CYBELE'S holy myfterics now begin:
Hence, all you Males! for you it is a fin
One moment in this hallow'd place to stay,
You gibing Males! who no devotion pay:
Into the female fecrets do not pry,

Or them at least pretend you do'nt defcry:
'Tis rude that fex to infpect too narrowly,'
Whofe outfide with fuch beauty treats the eye.
Aufpicious glory of th' enlighten'd sky,
More facred than thy brother's deity,
With thy whole horns, kind Luna! favour me,
And let thy crefcent face look luckily.
Thee many names and offices adorn;

By thy kind aid poor tender babes are born *;
Thou cafeft women when their labour's hard,
And the womb's vital gates you, Jana, guard,
The menftruous courfes you bring down, and them
Changing, convert into a milky ftream.
Women inconftant as the fea, you bind
To rules; both flow according to thy mind.
Oh! may the rivulets of my fancy glide

By the fame fecret force which move the tide;
Be thou the midwife to my teeming brain,
And let it fruitful be as free from pain.
It was the time when April decks the year,
And the glad fields in pompous garbs appear,
That the recruited Plants now leave their beds,
And at the Sun's command dare fhew their heads.
How pleas'd they are the heav'ns again to fee!
And that from Winter's fetters free!

The world around, and fifters whom they love,
They view; fuch objects fure their imilcs muft

move,

Each one does leaves with beauteous flow'rs pro-
And haftens to be fit for human use. [duce,
Equipp'd, they make no stay, but, one and all,
Intent upon th' affair, a council call.
Each tribe (for there are many) as of old
Their custom was, a feparate council hold.
They 're near a thoufand tribes; their minutes well
An hundred clerk-like tongues can scarcely tell,
Nor could I know them (for they don't reveal
Their facred acts, but cautiously conceal)
Had not my Laurel told me (whose tribe's name
The Female's ftil'd) which fummon'd, thither
The fecrets of the house the open laid, [came :
Telling how each Herb spoke, and what it faid.
Ye gentle, florid part of humankind!
(To you and not to men I speak) pray mind
My words, and them most stedfastly believe,
Which from the Delphic Laurel you receive.
'Twas midnight (whilft the moon at full fhone
bright,

And her cheeks feem'd to fwell with moisten'd light)

When on their loofen'd roots the Plants that grow
In th' Oxford Gardens did to council go,
And fuch I mean, as fuccour women's pains;
Orpheus, you'd think, had mov'd them by his
ftrains.

Straight their great work the diligent nation
And bus'nefs mind amidst their luxury.
Each one contends, with all her might and main,
Each day an higher verdant crown to gain;

¶This book treating only of female plants, in dedicated to Cybele,
The men is called Lucina, the readefs of Midwifery; and Jana,

at whofe mviterics no man ought to be prefent.

as the fun, Janus; and Mena, as the is the governels of worden's menftruous courtes

[ly,

[Spill

Of ointment in this place, now far more sweet
Than the occafion of thy death doft meet :
There Lilies with red Peonies find a room,
And purple Violets the place perfume;
Yea, noifome Devil's-turd, because she knows
Her worth, into that fweet Aflembly goes;
The milky Lettuce, too, does thither move,
And Waterlily, though a foe to love;
Sweet Ladies-glove with ftinking Horehound come,
And kind Germander, which relieves the womb;
Poley and Calamint, which on mountains dwell,
But against froft and fnow are guarded well;
Next vital Sage, well-join'd with wholefome Rue,
And Flower-de-luce, nam'd from its fplendid hue;
Then Hartwort (much more grateful to the deer
Than Dittany), with Wild-carots, enters there;
Confound and Plantain, frugal Herbs are they,
Who all things keep fafe under lock and key?
And Mafterwort, whofe name dominion wears,
With her who an Angelic title bears;
Lavender, Corn-rofe, Pennyroyal fat,
And that which cats efteem fo delicate;

