Bedlam schoolman. Or, Some lines made by an English noble man, that was in Bedlam To its own proper tune. Holow my fancie, whither wilt thou go? 1700 Approx. 8 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A07550 STC 1793 Wing B1674B ESTC S111931 99847191 99847191 12214

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A07550) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 12214) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1194:17) Bedlam schoolman. Or, Some lines made by an English noble man, that was in Bedlam To its own proper tune. Holow my fancie, whither wilt thou go? 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1700?] Imprint from Wing and STC. Printed in three columns; columns separated by double rules. Verse - "Into a melancholick fancie,". Reproduction of the original in the British Library.

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 eng Sermons, English -- 18th century. 2002-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-11 Sampled and proofread 2002-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-12 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
BEDLAM SCHOOLMAN. Or, Some Lines made by an English Noble Man, that was in Bedlam. To its own pro • er Tune. Holow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? INTO a Melancholick Fancie, Out of my self; Into the Vulcan dancie, All the World surveying, No where staying, Just like a Fairie Elff: Out o're the tops of highest Mountains Skipping, Out o're the Hills, the Trees, and Valleys tripping, Out o're the Ocean Seas, without an Oare or Shipping: Holow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? Amidst the misty Vapours, fain would I know, What doth cause the Tapours? Why the Clouds benight us? And afright us; while we travel here below? Fain would I know what makes the roaring Thunder? And what these lightnings be, that rent the clouds asunder? And what these Comets are, on which we gaze and wonder? Holow my Fancie, &c. Fain would I know the reason, why the little Aunt, All the Summer season, Layeth up provision, Upon condition, to know no Winters want? And how these Huse-wives that are so good and painful, Do unto their Husbands prove so good and gainful? And why these lazie Drons, to them do prove disdainful? Holow, &c. Ships, Ships, I will discrie you, amidst the Main; I will come and try you, What you are protecting. And projecting, what's your end and aim? One goes abroad for Merchandise and Trading, Another stayes to keep his Countrey from invading, A Third is coming home with rich & wealth of loading. Holow, &c. When I look before me, there I do behold, There`s none that sees or knows me; All the World`s a gadding, Running and madding, none doth his station hold: He that is below invieth him that riseth, And he that is above, him thats below despiseth, So every Man his plot and counter-plot deviseth. Holow, &c. Look, Look, what a busling, here I do espy; Each one another jusling, Every one turmoiling, One another spoiling▪ as I did pass them by: One sitteth musing in a dumpish Passion, Another hangs his Head, because he's out of fashion, A Third is fully bent on sport and recreation: Holow, &c. Amidst the foamie Ocean, fain would I know, What doth cause the motion, And returning, In its journeying? and doth so seldom swerve? And how these little Fishes, that swime beneath Salt water Do never blind their Eye? Me thinks it is a matter, An inch above the reach of Err • Paterpunc; Holow, &c. Fain would I be resolved, how things are done? And where the Bull was calved, Of bloody Falaris? And where the Taylor is, that works to the Man in the Moon? Fain would I know how Cupid aims so rightly▪ And how these little Fairies do dance and leap so lightly? And where fair Cynthia makes her ambles nightly? Holow, &c. In conceit like Phaeton, I`ll mount Phoebus Chaire! Having ne`re a Hat on, All my Hair`s a burning, In my journeying, hurrying through the Air! Fain would I hear his fiery Horses neighing! And see how they on foamy Bitts are playing! All the Stars and Planets I will be surveying! Holow, &c. O from what ground of Nature, Doth the Pellean, That self devouting creature, Prove so froward, And untoward, her Vitals for to strain! And why the subtile Fox, while in deaths wounds is lying, Doth not lament his pangs, by howling and by crying? And why the milk white Swan doth sing when she`s a dying. Holow, &c. Fain would I conclude this, at least make an essay, What similitude is, Why Fowls of a feather, Do flock and fly together? and Lambs know Beastes of prey? How Natures Alchymists, these small laborious creatures, Acknowledge still a Prince in ordering their matter, And suffers none to live, who slothing lose their Fe ••• res? Holow, &c. I'm rapt with admiration, when I do ruminate, Men of one Occupation, How each one calls him Brother, Yet each invieth other, and yet still intimate; Yea, I admire to see, some Natives farther sundred, Then Antipodes to us, is it not to be wondred, In Myriads ye'll find of one Mind scarce an hundred! Holow, &c. What multitude of notions doth perturb my Pate, Considering the motions, How Heavens they are preserved▪ And this World served, in Moisture, Light and Heat! If one Spirit sits the outmost Circle turning, Or if one turns another continuing in jo • rneying? If Rapids circles motion be that which they call burning. Holow, &c. Fain also would I prove this, by considering, What that which you call love is? Whither it be a Folly, Or a Melancholy, or some Heroick thing! Fain would I have it proved, by one whom Love hath wounded And fully upon one their desire hath founded, That nothing els could please them tho the World were rounded! Holow, &c. To know this Worlds Center, Height, Depth, Breadth, and Length, Fain would I adventure, To search the hid attractions, Of Magnetick actions, And Adamantick strength! Fain would I know if in some lofty Mountain, Where the Moon sojourns, if there be Trees or Fountain? If there be Beasts of prey? or yet be fields to hunt in? Holow, &c. Fain would I have it tried, by Experiments, By none can be denied; If in this bulk of Nature, There be voids less or greater, or all remains compleat? Fain would I know if Beasts have any Reason? If Falcons killing Eagles, do commit a treason? If fear of Winters want, makes Swallowes fly the season? Holow, &c. Holow my Fancie, holow, stay thou at home with me, I can thee no longer follow, Thou hast betray'd me, And bewray'd me; it is too much for thee. Stay, stay at home with me, leave off thy lofty soaring, Stay thou at home with me, and on thy books be poring: For he that goes abroad layes little up in storing: thou`s welcome home my Fancie, welcome home to me▪ FINIS.