ON THE RECOVERY OF OUR MOST Gracious Queen KATHARINE FROM HER Late Grievous and Deplorable Fit of Sicknesse.

A VISION:

By E. C. Med. Dr. Coll. Lon.

LONDON, Printed in the Year, MDCLXIV.

TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY.

SIR,

THE Queen is Yours, so is Your Royall Mother, an' though in some respects You may again be called Theirs: yet are You absolutely Your Own. I also by the Protection of Your Royall Government, am Yours; Your yet Living and loving Subject: and Your good Lady, is to this small and else perishable Piece, by Gods great mercy a living Theme. So all is Yours great SIR. Accept I pray Your own. Which in my Duty I here first present to Your Majesty; so as that afterward those Your dear Relatives, by my Dedications, may see their several Interests in the occasion not neglected. It had come earlier had it not met with some Obstacles, where may be, it needed not; and been troubled with a modest expectation of its Betters coming out before it: which being they have not done, my singularity I hope will satisfie for the lost opportunity: And like him that out of Ten, return'd to thank our Saviour, be accepted for being but one, and he not very well acquainted.

Your Majesties most humble and Loyal Subject EDMUND COOPER, Med. Dr. Coll. Lond.
Calend. Jan. 1664.

To the most Serene Majesty of HENRIETTA MARIA QUEEN Dowager of ENG­LAND, Mother of our Dread Soveraign CHARLES the Second.

May it please Your Majesty.

AS the Greatness of Your Concernment in the present good of our Dread Soveraign and his dear Consort, and the interest in the felicity of their Succession; render You the fit­test object, for the application of any our expressions of Joy, or hope thereof: So the goodness of Your greatness it is, that lays the way open to Your Throne of Favour, where We may offer up such Devotions. Wherefore presuming that my boldness is already Pardoned, I adventure to present to the gracious acceptance of your fair Hands, these silly Papers. I Madam that am not worthy to Kiss your Royall Feet, but am ready to stand off, at what distance your Majesty shall please, and be your Majestyes,

Most humbly devoted Creature EDMUND COOPER, Med. Dr. Coll. Lond.
Calend. Jan. 1664.

TO THE MOST Gracious Majesty OF KATHARINE QƲEEN OF ENGLAND, &c.

May it please Your Majesty.

WHAT I have before Dedicated to the Royall Queen Dowager, your pious Mo­ther, as the fitest Object; because of Her double Title to you, (for you are Madam the Child first of Her Alliance, and then again of Her Prayers, to which I am perswaded the Almighty conceded much, in the time of Your late Infirmity.) What I then directed to Her Majesty, I now present unto Your virtuous Self, as the Subject on whom GOD wrought that Deliverance, and in whom therefore there must needs be some neerer & greater degree of joy and sence. This Madam I beseech Your Majesty to accept, both because dangers past are of a happy memory, or else he was mistaken that Said,

—Haec olim meminisse juvabit.
Virgil. Aen.

[Page] Yea and because they are likewise of a happy fer­tility, producing much thanks and praise to GOD that brought Ʋs out of them: not to speak of the re­gularity they sometimes work after in our lives, be­cause your Majesties needed not to be rectified. Now seeing I have happened upon the word Fertility, give me leave to tell your Majesty, that I have a strong Presumption, that this your late Sickness will conduce much thereto in your own temperament. Your Body of Portugall is all wasted and consumed. If you shall now betake you to an English Dyet, so brave an alteration will be made in your Majesties Constitution, that we shall have a Prince built out of You like His Father, to make Ʋs up a long last­ing happyness here, and to wait upon your Majesties old Age, to that which lasts for ever hereafter.

As Prayes
Your Majesties most humble Votary and Beads-Man EDMUND COOPER, Med. Dr. Coll. Lond.
Calend. Jan. 1664.

On the Recovery of our most Gratious Queen KATHARINE from Her late greivous and deplorable fit of Sickness.
A VISION:

