seeing the snaile, which every where doth rome, Carrying his owne house still, still is at home, 50 Follow (for he is easie pac'd) this snaile, Bee thine owne Palace, or the world's thy gaile. And in the worlds sea, do not like corke sleepe Upon the waters face; nor in the deepe Sinke like a lead without a line: but as 55 Fishes glide, leaving no print where they passe, Nor making sound; so closely thy course goe, let men dispute, whether thou breathe, or no. Onely'in this one thing, be no Galenist: To make Courts hot ambitions wholesome, do not take 60 A dramme of Countries dulnesse; do not adde Correctives, but as chymiques, purge the bad. But, Sir, I advise not you, I rather doe Say o'er those lessons, which I learn'd of you: Whom, free from German schismes, and lightness 65 Of France, and faire Italies faithlesnesse, Having from these suck'd all they had of worth, And brought home that faith, which you carried forth, I throughly love. But if my selfe, I'have wonne To know my rules, I have, and you have 70 DONNE: [To S^r Henry Wotton.

There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world? No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.

XLIII There is no conclusive evidence, internal or external, as to which of Donne's correspondents is here addressed; certainly not Sir Henry Wotton, who was not a father, and who had recently returned from an important embassy in Germany, and who, a year later, became Provost of Eton College, to Bacon's great disappointment. The intimate tone of the letter suggests that it was addressed to Sir Henry Goodyer, who had already begun to be "encombred and distressed in his fortunes." XLIV _A. V[uestra] Merced_, "to your worship," is the common Spanish form of address. The allusion to the plague enables us to assign the letter to 1608, and this date in connection with the references to "My Lady" [Bedford] and to "Twicknam" suggest that Donne's correspondent was Sir Henry Goodyer, in the service of the Earl of Bedford. "Mistress Herbert" is Mrs. Magdalen Herbert, the mother of the saintly George Herbert and his unsaintly brother Edward. Of Mrs. Herbert, after she had become Lady Danvers, Donne speaks in what is perhaps the best remembered of his poems, the lines beginning: "No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnal face," and the best remembered of his sermons, except _Death's Duel_, is that in commemoration of her death. "M{ris} Meauly" according to Dr. Jessopp (quoted by Mr. Gosse) is Mistress Meautys, one of the members of Lady Bedford's household, and, if so, possibly a connection of Bacon's faithful follower. XLV "M. Mathews" is Toby Matthew, the eldest son of Dr. Tobias Matthew, Archbishop of York. Three years before, while travelling in Italy, he had become converted to Romanism. On his return to England in the summer of 1607, his case was laid before the King, who suggested that he be required to take the oath, abjuring allegiance to Rome. This he refused to do, and was committed to the Fleet prison by Dr. Bancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, and there visited by Bishop Andrews, Morton, then Dean of Gloucester, Sir Henry Goodyer, Donne, and others. In a letter dated 11th February 1607[8] the voluminous Chamberlain wrote to Carleton: "Your friend, Tobie Matthew, was called before the Council-table on Sunday in the afternoon, and, after some schooling, the Earl of Salisbury told him that he was not privy to his imprisonment, which he did in no ways approve, as perceiving that so light a punishment would make him rather more proud and perverse.