After a while, flow-pac'd, with much ado, [too,
Ground-pine, with her fhort legs, crept thither
Behind the rest Camomile could not fray,
Through ftones and craggy rocks fhe cut her way;
From Spanish woods the whole fome Vett'ny came,
The only glory of the Vettons' name;
Minerva's Plant did likewife thither hie,
And was companion to Mercury;
There fcarlet Madder, too, a place did find,
Drawing a train of its long root behind;
Thither at last, too, Dittany did repair,
Half-ftarv'd, and griev'd to leave the Cretan air;
With her the bold strong Sowbread came along,
And hundreds more, in fhort, to them did throng:
Many, befides, from th' Indies crof'd the main,
Plants that of our chill clime did much complain;
But Oxford's fame through both the Indies told,
Eas'd all their cares, and warm'd the nipping cold.
The Pigmy and gigantic fons o' th' Wood
Betwixt all these in equal spaces stood,
Spreading their verdant glories round above,
Which did delight and admiration move.
The fcarlet Oak, that worms for fruit brings forth,
Which the Hefperian fruit exceed in worth,
Was there, good women's maladies to cafe,
And fprains, which we as truly call difeafe;
Her treacherously the Ivy does embrace,
And kills the tree, with kindncfs in her face;
Hardly in nobler fcarlet clad, the Rofe,
The envy of those stately berries grows;
Near which the Birch her rigid arms extends,
And Savin, which kind finners much befriends;
Next them the Beech, with limbs fo ftrong and
large,

With the Bush purchas'd at fo fmall a charge;
Nor did the golden Quince herself conceal,
Or Myrrh, whofe wounds diftemper'd mortals heal;
Laftly (ye Plants! whom I forget to name,
Excufe me) Juniper, too, thither came,
And Laurel, facred to the fons of Fame :
Such rev'rend heads did the green Senate fill,
The night was calm, all things were hufa'd and

Each Plant, with lift'ning leaves, flood mute to

hear

Their Pres'dent speak, and these her dictates were.

Mugwort (the Prefident) begins.

AFTER long cold, grave Matrons! in this place,
For the good of our's (I hope) and human race,
This facred Garden we, whilft others fleep,
Blefs'd April's facred nights come here to keep.
Our thanks to thee, great father-Sun! we pay,
And to thee, Luna! for thy nurfing ray,
Who the bright witnefs art of what we say.
But the fhort moments of our liberty
(Who fetter'd at daybreak again muft lie)
Let us improve, and our affairs attend,
Nor feítal hours, like idle mortals, fpcnd.
'Tis fit at this time we should truly live,
When winter us of half our life deprive.
Come then, from ufeful pains make no delay,
Winter will give you too much time to play.
And what a task you in the conqueft find,
How many foes Jove has to you affign'd,
By numerous and great fatigues you 'ave try'd,
And to th' opprefs'd kind aid have oft' fupply'd.
You're generous noble, Female Plants! nor ought
The glory of your fex cheap to be bought :
The feifsame battles you muft wage again,
Which will as long as teeming wombs remain :
But that to war you may fecurer go,

'Tis fit the foe's and your own ftrength you know.
Call the bright Moon to witness what you fay,
Whilft each fuch tributes to their country pay:
Let each one willingly both teach and learn,
Nor let that move their envy or their scorn.
And first, I think, upon the menftruous fource,
My conftant task, 'tis fit me fhould difcourfe;
From what orig'nal fpring that Nilus goes,
Or by what influx it fo oft' o'erflows;
What will reftrain, and what drive on, the tide,
And what goods or what mifchiefs in it glide:
See you its fecret myfteries disclose,

A thing fo weighty 'tis no fhame to expose.
(As fcholars uie) upon the bus'nefs fall.
She fpake, the reft began, and hotly all

Pennyroyal.