SIck with dire Pangs, & quite bereav'd of breath,
I came at last unto the door of Death.
Dolesome the way was, and I all alone:
Many go other wayes, this way but one,
One at a time, yet not one every Age:
And he that does, returnes and can presage.
When 'ther I came, I saw a multitude
Of Men and Women kind, that would obtrude
Themselves on Fate. These People the mild Law
Of Nature urg'd not, but the dreadfull awe
Of sad misfortunes: With impetuous Knocks
[Page 2] And Cryes, these beat the Ayre, and break the Locks;
But Death will not be forc'd: what in their Wood
And fiery mood they break, he still makes good.
From the dark Chambers of his hollow Cave,
At length proceeds a Voice, bidding them save
Their breath and labour, which might chance to fail
When they least wou'd, his house was not a Jayle
For Debtors, nor a Spittal for the Poor:
Room for your Betters, get you from the Door.
Wi'that the trembling Crowd did straight divide
It self in equal numbers to each side,
And made a Lane. Thought I, my turn's now come:
For I had Nature's warrant and her doom.
So I advanc'd, but ere I could come neer,
Down the broad Road, so nigh that I could see'r,
With specious Pomp comes me a glorious Dame:
Doubt and Dispaire went next her, but her Name
I heard not yet; Anon the Door unbarr'd,
Doubt that went stumbling, and Dispaire drove hard,
Which shook her sore: all this when I had seen;
[Page 3] Out breaks a Cry, alas it is the Queen,
Englands most Virtuous KATHARINE. Then there blew
Off from the Land, mix'd with a temp'rate dew,
A lusty gale of Wind, which threw about
Her conducts, here and there among the rout.
This, I was told, was made of the low'd Pray'rs,
And the still Teares of him that wanteth Heir's
And his true Friends. The way thus cleer'd, this Wind
Made to the Gate; which though Death stood behind
With his grim Porters, and made much ado
To keep wide open, yet it forced too.
Great muttering there was among the Crowd
For 'fault of entrance: One cry'd out aloud
'Twas breach of Privilege, for Princes shou'd
Be 'tended by those Subjects that are good,
Aswell in Death as when they are alive:
And to this purpose cited
The sickness Year at the death of King JAMES.
Twenty-five;
Another Forty-eight:
When King CHARLES the First was Murthered.
The Year that bled
All Loyal hearts, about one Royal Head.
The tumult so encreas'd, that I had thought,
[Page 4] They wou'd have man'd a Party, to have brought
The Body neerer. Then stands up a Third,
And craves their patience while he spoke a word,
All were content. And as we see what peace is
Upon the Water, when the Wind once ceases,
So was it here. He having stroak'd his Beard,
And long neglected Whiskers, which I fear'd
Wou'd else have stop'd his mouth, cry'd there's no reason
Ye shou'd be thus come guilty of a Treason:
And through a vaine desire Ye have to die;
Draw in a Soul reserv'd by Destiny,
To bless the World: Ye may yet live and press
As now to die, t'enjoy that happynesse
She shall disperse abroad, and the bless'd Seed
King CHARLES shall reap of her, there is no need
My friends of all this heat: stand still and see
The end, it may be happy; They agree.
Mean while the Dame quit of her Drivers, rested
In quiet sleep; and by that means digested
Her crude disease: and though the light was small
[Page 5] Of the dimme hope that She made shift withall,
Yet up She set her Self in Her sad Bed,
And hardly to Her half composed head
Rais'd She her trembling Hand. Then She bethought her
How She came thither, who it was that brought her:
But most of all, when she saw all the Pack
Of her Attendants gone, how to get back.
Then tack'd the wind about, but breath'd more dry
And gently then it had before; for why,
The cause of fear and tears was done away:
But Pray'r was not to cease. On the wind lay
As Pray'r was not to cease. On the wind lay
As 'twere a Globe of Light, but without heat,
'Tended by Angels. And on that, in great
And Capital Letters written one might see,
The Words repeated, BLESSINGS ƲPON THEE.
Hence did one Ray descend upon the Bed
Where the Queen lay, which greatly comforted
Her Feaver wasted Spirits: another smote
Upon an Instrument of ravishing Note,
Self-moving by the influence of that Light.
So the Queen slept the space of a whole night.
Then moov'd the Bed, and as it went along,
[Page 6]Voyces to that same Musick sung this Song.
This new life to Thee is given
Not by man's Pow'r or skill,
But by the hand of Heaven;
Of whose favour and good will
So order'd 'twas
To come to passe,
That by thy danger thou might'st see
How neer thou art
unto the heart
Of him that Pray'd, and weep'd for Thee.
Live now and augment his Joyes:
Thy Virtues be his Crown:
Let him Father Girles and Boyes,
That may live in great Renown.
He that did shut,
And close to put
The door of Death, and set Thee free;
Hath seen thy Griefe
And sent reliefe:
He will ope thy Womb for Thee.
Nations shall fear before Thy Seed;
The Seignior not be Grand:
That's kept for King Charles Breed;
Which now we all see neer at hand.
Against the Turk
There's now a Work
Which if France will not do;
Bear thou a Son
Shall Over-run
[Page 7] France, and the Grand Seignior too.
Only do not fear, to eat
As our English Ladies do;
And refuse no kind of meat,
For a fond
Not Religi­ous directing, but Phanta­stick correct­ing your good appetite with this or that is not good for your Majestie when perhaps You would willingly eat it.
scruple or two:
English Beefe
Is the chiefe
And he that shall inherit
Of a Body
Must be hoddy,
And must have an English Spirit.
The Song thus ended, the Sick bed arriv'd
At the Queens Chamber, and She still reviv'd,
There with fresh Musick She was resaluted,
And they that thought Death good, being confuted
With hope of Blisses here, remain'd to try
With me, the issue of this Prophecy.
Only this Song detein'd us at Whitehall
A while, and after that we parted all.
Gods Law is pure, a light unto thy Paths,
And to thy Feet a guid:
To keep it, makes the hands more fine
Then Gloves perfum'd with Jessamine,
Or what's rare else besides.
Vaine thing is man, and all the sonnes of Men,
They can't do what they wou'd:
For Flesh is frail, and mindes do change,
Things as they are appointed range,
And roul as doth the Flood.
Then God alone the strong and mighty Lord,
must be your sure repose,
He varies not, and what he will
Is done in Earth, in Heaven, and Hell;
All things else are but showes.
Thus having set your heart and hopes aright,
Ʋpon an Object true:
Let the Earth shake at the Foundations,
And with it chop and change the Nations,
There shall be rest for You.
For look how far the bright Meridian Sun
Is set beyond the Arme,
Of him that doth an Arrow shoot;
(We all know well he can't come to't,)
So far are You from harme.
Nay that's not all to be secure from ill,
Not all that he will give,
But life and Glory, Joy and Blisse,
And that Eternal, shall be His:
That doth in Him believe.
After all this there was a pretty Jigg,
Some tatling Gossips came, and Knighted Trigg.
FINIS.

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