[11 much _Cy_, _H39_, _H40_, _P_, _TCD_: well _1635-69_] [13 Say _1635-69_: I think _H39_: Think _H40_: But thinke _P_ her disdaynings _1635-69_: her unkindness _H40_: that her disdaine _P_ must be] may well be _P_] [17-18 _text_ _H40_, _P_, _P and R_: So her disdaines can ne'er offend; Vnlesse selfe-love take private end. _1635-69_ ] [21 causeth] maketh _H40_, _P_] [23-4 Who can of love more free gift make Then to loves self, for loves owne sake _H39_, _H40_, _P_ (_but H39 has to love in 23_) Who can of love more gift make, Then to love selfe for loves sake. _1635-39_ Who can of love more rich gift make, Then to love selfe-love for loves sake? _1650-54_ Who can of love more rich gift make, Then to Loves self for loves own sake. _1669_ ] [25 Quarry] quarryes _P_] [27 roast _1669_, _H40_: rest _1635-54_: waste _H39_, _P_] [30 May] doth _H39_, _H40_, _P_] IX. _Break of Daye._ Stanza prefixed to Donne's Poem (p. 23) in Stowe MS. 961 and in Edition of 1669. Probably by John Dowlands. Stay, O sweet, and do not rise, The light that shines comes from thine eyes; The day breaks not, it is my heart, Because that you and I must part. Stay, or else my joys will die, 5 And perish in their infancie. [Stanza _&c._] _given as a separate poem in A25_ (_where it is written in at the side_), _C_, _O'F_, _P_: _printed in John Dowland's_ A Pilgrim's Solace (1612)] [1 Stay, O sweet] Lie still my dear _A25_, _C_] [3 The day breakes not] There breakes not day _S96_] [4 Because that] To think that _S96_] [5 Stay] Oh stay _S96_] APPENDIX C. A SELECTION OF POEMS WHICH FREQUENTLY ACCOMPANY POEMS BY JOHN DONNE IN MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS OR HAVE BEEN ASCRIBED TO DONNE BY MODERN EDITORS. I. POEMS FROM ADDITIONAL MS. 25707. _A Letter written by S^{r} H: G: and J: D: alternis vicibus._ Since ev'ry Tree beginns to blossome now Perfuminge and enamelinge each bow, Hartes should as well as they, some fruits allow.

As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world? No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it.

Two of the most precious things which God hath afforded us here, for the agony and exercise of our sense and spirit, which are a thirst and inhiation after the next life, and a frequency of prayer and meditation in this, are often envenomed, and putrefied, and stray into a corrupt disease: for as God doth thus occasion, and positively concurre to evill, that when a man is purposed to do a great sin, God infuses some good thoughts which make him choose a lesse sin, or leave out some circumstance which aggravated that; so the devill doth not only suffer but provoke us to some things naturally good, upon condition that we shall omit some other more necessary and more obligatory. And this is his greatest subtilty; because herein we have the deceitfull comfort of having done well, and can very hardly spie our errour because it is but an insensible omission, and no accusing act. With the first of these I have often suspected my self to be overtaken; which is, with a desire of the next life: which though I know it is not merely out of a wearinesse of this, because I had the same desires when I went with the tyde, and enjoyed fairer hopes then now: yet I doubt worldly encombrances have encreased it. I would not that death should take me asleep. I would not have him meerly seise me, and onely declare me to be dead, but win me, and overcome me. When I must shipwrack, I would do it in a Sea, where mine impotencie might have some excuse; not in a sullen weedy lake, where I could not have so much as exercise for my swimming. Therefore I would fain do something; but that I cannot tell what, is no wonder. For to chuse, is to do: but to be no part of any body, is to be nothing. At most, the greatest persons, are but great wens, and excrescences; men of wit and delightfull conversation, but as moalls for ornament, except they be so incorporated into the body of the world, that they contribute something to the sustentation of the whole. This I made account that I begun early, when I understood the study of our laws: but was diverted by the worst voluptuousnes, which is an Hydroptique immoderate desire of humane learning and languages: beautifull ornaments to great fortunes; but mine needed an occupation, and a course which I thought I entred well into, when I submitted my self to such a service, as I thought might imploy[ed] those poor advantages, which I had. And there I stumbled too, yet I would try again: for to this hour I am nothing, or so little, that I am scarce subject and argument good enough for one of mine own letters: yet I fear, that doth not ever proceed from a good root, that I am so well content to be lesse, that is dead. You, Sir, are farre enough from these descents, your vertue keeps you secure, and your naturall disposition to mirth will preserve you; but lose none of these holds, a slip is often as dangerous as a bruise, and though you cannot fall to my lownesse, yet in a much lesse distraction you may meet my sadnesse, for he is no safer which falls from an high tower into the leads, then he which falls from thence to the ground: make therefore to your self some mark, and go towards it alegrement.

