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| To Sr Edward Herbert, now Lord Herbert of |
| Cherbury, being at the siege of Iulyers. |
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| Man is a lumpe, where all beasts kneaded bee, |
| Wisedome makes him an Arke where all agree; |
| The foole, in whom these beasts doe live at jarre, |
| Is sport to others, and a Theater, |
| Nor scapes he so, but is himselfe their prey; |
| All which was man in him, is eate away, |
| And now his beasts on one another feed, |
| Yet couple'in anger, and new monsters breed. |
| How happy'is he, which hath due place assign'd |
| To'his beasts; and disaforested his minde? |
| Empail'd himselfe to keepe them out, not in; |
| Can sow, and dares trust corne, where they have bin; |
| Can use his horse, goate, wolfe, and every beast, |
| And is not Asse himselfe to all the rest. |
| Else, man not onely is the heard of swine, |
| But he's those devils too, which did incline |
| Them to an headlong rage, and made them worse: |
| For man can adde weight to heavens heaviest curse, |
| As Soules (they say) by our first touch, take in |
| The poysonous tincture of Originall sinne, |
| So, to the punishments which God doth fling, |
| Our apprehension contributes the sting. |
| To us, as to his chickins, he doth cast |
| Hemlocke, and we as men, his hemlocke taste.
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[CW: We] |