FIRST Pennyroyal, to advance her fame,
(And from her mouth a grateful odour came)
Tells 'em, they fay, how many ills that fource
Threatens, whene'er it stops its purple coufe:
That foggy dulnefs in the limbs attends,
And under its own weight the body bends.
Things ne'er fo pleafaut once, now will not please,
And life itfelf becomes a mere disease:
Ulcers and inflarymations, too, it breeds,
And dreadful bloody vomiting fucceeds. [breath,
The womb now lab'ring feems to ftrive for
And the foul ftruggles with a short-liv'd death;
The lungs opprefl a hard refpiration make,
And breathlets coughs foon all the fabric shake:
Yea, the proud foes the capitol, in time,
And all the mind's well-guarded towers, climb

ceed,

And minds that fuffer true, falfe evils breed.
Dropfy at laft the wearied life o'erflows,

Which floating from its fhipwreck'd veffel goes.
How oft', alas! poor, tender, blooming Maids!
(Before Love's pow'r their kinder hearts invades)
Does this fad malady with clouds o'ercaft,
Which all the longing lover's paffion blast?
The face looks green, the ruddy lips grew pale,
Like roses tinctur'd by a fulph'rous gale:
To afhes, coals, and lime, their appetite
(A loathfome treat) their ftomach does invite :
But 'tis a fin to fay the ladies eat

Such things; thofe are the vile diftemper's meat.
Thus Pennyroyal fpake, (more paflionate
In words than human voice can e'er relate)
At which, they fay, the whole Afiembly mov'd,
Wept o'er the lofs of beauty once belov'd:
So that good company, when day returns,
The fetting of the Moon, their miftrefs, mourns.
She told the means, too, by what fecret aid
That conqu'ring ill did all the limbs invade;
Through the wombs arteries, faid she, it goes,
And unto all the noted paffes flows;
(Whether the womb's magnetic pow'r's the caufe,
As the whole body's floods the kidney draws,
Or that the Moon, the queen of fluid things,
Directs and rules that like the ocean's fprings)
But if the gates it finds fo fortify'd,
That the due current that way be deny'd,
It rages and it fwells; the grofs part ftays,
And in the neighb'ring parts dire revels plays,
Whilft the more liquid parts does upward rife,
And into veins of purer nature flies:
It taints the rofy channels as it goes,
And all the foil's corrupted where it flows:
The bane its journey through the cava takes,
And fierce attacks upon the liver makes;
And heart, whofe right-fide avenue it commands,
Whilft that for fear amaz'd and trembling ftands;
But the left region fo well guarded seems,
That in her walls fafe fhe herself esteems;
Nor flops it there, but on the lungs does feize,
Where drawing breath itfelf grows a difeafe;
Thence through a fmall propontis carried down,
It makes the port, and takes the left-fide town.
What will fuffice that covetous disease,
Which all the heart's vaft treasures cannot pleafe?
But avarice ftill craves for more and more,
And if it all things don't enjoy is poor.
Th' aörta its wild legions next engage,
Blefs me! how uncontroll'd in that they rage!
The diftant head and heel no fafety knows,
Through ev'ry part th' unbounded victor flows;
But as the blood through all the body 's us'd
1o run, this plague through all the blood's diffus'd.
They all agreed; for none of them e'er doubt,
How life in purple circles wheels about;
That Plant they'd hifs out of their company,
Which Harvey's circulation fhould deny.

Dittany. DITTANY, though cold winds her lips did clofe, Put on her winter-gown, and up the rofe;