1633_, _1669_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _HN_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _P_, _S_, _TCD:_ Sea-gulls, _1635-54_, _O'F_, _Chambers:_ Sea-snayles, _B_, _JC_] [38 our Pinnaces, now _1635-54_, _B_, _O'F:_ our venices, now _1633_, _A25_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _N_, _P_, _Q_, _S_, _TCD:_ with _Vinice's_, our _1669_] [40 Or] Or, _1633-69_] [44 and a coward _1633_, _MSS.:_ and coward _1635-69:_ a coward _P_, _S_] [45 and all] and each _B_, _Q_, _S_] [48 forget _1633-54_, _D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _P_, _S:_ forgot _1669_, _A25_, _HN_, _JC_, _L74_, _N_, _Q_, _TCD_] [50 poles] pole _JC_, _Q_] [52-3 he was? he was Nothing; for us, wee are for nothing fit; _1633_, _N_, _P_, _S_, _TCD_ (_but MSS. have no stop after_ Nothing): he was, he was? Nothing; for us, wee are for nothing fit; _1635-54:_ he was, he was? Nothing for us, we are for nothing fit; _1669_, _A25_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _HN_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _Q:_ _but the MSS. have not all got a mark of interrogation or other stop after second_ he was. _See note_] To S^r _Henry Wotton_. Sir, more then kisses, letters mingle Soules; For, thus friends absent speake. This ease controules The tediousnesse of my life: But for these I could ideate nothing, which could please, But I should wither in one day, and passe 5 To'a bottle'of Hay, that am a locke of Grasse. Life is a voyage, and in our lifes wayes Countries, Courts, Towns are Rockes, or Remoraes; They breake or stop all ships, yet our state's such, That though then pitch they staine worse, wee must touch. 10 If in the furnace of the even line, Or under th'adverse icy poles thou pine, Thou know'st two temperate Regions girded in, Dwell there: But Oh, what refuge canst thou winne Parch'd in the Court, and in the country frozen? 15 Shall cities, built of both extremes, be chosen? Can dung and garlike be'a perfume? or can A Scorpion and Torpedo cure a man? Cities are worst of all three; of all three (O knottie riddle) each is worst equally. 20 Cities are Sepulchers; they who dwell there Are carcases, as if no such there were.

The heires of slaine kings, wee see are often so Transported with the joy of what they get, That they, revenge and obsequies forget, 365 Nor will against such men the people goe, Because h'is now dead, to whom they should show Love in that act; Some kings by vice being growne So needy of subjects love, that of their own They thinke they lose, if love be to the dead Prince shown. 370 XXXVIII. This Soule, now free from prison, and passion, Hath yet a little indignation That so small hammers should so soone downe beat So great a castle. And having for her house Got the streight cloyster of a wreched mouse 375 (As basest men that have not what to eate, Nor enjoy ought, doe farre more hate the great Then they, who good repos'd estates possesse) This Soule, late taught that great things might by lesse Be slain, to gallant mischiefe doth herselfe addresse. 380 XXXIX. Natures great master-peece, an Elephant, The onely harmlesse great thing; the giant Of beasts; who thought, no more had gone, to make one wise But to be just, and thankfull, loth to offend, (Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend) 385 Himselfe he up-props, on himselfe relies, And foe to none, suspects no enemies, Still sleeping stood; vex't not his fantasie Blacke dreames; like an unbent bow, carelesly His sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie: 390 XL. In which as in a gallery this mouse Walk'd, and surveid the roomes of this vast house, And to the braine, the soules bedchamber, went, And gnaw'd the life cords there; Like a whole towne Cleane undermin'd, the slaine beast tumbled downe; 395 With him the murtherer dies, whom envy sent To kill, not scape, (for, only hee that ment To die, did ever kill a man of better roome,) And thus he made his foe, his prey, and tombe: Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come. 400 XLI.