[36 praise, in thine, _1611_, _1612-25:_ praise and thine, _1633-69_] [38 Quire _1611_, _1612-25:_ quire _1633-69_] [39 tongue _1611_, _1612-39:_ tongues _1650-69_] [41 infant-yeares _1611_, _1621-25:_ infant yeares _1633-69_] [42 vertues, _1611_, _1612-25:_ vertues _1633-69_ presage _1612-25:_ presage, _1633-69_] [43 What an hie ... best songs, _1611-12:_ What hie ... best songs _1621-25:_ What high ... best of songs, _1633-69_] [47 our _1611_, _1612-54:_ _om. 1669_ forgot,] forgot. _1621-25_] An Anatomy of the World. _The first Anniversary._ [Sidenote: _The entrie into the worke._] When that rich Soule which to her heaven is gone, Whom all do celebrate, who know they have one, (For who is sure he hath a Soule, unlesse It see, and judge, and follow worthinesse, And by Deedes praise it? hee who doth not this, 5 May lodge an In-mate soule, but 'tis not his.) When that Queene ended here her progresse time, And, as t'her standing house to heaven did climbe, Where loath to make the Saints attend her long, She's now a part both of the Quire, and Song, 10 This World, in that great earthquake languished; For in a common bath of teares it bled, Which drew the strongest vitall spirits out: But succour'd then with a perplexed doubt, Whether the world did lose, or gaine in this, 15 (Because since now no other way there is, But goodnesse, to see her, whom all would see, All must endeavour to be good as shee,) This great consumption to a fever turn'd, And so the world had fits; it joy'd, it mourn'd; 20 And, as men thinke, that Agues physick are, And th'Ague being spent, give over care, So thou sicke World, mistak'st thy selfe to bee Well, when alas, thou'rt in a Lethargie. Her death did wound and tame thee than, and than 25 Thou might'st have better spar'd the Sunne, or Man. That wound was deep, but 'tis more misery, That thou hast lost thy sense and memory. 'Twas heavy then to heare thy voyce of mone, But this is worse, that thou art speechlesse growne. 30 Thou hast forgot thy name, thou hadst; thou wast Nothing but shee, and her thou hast o'rpast. For as a child kept from the Font, untill A prince, expected long, come to fulfill The ceremonies, thou unnam'd had'st laid, 35 Had not her comming, thee her Palace made: Her name defin'd thee, gave thee forme, and frame, And thou forgett'st to celebrate thy name. Some moneths she hath beene dead (but being dead, Measures of times are all determined) 40 But long she'ath beene away, long, long, yet none Offers to tell us who it is that's gone. But as in states doubtfull of future heires, When sicknesse without remedie empaires The present Prince, they're loth it should be said, 45