Rhetorical, when they occafion fee? For Pennyroyal painting that disease, Her nice and quainter fancy did not please. She fpake to what the other did omit, And pleas'd herself with her own prating wit. If this dire poifon's force their duller eyes Can't fee whilft in the body warm it lies, Think with yourselves how it offends the fenfe, When all alone, (ray dead) if driv'n thence; Let dogs or men by chance but tafte of it, (But on dogs rather let fuch mifchiefs light) Madness the tainted foul invades within, And fordid leprofy roughcafts the fkin; Whilst panting dogs quite raving mad appear, And thirst for water, but the water fear. It ftabs an half-man by abortive birth, And from the womb (Oh, horrid !) drags it forth. Now fancy children born of fuch base blood, Which gives the embryo poifon 'stead of food; Nor is this all; for corn and vines too know Its baneful force, by which fields barren grow. A tree, once us'd to bear, its fruit denies; If young it fades, and if new born it dies. Witnefs the Ivies: ('tis no fhame) to you What good does their med'cinal virtue do? Thee alfo, Rue! who all things doft o'ercome, From this ftrong venom must receive thy doom. Plants dry and yellow, as in autumn, grow, And Herbs as if they had the jaundice fhew. Offended bees with one fmall touch it drives (Though murm'ring to be exil'd) from their hives; The wretched creatures leave their golden ftore, And sweet abodes, which they must fee no more; Nor do ftrong vats their vines within defend, Which in their very youth draw to their end; But I name things of little eminence; The warlike fword itfelf makes no defence; And metals which fo oft' have won the field, To this effeminate diftemper yield. For frequent bloodshed, blood now vengeance takes, And mortal wounds ev'n in the weapons makes. Beauty, the thing for which we women love, Th' occafion of kecu fwords does often prove; Let then the female-plague thofe fwords rebate, Yea, ev'n the mem'ry of what's fo ingrate. Maids with proud thoughts, alas! themfelves deWhilft each herself a goddefs does believe; [ceive, Like tyrants they mifufe the pow'r they have, And make their very worshipper their flave: But if they truly would confider things, And think what filth each month returning brings, If they their cheating glaffes then would mind, (Which now they think fo faithful and fo kind) How beautiful they are they needs must find. The fmooth corrupter of their looks they taint, Which long and certain figns at that time paint ; Each maid in that ftill fuffers the difgrace Of being pois'ner to her own fweet face. What an unnatural distemper 's this, Which ev'n to their own fhadows mortal is?

Thus fhe; and as much more she was about To fay, the whole Affembly gave a fhout: Through all the boughs, and all the leaves around There went an angry, loud, and murm'ring found

For they of women's honour tender are, Though the thereof had feem'd to take no care.

Plantain; or Waybread ¶.

NEXT Waybread rofe, propt by her feven nerves,
Who th' honour of a noble house preferves.
Her nature is aftringent, which great hate
Of her among blood-letters does create.
But her no quarrels more than words engage,
Nor does fhe ever, like mad mortals, rage.
I envy not the praifes which to you,
Ye num'rous race of Leachy kind! are due:
The purple tyrant wifely you expel,
And banishing fuch murdering blood do well;
Proudly he o'er the vital spirits reigns,
And cruelly infults in all the veins;
Arms he of dreadful poifon bears about,
And leads of maladies a mighty rout.

But why fhould you fuch vain additions make,
And ills already great for greater take?
Whilft you fo tragically paint the foe,
More dreadful, but lefs credible they grow.
He leffens, that would raise an hero's fame
By lies, falfe praifes cloud a glorious name.
One Geryon flew, (a mighty feat) and he
Three bodies had; in this I can't agree;
You any monfter easily subdue,

But I fcarce think fuch monftrous lies are true.
Greek poets, Ditt'ny! you who oft' have read,
Keep up their art of lying though they're dead;
But what their countrymen once faid of you
Pray mind it, for I fear 'tis very true.
Let that which blasts the corn a goddess be,
I cannot think her courfes e'er could be
So hurtful to the grain; and then, I'm fure,
A vat of lufty wine is more fecure
From danger, where a thousand damfels fit,
Than if one drunken beldam come at it. [had
None, 'caufe a taste of that rank blood they 'ave
But for the place from whence it comes run mad.
Madness of dogs most certainly it cures,
As thy own author Pliny us affures.
Whether by women's touch the bee's annoy'd
I cannot tell; but maids fhould bees avoid.
Rue ought to let the fatal blood remain
Within its veffel, and ne'er force the vein,
If for her pains nought but her death the gain.
Thou, Ivy! too, more careful ought'ft to be
Both of thy felf and thy great deity.
But when the says swords' edges it rebates,
I could rejoice, methinks, and bless the Fates,
If that be all the mischief it creates.

This mov'd 'em, and they quaver'd with a fmile, Some wind you would have thought pass'd by the while;

For by that Cynic fhrub great freedom 's fhewn, Which he by conftant ufe has made his own.

Way bread at this took pet, difpleas'd that.she By fuch an one should interrupted be, And fat her down; when straight before 'em all These words the Rofe from her fair lips let fall, Whilft modeft blushes beautify'd her face, Like thofe in fpring that blooming flowers grace.

The Rofe.

Yor, Cretan Dittany! who fuch poisons mix
(For on my kinfman Wild-rose I'll not fix)
With women's blood, fee what a fprightly grace
And ardent fearlet decks their lovely face!
No flower, no, not Flora's felf to fight

Or touch than them appears more foft and white;
But at the fame time alfo take a view

Of man's rough prickly limbs and rufty hue: You'll fay with Butchers'-broom fweet Violets

grow,

And mourn that Lilies fhould with Brambles go:
Then let their eyes and reafon tettify
Whether pure veins their purer limbs fupply.
You cannot fay that dying-vat is bad
From whence a florid colour may be had;
But this, you'll fay, committed fome offence,
Or the juft Moon had never driv'n it thence.
No: you 're mistaken; it has done no wrong,
But all the fault lies in its copious throng;
'Tis therefore from the reft, by the great law
Of public fafety, order'd to withdraw.
So, if a nation to fuch numbers rife,
That them their native country can't fuffice,
To feek new lands fome part of them are sent,
And fuffer, for their country, ban:shment.
But why does womankind fo much abound;
Oh! think not Nature e'er was lavish found;
Nor does the lay up riches to the end
(Like prodigals) fhe more may have to spend.
Whate'er fhe does is good; what then remains?
No room for doubt, the thing itself explains.
This bloody vintage, fee, lafts all the year,
And the fresh chyle duly does life repair;
The preffes ftill with juice fwell to the brink,
Of which their fill the hot male-bodies drink;
But temperate women feem to kiss the cup,
Nor does their heat fuck all the liquor up.
A vital treasure for great ufes he

Lays up, left Nature fhould a bankrupt be;
Left both the parents' fhares of mingled love
Too little to beget a child fhould prove;
Unless the mother fome addition made,
To perfect the defign they both had laid;
One part of it is red, the other white as fnow,
And both from fprings of the fame colour flow;
One wood you'd think, and th' other fones did
Whilft out of both a living houfe they build; [yield
The former of fuch poiloning arts accus'd,
In which you fancy veLois is infus'd,
(Perhaps with this the fatal robe was dy'd
Which Hercules had fent him from his bride)

The tender embryo's body does compofe,
And for ten months to kind nutrition goes.
Nor is this all; but on the mother's breast
Again it meets the little infant guest;
Then chang'd, it comes both in its hue and course,
Like Arethufa through a secret source:
Then from the paps it flows in double tides,
Far whiter than the banks in which it glides.
The Golden Age, of old, fuch rivers drank,
That fprang from dogs of ev'ry happy bank.
The candour and fimplicity of men

Deferv'd the milky food of th' infants then.
How juft and prudent is Dame Nature's care!
Who for each age does proper food prepare?
Before the liver's form'd, the mother's blood
Supplies the babe with necessary food :
And when to work the novice Heat first goes,
In its new fhop, and fcarce its bus'nefs knows,
Its first employment is in fearlet-grain
(A childish task for learners) milk to ftain;
At last in ev'ry kind its fkill it tries,
And fpends itself in curiofities.
Now fay it venom in the members breeds,
With which her child the careful mother feeds.
Their bane to infants cruel ftepdames give,
Whilft mothers fuck from better fprings derive.
But how, you'll fay, does that which infants love
So prejudicial to their mothers prove?
"Tis lively whilft i' th' native womb it lies,
But by the veins flung out, decays and dies;
Then fhipwreck'd on the neighb'ring fhore it lies,
And gafping wifhes for its obfequies;
This being deny'd, new ftrength it does recover,
And flies in vapours all the body over.
But what first tafte fruits from the tree receive,
When rotten they no natural fign can give;
So in pure feed the life's white mansion stands,
But furely Death corrupted sced commands,
Of Life Death's no good witnefs: do not think
A living man can like a carcafe ftink.
But you a running ftream (that duly flows,
And no corruption by long standing knows)
To be as hurtful in their nature hold,
As if from fome corrupted fprings they roll'd:
But now do you go on, (for much you know,
Part falfe, I think, part very true) and fhew
If any hurtful feeds you can defery
In human bodies, (where they often lie)
How quickly Nature's orders they obey,
When to the blood the floodgates once give way.
The courfes this, perhaps, may putrify,
"Tis dangerous to keep bad company.
Is this the blood's fault? I'm no witch, I hope,
Though with my juice a man fhould poifon tope.
She spake, and with ambrofial odours clos'd
Her fpeech, which many there, they fay, oppos'd.
At laft the Laurel's thoughts they all defir'd;
Th' oracular Laurel's words they all admir'd.
Laurel.

THAT fate which frequently attends on all
Great men, does thee, cgregious Blood! befal.
Some praise what others too much difapprove,
Exceflive in their hatred as their love.
This man in prej'dice, that in favour lies,
Whilft to their ears a various rumour flies.

Hear Dittany; fhe fays each woman's known
The moon to bring each month with poisons down.
Nor need we mingle Herbs or charms, each one
Medea proves in her own blood alone.

Yet the fair Rofe, if all be true fhe as faid,
Each woman has in that a goddess made ·
From thence, the fays, life fpins its purple thread,
And tells you how the half-form'd embyro's fed.
But if my dear Apollo be not unkind,
Nor I in vain his facred temples bind,

Such blood, nor form, nor nourishment, fupplies,
And fo that triumphs in false victories.
The many reafons here I need not tell,

Which me induce, this one will ferve as well:
Woman's the only animal we know

Whofe veins with fuch immoderate courfes flow:
Yet every beaft produces young, we see,
And outdoes mankind in fertility.

How many do fmall mice at one time breed!
Scorning the product of the Trojan steed,
With what a bulk does your valt el'phant come!
She feems to have a caftle in her womb.
Thy circuits, Luna! conies almoft tell,
By kindling, near like thee their bellies fwell;
And yet their young no bank ef blood maintains,
Or nourishment that flows from gaping veins :
For when i' th' amorous war a couple vies,
A living fpark from the male's body flies,
Which the womb's thirsty jaws, when they begin
To feel and taste, immediately fuck in
Into receffes, which fo turn and wind,
That them diffccter's eyes can hardly find:
In the fame chambers part o' th' female life
Keeps a brifk virgin, fit to make a wife;
Them Venus joins, and with connubial love
In mingled flames they both begin to move.
There redness, caus'd by motion, you may see,
And blond, the fign of lot virginity,

Of their invention, blood, they're mighty glad,
And to inventions eafy 'tis to add :
The smallest spark 't is eafy to augment
If you can get it proper nutriment.
You need not introduce new flames befides,
Th' elixir by this touch rich store provides.
All fires, (provide them fuel) think it shame
To yield to Vefta's never-dying flame.

Thus the first generous drop of blood is bred,
Which proudly fcorns hereafter to be fed.
With the feed's native white at first 't is fill'd,
And takes delight with its own ftock to build;
But when that fails, then life grows burdenfome,
And aid it wifely borrows from the womb;
Herself the stuff the borrows, purifies,
And of a rofy fearlet colour dyes;
From whom the wonb's full paps, with thirsty lips
Into its veiny mouths it daily fips.

Look where a child's new-born, how foon it goes,
And that food fwallows, which of old it knows :
Kindly it plays, and fmiles upon the breast,
O'erjoy'd again to find its former feast.
Shall Nature glut her tender young with blood?
No; that can't be their elemental food;
That, fure, would make them favage, were it so,
And all mankind fierce Cannibals would grow:
I Nero's acts could hardly then dispraise,

Y